#he spent most of his life on his own! he lost the people he loved most OVER and OVER…

[arlana-likes-to-write]

Doctor, Doctor

Family is More Than Blood Masterlist

Summary: The tide is pulling you in and you are getting to weak to stop it.

Warnings: bad mental health, implied suicidal thoughts, implied past abuse, therapy, Sam is a good guy, non-sexual nudity.

Relationships: Carol x Reader, Yelena x Natasha x reader (platonic)

Word Count: 3.6k

The pacing was the only thing keeping you grounded. So you paced: 5 steps in one direction, then five steps in the other. Everything around you turned to white noise. Not that there were many people in the Avenger’s compound. The world seemed to be holding on by a thread as fires spread across the globe. The only people that could put out those fires were the Avengers. The team was spread worldwide, and since you weren’t part of the team, you couldn’t know the specifics. You had half the mind to hack into FRIDAY to get updated everyone. With the stress of not knowing how the team was doing, combined with the sleepless nights due to nightmares, you were on edge.

It seemed your mind and body had enough. You were at your wit’s end. Each night, your mind creates horrific scenarios of those you love. Your hands were covered with so much blood. Your mind was having a hard time separating your nightmare and reality.

Usually, you would ignore it, push through, and hope your mind would figure itself out. That was past you, and you were trying to be better. You wanted to enjoy the life you were living with the people in it, but you weren’t sure if you could do it on your own.

But admitting you needed help was a weakness, and a weakness meant death. Honestly, you were proud of yourself. The person you were now was leaps and bounds from who you were in the Red Room. Still, these habits were hard to break. His voice was still engraved in your head. “Hey,” you jumped at the sudden voice and the hand on your shoulder. You put your hands up, ready to fight. “Sorry,” it was Sam. “I didn’t mean to scare you. You seemed lost in your own head.”

“Yeah,” you put your hands down. “Sorry, I haven’t been sleeping well.” His eyes scanned you over.

“Do you want to get out of the compound?”

“Please,” you said. If you weren’t so desperate for a distraction, you would have hated how weak you sounded. Sam smiled, and you followed him to the garage. The silence was comforting. Sam was special. His presence was calming, like a lifeboat in a raging storm at sea.

As he drove away from the compound past the small nearby town, he turned down a nonpaved road. You raised a questioning eyebrow. “Are you taking me out here to kill me?” The man rolled his eyes.

“Please, like I could kill you,” he teased, sparing you a glance before focusing back on the road. “And if I managed to kill you. Natasha, Yelena, Alexei, Carol, and Melina would be on my ass. Nooo, thank you,” he paused. “I would never know peace.” You rolled your eyes.

Finally, he parked in a small lot. There was only one other car. You followed him out of the car and took a deep breath in. The air was crisp. It felt cleaner somehow. “Ready for a hike?”

“Are you going to be able to keep up?” The man glared at you.

“I don’t know why I try to be nice to you, Black Widows.” You chuckled.

“Come on, Sam,” you smiled. “I’m following your lead.” You followed him to the start of the trail. He filled the silence with stories from his childhood and his family in New Orleans. But most of the walk was spent in silence besides the crunch of the leaves and sticks at your feet. With each step you took, the weight on your shoulder seemed to disappear.

You smiled at the couple who walked past you on their way to the car. Soon enough, you reached the end of the trail and at the top of the mountain. The scenery around you felt otherworldly. The air was crisp and cool. In one direction, you could see the other mountains part of the range surrounded by green trees.

It was mid-afternoon, and the sky was a vast and brilliant blue. Birds were flying at your level. There was a beauty at the top that you forgot existed in this world. “So,” you looked at Sam. “Wanna talk about why you were pacing a hole in the ground?” You smiled and sat down on a rock.

“I don’t know, Sam,” you said. Some days, I feel like I have it together, like there isn’t this crushing weight, but recently, I feel like I can barely hold my head above the water. " You picked up a stone and threw it up and down. The tide keeps trying to drag me under, and I’m afraid. " You let the stone drop back to the ground. I might stop fighting so it can take me out to sea.”

There were so many dark thoughts that echoed inside your mind. On certain days, listening to those thoughts seemed easier than fighting them. “And I know,” you continued before Sam could speak. “That I have so many people on my side that support me and count on me, but I am so fucking tired,” you squeezed your eyes shut. “I just want it all to stop.” You admitted. “I mean, the world will keep spinning, right? Even if I’m no longer in it.”

You heard the man let out a low hiss. You weren’t suicidal, but it seemed easier. “Ours would stop,” Sam finally said. “Our world would stop spinning.” You reopened your eyes to see Sam walking towards the edge. “Have you ever been sky diving?” He looked over his shoulder as you shook your head. “I should take you,” he looked back at the view. “It is the most freeing and adrenaline-pumping thing a person could do. I love it.”

You stood up slowly and walked to stand next to the man. “I’ve been on a roller coaster, does that count?” He slapped you playfully. “Why did you ask me that?”

“In sky diving or even for us Fly Boys on the team, you have to have complete trust in the people that you don’t necessarily see,” you frowned, a little confused. You have to trust the pilot, trust the instructor leading the pilot, and trust the people who packed your gear that they did it correctly. Blind trust is terrifying,” he said and touched your shoulder.

Trust. So much of your trust has been broken. “Do you trust me?” He asked.

“Yes,” you answered. The man smiled.

“Then trust me when I say this,” he took a few deep breaths. “I think you need to see a therapist, and I can find you a good one.”

“No,” you pushed his hand off your shoulder and headed back down the trail.

“Wait, ugh, hold on,” you heard him quicken his pace to catch up to you. “Look, I can’t imagine what that sick bastard put you and your sisters through, but I’ve lost someone because they couldn’t fight the tide. I will not stand by and watch it happen to you,” His confession stopped you and turned around to face him. “An old service buddy of mine,” he answered the question before you asked. “The weight of what happened over there got too much, and he let himself drown.” He took a few steps closer to you. “My mama said every soul that touches us leaves a mark - some as gentle whispers or bold strokes - but their imprints remain even when they’re gone. You’ve shaped our lives by being in it, and there is no going back.” You felt your chest tighten. Sighing, you placed your hands on your hips and looked at the ground.

“I trust you to find me a good one, Samuel,” the man laughed and put his arm around your shoulder.

“If I find you a good one, can I push you out of a plane?”

*

It was to disguise your trip to the city to check on a few Widows who had recently been exposed to the red dust. You felt bad about telling a white lie, so you visited a few of them; one was going to school, and another was starting a business. It made you happy that they were getting out of this life.

Now, you were sitting in Dr. Sabrina Hale’s lobby. Your leg was shaking, and you were gripping your jeans. You felt like you were going to be sick. Anxiety swirled in your stomach. Like Sam, you needed to believe in the blind trust of this stranger. “Hi,” you looked at the doctor. The woman was pite - her black hair was cut shoulder length, and her blue eyes seemed to have a caring presence. “My name is Sabrina. It is nice to meet a friend of Sam’s.” You introduced yourself and shook her hand. “Please come in.” You followed her into the office.

Her office was much bigger than you expected. It had a large window overlooking the city, and her wooden desk was in front of it. Next to it was a couch with a chair. In the corner, there was a small table with chairs covered with coloring pages and art supplies. The most striking detail about her office was how decorated it was. There were plants in every corner and pictures on the wall documenting her travels and her family.

“Sit where you are comfortable,” you sat on the couch. “Do you want something to drink?”

“No, thank you,” she grabbed a travel mug from her desk and sat in the chair beside you.

“I will start off this session by saying that everything you say here is protected by doctor-patient confidentiality,” she said, crossing her left leg over her right.

“And if I don’t say anything?” Sabrina shrugged.

“Then we stare at each other for an hour in silence. Regardless, I still get paid,” you let out a dry laugh and stared out her window. “Sam told me you work with the Avengers, so I can guess whatever is haunting you isn’t pretty,” you scuffed, folded your hands, and rested your forearms on your thighs. “I tell my patients that you get out of therapy based on what you put into it. You need to want to be here. You want to get better.” Sighing, you stared at her.

She had a small smile on her face. Her eyes were so kind; they seemed to stare into your soul. “Do have any siblings? I have an older brother and a younger sister.” She was the middle child, and that made sense. Middle children were known to struggle with a sense of identity. Every piece of decoration showed you a piece of who Sabrina is. They also were known to rebel - her nose ring and sleeve of tattoos gave her away. But you snapped out of that. Sabrina was here to help you. She was not your target.

“Yeah, I have two younger sisters,” you smiled. “We aren’t related by blood.”

“Family is family,” she said. “Blood doesn’t matter.” You nodded and felt better that she had the same viewpoint as you. “Who annoys you the most?”

“Excuse me?” You were shocked by the question. Sabrina laughed.

“Come on. You are the older sister; your younger siblings must annoy you.” You chuckled and leaned back on the couch. She was right. It got on your nerves when Natasha left her pointee shoes lying around. Yelena had the annoying habit of putting her dirty laundry with yours so you would do it. You smiled again.

“They both do things that get on my nerves, but I love them.”

“I love mine too,” she said. “We got these tattoos together.” She turned her arm over to show you the artwork forever marked on her skin. It was like the work of three birds on a branch.

“Did it hurt?” You questioned. “The sleeve, I mean.” She watched as you looked over your sleeve.

“The first one did,” she answered. “After so many, you get numb to the pain.” Her blue eyes were watching you closely. Missing how your body tensed at the comment was not hard for her. “Are you numb to it all? After everything you’ve been through.”

You were unsure how to answer because you weren’t numb. You felt everything. Every hand that hurt you. Every bullet and knife slash that pierced your skin. That was why you wanted it all to stop. You shook your head. “I feel it all,” you whispered. “I wish I was numb to it all.”

“It’s good that you are feeling,” she told you. It means you can still be pulled back. You can be saved. The question is,” You watched her stand up and walk over to the mini-fridge. She grabbed out a small water bottle and walked back to you. “Do you want to be saved?” she asked while handing you the bottle.

She was extending an olive branch, waiting for you to take the first step—blind trust. Like sky diving, you needed to trust that everyone did their job to ensure you would survive. You wanted to be saved because there was so much life you wanted to see. You took the water bottle. Sabrina smiled and sat back down. “Good, the ball is in your court,” she said. “Lead me in whatever direction you want.”

*

“I’m going for a run,” you said while you entered the common area. Yelena watched you grab water from the fridge. “I’ll be back.”

“Do you want a running partner?” Natasha asked, but you quickly shook your head.

“It will be quick,” you smiled. “Figure out what you guys want to do for dinner.” You called out before putting on your headphones and left out the side door. Yelena frowned as you left. Twice a week, you leave the compound and go on a run. You went alone every time, no matter who asked you to join. Natasha walked over to the window, and Yelena got up from the couch to join her.

“She’s hiding something,” Natasha said. Yelena nodded in agreement.

“Do you think she’s cheating on Carol?”

“God no,” Natasha shot that idea down. “I just wish she trusted enough not to have to hide.” There was no way to hide the hurt in Natasha’s voice.

“She’ll come around,” Yelena smiled. “She always does.”

*

“Still hiding away, I see,” you rolled your eyes. You were video chatting with Sabrina for your weekly season. Your back rested on the tree trunk while you sat on the forest floor. There was a thin layer of sweat on your forehead from your run. “Why don’t you trust them with this?”

“I do trust them,” you defended. “I just-” you trailed off. It was one of the annoying things about Sabrina. She was patient - too patient for your fucked up mind. “I don’t want to seem weak.”

“Admitting you need someone to help you through your mind does not make you weak,” she told you. “I think it makes a person very strong.” You sighed and looked past your phone to the wilderness around you. “Trust is a thread that holds relationships together,” you looked back at Sabrina. The doctor was drawing in her sketchbook. It was something she always did during your sessions. You never asked what she was drawing, and she never showed it to you. She put the sketchbook down when she saw that you were looking at her. “When it frays, even those who care the most are left powerless to help. Doubting those who care for you builds walls, not of protection, and in the end, loneliness becomes your only certainty.”

“What are you getting at Hall?” You asked. The doctor was spinning a pencil in her hand.

“You are at a standstill,” she said. “You will not continue to heal unless you trust them with this side of you. But also trust yourself.”

“I do trust myself,” she looked at you like she did not believe you. The only way to survive in this world was to trust yourself.

“To an extent, yes, you had to trust yourself because who else would you trust? But I want you to trust yourself to be vulnerable and to feel weakness. You do not have to be the strong one all the time.”

*

Natasha’s door was open when you knocked on it. Yelena was on her bed while they were sharpening some of their knives. “Are you going to throw one of those at me?”

“Do you deserve to have a knife thrown at you?” Natasha questioned. You shrugged.

“Depends on who you ask,” you smiled and walked into her room. You found some space on her bed and sat down. Yelena handed you a knife and a sharpening tool.

The repetitive action of sharpening a blade was calming. It was nice to spend time with them. “Do you have something on your mind, sestra?” Yelena asked. You smiled and looked over the knife. Flipping it over, you stared at your reflection.

“Sam helped me find a therapist,” you decided to rip off the band-aid. “I’ve been seeing her for a few weeks now.”

“That’s great,” Yelena said. “I’m so proud of you.” You looked down, embarrassed by the praise.

“Why did you wait this long to tell us?” Natasha asked. You sighed and, when you were done, handed the knife to Yelena.

“Million-dollar question, right?” Natasha chuckled. “I guess I didn’t want to seem weak to you guys. Hell, not even Carol knows.” You picked up another knife to begin the process again. “I trust the two of you with my life,” you began. “But I’ve learned that I don’t trust myself to be vulnerable or weak. If I’m not the strong one, then what is my role? What is my purpose.” Natasha took your hand to stop you from sharpening the knife.

“You just have to be our sister,” she said. “That’s all we want.” You smiled.

“Sometimes I wish life was kinder to us,” you admitted. “We were far too young to be subjected to the darkness.”

“We got each other out of it,” Yelena smiled.

“The best thing to come out of the Red Room,” you joked.

*

You stayed awake until Carol returned from space. “Jesus,” she jumped when she opened the door to her room. “You scared the shit out of me.” You giggled and stood up from her bed.

“Sorry,” you smiled and closed the distance. “I wanted to surprise you.”

“Well, consider me surprised,” she said, wrapping one arm around your waist while closing the door with the other. She pulled you flushed to her chest. “Hi baby,” you felt the words rumble from her chest. I missed you.”

“Missed you too,” you kissed her cheek. “How was space?”

“Good,” she sighed. “Tiring, but I kicked ass and looked good while doing it.” You shook your head with a laugh.

“You always look good,” she covered her mouth as she yawned. “Come on, my captain, let’s get you to bed.” Carol shook her head.

“Shower with me first, then bed,” she kissed you softly. “I promise to behave.”

That was hard to believe, but you followed her to the bathroom. This type of intimacy and trust was new to you. Showering with someone was never slow and sweet. It was usually against your will, dirty, and fast. Carol taught you differently.

You helped Carol out of her tactical suit and kissed the new bruises that decorated her skin. While the water was warming up, she helped you out of your sleeping clothes. You stood in front of her—naked like the day you were born. It took time for you to be like this with her. The dark thoughts that invaded your mind and the scars that covered your skin made you believe you were undeserving of this soft trust.

You helped Carol out of her tactical suit and kissed the new bruises that decorated her skin. While the water was warming up, she helped you out of your sleeping clothes. You stood in front of her - naked like the day you were born. It took time for you to be like this with her. The dark thoughts that invaded your mind and the scars that covered your skin made you believe you were undeserving of this soft trust.

“Krasivyy (beautiful),” Carol mumbled. The words she knew in Russian were few, but she knew the ones that made you smile.

“No funny business,” you warned, pulling the Avenger into the water. She insisted on washing your hair first. The way her fingers massaged into your scalp made your body feel boneless. Once your hair and body were clean, you returned to the favor.

Carol hummed. “You have magic fingers, baby girl.” You chuckled and kissed her shoulder.

Once the soap washed off Carol’s body, you turned off the water and dried yourself off. You took some of Carol’s clothes to change into and climbed into bed. Instantly, Carol pulled you into her arms. Like with your sisters, you decided to rip the band-aid off. “I’m seeing a therapist,” you said. Sam found me one based in the city.” She put her finger underneath your chin and forced you to look at her.

“Do you like her?” You nodded. You liked Sabrina. She was annoying and got underneath your skin, but she forced you to face the hard parts of your psyche. “Proud of you, baby,” she kissed your forehead and hugged you tighter. Her fingers ran through your hair, bringing you closer and closer to sleep.

Carol was proud of you, as were Natasha and Yelena. It felt good to hear. “I love you,” you mumbled against Carol’s chest. The tide was all-consuming. You felt breathless and weak, but you were working on fighting the waves. You were proud of yourself, too.

[professorjirt]

ok I’m gonna bitch a little bit but I’m not going to feel bad about it bc I believe being a lover and a hater in equal measure is the key to balance or whatever.

I saw this image on Pinterest and it was the final straw for me lol. I can’t STAND this kind of interpretation of The Hobbit or Bagginshield/Thilbo because it’s so blatantly untrue. Yes, Bilbo dealt with a LOT of sadness and loneliness. Yes, he was forever changed by his journey and didn’t have the proper ways to heal and cope. But Bilbo DID move onwards. Of course he remembered Thorin and was always sad about losing him and Kíli and Fíli, and of course he still dealt with the trauma from all of that, but he wasn’t dwelling on that loss every day after he got back home. He became a social outcast not because he was mourning but because he went on an adventure at all. He could have had the happiest and non-tragic adventure in Middle Earth and he still would have ended up as “cracked” Bilbo Baggins because of the way hobbit society views that sort of behavior. He was sad for a very long time after Thorin’s death, stated directly from the book, but the implication there is that Bilbo DID eventually begin to heal and move forward. He found happiness in things again, he wasn’t wailing every night for his lost love, he was doing exactly what Thorin’s last request was, that Bilbo live his life well. Bilbo wasn’t alone forever either— Frodo came into his life as a like-minded companion and Bilbo clearly enjoyed having him around (and it wasn’t because Frodo reminded him of Thorin. I don’t mind people saying that Frodo had similarities Bilbo noticed but putting that as the only connection and draw for Bilbo towards Frodo feels like such a disservice to the true depth of Bilbo and Frodo’s relationship). When the Ring began to affect him, he was able to let it go and left to see as much as he could of his old adventures (it IS sad that he couldn’t make it to the Lonely Mountain but that doesn’t cancel out what he WAS able to get to) and reunited with quite a few of his old dwarvish companions. He was sobered by the realization of the true nature of his magic ring and, after Frodo volunteers (and Bilbo is prevented from going bc he was going to try) he is saddened that someone so close to him must deal with the burden of something he felt he started, but he stayed in Rivendell safe and taken care of until Frodo returned, and was happy to reunite with him. Bilbo then spent a few years in his advanced age but well taken care of and honored, and then got to have one final adventure. His story isn’t miserable, and it does have an end, eventually, even despite his own fears that it wouldn’t. I love Bagginshield and I acknowledge the sadness and tragedy in Bilbo’s story, but acting like he had nothing good in his life and the adventure was the single worst thing to ever happen to him is such a gross misunderstanding of not only The Hobbit but Lord of the Rings that it makes me wonder if these people care about the actual characters and not just the ‘fandom’ characters and stories they have in their head. Yes it was a tragedy that Thorin and Bilbo were parted in such a way, but making his story freeze right there isn’t fair to either of them! It feels similar to that popular fandom ship thing where people begin to act like romantic and sexual love is the only relevant aspect of any characters relationships and interactions, and center every single thing around a ‘ship’ instead of engaging with the characters entire worlds and why their relationships are interesting beyond tropes and aus. Bilbo did get to live a good and simple life!! I like tragedy, I wouldn’t be a fan of two of the most miserable characters in Tolkien’s legendarium if I didn’t, but not everything has to be that way, and it flattens the effect of the story to reduce things to only sadness.

I’m not sure how to sign off on this one, but hopefully this doesn’t come across like I’m a party pooper who hates fandom. I really don’t, I greatly enjoy participating in fandom and I don’t mind some trope work or aus being built from the original story, but when people begin to willfully twist said original story in ways it wasn’t meant to be simply because they only really care about two characters in a ship instead of the greater narrative. It feels like it disrespects who these characters are on their own, like they’re lesser when they’re not paired up, if that makes sense. Anyway, I’ve seen the sentiment about Bilbo’s life being nothing but misery after his adventure quite a few times now and I wanted to say something, even if it’s just for me, although I’m curious if anyone has anything to add or a different perspective to bring.

TLDR: Bilbo was happy and lived a good life! Let him have that! He had friends and family around him that supported him and cared about him and he did have a conclusion to his story, however long it took. Losing Thorin doesn’t mean Bilbo has nothing else.

[lesbiradshaw]

just started thinking about bradley as a teenager struggling with his emotions both pre and post his mother’s death/fall out with maverick but not wanting to reach out for help because a history of mental health problems can get you disqualified from enlisting in the service. happy saturday guys.

[xinganhao]

🪐 boy best friend!mingyu.

@tubasebongs → "I WOULD LIKE MINGYU CLINGY/POUTY BOY BEST FRIEND WHO LIKES YOU AND HE TRIES TO HIDE IT BUT FAILS AND STILL TOO PAINFULLY OBVIOUSLY 🙏🏻🙏🏻"

⌗ ┆threw in another trope because mingyu is childhood best friend coded (⋟﹏⋞) lost the ask in my inbox (i'm so sorry!!!) but i hope this still hits the mark :'-)

‧₊˚✩彡 includes: boy best friend!mingyu, childhood friend!mingyu, fluff fluff fluff!!!, cussing, pining/idiot in love/etc., confession -ish, headcanons under the cut.

🪐 headcanons .ᐟ

because of course kim mingyu is the boy next door. your mothers are friends and that's how you meet him, how you essentially grow up with him, even. he's a lively kid— loud and sociable, fond of roughhousing and buying candy at the corner store.

mingyu is the type to have defended you on the playground, his little hands balled in to fists as he plants them at his hips. at the age of six, he's not really capable of inciting fear, but he'll damn well try. as early as then, he's already referring to you as 'my best friend.' "yah, that's my best friend!" "don't make my best friend cry!" "what did you say about my best friend?!"

mingyu's overbearingness wanes a bit as you grow up, as you begin to insist that you can fight your own battles. the title is the one thing that doesn't change. it doesn't matter if you go on to not be classmates anymore, if you run different circles. you are mingyu's best friend and he's yours.

it's a fact that mingyu makes abundantly clear to everyone he meets. hell, even strangers aren't spared by the casual ways in which he manages to bring you up. "excuse me, but your hat is really nice and i think my best friend would like it. may i know where you bought it?" "oh, my best friend loves that artist too!" "you think my shoes are nice? thank you, my best friend got it for me."

mingyu is the picture perfect cliché of the best friend. he lives to annoy you, to rile you up and test your patience, but he also knows you like the back of his hand. it's something that you reciprocate— the cat and dog fights belied only by the deep concern and consideration that you both undeniably have for each other.

if he's honest, mingyu isn't all too sure when things shifted. (the answer: somewhere around adolescence, on an unassuming weekend spent at an arcade.) he just found that he kept wanting a little more. wanted to annoy you a little more so you would keep looking his way. wanted to talk to you a little more so you would think of him, too. mingyu isn't sure when his feelings started, but he knows they're not about to end any time soon.

it drives mingyu absolutely insane, initially, because he's seen how these things go! he's sat through all your favorite romcoms, has idly watched his mother's weekly dramas. falling in love with your best friend only ends well in fiction. in real life, in his life? he's not so sure.

mingyu isn't about to start avoiding you, though. isn't going to run from his feelings like a bunch of other people do. you always say he's dramatic when he says so, but he's at least half-serious when he says he can't live without you. and so he gives himself a stern talking to, a set of rules to follow— he won't tell you. he won't put you in that position, where you have to choose. he'll just go about things as he always does.

and, most importantly: mingyu refuses to look at your friendship as a consolation prize. it is not a silver medal, not a second-best to a potential romantic relationship. it is the best thing, being your best friend, and he's not about to put that on the line.

one thing mingyu fails to take in to account: just how painfully obvious he is. he doesn't have to confess to you. it bleeds in to everything he says and does. everyone knows, from his family to his friends to your family. they're all not so sure, either, when the exactly mingyu went from just acting friendly to being at your every whim without you even asking, but it's as clear as day.

mingyu thinks he's slick. on the rare occasions he's called out, he'll scoff and deny. "me? in love with my best friend? that's crazy." deny, deny, deny. that's mingyu's game for years and years, until people just give up on asking and wait for one or the other: for him to crack or for you to notice.

being best friends with a mingyu who's hopelessly in love with you is a carousel of moments: a dozen pouty selfies a week, incessant texts blowing up your phone, facetime calls where he's drunk and whining to be picked up. and more: the smell of his cologne on almost all of your things, the passport photo of you that he keeps behind his clear phone case, a specific smile that he reserves for when you're not looking.

really, it's just like mingyu for his eventual confession to be unceremonious, unprompted. all it takes is for you to make one offhand joke (time for you to confess to me, kim mingyu) and for mingyu to take that just a little too seriously (holy shit, have i been that obvious).

mingyu thought he'd take this 'secret' to the grave, honestly. or maybe he'd bring it up when you're both old and gray, and you can hit him over the head with a cane or something. but now it's out in the open, now it's something he can't take back— and, well, there's only one last thing for him to do: hope for the goddamn best.

extras 📱 texts from mingyu ➤ friends.

[dollypopup]

I truly cannot overstate just how much I adore Colin Bridgerton as a male love lead, and how important his story is, in particular in a current, modern reading. We live in a time of alpha male machismo that in many ways mirrors the sexism of the historical time period Colin is in, and we have a hero who explicitly rejects it. More than that, we have a hero who first tries on the persona, first tries to fit in, and then determines, with no outside influence and all on his own, that it's wrong. That he doesn't want to be like the men of his society, that he doesn't like the expectation of sex without love and commitment and connection, that he doesn't want to be 'one of the boys', even if it comes at their derision.

Because when Violet says he has always been her most sensitive child, when he has always considered others before himself, when he has always offered a joke or a moment of levity- for so long, he felt he had to. That there was no other choice.

Colin Bridgerton, The Great Pretender, is finally coming into the light.

Take my hand. Come walk with me.

Colin's arc is incredibly clear, and incredibly dear to me. We can track his progress throughout the seasons he has been in, but if we consider his backstory, it comes even more in clarity.

Piecing together a timeline with some influence from the books and loose historical accuracy, Colin loses his father at 12 and then is sent off to Eton. And he is a tiny thing when his father passes, shorter even than his 9 year old sister, Eloise.

(Yes, I checked!! He's half a head shorter than Eloise, and an entire head shorter than Daphne. This boy is SMALL)

So it makes a lot of sense to me that this is the start of his fake-it-to-make-it personality. He cannot grieve with his family in these circumstances, he's been sent off to school with other boys who are bigger and stronger than him, and he must realize relatively quickly that weakness in their eyes will never be tolerated. In fact, Eton was well known for corporal punishment and bullying during this time. Older boys were well known to mistreat the younger once, and considering just how small and soft-hearted Colin is, and just how vulnerable he is having lost his father-

Of course Colin would become a target of such.

And despite that, we meet him in Season 1 with an endearing earnestness and hopefulness in the world. Something inside him, something sweet and gentle and warm, thrives to live. And fights against grief to do so. How easy it would have been for him to lose his father and be bitter. How easy for him to see his father die from the steps of Aubrey Hall, to be sent to a boarding school away, and withdraw in on himself.

And yet, he doesn't.

At least, not in the way one would suspect. Instead, Colin becomes a chronic people pleaser. If the people around him are happy, then he will be safe. Will not be hurt. And they have no space for his own hurt, regardless. There's hardly even any space for his mirth, as most people didn't even reply to his letters on his travels the previous season.

In Colin's confession in Season 3, he says 'I have spent so long trying to feel less', and this numbing begins early in his life. He's a consummate gentleman in Season 1. He does everything by the book, everything as he should. He wants to be accepted in his society, wants to be taken seriously, wants to belong. So he sees a pretty woman, and he gets along with her well enough, and he courts her. Openly, honestly, in full view. It isn't a heart-stopping love, but he has numbed himself for years at this point, so affection will do, and if proper men of his society are married, well, maybe he'd finally be taken seriously.

And yet, no one notices him, even still. No one except Penelope. His own mother doesn't recognize his behavior, and worries for him after she does. How long has it been since she's actually seen him? We know from the show that he's incredibly close to his mother, and loves her dearly, but we also know that after Edmund's passing, Violet was mired in grief and post-partum depression. Colin misses much of this as a firsthand witness since he's at school, but that doesn't mean he wouldn't be able to tell, wouldn't be affected by losing his mother and father in one fell swoop. In fact, Colin loses his connection to the majority of his family in being sent to school so soon after the tragedy. So of course he comes back and he tries not to make waves. Tries to do things correctly.

His friction with Anthony proves time and time again that nothing he does is entirely ever able to fully please him, and this causes contention in their brotherly bond. Of all the siblings, Anthony is arguably the most harsh with Colin. And he is also the model for who a man should be in the family, as the head of the family.

So when Anthony sees Colin earnestly try to marry, he scoffs him off. Accuses Colin of only wanting to marry to have sex, and then claiming "It is my fault. I should have taken you to brothels." This is the first on-screen shaming of Colin looking for connection before sex, and Colin doubles down. He wants to marry for love.

But he doesn't actually love Marina. Neither of them truly know each other, and so when it all blows up, and he is humiliated to the entirety of his community, Colin gets his first taste of romantic failure. He tried to do it right, and it ended more wrong than he could have ever imagined. So, maybe Anthony was right. Maybe he is just a foolish, green boy, who has no idea how to go about things. The fallout of his failed engagement echoes in the persona he puts on in Season 3, and the choices he undergoes during them. Is it any wonder he ends up going to brothels to have unfulfilling sex if even his own BROTHER, the head of his family, tells him to do so?

It doesn't happen right away, though. Despite the fact that no one truly checks on him or sees how this breakup effects him (Eloise dismisses the hurt he must feel in light of such events with an honestly rather accurate wave-away "Men are always less affected", and that is true), it is evident that he is NOT okay.

We leave Colin in Season 1 putting on a mask, a happy face to his family, a 'you inspired me' to Penelope, and then spends his travels sad. Depressed. Taking drugs to try to ease his mind, occupying himself with writing to Penelope. In Season 2, he spends the entirety of it trying to be useful. And he does this with Penelope. He feels deeply for her, he cares so much for her, and he even says it to her aloud 'You are special to me' and 'I will always look after you' and how he could never give her up. Season 2 is a season of healing for Colin- he closes his chapter with Marina with a relationship post-mortum conversation after he does a wellness check to make sure she's alive (let's be real here, no one else was going to reach out to her. She made it clear to him that even her own father didn't want her), makes amends with Will, proves himself useful to Penelope, and departs on a high: he thinks he threaded the needle. He thinks he was successful sending Jack off, that he made Penelope happy, and that he's in with The Boys.

But whilst the person he is around Penelope is genuine, the person he is around these men are not. We know from Season 3 that they don't actually like him. They make snide, underhanded comments toward him, and laugh at him. I stand by the idea that end of season 2 is Fife and Co. laughing at Penelope AND laughing at Colin. They don't care about their friendship, they're teasing him for caring about her so openly, and Colin is protective of the relationship he has with Penelope. So he makes a comment for the boys, and puts on his mask. 'I would never court Penelope Featherington' (look, I'm just like you. I walk like you, talk like you, speak like you) 'Not in your wildest fantasies, Fife' (I am one of you one of you one of you- so why does it feel so hollow?)

He gets, now, his first taste of acceptance from them. They come to him to Mondrich's bar, he repays his slight against him, and he feels he is one of them. (Does he truly *want* to be one of them?) And so when we open Season 3, it's a smooth progression.

Colin is walking the walk and talking the talk, and yet his heart isn't in it. He's not one of these smarmy men, but he mimics them. Their behavior. In part, at least. Whilst Fife is out preying on 18 year old women in coat closets, Colin is telling gaggles of girls how pretty they are and how with such nice dresses, they're sure to find a husband. He makes it clear he's not an option, but that he doesn't mind being a fantasy. And Luke Newton does an amazing job making that clear: there are three sides of Colin. The Colin portrayed to his society in the light in good company (1) and the Colin portrayed to his society in the dark, in. . .less savory circles (aka: The Lads)(2), his 'armor' as his mum calls it. And finally, the most important but the one kept closest to the chest: the Colin of truth. The Colin who cries alone in his room after a breakup, the Colin who doesn't burden others with his feelings, the Colin who writes to Penelope, the Colin who loves deeply and feels deeply.

But his society has no use for a man like the real Colin, they do not *want* a man like real Colin, so he puts it under lock and key. And so much of this is centered around his feelings about sex, so here comes my 'Colin is Queer' soapbox. Colin does not experience sexual attraction like the rest of the men of the ton. He is expected to find it casual and be cavalier about it. To just want to fuck for the sake of fucking. But Colin needs love and romance and connection to actually enjoy sexual interactions. Nowadays, we recognize this as being on the asexual spectrum, of being demisexual, but he didn't have words for that in the time period he's in, so he has to forge ahead to figure himself out without a community identity to find solidarity with. That's what makes the brothel scenes so interesting as a narrative device: in the first, he's masking even in the midst of it, and in the second, he can't. After kissing Penelope, he finally, for the first time in his life, has a sexual interaction that means something to him.

It's the first one he truly enjoys, and the first one that feels right to him. It clicks for him that oh, that's what it's meant to be like. And the strain of that realization whilst still having to be what his society expects of him puts immense stress on his shoulders. You see how he grows more and more uncomfortable about the conversations, until finally he rejects it outright.

Even when it's very much not encouraged for him to do so. He's even told "You are much more fun this season." That's why he hides himself. From near everyone, even his family, even his brothers. It's telling how Anthony's positive interaction with Colin is when they're at the club, and Anthony praises him for his most recent attention. Have we seen much of Anthony being proud of Colin, otherwise? Not really. So he's reinforced in his persona. Doesn't boast of his travels because it didn't have anyone liking him for it, before. Doesn't even say how many cities he's gone to. Except with Penelope.

In the books, there's a line about their kiss, referencing how his world will never be the same. And it won't be. Because when Colin says that she helps him see the world in new ways, it's in a multitude of meanings.

Penelope refuses to let him wear the mask, because in truth, Penelope is the only one who doesn't like it. Not only does she see the real Colin, but she enjoys the real Colin. Whilst everyone else is simpering over Colin's new look and attitude, rejects who he is in reality, Penelope dismisses it, wants the person she knows him to be instead. It's only when he strips down the facades that Penelope allows him into her life again. And her Whistledown article was harsh, but it was also true. He *is* masking. He *is* putting on a persona and a role. But she was wrong when she asked if Colin even knows which is real: Colin knows very well which is real. And he also knows the realities of him haven't been accepted.

When Colin tells Penelope charm can be taught, he speaks from experience. When he says 'living for the expectations of others is a trap' it is because he has already fallen into it, and if he can't dig himself out, maybe he can keep her from it. Colin tells her 'you do not need lessons' and that she is fine exactly as she is, because just as she sees the real him and loves him, he sees the real her, and loves her, too. But they both live in the constraints of their society, and so they both put on the masquerade. Even sometimes to hide from each other.

The current climax of his arc is when he's out with the lads, after they all go off to the brothel again, and he disassociates from the experience. Playing cards and insisting on sharing sexual exploits, to which he does not want to take part, and makes a lighthearted dig at them. 'There is no gentleman at this table'. He includes himself in that, and then clarifies. He speaks aloud for the first time to them the truth of his heart- 'Do you not ever tire of the expectation to remain cavalier about the one thing in life that holds genuine meaning? Do you not find it lonely?' Can it really only just be him?

And it is. Or, maybe it isn't, but the rest of them aren't brave enough to admit it, so they're okay in making him feel like it is, in outcasting him for being a romantic, for caring about a woman beyond what she can provide for him sexually. Colin professes he doesn't like who he's become, doesn't like the expectations for him to behave the way he has, and they laugh at him. Again. He is made fun of, again.

He goes home and he falls in his bed and he feels like he lost it all. Lost Penelope to his own advice, and lost his newfound shine in his community. But when he's faced with which one matters more to him, he chooses Penelope. Unhesitatingly.

Colin chooses to be sensitive. He chooses to be a warm-hearted, gentle man in a society that prefers sexist machismo. Act one way in the light and another in the shadows. Colin wants to live authentically, as a man he doesn't really have a role model for. He is brave and he is tender, he sees the sexism of his society and he rejects it. He sees the importance Penelope has in his life, the way she makes him feel, and he embraces her wholeheartedly. He wants love and romance, he wants connection and meaning.

Colin, The Great Pretender, sick of pretending. Colin, walking into that ballroom and giving Fife the cut direct when he invites him out. Colin, cutting into a dance in the middle of a ball between Penelope and a man the entire city knows is about to propose. Colin staring deeply into her eyes with such unfiltered longing even *Cressida* can't help but notice what's going on. Colin running off after Penelope in full view of his society, outrunning a *carriage* to see her. Begging her to let him in. Colin on his knees, all but flaying his chest open for Penelope to see his heart. Colin made a choice when that candle flickered out, and his choice was Penelope. His choice was himself. And his choice was to flip off societal expectation and to live for love, damn the consequences.

I think our own world would be a better place if modern men took his example, too. Colin Bridgerton as male love lead in Bridgerton, a global show, is such a refreshing, wonderful example. A man who tried to be like what the world wanted, and who decided to go against the gender norms of his time. A man who prioritizes the woman he loves, who risks ridicule in doing so and comes to realize that he doesn't care. He doesn't care anymore about being one of the boys, one of the lads, one of the guys. Fuck his society if his society can't recognize the beauty of what he feels with Pen. He cares about being the best self he can be. And that best self is around Penelope, inspired by Penelope.

Because how he is with Penelope? God, I could swoon. At every turn, he prioritizes her comfort and personhood. He validates her, he sees her in beautiful, positive light and he helps her see herself that way, too. He encourages her to be brave because he already feels she is, he refuses to let her call herself stupid or a laughingstock, he apologizes without excuses, he checks in on her every step of the way. He's so passionate in that carriage, he's burning for her, he's yearning, but he doesn't do anything until she agrees for him to. He confesses his feelings and when she says they're friends, he backs off. He listens, he cares. He apologizes for overstepping her boundaries, and then when she gives him her consent, the only thing on his mind is showing how much he wants and appreciates her by providing her pleasure. Colin, the people pleaser, dedicated only to pleasing two people in that moment: Penelope, and himself. Because he wants to do that, to give her an orgasm that exists just for her. He's a witness to it, and that's pleasure for him, too. He waits for her nod of consent, he revels in seeing her enjoying herself. And the aftercare- I could cry.

Colin is a man who had every single reason not to be a kind, sensitive soul, and still he chose it. Chose to share it because the headline, even a wallflower can bloom, that's not just for Penelope.

It's for Colin, too.

[pinkie-quinns]

(posting some old twitter threads here for posterity's sake)

Chrissy and Eddie breakup. She's a lesbian, apparently. Has finally come to terms with it. It's half a decade of Eddie's life in the dust. He... he doesn't exactly handle it well.

But Steve's there for him, offers Eddie a shoulder to cry on.

They’re drunk when Eddie says no one’s ever been in love with him. Not really. So Steve kisses him.

But Eddie’s straight.

He always has been.

He freaks the fuck out. Bolts. Lets the calls go to voicemail. He’d lost his partner and one of his best friends in the span of a week and it’s not fair and he’s pissed off beyond belief at Steve for doing it. 

But he’s also confused. And he also can’t stop thinking about it. 

He stews on it for weeks. Avoids mutual friends like the plague. The band lets people know he’s alive, apparently. Between losing Chrissy and Steve, he feels like there are chunks of him missing. So he gets drunk. Hooks up with blondes who kiss him all wrong. 

He’s five whiskeys deep and when he finds himself banging at Steve’s door. Steve answers with his hair mussed and his voice sleep-rough. And Eddie tells him he’s really fucking pissed at him. And Steve apologizes again. And it should be enough but it’s just fucking not. 

So Steve apologizes again and again and again, all blubbery and guilt-ridden. It's only making Eddie more angry. And he doesn’t know why. And he’s too drunk for this shit.

So he shoves Steve against the door and kisses him stupid. 

He wakes up in his own bed the next morning and he's sure he dreamt it. (He’s been dreaming it a lot lately.) But his lips are all stubble-scrapped and his mouth is cotton but he remembers how his friend's tongue tasted and he just.. Wants to cry.

Cause he’s not gay. He’s not. Other people are. Most of his friends are. And he’s fine with that! He’s been a good ally.

Well, maybe not to Chrissy. But only cause it broke his goddamn heart. Only cause he loved her so much. Only cause he'd never felt that way about anyone before or anyone since.

Except well— Fuck. Shit fucking fuck.

So he calls her. He’s kind of hoping it’ll ring through but she picks up straight away, lets out a soft little hey. And it breaks his heart all over again to hear her voice. But he takes a breath and says, “I kissed Steve.”

And she pauses. “You kissed Steve?"

And then he says, “Well, he kissed me first. But yeah. I got drunk. Jeez Chris, I got wasted. And then I— yeah, I kissed him.”

And she's quiet for a long time, just soft breathing and static. Then she says, “Thank you for telling me, Eddie.”

And oh. That’s what it was, wasn’t it?

So they talk about it. All of it. And he really listens to her this time. He couldn’t the last time, couldn’t hear over the sound of his heart fuckin’ shattering. Then he’s the one blubbering apologies cause his girl was going through all this shit totally alone and he is now way too familiar with how bad it sucks.

And then they talk about It. The big It. All the stuff her mama drilled into her brain since she was in diapers. All the names that got spat at him between hall shoves. Shit they couldn’t be 'cause then they’d be wrong, shit they couldn’t be 'cause then they’d be right. 

And when they’re done and the conversation turns into How’s the band? and Is Marcel still driving you crazy? Eddie feels ten pounds lighter, almost whole again. Like he was but better, all glued together in gold. Well, almost altogether.

He really needs to talk to Steve. 

He knocks on his door again that night. This time not at 1 AM, this time sober and remarkably dehydrated.

And Steve answers. This time put together, this time hair done and voice in its day pitch (Eddie kinda misses the sleep rasp). And he looks.. fuck. He looks perfect, doesn’t he?

Eddie’s spent all day mulling this conversation over. But standing here now he’s coming up blank. He mutters, “I- I was an asshole.”

Steve opens his mouth but Eddie just trucks on.

“–you were an asshole too, man. But me, uh, probably more?” 

And he ignores the way his stupid traitor eyes start to water, always do when the moment feels too big. “–Sorry about that. Sorry that I freaked, sorry that I was pissed at you for the shit I was just pissed at myself for. Sorry for, uh. Yelling at you. Sorry, um. Yeah. Sorry for kissing you. That definitely wasn’t cool. It’s been uh... a confusing month. Shit. I’m so sorry Steve.”

Steve just leans against the door. Normally he wore everything on his face. Couldn't win Texas Hold 'Em to save his life. Not now though. Now it feels like Steve could have a sleeve full of aces and Eddie wouldn’t know a thing.

But then he says “Eddie” so quiet it sounds like he hadn't even meant to. Like it just slipped onto his tongue.

Eddie can’t do anything but blink, “Yeah?”

“Let me um-” Steve swallows, “Let me get this straight. Where’d you land?”

God, this shit was humiliating, “Not that. Straight. Not straight.”

“Ok. Cool.”

“Yup.”

“And me–” Steve scratches at the back of his neck, “where did you land on me?”

Eddie feels like he’s gonna explode. But he can’t bolt. Not again. Even though every bone in his body wants to. So he plants his feet, coughs, “Well, I pretty much assaulted you, didn’t I?”

Steve rolls his eyes, snarks a laugh. “Sure. Yeah. I’ve been totally gone on you since, I dunno, forever. You were straight. You were basically married to your high school sweetheart. All it took was one of those things no longer being true for me to totally nosedive. But sure, you threw yourself at me.”

This was. It was a lot. 

“Steve–”

Steve waves a hand, stops him. “‘No one’s ever been in love with you. Not really.’ That’s what you said, dude. Meanwhile, shit, cards on the table here? Every relationship I’ve had in the last five years has been a pointless attempt to get over you. So yeah, it was weird to hear, Eddie.” 

Steve won’t look him in the eye. His neck is craned towards the ceiling.

Eddie whistles through his teeth, “Maybe, uh… maybe give me a bit more time?”

“Oh.” Steve finally glances up. His poker face is all gone. He looks like a kicked puppy. “Yeah, yeah, of course.”

“I’ll probably just need a week or two? I mean, fuck man, that’s a whole other, like Phylum of pornography I’ve been missing out on for the last 25 years. I gotta get myself acquainted before I can, you know–” He reaches out, rubs at Steve’s bicep with a wink, “Get myself Acquainted.”

Steve’s whole body is shaking. Eddie can feel the relief flitting out of him. “Jesus Christ, Munson.”

“Then I’ll take you out, Harrington! Show you the town.”

“Dude, will your dick even work at that point?”

“On the first date?” Eddie gasps, “Lord Harrington, how improper!”

Steve just shrugs, “Rules are different for guys.”

“What? Wait seven years and then hope you land a sexuality crisis?” Then Eddie’s leaning in, closing the space between them. Trying to ignore the pounding in his chest, thinks maybe he's never been so terrified. 

Steve smiles into the kiss. “Yeah, Munson. It's something like that.” 

[bakugoushotwife]

in my opinion, gojo’s storyline has been handled so so poorly i can’t help but think it’s intentional. it is not bad writing to kill a character—even a beloved character. i know most people will dismiss my criticisms because gojo is so beloved to me and so many others. i’ve said before that i don’t mind if he died. does it hurt? of course, and i would still cry and be sad about it. but there is a beautiful way to do it. with respect and honor for his legacy—for what he has done for your manga, the characters in it, and audiences worldwide. but no…gege chose the path of horror and disrespect. at certain points i’d say to myself, well. this is a dark manga. but essentially gojo is the only character that receives this treatment. since the beginning—since suguru left him, he’s been wondering if he mattered because he was a person, or if he only mattered because he was powerful and useable. we certainly fucking answered that question. he is a weapon and nobody ever cared about him at all!!!

and we knew he was being used—he knew he was being used, but he is selfless. so he did it for his kids. for megumi and yuuji and yuuta—he wanted them to be safe. in these flashbacks it’s exceedingly clear that he knew he would die. again—that’s not my issue. gojo dying to sukuna makes plenty of sense and it would hurt to leave it there. but to give us an afterlife scene where he’s presented a choice—north and south—that concept lead nowhere, that’s truly fucked up. to leave all the subtle clues and hints for no reason but to keep people reading and theorizing his return is fucked up. to continue to use his imagery to promote your manga when you know he’s not even honored in your manga is fucked up. we don’t get a funeral or a grave for him. no one’s spoken about him in chapters despite him fighting for hours against sukuna and damaging him so much that yuuji could win, nothing. yuuta wearing him like a costume and no one is horrified about it. i thought his students WERE different. they weren’t jujutsu society yet. that’s why gojo was their teacher—shaping them into better human beings. how am i supposed to trust in their future when it seems they’re just as cold and heartless as everyone before them? no one has honored gojo in any way since the moment he died. and they’ve forgotten about him. he spent his entire life fighting and no one can even say thank you. gege intentionally used gojo to promote the end of his manga because he knows that gojo fans make up at least half of his fanbase so had we stopped reading when he died, he would have lost a lot of traction. he baited us intentionally, cruelly, and something that transcends storytelling. i’ve truly never seen a mangaka have this sort of vitriol for one of their characters and the people that love him.

we spent the entire last chapter talking about some random fucking mission when we have several unanswered questions and concerns. i thought gege said he wanted this ending to be shocking and something you didn’t see in shonen? tying everything up neatly where no one has any trauma or grief for what they’ve experienced, everyone comes back to life except the one character you hate specifically and choso, defying your own power structures and having everyone laughing into the sunset is exactly how shonen ends so what in the fuck is he talking about??

let me disclaim, this is not megumi hate at all. i love him very much and i am so happy he’s back with the group but like. he shouldn’t be able to even walk. he tanked unlimited void for over 6 minutes whenever that length caused irreversible damage to sukuna himself. not to mention the countless black flashes. so what the fuck? he doesn’t mention gojo at all?? the first time he laughs in this manga is after he reads a note written by his dead fucking caretaker about his dead fucking father? like i don’t believe. random open ended kenjaku/suguru mention just to piss me off, an absolutely no mention of gojos sacrifice or how they’ll miss him. i’m sick to my stomach. gege defiled his memory both in the story and outside of it. wow.

P.S. SUKUNA CARED MORE ABOUT GOJO THAN ANYONE ELSE (SUGURU IS NOT INCLUDED IN THIS I MEAN HIS STUDENTS AND SOCIETY)

[originalwinnerfanfish]

Well, it was a big piece of work, hah

I took a break from RW and decided to draw something nostalgic

Actually I've been stuck with this idea for two years now and I'm glad I finally found the strength to do something about it. Thanks for inspiration from one good man)

Long story short

In this AU autobots and deceptions are two unions of different tribes: mudwings, seawings and sandwings for the firsts and icewings, nightwings, rainwings and Pantala tribes for seconds. Skywings doesn’t exist anymore (because we need someone who takes place of predacons).

People are just people or scavenger if you prefer. And instead of whole cosmos it’s just two mainlands.

- Optimus Prime - I kinda like tfp Optimus. So formidable, powerful and mysterious but really gentle at the same time. And mud/sea combo works here in the best way. As the representation of two main tribes union and strong father/brother figure for team members.

I also think he might be an animus (but don’t use his magic often, especially for killing someone)

- Ultra Magnus - Pure Icewing already will be great for him, but I gave him part of seawing so he could be more like an Optimus. But instead of being softer and warmer, Magnus is more cold and pragmatic version of him. A character who sees other dragons not as close allies and friends but as ordinary soldiers.

- Ratchet - Yeah, the seawing would fit him better, but i just don’t know how to make the colors work here sooo… he’s a weak-fire mudwing. Like a skywing, but mudwing. Why not. Make sense with his lack of guns in origin. I think he’s design can be better, and maybe I’ll remake it.

I love his arc of recognizing people as equals and especially his interactions with Raphael. I think Ratchet often read him scrolls about history and magical artifacts.

- Bulkhead - No surprises here - mudwing fit him perfectly. I think that the Wreckers could been a big and strong mudwing troops, and Bulkhead was a bigwings in such a one. He is lost a lot of his siblings during the war, and therefore tries with all his might to protect the new members of his family. I absolutely adore his relationship with Miko and Jackie, so for me he’s one of the cutest character, and I tried to make his forms round and soft.

- Bumblebee - I know that majority draw him as a hivewing, but in that case the most logical for him will be a night/sandwing. Literally, autobots get their own Sunny)

I think in this version with his lack of a voice he could communicate using sign language or some variation of aquatic.

- Arcee - Also nothing special - she is a seawing. I originally wanted to give her a helmet but it was too hard to draw. Just like Sunny she was born pretty small and now even younger dragons can be bigger than her. I’m pretty sure she is old enough to have seen Bumblebee when he was a dragonet, so she's literally like an older sister to him.

Actually she really gives me a Queen Glory vibes with her sarcasm and dangerous beauty, so rainwing might fit her as well.

- Smokescreen - I used to think he was just a cringe, but now I realize he's a pretty interesting and realistic character. Like Ultra Magnus, I wanted to make him look like Optimus, only this time Smoke is more of a younger and much more irresponsible version of him. I think in this version (being part rainwing) he's trying to mimic Optimus's coloring using same red, blue and pale-gray shades.

- Wheeljack - The scruffy boy! I think in this version he could be Bulkhead's "adopted sibling", so they are really close to each other. And, because he spent most of his life with Bulkhead, it's harder for him to get close to other tribes and dragons.

Painting scales to keep canonical colors is kinda cheating, but for this dude it totally works. He should have a pretty bright appearance with all those scars and bright spots.

Cliffjumper - Ohoh… this poor guy. I didn't even think of putting him here, but I like his smug face too much. Even making his scales darker than the original, it's still too brightly colored for mudwing. He probably jokes about it a lot, saying that his ancestors were skywings.

I really like his dynamic with Arcee, and it's a shame we haven't seen much of their relationship. I think I need to do something cute about that.

[mikareo]

“ ࣭⸰ ★ THE MOON SAYS HELLO. . . ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀呪術廻船; geto suguru x fem reader ⠀ ꒰ . . part one of three ꒱ . . . word count; 3.6k

⊹ ⠀⠀despite his insistence on never falling in love, suguru fails to stop himself from becoming smitten with his best friend’s beloved. you’ve become a flicker of hope in his darkness— though you’re someone who can never and will never be his to have and to hold.

series contains; if gojo didn’t kill geto n geto was given a chance to redeem himself, redemption arc!geto, human caretaker!reader, kind of e2l but also not really, love triangle, gojo x reader, fluff, major angst, heartbreak, wedding at the end, swearing probably, geto refers to humans as monkeys per usual author's note; rewritten fic, will be 3 parts in total (i'm half done pls be patient w me im a slow writer...)

YEAR ONE, DAY ONE

His face is sore. So sore. It’s red, swollen, and sore after he’s spent the last three hours screaming in frustration with his current predicament. This is absurd, Satoru should’ve just killed him when he had the chance. Geto’s lost count of how many times his palms have slapped his own face; over and over again with wishes that he can wake up from this hellish nightmare the higher ups call ���rehabilitation’— though he can somewhat still recall the first slap that he’d given himself around the half-hour mark. He’s got a pretty good memory…that doesn’t stop him from hoping his veins aren’t too noticeable as they angrily protrude from his forehead in crimson currents.

He’d rather be dead than imprisoned like this…like an animal…like one of those damn useless monkeys.

The intensity of his wails continue to bounce off of the barren walls— barren aside from the dark mark he’d punched in earlier— and echo like a party of lost ghouls in the bottom of an empty well. Geto feels like a mad man.

He’s only just begun his isolation and he’s already growing mad with boredom. 

A huff escapes his lips as he plops himself down onto the twin-sized bed that’s nestled in the corner of his so-called ‘suite’. With linen sheets and a dark maroon comforter, it’s almost a cozy living situation; in another life, Geto could imagine himself cuddling beneath the covers with his favorite book and a soft record playing in the background for some ambience. That world is far far away now. Even if he asked for a record player, he doubts the higher ups would grant him one. He’s their most valuable prisoner, and they’re sure to keep him as miserable as possible until he’s one-hundred-percent pure hearted once more. However, despite their reluctance to grant him the things he wants, these aren’t the worst living arrangements he’s ever encountered and he knows that Gojo did his best to give him the best commodities he could to…well…a highly dangerous criminal. 

This is the only path to forgiveness, he reminds himself, constantly trying to be optimistic about the utter absurdity of it all. 

Optimism hasn’t been his specialty in a long time; anyone with a working pair of eyes would be able to deduce that, and he despises it. He’s quite rusty with the characteristic and has looked on the darker side for a while now— but wishes that he could be as reckless as he once was as a teenager. He can vividly remember how loud his laughter was with Gojo and Shoko, laughing as they chased each other throughout the school yard and using each other's cursed energy to their advantage in games of tag— but that would be near impossible now. His two best friends can barely look him in the eyes after the treason he’s committed. Gojo views him as a ticking time bomb and Shoko’s healed too many people to count that he’s harmed.

If he stepped one foot out of this room, he believes he’d be smothered on sight.

The Jujutsu Society fears Geto Suguru..

…and Geto Suguru fears himself. 

In all fairness, he deserves everything that’s come to him. What he did was awful; mass murdering humans…trying to murder even more humans…harming innocent students…starting a war during the holiday season…the whole gist. There are obviously bad actions from the past that continue to haunt Geto to this day and will continue haunting him so long as he breathes— but that’s all it is now…the past. He wants redemption. He needs redemption. If Gojo managed to reach clarity within Geto’s awful decisions, then maybe he can too. 

Geto wants to get better, to be better…not only for Gojo…but for himself. 

This is exactly why he and his best friend has devised a plan, one that will hopefully help lead Geto on a better path— a five-year path that will only be completed if he truly wants it to, and a half a decade seems like quite a bit of time to most; but for Geto, he doesn’t know if it will be enough. 

For Satoru…do it for Satoru…

He wraps his arms around himself in an attempt to comfort his heart that beats with fear every second of every day. It’s been so long since he’s been hugged by another, and he doubts he’ll ever feel that love and comfort from someone in his life. It’s the first time in a long time that he’s been alone with his thoughts with no one else to turn to; and if he’s being honest, there’s nothing in the entire world that scares him more than his own mind. 

“Geto Suguru?”

He doesn’t recognize that voice.

The soft sound comes from seemingly nowhere, startling Geto with a slight jump. Whomever it is sounds frail and weak, obviously intimidated by whom they’re going to be in the presence of in mere minutes; and Geto already finds nothing but annoyance at his new companion. Of course they’re going to have prior judgment. He bets you already hate him for the rumors and stories. He doesn’t really have a choice whether or not you come in, though. Gojo insisted on a caretaker— someone to talk to so he doesn’t go insane by himself— and Geto will do anything to make his best friend happy. So, he stands up and dusts his pants off, making sure to look more presentable, and stalks towards the entryway. His hand meets the knob, yanking it open, and ready to meet the stranger on the other side. 

Standing before him is you, a woman around his age. You can’t possibly be older than twenty-six, but perhaps you’re a few years younger. In your hands are various sweets and snacks that Gojo knows Geto loves, balancing on a silver tray that shines more light in the room than he’d care for. The reflections dazzle straight into his eyes, blinding him briefly with a scowl on his face. Of course Gojo would know to send you in with his favorites. He’s so predictable. His best friend is less surprising than he thinks, causing Geto to roll his eyes to the top of his head; though he appreciates the kind gesture. It’s far past dinner, though. Gojo must’ve struggled to convince the others to allow him a proper meal. 

“Don’t just stand there, monkey.” Geto commands whilst gesturing to the small dining table in the center of his confined space. “Come inside.”

The instant you stepped into his presence, it was horribly noticeable that you have no cursed energy. Zero. Not a lick of it…and he struggles to hide the disgust with his body language. He can’t help but be annoyed that a monkey such as yourself is going to be in his company for the next five years. 

With his distaste for you clear as day, he pulls out a chair for himself and disregards the kind option of pulling out yours prior; expectantly looking towards you with the expectation that you’re going to serve him his meal like a servant. 

“Well, monkey…” he trails off disinterested, “I’m waiting.”

You hustle towards him, quickly and efficiently placing the special grade sorcerer’s meal on the placemat before him and taking the empty seat opposite. There’s a small breath you’re holding in, Geto can see it in your throat— it’s suffocating you with fear for your life as your fingers lightly tap the dark wood in a nervous fit. 

You’re completely pathetic. As if a monkey would ever have the courage to speak to him. This is ridiculous.

His hands slam against the table with a loud bang. “What are you doing?” he questions, heavily interrogating you as you cower in your seat like a meak mouse. “Does Satoru expect you to monitor my meals?”

He really is nothing but a prisoner, isn’t he?

“What damage could I possibly do with this slob that’s been served to me by the scum of the earth? Start a food fight in the halls? Overthrow the Jujutsu world with a biscuit?” (If that is the case, in your defense, the biscuits are quite hard. There must be a new kitchen hand in training who based them.) This is a horrible day.

As Geto impatiently awaits your answer, a deep breath escapes your lips— perhaps a way to soothe your heartbeat into something less than a record-breaking speed— and you attempt to focus your stress and fear into a fleeting moment of zen. Your large eyes shut for a total of three seconds; one, two, three…before opening again. This time, as his own eyes make contact with yours, they’re shining with slightly more confidence than before as you swallow hard and settle your gaze on Geto— the look in your eyes evolving from that of anxiety to empathy. 

“Actually,” your lips rise into a thin smile, “Gojo Satoru didn’t send me here, the higher ups did.”

Your eyes search Geto’s for any signs of discomfort or inner rage that could be boiling beneath the surface of his poker face. It appears that he’s grown even stronger at hiding his true emotions towards humans; however, you can see through the veil. Yes, it’s thick and difficult to brush past, but there’s a slight opening in the center that you peek inside— and what you can see in his heart is a man who simply wants to finally do what’s right. 

“The higher ups are aware that Gojo Satoru has a soft spot for you— hell, everyone who knows your name is aware that when it comes to you, he has no reason. He has no right of mind. I’m only here to monitor and report your progress in an honest manner. That’s it. That’s all. I promise I won’t intrude on your life more than necessary.” 

Shit.

“I’m sorry, Geto Suguru…but you’re stuck with me.”

It’s as if his left and right sides are arguing between themselves. His good conscience says that he should give you a chance, perhaps you could be different than the monstrous humans that attempted to kill his beloved Mimiko and Nanako; while his bad conscience tells him to let out one of his cursed spirits to devour you where you stand. Listening to his right side would definitely get him his best case scenario…a chance to see his girls again…but the left side would be so much more enjoyable. Oh well. At least the higher ups sent someone somewhat his age and not an ancient and decaying corpse like themselves. That’s a disgusting thought. He’d rather be hugged by a hundred humans than be forced to befriend a higher up. A shiver runs through Geto’s spine as a newfound appreciation for you is birthed within him.

“Do you have a name?” Geto taunts as he begins to pick at his meal, slightly disgusted with the stale quality of some of the snacks but nevertheless thankful that he at least has something to subside his aching hunger. “Or should I just call you ‘monkey’ as I do with the rest of your kind?”

That sound?

You’re laughing?

Your giggles are surprisingly pleasant to Geto’s ears as they harmonize into a song that he can imagine himself listening to each morning. Why did you find that funny? He was quite literally insulting your entire existence. Geto is dumbfounded by the strange humor you seem to have, considering that he was being entirely serious with his question. Humans are so strange. He’s never really been able to understand how your peoples’ minds work, but perhaps he could begin to learn the basics. It’s not like he has anything better to do, and some entertainment would be nice. 

He’ll keep you around…it wouldn’t hurt and you can be his companion kind of like a pet.

Pets are cute…

…your smile is cute too.

You smile once more, answering his question with a blush on your face. “Please,” your cheeks redden, “Call me by my name, Suguru.”

YEAR ONE, DAY NINETY-FOUR

“You’re late.” Geto crosses his arms over his chest, exhaling a large breath of air in a loud and annoyed huff as he attempts to seem seriously angered by his new friend’s awful timing. 

It’s nearly twenty minutes past the time that you were supposed to be here; emphasis on supposed. He’s been waiting with his eyes staring at the clock, watching it tick and tick as the time passed by with no you knocking on his door. That’s twenty whole minutes of time in which he was forced to entertain himself rather than listen to your rambles and rants about whatever the latest scandal is in the outside world. You love that pop culture gossip stuff that social media and magazines rave about, and in a weird way, you somewhat remind him of his daughters— personality-wise…not attraction wise…that would be weird. 

Over the past few months, Geto’s grown severely accustomed to the daily routine that you’ve developed, becoming so fond of you that he strangely pictures your smile and recalls your laughter when you aren’t even here. Friendship is a funny thing. He doesn’t think he’s ever had a friend like yourself; yes, Satoru will always be his closest confidant…but his relationship with you is different in a way that he can’t quite put his finger on. He’s never considered anyone else the highlight of his every day like he does you. Your company is the kind of presence that he overwhelmingly enjoys; with such a positive and warm nature exuding comfort to Geto’s loneliness, and your judgment-free outlook on life rivaling his pessimism in a perfect mixture of negativity and optimism. He wishes he’d met you sooner, perhaps when he was a child— and if he had, maybe he wouldn’t have turned out the way he did. 

It’s too bad you would’ve only been an awful human to him back then…he would’ve called you his infamous nickname without batting an eye…a monkey…

…a mere monkey whom he never ever thought he’d develop unwanted feelings for.

For his entire life, Geto always told himself not to fall in love. That love isn’t real. It isn’t obtainable, not when there are people like Satoru in the world— people that you can’t help but love— and then people like him; people who you can’t help but hate. With that being said, he’s never necessarily been looking forward to any potential love matches in his future.

…no matter who he was involved with…

…until he met you.

“Sorry about that, Suguru!” you hustle through the doorway, your appearance a tangled mess with dusty dirt particles littered with gravel. 

There’s a large scratch on your right cheek, not deep or in danger of infection in any way, but noticeable enough that he’s able to see it from a distance. Knowing you, it’s most likely accidentally self-inflicted in some sort of way; you being notorious for tripping or snagging your skin on the sharp end of a table. How do you always manage to be so uncoordinated? Geto can’t help but let out a short laugh, his eyes scrolling up and down your body and taking in your entire appearance, dirt and all. You even manage to make dirt look good. What the fuck? He hates this.

Your voice carries on as you approach him. “I was running on time, but then I saw this adorable shop downtown and I just had to make a stop.” The overexaggerated tone you hold is amusing as your hands wave through the air in a physical storytelling of your experience. The skin of your cheeks is flushed red from your sprint through the city, looking beautiful in resemblance to that of a blooming rose. 

Geto can feel his own face heating up at the sight of you, choosing to shrug nonchalantly in an attempt to seem as if he doesn’t care at all about your dilemma…

…as if he doesn’t care about every second of your everyday…

…as if your overall excitement isn’t the only thing that truly keeps him going nowadays. 

“You tell me these things as if what you do outside of this room matters to me.” He hopes his words mask his rising blush. (Spoiler alert: They don’t.)

Flawlessly, you brush off Geto’s phony disinterest without the slightest acknowledgement. It’s as if the phrase had never even left his lips, with no evidence and proof of insult. This isn’t an uncommon occurrence when the topic of what you do when you’re not with him comes up in conversation, as the prisoner typically tries to ignore his interest in your daily shenanigans— and you can’t deny that it hurts. Most of the time, it feels as if Geto never actually listens to anything you say, and you were able to quickly realize that in the early weeks of your arrangement when the pain began to torment your heart; ripping and shredding it to bits with every eye roll and mocking scoff. You don’t seem to matter in Geto’s point of view. He doesn’t care…at least that’s what you believe. 

In contrast to Geto, you’re an emotional spirit— you crave love.Love is all you’ve ever wanted, needed, and desired. In your time with him, you’ve developed inklings of feelings as well. However, you’ve chosen to let your feelings grow and blossom out of the dirtied patch of grass they were planted in— ignoring the warnings every single person in your life has given you in advance. Despite that, Geto continues to stomp on your budding flowers. He takes a heavy watering can, filled to the brim with hose water, and drowns your garden in the tears that you shed in the privacy of your bedroom. Those tears that are a never ending waterfall due to the fact that you know it isn’t your job to fall in love with your client. Your duty to Jujutsu Society is to help Geto learn to love humans and sorcerers as one in the same and to gain the trust of his community once more— not to love you.

“Okay, before you judge me, at least give me a chance to explain myself.” Stumbling towards Geto, you accidentally trip over your own feet in embarrassment, and proceed to hold out a single flower not yet in bloom. “It’s freshly cut. I saw a bouquet in the window and it caught my eye, because it reminded me of you; but I knew you’d hate a flashy bunch of them so I just bought the one.”

It reminded you of him?

Taking the gift into his own hands, Geto studies it intensely. The rose is a dark shade of red, crimson, or scarlet depending on your vocabulary. The petals are a brighter color while the plushness near the stem turns dark, more sinister as it approaches the thorns lining the sides. Just by looking at the rose, he can understand why it made you think of him. It’s gorgeous, but practically untouchable figuratively and literally. There’s only one angle that he can hold the stem at that doesn’t prick his fingers. Ouch. And he just did the very thing he was being so careful of avoiding.

All his life, he’s never been the kind of person who longed for gifts or compliments, but when coming from the right person…perhaps he is. 

Whilst he struggles to come up with a reply— a simple ‘thank you’ or ‘i appreciate this’— you mentally applaud yourself as you’ve finally found a way to make him speechless…

…but your praise for yourself is short-lived.

He can’t be weak. Not even for you.“I guess it’s not terrible.” Geto throws the flower to the ground and lightly kicks it away with his right foot. As one of the beautiful petals drifts away from the lonely flower, he turns away, not being able to endure the heartbroken look on your face and the offended rose on the floor. Why does he have to be like this? “I’m sure that garbage is all a monkey like you can afford anyways.” Why is he so cruel?

His eyes clench shut as he hears the door begin to close. You’re so gentle even when upset. He admires that about you— you’re the calm to his ever-raging storm, the sailor to his tsunami, and the lifeboat to his wreckage— you’re the most pure-hearted person he knows, and you don’t deserve this awful anger he holds within him. 

Is he…crying?

As tears begin to drip down his cheeks, Geto collapses against the wall with his knees buckling beneath him and his weight crumbling down to a pile of patheticness. He’s just a shell of a man undeserving of someone like you. Soft sobs escape his lips and silent cries fill the hollow room, absent of your joy, crying out until he notices the faint outline of the young rose beside him. With the flick of his hand, he snatches the flower off the ground and lifts the thorny plant with careful hands— finally and truly understanding your meaning behind the gift. This is how you see him? He’s dreadful and hurtful to others on the outside, prickling kind people away with his thorns…but when encouraged and supported, he has the potential to become something beautiful.

Someone that could one day be compared to the beauty that is of a blooming rose. 

With the budding rose in his grasp, Geto sits alone. He realizes that he’s only able to become that person with the help of you. You’re the only person that has even come close to seeing him for who he truly is; aside from Satoru you’re the only person who would think of giving such a gift to the number one enemy of the Jujutsu world. You’re the only person who he’s ever come to feel true and honest romantic love towards. 

Geto has to become better. Not only for himself and Satoru…but now, for you.

⋆⋆⋆⠀ ⠀thank you for reading! reblogs are greatly appreciated! ⋆⋆⋆⠀ ⠀i promise i'll post the next 2 parts soon pls be patient :3

[mo0nfairy]

ᥫ᭡ . # ۫ , ⸺ THIS IS A LIFE, PART ONE !

summary :: in every universe, spiderman will inevitably lose the one thing that matters most to him: y/n l/n. miguel o'hara, peter parker, and hobie brown have all suffered through this story. they soon discover another version of you is alive, bound to fall in love with miles morales and to die abruptly. with the prospect of a second chance and a newfound obsession, these four men will do anything to keep you at their side.

chapters :: the masterlist.

word count :: 7.5k

content warnings :: yandere!miguel, yandere!miles, yandere!noir, yandere!hobie, reader death, gore/violence, murder, electrocution, fire, guns, alcohol, cigarettes, suicidal tendencies, kidnapping, stalking, physical restraint, child abuse/neglect, allusions to a child's death, physically abusive ex-boyfriend, infidelity, & torture.

──── October 17th, 2099 — Miguel O'Hara remembers the day the same way he will never forget you. August 24th, 1934 — Peter Parker remembers the day the same way he will never forget you. July 3rd, 2020 — Hobie Brown remembers the day the same way he will never forget you.

Y/N L/N. Miguel O'Hara, Peter Parker, and Hobie Brown will never forget them the same way they will never forget how it felt to lose them.

The inevitable fate of your demise is a cannon event for all spider-people. To love this person with every shred of their being only to live the rest of their lives without them; to love this person with all the might their body can contain only to let go of their hand in the end. It crushes their soul. Countless people are forced to live with the consequences of being bitten by a spider, not one had suspected it would be so detrimental.

Not when it is your life that has been taken.

Written in the stars is this destiny. How they will never love another again, but vow to be a hero and refrain a similar fate from falling onto anyone else. Many have been able to crawl out of the bottomless pit that is grief, but others have succumbed to the unforgiving anguish and let their life escape them. Just the way yours had. After all, what is life if you are not present? What is the point of living if there is no one there to patch up their scars and praise them for their heroic acts? There is no point, which leaves these three particular spider-people here. Their body is stuck in the past, reliving each moment with you up until they lost you forever.

October 17th, 2099. It was all his fault. Maybe if he hadn't let his violent tendencies toward anyone who isn't you slip through the seams, maybe if he had been more persistent in his reminders of how loved you are. Maybe if he had tried harder, Miguel O'Hara would still have you here at his side.

Miguel's attempts to make this sudden transition in your life as easy as possible turned out to be disastrous. He is not stupid; he knows this upbringing into this new lifestyle you claim to be "kidnapping" was blunt. He knew this, yet still, his plans on easing you through this change had collapsed right before him. Time had passed, and he naively assumed your fear had depleted, far too caught up in the sheer delight that came from holding you in his arms. Days and nights spent trailing his fingers down the expanse of your skin and kissing away the bruises his fangs had left upon your lips. This is a dream, Miguel always catches himself thinking.

And his sweet daughter, Gabriella. How she adored you so much. Even more so than her own father, he often joked. Coming home to find you both brushing the hair of her numerous dolls, baking treats that were rich with far too much sugar, or fast asleep on the couch while some whiny kids show plays on the television. His heart hammers like a fluttering hummingbird at the sight of you so soft and calm with his daughter. However, your guard then builds itself back up, brick-by-brick, faster than a gust of wind when he makes his presence known. In a way, Miguel found himself... jealous of Gabriella. That gentle and loving nature of yours, why couldn't he have it for himself? Why couldn't you give him some of that attention, even just a blink? What could that crybaby brat possibly have done to deserve such an amazing thing!?

No matter what kind of thoughts suffocate his mind, Miguel always tried to keep himself composed in front of you. With his tall, muscular physique, it makes sense why you are so intimidated by his appearance. If he were to ever let this satiating envy bleed through the bandaids, however, you'd certainly never open your heart to him. The prospect alone makes his chest tighten with dread.

And he had been so negligent towards his daughter, it only makes sense why she would turn to you. With how breathtaking, elegant, brilliant, electrifying you are, Miguel can understand why she loves you so much. Still, this does not refrain him from tightening his jaw whenever his daughter does something as trivial as hug you. That should be me with Y/N. Let me hold them, let me hold them, let me hold them like that.

It's his fault he had so frivolously expressed his envy through sharp gazes, a towering frame, and muffled shouts through the thin walls. It's his fault he never assured you these ugly emotions were never your fault, since you could never do any wrong in his eyes, after all. It's his fault he didn't drown you in even more heaps of affection, to further remind you of just how much he needs you.

It is his fault you are dead.

Overcome with drowsiness, Miguel heedlessly packs his daughters lunch for school that day. Despite how you are usually the one who does this task, since you have always adored looking after the little one, you needed your rest. And he was insistent on treating you with even more intensive care, all to prove that he is the right one for you. No one else. Meanwhile, Gabriella sits at the kitchen table with her backpack on, swinging her short legs back and forth. She is bright with full energy that contradicts her father's state in a comical manner.

"Y/N/N always cuts my food into cool shapes! Yesterday, they made my sandwich star-shaped!" Gabriella exclaims to her father with admiration.

The mere mention of your name from someone else makes Miguel freeze. A sudden surge of anger wraps around his lungs like a sheen layer of morning dew resting on Spring grass. You treat her with such attentive care, why can't he get any of that? What is so special about her that he doesn't have? What does he need to change about himself in order to get you to love him the way you so fatuously love her? Miguel casts his gaze across the counter and finds several bottles of cleaning products you must have forgotten to put away. So endearing, so adorable. An idea then sparks. While Gabriella continues to babble about how cool and amazing you are, Miguel finds himself considering something he will never be able to take back.

Just a dash of some drain cleaner in her sandwich and this problem will fade away.

"Y/N/N!" The sound of your nickname shouts through the air upon your arrival. Gabriella is more than elated to greet you, but your eyes remain locked on Miguel. In other circumstances, he'd be thanking the heavens above for this bit of attention you have given him. At this moment, however, there is a disturbed gleam of horror in your expression that makes his stomach twist with apprehension.

The energy is not directed towards Gabriella, as you caress her cheek and gift her that smile of yours that rivals sunlight. Miguel inadvertently rolls his eyes at the sight, envious as ever. As she continues to ramble to you about her success at a recent soccer game, you retrieve all the cleaning products and return them to their respective place underneath the sink. Not without shooting a burning glare at Miguel, however. Had he made his intentions that obvious? You wave him aside from his stance at the pink, glittery lunchbox and he obeys. Pretending to finish up his original efforts, you examine every snack inside for anything this crazed man may have tampered with.

"Good morning, button..." The nervous tremble in Miguel's voice doesn't tarnish the sheer adoration that seeps from his tone.

Your short response of "'morning" could barely be heard over the thunderous sound of his heart shattering. Yet again, you have broken his heart. And still, he will crawl back to you every time, aching for any inkling of your regard. Soon, you're saying your goodbyes to Gabriella and wishing her a wonderful day at school. Planting a quick peck to her cheek, Miguel's talons grow and dig crevices into the steering wheel while he waits for his daughter to join him in the vehicle. Oh, if only you could give him the same act of affection, he would never ask the universe for anything ever again.

And if only he had known how the rest of the morning would play out, he never would have left the house.

When Miguel finally pulls out of the driveway, giving you a quick wave that is not reciprocated, you let your guard down. You almost watched this man murder his daughter. Tears begin to form in your eyes as the revelation simmers like boiling water. With more time here, who knows what lengths he'll travel to?

Fortunately for you, with how occupied he was with his daughter and his own inner turmoil, he had entirely forgotten to lock the door to his office. The one place neither you nor his daughter were allowed to venture into. You were unaware of what is within the room or how anything inside could aid you in your attempts to escape. What you were aware of, however, is how paranoid he was in his efforts to keep you out of there. Peeling back the curtain and taking a fearful glance out the window, just to ensure this psychopath who claimed to be your soulmate wasn't lurking, you embark on your journey into uncharted territory.

Miguel had mentioned several times in his late-night talks with you about his job at Alchemax. His boring explanations about the technology he was working on there did wonders in lulling you to sleep. Now, seeing the scatterings of machinery that littered the room made you gasp from their futuristic appearance. One contraption had caught your attention, however. It seemed to be a current project, evident in the numerous tools and papers inked with equations littered around. Upon stepping closer to the contraption, a holographic screen sputters to life. You find several distorted, glitching files that all attain to you in some shape or form. Y/N's wish list, Y/N's checking account, and Y/N's security camera footage. Curiosity does spark, but with how swiftly Miguel is able to drop his daughter off and speed home to return to you, the time you had was not versatile.

If I can piece together how this gadget works, I may be able to call for help and get Gabriella and I as far away from this man as possible, you think to yourself.

The machine continues to stammer pathetically as if it were desperately chasing its own life. Trying to peruse through the technology to find anything useful, its poor performance prevented you from any fruition. In a fit of frustration, you pull your hand back and deliver a harsh smack! to the side of the machine. With how little time you have, you can feel your opportunity for freedom begin to fade away with every glitch that erupts. With one final, violent slam to the machinery, the metal borders protecting the numerous open wires inside fall, and a sudden wave of electricity surges through you. Your entire body goes rigid before you splat harshly against the ground. You are now left entirely lifeless, except for the electric shocks that cause your stiff form to twitch in response.

With that, your life was over. October 17th, 2099 — the day Miguel O'Hara inevitably lost the only thing that ever mattered to him.

August 24th, 1934. It was all his fault. Maybe if he had stayed with you more and neglected the city, maybe if he hadn't been so careless with expressing his love for you. Maybe if he had tried harder, Peter Parker would still have you here at his side.

Peter, too, attempted vigorously to make your transition to this new life with him as smooth as possible. At the very beginning of this new adjustment, hope had still plagued your mind. As days turned into weeks, soon months, the forest fire that was your persistence had slowly been snuffed out like an old candle. Now, all you can do is sit at the window seat of his apartment and just pray that someone will recognize your face. From the numerous missing persons' posters that were now left behind in dumpsters and rain puddles, you could feel your luck grow thin. Everyday looked like this, all with this lovesick maniac at your beck-and-call, deluded enough to believe this fantasy of being your doting partner to be reality. The amount of egg-creams you've drank is bound to make you vomit at some point.

At the end of the day, you had gotten what you had wished for. You were once a journalist, putting all your time into unmasking the famous Spiderman. The truth of his identity was now in the palm of your hands. However, there were far more consequences to this wish than you had originally anticipated. And Peter is overcome with guilt when he thinks back to how disastrous his efforts to give you his heart turned out.

It's his fault he had so carelessly exposed his acts of heroism through the stench of gunpowder and chunks of blood beneath his fingernails. It's his fault he didn't spend more time showering you in the affection you truly deserved. It's his fault he never assured you the inevitable fate of the bastards that hurt you was never your fault, just so you can realize that everything he does, no matter how calamitous, was all for your benefit.

It is his fault you are dead.

Slow dancing with you in the gentle haze of the moonlight peaking through the window, swaying along to some romantic melody echoing from the saloon across the street, amorous words that you'd hear from the lips of a poet whispered into your ear — this is where heaven is. This is all that he has ever dreamed of; this is all he has ever wanted for the two of you. This is what makes him happy.

"My heart is bleeding in your hands, dollface. It's all yours, I'm all yours." Peter's breath tickles your neck, the infatuation-stained harangue finally coming to an end as he continues to sway you along to the harmonies outside.

You often joke to yourself that you could stab Peter in the heart, give him even just a sliver of the turmoil he has forced into your life, and he would still give you a smile with blood painting his teeth and that revolting gleam of pure, unadulterated devotion in his eyes. With this devotion, however, comes dark, dark side effects. This was not a surprise to you, considering how you've been locked up like a bad dog for these past several months. Still, when you inhale and the sharp odor of iron poorly masked with bleach overwhelms your senses, you find yourself taken aback.

The clamoring sound of the bolts to your prison cell your captor claims to be your love den being unlocked brings you out of your thoughts. When the door opens and Peter walks in, all you see is a euphoric, hopelessly-besotted partner. With the sudden stench that is still heavy in the air, however, you feel a new, sudden sense of dread with his presence. He is elated to see you, as he always is. An impassioned kiss to your lips and an ardent compliment are essential to your everyday encounter with the man you thought once to be a superhero. Sometimes, a gift of fresh, blood-red roses may accompany him in his attempts to woo you further, as well.

Through the whiff of cigarettes sitting on his trench coat when he envelops you in a much-needed embrace after his long day of work, you sense something else. The tang you had inhaled from outside the bedroom is now stuck to his form, nestled beneath the aroma of late-night brume and smoke. You force a gag down your throat and reciprocate the affection, trying to push your suspicions to the back burner in your mind. The rest of the evening is like any other: listening to some tunes from the radio as the two of you play a card game, all that Peter deems as a "romantic date". Your winning strike against him (he always lets you win, but he won't tell you this) falters when your brain can't help but wonder what he was so occupied with outside that door.

As devastating and exhausting as the truth is, coming to terms with reality is the only chance you have of returning to the life you once had. Hoping he'll wake from his delusions and let you off your leash is nothing more than a pipe dream, you realize. If you want freedom, you'll have to take it by the neck and claim it as yours. So, as the hours of the night fade into dawn, you conjure a plan in your head while the man beside you snores in a deep slumber (not without a few sleepy mumbles of flattery for you, though).

The scheme you had so flawlessly crafted was quick, simple, and easy. You would do something you have never done before: initiate affection with Peter.

This was your ploy: fulfill all the fantasies his lovesick brain was infested with and watch with a newfound sense of hope as he forgets to lock the door, too dazed from the pleasure your sweet attitude had brought him. And it worked marvelously. Not only did this man forget to lock the bedroom door, he had entirely forgotten to lock the front door of the apartment altogether. The prospect of this mistake being a test of your loyalty lingers, but when you watch through the window as he swings away from building to building, you let out a roar of laughter.

After your fit of hysterics, a smile sits on your face as you tread to the front door. Something stops you in your tracks when your hand hovers over the doorknob. When you leave, you will have nothing but months of memories to defend yourself with. Who are the authorities going to believe — you, a mischievous journalist, prone to bending the rules for a good headline, or Peter, the famous superhero, notorious for his restless efforts to save the city? Despite the freedom you have dreamed of being right in your palms, you step away from the door. Instead, you look around for any evidence deemed beneficial. Whatever can put him under the negative limelight is satisfactory to you.

No stone was left unturned in the apartment, all besides a single door at the end of a long corridor. The night before, Peter had been so frantic with his time inside (all in order to get back to you sooner) that he was sloppy with his efforts in cleaning his mess. The spilled bleach he had accidentally knocked over was still lying in a puddle; the nauseating scent of fresh blood still satiated through the air like a fragrance. And lastly, the latch on the door had been left unlocked.

Without so much as a second thought, you enter the room and let your curious eyes soak in the sheer horror that resides within.

A metal chair rests in the middle of the room, leather straps tightened around a body that sits motionless. Two tables are located on the sides of the room where all sorts of gut-wrenching tools reside. And there is blood everywhere. What was once a second bedroom for buyers of the apartment has now been morphed into a torture chamber of sorts.

The person restrained in the chair, you weren't sure if they were even alive. Everything is drowned in so much heaps of red, attempting to use your mere first-aid knowledge is impossible. What is most perceptible, however, is the way their eye had been forcefully torn from its socket. It resembles a runny egg how it causes bodily fluids to cascade down their face. The amount of flesh on their body that had been torn asunder, the gag in their mouth that was oozing with tears and saliva, the gushing blood that continues to hastily seep from infected wounds. Everything makes your eyes blur and your stomach churn with nauseau.

With the career you once had as a journalist, you've seen some disgusting sights. Sneaking onto crime scenes from a brawly saloon fight gone too far or snapping pictures of the result of Spiderman's "heroic" acts to save citizens, you've become desensitized to gory scenes. But, this. This wasn't like anything you have ever seen.

"Y/N?" You hadn't realized how deafening the silence was until the poor victim is able to speak out.

With one eye practically staring daggers into you, the revelation hits you like a train. That voice, that eye. This is no other than the man you had called your boyfriend before this mess had snuck into your life. Or, ex-boyfriend, as you'd prefer to refer to him as. The status of your relationship was left a mystery after the night he had come to your home drunk and reeking of someone's perfume. Your insistent demands for him to sober up and inform you of his recent whereabouts earned you a harsh slap across the face. With a loud shout of how much of a “shitty partner” and "piece of cityside trash" you are, the person you thought to be the love of your life storms out of your home. Never to be seen again.

Hastily, you unclasp the restraints that left his skin numb and bruised. With how malnourished he had become from his time spent here, it was fairly easy to support his weight. You swing his battered arm around your shoulder and help him stand on his emaciated legs. After only two steps, he pushes you off of him harshly with what little strength his body was able to garner. His attempts served well, as you feel your stomach hit a table adorned with blood-stained utensils that make you sick to imagine how they were used.

"You... How could you...?" As his weak voice fills the air, you feel your stomach fold into itself. Does he think you did this?

Opening your mouth to begin stammering your way through what you intended to be a thorough explanation, a loud bang! then pervades the air. Without a second to process his actions, the man grasped the pistol left on the table and pulled the trigger. A stream of smoke now stems from the barrel. The betrayal, the aversion, and the debility in his expression tell you everything you need to know. You were so close to the finish line that would grant you freedom, but when you shift your gaze down, you're devastated to find a bullet hole protruding through your chest. You then slump to the ground and your killer falls not long after you, the act of merely standing too much for his abused body.

With that, your life was over. August 24th, 1934 — the day Peter Parker inevitably lost the only thing that ever mattered to him.

July 3rd, 2020. It was all his fault. Maybe if he had been more attentive to your safety, maybe if he hadn't exposed how soul-crushing the love he has for you is. Maybe if he had tried harder, Hobie Brown would still have you here at his side.

As opposed to the others, Hobie did little to ease you into this new life with him. The transition was curt, violent. With you as a bartender, drunken customers are most certainly not a rare sight. However, when you rejected a man who had one too many drinks and he reacted with violence, it caught you off-guard. And Hobie, the lead singer of the band that consistently played at your bar, had become blind with rage. Through the mess of the blood on your head when the beer bottle shattered against you and the apple-red matter staining Hobie's guitar as he smashes it relentlessly into the man's skull, these events somehow landed you where you are now.

An abandoned building on the outskirts of town, that's where you had woken up. The debris around the room was masked with string lights and band posters adorning the walls, as well as a rickety bed frame scarcely supporting a lone mattress. With bleary vision and an even fuzzier head, you gain consciousness abruptly. You find yourself on the bed with thick, itchy blankets draped around you, clothes that certainly do not belong to you on your body, and spiky belts used to restrain your limbs. Barbed wires and decaying planks of wood board the windows; the lack of passing cars and loud pedestrians outside cause you to worry about how far you are from the lively city you called home.

A lanky figure makes their presence known, dressed in those all-too-familiar garbs. Spider-Punk, the man you'd always see performing at your penurious bar, despite how widespread their band was. Much to your shock, his large hand finds the trim of his mask before tearing the garment off. Beneath is a gorgeous face embellished with piercings and a wild head full of hair. Large, wet eyes overwhelm you. And there is only one discernible trait you could read clearly through his expression: desire.

The way your plump body pools from the hems of the small clothing he dressed you in from his closet, fuck. Hobie has thought of this moment plenty of times — finally being able to take you away, just the two of you. He swore up and down he'd keep his fervid cravings at bay. But, when you're truly here in front of him, looking like that. He has to dig his long nails into his palms to physically restrain himself from lunging for you like a feral animal in heat. God, you look too fucking good.

From here on out, the relationship you have with Hobie sprouted into something only you would call treacherous, something only he would call rapturous. Being trapped within the small expanse of this grimy room, your new life has shown how perceptibly different your reactions are from one another. You are entirely dumbfounded at these new circumstances you've been forcefully thrust into. Meanwhile, Hobie attempts to put space between you both to avoid giving into his irresistible hunger. Though, it doesn't take a genius to notice how his hands always find their way to your naked skin and how his eyes linger on the intimate parts of your body. And it most certainly doesn't take a genius to notice the sheer terror and confusion stuck to your expression.

The discomfort the residence brings does little to ease you, as well. How your body is restricted against the firm mattress has your limbs aching with cramps. Your neck throbs from no support, considering the lack of pillows. But, Hobie always remarked that his chest is more comfortable to lay on, anyway. His clothing reeks of alcohol from the numerous bars and parties he’s attended, but also from the expensive perfumes, lotions, as well as the skin and hair products he received from his time being a runway model. The scent now clinging to your skin fails to bring you any of the tranquility he wished you would feel. Meals shared between you two were often dowsed in grease and cheap in flavor. Your captor never put much effort into making your dinnertime together anything reminiscent of a romantic date in Italy or something along those themes. He would much rather eat something else for dinner, after all.

This is what life looked like for the next several months. Records spinning and filling the air with headache-inducing songs he says he had written about you; Polaroid pictures scattered around the room that display different variations of the same scene: you sitting pretty with Hobie's hands and lips all over you. Never, never, has this man ever felt so much bliss in his entire life. He has always preached about how the idea of "love" is nothing more than propaganda meant to earn greedy, capitalistic companies more money with their cheesy movies and Valentine's Day garbage. When you entered his life in all your glory, however, he was ashamed to put his pride aside and admit those irritating pop songs may have been correct.

"I don’t need nothin’ else. 'Long as I have you here, birdie." He fidgets with the necklace he had given you that was currently draped upon your neck. His lucky guitar chip is swung upon the chain, since it always belonged to you, anyway. You will always be his muse.

With how carelessly he let himself be swathed in the warm blankets of love, how carelessly Hobie had let you slip from his fingertips.

It's his fault he had so frivolously expressed his protective nature through blood-stained bar floors and constricting arms encompassing your body. It's his fault he never assured you these conflicts weren’t your fault, it was only the monsters outside who wished to separate true love. It's his fault he had disciplined himself so heavily for his big heart, fearful of losing self-control with the love of his life.

It is his fault you are dead.

You regret not tallying the days you've spent locked up in this birdcage. Carving lines into the deteriorating walls to represent the slashes this new life has left in your sanity. It feels as if lifetimes have tread by you, the same day repeating itself like your own personal nightmare. Mere months have gone by and unbeknownst to you, the sweet escape you so despairingly crave is sitting upon the horizon. The circumstances of your freedom were the absolute last thing you had wished for, however.

Hobie’s history of being a heartthrob and heartbreaker were no secret to you, but his newfound loyalty to the innocent person he had taken from their previous life was even more evident. All the possessive, delusional fans that were convinced they'd marry their favorite singer, it was just so easy for Hobie to indulge in some casual fun before leaving them behind in his dust. As the story of all Spider-People goes, however, Y/N L/N is the tool that throws this man into a whirlpool of enamoring disarray. Embracing this newfound happiness was exhilarating for him, but Hobie was so dazed from it, he never had thought that karma would slither itself between you two.

A certain groupie, wholly convinced she and Spider-Punk are soulmates, was devastated to see how carelessly the love of her life abandoned her. Her mind had sprinted to all sorts of gut-wrenching conclusions. Am I not enough? Is he moving on? Is there someone else? Her worst nightmare materializes into reality when she stalks behind his tall figure and follows him to a building one late night, an odd pep in his step as he enters. What she assumes is just another exclusive club location with more taboo forms of partying, she is left stunned when she catches sight of what sights lie within.

The man of her dreams is found in the depths of infidelity. Through the crack of a rickety door coated with locks, there he was. Chest pressed against the back of someone else, who was sound asleep beneath an array of blankets like a baby in a crib. With his arms locked around them like a lifeline, Spider-Punk presses long, intimate kisses to their face. The words she had begged to hear from him, he was so frivolously drowning this stranger in such, despite their unconscious state. Every syllable was dripping with lust and smitten-induced hysteria. Tears brim in her eyes from how desperately she covets to be you in this moment.

With a shattered heart and a festering rage, she comes to the conclusion of what she must do. She will take him back, no matter what it takes.

Rarely did Hobie ever leave the expanse of your room, he wanted to stay with you forever. When he did, however, it was for some quick cash at yet another gig he and his bandmates had landed. Singing his lungs out, knowing every lyric revolves around the one waiting for him back home — you have brought him ecstasy he still cannot fathom the sheer weight of. A Friday night like no other, Hobie would spend the evening beneath the blinding spotlights, drinking the hours away, before returning home and cuddling with the only reason he chooses to live.

Through the barricaded windows and doors, a sudden stench of what appears to be smoke invades your senses. A big city like this, something along these lines is nothing out of the ordinary. After all, you were so thrilled to finally be granted a night to yourself, anything that would jeopardize this gift from the universe is seen as insignificant. When the heavy smell becomes more perceptible and the unmistakable sound of fire cracking gets louder, you feel dread tickle down your spine. The fear settles into your bones before you can think of a logical way to escape. Hobie did everything to ensure you wouldn’t leave his side, after all.

Air soon becomes precious, your lungs begin to squeeze, your skin is burning with scorching pain. It brings you the hell you had carelessly thought you felt before. A final cry of help into the suffocating air and you feel your life begin to fade. Meanwhile, the lost groupie stands near the entrance, holding back a satisfied smile. An onslaught of concerned pedestrians and firefighters accompany her. And Hobie was still far away, alcohol heavy in his system and the joy of returning to you seeping through his body like a drug. So blissfully unaware of what awaits him when he comes back to the place he had called home only with you.

With that, your life was over. July 3rd, 2020 — the day Hobie Brown inevitably lost the only thing that ever mattered to him.

The effects your departure has left on these men are all nothing short of disastrous. No longer do they have the vibrant, loving souls they once held. Day by day, they are dragging the dead carcass that is their own body, suffering through every second and hoping it will be their last. The paths your death have led these three are unique from one another, but they all find themselves in one specific space. Spider-HQ, within Nueva York on Earth-928. The story the multiverse has written for them had so selfishly taken their happiness away from them. Taking the pen for themselves and creating the most beautiful fairytale where you are alive and back in their embrace is the only purpose they now have.

Now, Miguel O'Hara stands at the office he earned from becoming the leader of this society. Upon the various monitors displayed around him are scenes taken from numerous different universes. Lethargy sits like bags of bricks beneath his eyes, slowly blinking as he ensures no minor mistake is present. If the multiverse were to crumble, his sole objection to save the only important person in Spiderman's life will fall with it. When he verifies all is well on Earth-1610, something perceptible then catches his gaze and he does a double-take. Any sign of fatigue within him is snatched out of his body, leaving him more awake than ever before.

Within this universe, Miguel finds you.

Before, these universes have only displayed the effects your death has left on all the spider-people. Today, however, is the first time he has seen you alive since the day he lost you. Lyla snickers and accuses him of having a cute, teenage-like crush when she takes notice of the sheer captivation in his expression. Little does she know how much history lies in your mere face. It is heart-crushing, how much the simple sight of you enjoying a cup of coffee (with one too many sugars, as he knows you've always preferred) has such catastrophic effects on him.

Piles of schoolwork are scattered around your desk, covered in information adhering to your current college major. Even with your lack of sleep, school-induced annoyance, and general exhaustion over everything in your life, Miguel has never seen something quite as breathtaking as you in this moment. An epiphany sprouts in his brain as quickly as the sight of you caused his soul to blossom, just like it did all those years ago.

Maybe he can stop it. Maybe he can get you back.

Your death is inevitable, and even though Miguel was aware of this, dread still pervades his stomach at the prospect and churns with his breakfast. What really makes him shudder is when he reads through the cannon events assigned to you. A flare of jealousy ignites within him when he finds an unfamiliar name in the midst of your story.

Miles Morales, the Spiderman you are meant to fall in love with. What good is he? He's just some stupid kid, what more could he possibly do that Miguel can't? Why would you choose this loser when he can give you everything you have ever wanted!? In a sudden fit of rage, he grasps hold of whatever matter was closest to him and uses all the strength within his muscular arms to hurl it across the room. His chest heaves with infuriated huffs; his claws slice into the meat of his palms. He is enraged, yes, but he is mostly devastated that the beautiful face on his screen will soon meet their inescapable demise.

Not only will he do everything in his power to stop your death, but Miguel also vows to put his blood, sweat, and tears into ensuring you do not fall for this boy. Additionally, he will formulate a plan to bring you back into his arms without destroying the multiverse as a whole. With that being said, this does not change how reality on Earth-1610 continues to play out in front of him. It’s like a television show; a show he'd give a 1-star rating out of sheer pettiness.

In his last year of high school, Miles Morales' life was thrown into a tornado when his parents enrolled him in a new school to finish his last semester. And the 18-year-old boy absolutely dreaded this. New people, new location, new clothes that poke and jut at his skin uncomfortably. With the hefty responsibility of being Brooklyn's sole hero and hiding this truth from his loved ones, this sudden alteration in his environment does not relieve any stress. Swiftly, Miles conjures a plan to convince his parents to send him back to the way his life once was. Slack off, play dumb, and bring home report cards that are absolutely atrocious and his parents will have no choice but to give their son what he wants.

However, this is not what happened. Much to Miles' dismay, the grand idea his parents had was to not let him continue his education comfortably. Instead, they hired a tutor to aid him through his final months of high school.

Rio and Jeff had invited this tutor for dinner at their home, which Miles had flaked on entirely. Mostly due to his duty as Spiderman, but partially from how sour he was about the state of affairs. When he returned home, their anger was practically palpable. However, this disappointment soon shifted into a long, insufferable tangent about how marvelously smart, mannerly, and kind this tutor was and how embarrassed they were because of him. That Saturday, he was expected to join this tutor in the school's library or his parents may consider grounding him once again. Miles has to refrain from rolling his eyes at their never-ending lecture.

March 11th, 2023. It will be all his fault. This day is the day Miles Morales will inevitably meet the only thing that will ever matter to him.

To earn some extra support through your time in college, you had decided to take up tutoring in your free time. The myriad of students you had met all possessed the same attitude — the kind of attitude you'd expect from teenagers whose parents forced them to do schoolwork in their free time. Miles fit this category well, at first. And how your situation developed, it was oddly refreshing to finally meet someone who isn't repudiating every second with you.

15 minutes late, open backpack spilling with paper, tie loose around his neck, the student most certainly made his presence known when he stumbled into the silent library. Attempting to fix his untied shoelaces, you rush over to help him and save him from any further embarrassment he was already enduring. You are able to catch the folder that had tumbled out of his bag before it hit the ground, to where he mumbles a quick "thanks" in response. His gaze is still locked to the strings of his shoes he was attempting to tie together as swiftly as possible. Nearly tripping, Miles makes it to the table you had once organized thoroughly, but was now cluttered with everything this boy had thrown onto the surface.

Oblivious to you, the boy whose parents described as having a "heart of gold," was doing everything in his power to appear as rude and ill-mannered as possible. Deliberately arriving late, making a fool of the two of you, messing up the neat array of lesson plans and pencils you arranged. Anything to convince his parents to send him away from the nightmare that is this school. This plan of his was seized from his mind like a rug pulled out beneath his feet when he finally turns his shoulder and shifts his attention to you. What Miles expected would be the slowest, drawn-out hour he's ever experienced would actually be the most exciting, life-beaming 60 minutes he’s ever experienced.

Your voice sounds like honey as you introduce yourself to him. And that heart-stuttering smile of yours works wonders on him. Miles had already known your name, but hearing it from your mouth made him think he was listening to a symphony of angels. Since the last few stages of high school are stressful for everyone, you decided to cut him some slack and offer a kind hand for him to shake. All thoughts of his old school and the comfort it brought are all eradicated as he stares into your soul with those wide, bambi-brown eyes. After months in this new environment, you must be a gift the universe sent to compensate for all the misery he has endured. And fervently, Miles accepts you as the best gift he has ever received.

"I'm Spiderman." His mouth moves before his brain can compute. Your brows furrow in response, scrutinizing the confession for some sort of punchline.

“I mean- shit, uh… I mean, I’m Miles... You-You know, like- kilometers, yards, feet. Except, it's Miles this time... Y-... Y'know?"

His relentless stammering to try and prove himself worthy of your time while also acknowledging he accidentally told you his deepest secret earns him a quick giggle. And the sound bouncing from your lips is nothing short of paradisiacal, especially when he is the cause. A sudden wave of silence then rests between you both. You, laughing nervously to lighten the awkward tension. Miles, entirely flabbergasted at how he could have ever wanted to miss out on something as profoundly magnificent as this. His mind runs rampant while his wide eyes remain locked on your averting ones. Do it, do it, do it. Just do it already, Miles!

He pulls his hands up, your eyebrows furrowing once more trying to consider his intentions. He then lands his touch upon your shoulder.

"Hey..." Miles' voice drops several octaves, a fiddly excuse of a smirk forms on his lips, and he squints his twitching eyes that still hold the same crazed wonder they've had since they first landed on you.

"Hi...?" Your response expresses nothing but sheer confusion, not your face burning from the attention like Miles had initially strived for.

Wrapping your hand around his, your mere physical touch sends flares of electricity down his skin. Goosebumps bloom across his arms and his entire body halts in place, tense with shock and nerves. In an attempt to forcefully remove his hold on you, you're startled to find how he is now stuck to your hand. As if he had lathered his hand in heaps of glue before touching you, the efforts you took to get this boy off of you only resulted in your skin painfully stretching.

So enveloped in the way his heart lurches from holding your hand, a sudden, hushed whimper of "you're hurting me!" and Miles feels a gasp involuntarily escape his throat. Attempting to pull away from you, as much as he wishes not to, only intensifies your pain. What had Peter told him to do when this happened? Oh yeah, just relax! But, how on Earth can he possibly relax when your hand is in his!? 

People are staring, exclaiming in annoyed distress over their interrupted study time. You're trying to piece together how Miles had managed to cement his hand to yours and why he refuses to let go of you. Meanwhile, Miles is apologizing profusely for inadvertently harming you, while also soaking in how rhapsodic it is to have your hand in his. He knows he has fully fallen into oblivion when the prospect of letting go of you hurts him more than the relentless pull and twist of his flesh.

So much for first impressions, right?

⁺ 🎧 , 🪷 you are currently listening to . . . ⁺ 🪺 , 🎵 ꪆ

❝ MANY LIVES THAT COULD HAVE

BEEN ENTANGLED FOR ETERNITY . . . ❞

gif credits :: miguel, miles, peter, & hobie.

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[moonlight-prose]

HUGH JACKMAN CHARACTERS MASTERLIST✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

note: below is the extensive list of fics i've written for hugh jackman characters. logan might wind up with his own masterlist later one, but for now he can be found here.

Under no circumstances may you steal my work, say it’s yours, or post it somewhere else. The writings I put on here are mine unless stated otherwise.

smut =🔥| angst =💫 | fluff =🌙

LOGAN HOWLETT ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Right Where You Left Me | 18+🔥| ONGOING SERIES

summary: logan was familiar with death. he understood why it happened, what could cause it to occur, and finally how to accept it. so when his family - the people he cared for most - died…he thought he could handle it. only you didn’t die. you left. now he’s found himself in a new universe with a person who wears your face, yet doesn’t hold your memories.

Heart Made of Glass |💫

summary: you couldn’t control when they could come. the waves of nothingness - of battling with your body and mind in the hopes it would cause a shift. you wanted to control it. he simply wanted to help.

The Grave of Lust | 18+🔥| Old Man!Logan

summary: when his body doesn’t work as it used to and the weary bones that poison his soul begin to ache, you take the lead in a dance you know well. OR giving old man logan sloppy head that he’ll think about in the grave and after.

Sweetness of the Damned | 18+🔥| Old Man!Logan

summary: when night falls and wine overflows in glasses of crystal, logan finds his home in between your thighs.

Slow | 18+🔥| Old Man!Logan

summary: time spent after long days outside is slow. languid in a way only he can give you.

Taste Me on Your Tongue | 18+🔥

summary: the taste of him became an addiction you couldn’t ignore. especially when he was adamant on sharing it in multiple ways.

old man logan thoughts & musings | 18+🔥| pt.2 | pt.3

summary: thoughts about this old man and how much he's feral for you.

hunger | 18+🔥

summary: things are set into motion the second logan opens your drawer. suddenly you find yourself the center of a show with only one audience member.

speak of her over my grave and watch how she brings me back to life | 18+🔥

summary: he knew he loved you when your words begin to piece his heart back together. he knew he loved you when he flourishes at your praise. he knew he loved you when nothing in this world could matter but the sound of your voice telling him you love him too.

Pick Your Poison | 18+🔥| ONGOING SERIES

summary: death meant nothing to someone steeped in it. a shovel remained propped next to your front door, a bag of grave dirt hung on a hook, and a collection of poison was stuffed in your cabinets. only when you arise in the vicinity of a lumberjack named logan, you’re in for a rude awakening.

A Case of You | 18+🔥| old man!logan howlett x f!reader x joel miller | UPCOMING SERIES

summary: life in jackson was quiet. serenity in a bottle that’d been poured out along the side of a mountain. a haven to finally grasp some parts of life that you thought were lost forever. you had your apothecary shop, your home, but still some piece of your heart was missing. until you meet your neighbors and come across the full picture of your future you didn’t have before.

have a cigar | 18+🔥

summary: everyone knows who you belong to. if the jacket you wore that left you drowning in the soft leather wasn’t indication enough, then the claws attached to your guard dog certainly was.

Don't Mind Me |🌙

summary: you refused to admit that you were smitten with the man who melted your otherwise intelligent mind. you were however…horrible with subtlety. luckily the same could be said for him.

Wondering Why | 18+🔥| cowboy!old man logan

summary: loving logan howlett felt like loving a ghost. he returned when the moon hung low in the sky and his time gave way for freedom. but when you needed him most, he arrived on your doorstep with the promise of giving you exactly what you want.

dreams unwind, love's a state of mind | 18+🔥| dofp!logan

summary: they told him to change the future, to right the wrongs that the world caused. but he didn’t do it for them. he did it for the chance to see his lover one more time. even if he shared a different history than them.

Dust to Dust | 18+🔥| old man!logan

summary: when the days are long and he’s grown weary of everything, he knows he can find his peace in your body. that is until he brings a whole new understanding to the belt buckle that sits proudly on his waist.

nameless as a river undiscovered underground | 18+🔥

summary: his leather jacket remained a tie between your love and his. the weight of it, the smell of your intertwined scents, all revolved around a relationship he never thought would happen.

#logan thoughts & musings

EDDIE ALDEN ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

love is here to stay | 18+🔥

summary: mornings where the summer heat was unbearable and energy was nowhere to be found, made getting up a difficult task. add a sleepy eddie and a multitude of kisses and suddenly it became near impossible.

Hopelessly Devoted to You | UPCOMING

summary: being friends with eddie alden came with challenges. you'd known him since you were eleven and he was twelve and the funniest thing to do was push you down. yet now you're older and suddenly you see him as someone else.

DROVER ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Never Lovelier | 18+🔥| UPCOMING

summary: a day spent working with horses in the hot sun left him hungry for your affection. for the soft touch of your love. OR drover uses his whip for romantic interests.

LEOPOLD ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

UNTITLED FALL THEMED FIC

GABRIEL VAN HELSING ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

bound in the strands of permanence | 18+🔥

summary: he walked with monsters in the night, claiming their lives for a vendetta placed upon him by the church. but he found peace in daylight with the touch of your healing hands.

Amor Vincint Omnia | 18+🔥| UPCOMING SERIES

©moonlight-prose do not feed my work into ai, do not steal my work, if you are a minor, spam like my fics, or are a blank blog you will be blocked.

[sweetnans]

Stuck in the moment || Bakugo, K. (pt.2)

Pairing: fuckboy Bakugo/hopelessly romantic fem. reader

Trope: Enemies/friends to lovers.

summary: You made a mistake, a huge mistake. You fucked the most cocky, annoying, bastard, fuckboy you knew. Bakugo Katsuki. And that fact was against all your beliefs. Now, after the rumor (truth) spread like a pandemic virus in college you'll have to live with the stormy consequences of your acts and whatever trash was brought with it.

a/c: Hey, it's me again. Here we are in a new series I plan to continue. I really hope you enjoy it. I put my favorite man in action (Bakugo) being a selfish bastard that you would love eventually and I couldn't help to put another "trope" I'm a sucker for (guardian/father figure Aizawa) I'm so sorry if that bothers you. Once again, I'm sorry if I misspelled something, English is not my first language. (Not proofread yet)

pt.1 ♡

m.list

When the war was on his full climax, you were almost in the main focus of it, trying to protect the other kids from your orphanage. They were little compared to you. The nurses that usually carried them were dead under the debris from the old building that was your orphanage before Shigaraki and the others from the league broke it down. You saw a lot of people that you knew and cared for, die.

Aizawa Sensei found you because the twins were crying in your arms. You tried to soothe them, but you were scared as well, trespassing your anxiety to them.

He stood in front of you, taking a piece of metal with his own hands to take you out. He had lost his eye and a leg, but he was still putting some resistance to the villains.

You remember how he took your hand to let you out. You were only seventeen at that time, and he took you to the parademics so they could take a look on the twins that were barely five months.

They put you in UA shelter with them.

After the war ended, the twins were adopted by a couple who were in the shelter with you, they helped you to take care of them and they ended up falling in love with their squishy faces and contagious laugh.

The first night you spent alone was the worst. Everyone was returning to their homes because even if the place they lived was destroyed, they had a place to return to. You didn't, so you stayed behind.

One of the countless mornings spent there all by yourself, a knock in the door, startled you.

"Hey"

The man who saved you and the twins was there in your door. You were certain that he was there to kick you out, but instead, he invited you to take a coffee with him.

You weren't feeling talkative at all at first. He was doing most of the chat, and you could visibly notice that he was making an extreme effort on that.

He asked you where you lived before the war, and you told him all your life. Since your parents died in a monstrous car accident until the moment he found you. You told him about the awakening of your quirk and that you wanted to be a hero one day, not knowing that he could pull all the possible strings to make that happen.

He tested you and asked you to show him your quirk.

With his stoic face and all, he was amused really with the facility that you used your quirk without having any training before.

Stardust. He had never seen something like that before. Well, almost, the way that your quirk emerged from your skin reminded him of the way Midnight used her quirk, too.

The dust came right off your skin like little sparkles that mainly conducted fire and electricity. You explained to him that at first you thought that only worked if you detached from your skin and someone lit it on fire with a match or a lighter but then you realized that you could also rub it between your fingers or in your arms and legs and it will generate flames.

He saw all the possibilities of your quirk evolving. He knew what he had to do.

Pitifully, you were behind compared to the ones that were in the heroic classes. They had already fought a war. He started to teach you by himself, and sometimes he asked all might and present mic to help him too. He did a pretty good job training you.

The day that College UA started to take applicants, you were there, the first one on being accepted. Aizawa invited you to a fancy restaurant to celebrate. He spent almost two years training you and getting to know you, and he saw much further than what was on the exterior. He saw kindness and an unfair world for an orphan girl with your talent. He was torn on the inside because of that, so he took the matter in his hands, and in between courses, he extended to you the adoption papers.

Now you were two years into UA college, being one of the first in class and excelling in every kind of training. He was proud of you.

In the meantime, you were hoping that he was still proud of you.

You were outside his office, pacing around before he answered your text, asking where he was. He was working because in his apartment (that was on campus too), he couldn't focus.

The door was in the reach of your arm waiting for you to knock it, but you were scared. What would he tell you? Would he be mad? Because it was obvious that he already knew about it. He did lose an eye in war, but he had eyes everywhere.

Shota: I can hear you outside the door, come in already.

The text in your screen didn't do any better.

You turned the knock and peered between the door and the lintel.

"You are quiet as a mouse," he said sarcastically, folding some papers in his desk.

"Completely lame of you working on Sunday," you walked towards him and sat in the chair that was in front of him.

"I fall sleep at home every time I try to grab your class' tests"

"Oh, so you prefer falling asleep here instead?" You tried to joke your shame away, and it did its effect when Aizawa smiled a bit.

"Don't be brat," he warned lowly, and you rolled your eyes.

Before you could say anything or even start to form a sentence about what happened, he slid some papers on his desk to you.

"What's this?" You questioned, and he motioned for you to grab them and open the folder.

Unwrapping the envelope, you slid your fingers to grab the thin papers to get them out.

"Bakugo Katsuki, medical records," you read out loud, and instantly bright colors rose to your cheeks. "Is this- Is this legal?" You talked more to yourself than to him.

"I'm his teacher, and he took this two weeks ago. Let's be grateful that he forgot that he had to renew his medical tests for this year too"

"I thought that these papers were exclusively to the medical wing." You paused your reading because you felt like you were violating his privacy.

"Yeah, but I know how to pull my strings," he shrugged nonchalantly.

"Recovery girl" you huffed. "I swear that lady loves you"

You ignored all about his heart surgery and went straight to the blood tests to read only what you needed to know. After everything was more than clear and a heavy lift was completely off of you, you gave the papers back to Aizawa.

"Lesson learned?" he asked, and you nodded. "I was young once too and..."

"Please don't. I know how the story of bees and flowers goes, " You cut him off quickly.

"Well clearly"

You wanted to die.

"What I want to tell you, I know you feel like this is going to end you, but it's not. I'm proud of you anyway. With whom you prefer to have some sort of relationship is your choice, not mine. If you want to be with Bakugo-

"Okay, okay, stop," your seat squelched because of you abruptly moving it back. "Nothing is going to happen again. I was drunk and-"

"It was consented, right?" He was about to become berserker.

"Yeah, totally. I was drunk but not that drunk. See Jirou and Denki went very out of their minds preparing the cosmopolitans and-"

"And you love cosmopolitans," he said catching on your story.

"Exactly, I do, so I wasn't gonna say no to them, and then one thing turned to another, and he was kissing me, and -" You went over verbal.

"Okay, now you gotta stop," he pinched above his nose, in between his eyes.

It was comical and ironic seeing you two trying to figure out the conversation.

"You wanted to know!" You pointed out.

"Not all of it!"

"Fine, fine. I better go. Thanks for this. I hope you don't get in trouble"

"Sure, I'm still proud of you, and I'll see you later for dinner. Eri wants to see you. " he came back to grading his test.

"I'll be there"

That was awkward. But at least now you knew that Bakugo wasn't lying about being clean.

The same afternoon, after you went for lunch with Jirou, you were running some errands for college when the lovely smell of recently made coffee tickled your nose.

The cafeteria was open, and it was full of students trying to wake up their minds to absorb some knowledge. Lucky for you, you only wanted coffee because you were craving it.

You beelined to the cashier and asked for your drink, and while you were waiting for them to hand it to you, you could hear someone behind you clearing their throat.

Fucking hell please please please make a hole in the ground at your feet and swallow you whole.

"If it isn't my number one fan"

You rolled your eyes until the practically disappeared inside your skull.

"Can't we not?" You tapped your fingers against the counter.

"I think you owe me an apology," Bakugo said, changing the playfully and sarcastic tone to something more serious and pissed.

"For what?" You were still trying not to face him because the mere fact of what you said in front of his friends made you cringe and he was the full reminder of it.

"Look at me when I'm talking to you." he gripped your shoulder and moved you, so now you were face to face with him. Ugh, he looked mad. "I didn't like what you said. Everyone is talking about my dick"

He was so rough with the words and all, so you weren't much surprised because he was talking so bluntly in a crowded place.

"Well, let's see it this way, they are going to think that I'm lying so that would lead to make them think that we never actually fucked so problem solved, it's a win win" you explained without thinking much of it but it actually made kinda of sense.

"No, that's not going to do," he denied, crossing his arms over his broad chest. He was wearing a wife beater in the middle of autumn. He was nuts. "Tell a friend about how you lie and spread the rumor yourself. It's not that hard"

"I think you're only messing with me, I can't believe the Bakugo Katsuki cares about what people think" you grabbed your drink after the bartender yelled your name and Bakugo followed you like a puppy. "If you care so much, I don't know, leak a nude or something. I ain't telling shit, " you said almost in hurry because you were getting out of clever responses and because he was almost fuming, you didn't want it to get caught in a fire with him being the main source.

How would you explain that to Aizawa?

...

Something changed in Katsuki after the war. He never had experienced love in his life, let alone a fling or just romance in general. Was it worth it? Having someone to cling on knowing that something as sporadic as a war could break it all? For him, it wasn't worth the shot.

He was a grumpy kid with behavioral problems when he started UA High School. He hated most of his classmates (especially Midoriya), and he also truly believed that he was above everyone. He just wanted to be hated, and he didn't care.

With the years passing by, the war, his heart problems, and everything, he tried to calm himself down. He undervalued his classmates, and now he felt like they were all worth his time at least. He still thinks that he's above everyone, but he uses it as fuel when one of them challenge him.

His first year as a college student, he realized that heroics could be more than just training and superpassing the others. He still trained in hardcore mode, but he also made time to other activities, like hiking and flirting.

The best thing about flirting and fucking it was that he didn't need to be involved with the other person so he didn't have to make an effort to talk about anything, he liked his privacy.

"That little bitch sweep the floor with you the other day" a boy who was in the changing room with him said like they were friends. Bakugo didn't do "friends" either. He had his former class as equals, and that's it, and the guy who was in front of him flexing his abs wasn't one of them.

"Don't call her that," he grunted, almost annoyed.

Bakugo had manners himself and her mom taught him good about treating women. You did sweep the floor with him, but that wasn't a good excuse to call you that. The guy realized where Bakugo drew the line and without making any sound he left the room.

"That was manly." Kirishima appeared, drying his hair with a towel. "I thought you would agree with that fucker"

"F'course not," he rolled his eyes. "She seems fearless. She had the guts to embarrass me in front of you and didn't even flinch when I bit back, impressive, " he muttered the last part to himself. "I saw her again at the cafeteria a few days ago, she kicked me straight in the sack with her smart mouth again"

He wasn't good with words, but in the last years compared to his high school years, he realized that Kirishima was his man to trust so he started to loosen up a bit when it came to talking to him.

"Yeah, I never expected to be in the front row when someone kicked your ass, verbally." Kirishima sat next to Bakugo and didn't miss the lost look on his friend's face. "What's going on? Do you care about what she said?"

"No, not at all." he shook his head, pretending that the movement would stop the itching on his head when he remembered how pented up you looked. "It's just, I don't know, I can't get her off my head"

"Maybe it's just a recessive thought provoked by the fact that no one has ever talked back to you that way, especially after the act, like they all seemed very compliant running their tongues to spill the details, I think it's just because she seemed-"

"Regretful," Bakugo completed with a huff.

"Yeah, I was thinking a better word, tho." Kirishima scratched the back of his neck, feeling a little pity for his friend. He had never seen him like that.

Was it something to be worried about? Well, maybe not, but the gears turning in his brain about you, about how to address the situation, about how you made him feel and how to make you pay, oh man, that was truly something to be concerned about.

End note: Hey, me again! I know this isn't what you expected because of course, you wanted more interaction. Still, I thought that we needed a little background first because reader wasn't present at a time when Bakugo was in high school since UA college is a continuation of it. For me, it's super funny the idea of UA college, because the college I go to has the same name, anyway, I can assure you that the next chapter is going to be better I swear.

A penny for your thoughts about this (not really but express yourself)

taglist: @kiridagremiln @aefillor @screechingfangirlaf @chuugarettes @gold24fish @dreamcastgirl99 @andyetshewrote @budibbly @candiiee @linkfromskywardsword @galaneiaeris @fantasynerd05 @big-denki-energy @3thr3al @marsbars09 @whatswrong7 @scaranthropy @cc1306 @junehasnotbeenfound @jeanbabygirl @pirana10 @sappho-the-kitten-tamer @ahbeautifulexistence @polarbvnny @th0tformikasa @surprisemodafakas @xxjesshuxx @katsuisbaby @azzo0 @atashiboba @azzo0 @berryvioo @hiimsaraandyou @bizzybkd @regrexx @justsinri @slut-4-gojo @bexxs @lemuhr @monkeycheeks-lvl26 @tsukikoxo @sikuthealien @mia-luvs @dondeh-zedonutqueen @the-queen-yn @stardream14 @pretty-sparkle-bomb @itzjustj-1000 @m-atcha-tea @liluvtojineteyam @shosuki @v3n7s @yoyolovesdaiki @jenna-sakura @femi12hhf @aejabba @im-nowhere-but-also-somewhere @daddyissxes @bunniparadise @longestline @buggie07 @simp-plague @seabass17 @ggffjdyb @seabass17 @natsuki2307 @turmoil-ash @fictonal-men-dum @gold24fish @anonomouswriter-blr @thedondiva45 @maddyb-rapps

Do not edit or reupload my works elsewhere! All rights reserved.

[sunnyrisee]

The Moment I Knew — Lee Know

pairing : idol! lee know x fem! reader

genre : friends to lovers, angst with happy ending, fluff.

summary : in which you fall in love with your best friend, only to be shattered by rumors of him dating someone else. so you try to distance yourself to move on. but letting go proves harder than you ever imagined.

word count : 4,159

author's note : this took three days, whether this is good or not. i hope you like this series. sorry if there are any mistakes.

taglist : @minhosbitterriver

To the world, he's an idol.

But to you, he's much more. He's your best friend, someone who knows you deeply and stands by you. He became an idol while you were still in college.

Actually, you love him.

As his fame grew through the years, you continued your studies, focusing on your master's degree to become a vet. It's sweet how he tells you that if his cats ever get sick, he can come to you for help and doesn't need to find another vet.

You love the idea, so you promise him that.

When Minho invited you to the dorm to watch movies, hang out, or chat, you were always greeted by the sound of yelling, people running around, or occasionally the smell of burnt food. You laughed it off, knowing they were like a family. Despite the chaos, Chan kept apologizing to you profusely. While Chan kept bowing and apologizing to you, you watched Minho—well, yeah, he was busy stuffing tissues into Hyunjin's mouth.

Your eyes widened, and you excused yourself from Chan. He followed your gaze and soon facepalmed.

"Minho! Stop that, idiot. You're hurting him!" You scolded, grabbing his arm to make him stop. He gave you a disgusted look, as if to say, "Why are you on Hyunjin's side, not mine?"

"Well, tell him to shut up! He hurt my eardrums!" Minho retorted, yanking his arm away from your grip. Hyunjin, finally free, gasped for air and glared at Minho.

"God, Y/n. How could you stand him?" Hyunjin asked, throwing an arm over his eyes as if exhausted by the ordeal. You laughed softly, glancing at Minho who was still grumbling.

"It wasn't always easy, but I guess I'd gotten used to his antics. Besides, someone had to keep an eye on him."

Minho shot you a mock glare. "Oh, so now you're against me too?"

"Of course not." You replied with a grin. "But sometimes you did make it hard. Maybe I just had a soft spot for difficult people." Minho rolled his eyes at your statement and went back to setting up the movie.

Minho wasn't much of a talker; he preferred to listen more. There were times he did speak, but not often. Still, you were grateful that he wanted to share his days with you. On the other hand, you loved talking, especially with him, and joking around was always fun. However, he hated it when you teamed up with Kim Seungmin.

He remembered a time when you were playing a game with Seungmin. Minho messaged you, urgently asking where you were because he needed your help to find Dori's toy. Seungmin took your phone and replied with a dog meme flipping the middle finger. He hated how powerful you'd become with Seungmin.

You eventually made friends with all of them, and most of them were a lot of fun to hang out with.

One thing they didn't know was your feelings for him. Yes, some of them might have asked about it, but Minho brushed it off, reassuring them that you both were just best friends. It hurt, and you could feel your heart breaking every time Minho downplayed it, making you question if your feelings were even noticed. You didn't know when the feelings started—maybe it was because you often spent time together, or perhaps it was the way you were enchanted whenever you were with him.

As time went on, you continued with your own life, focusing on your studies. Yet, whenever you lost in thought, Minho always seemed to come to mind.

After a long day at college, you finally got back to your apartment, exhausted and ready to rest. Just as you were about to settle in, you heard a notification from your phone. You checked it and saw a message from Minho saying he would be coming over because Felix and Seungmin had somehow managed to burn the kitchen.

Your face lit up, a smile curving on your lips. Even though you had to admit you were really tired and your back ached, you couldn't help but feel a little excited at the thought of Minho coming over.

"Thank you for letting me come here. It was crazy there—Chan was now scolding them both." Minho said as he arrived. He looked around your apartment, taking in the calm atmosphere compared to the chaos he had just left.

"I owed you one for this. If you needed anything, just let me know."

You laughed softly, despite your exhaustion. "No need to thank me. Just make yourself comfortable."

He sat on your couch, trying to calm his mind, while you sat on the floor, hugging your knees to your chest. As you listened, he started to ramble about how the new comeback was wearing him out.

"I swear, this comeback has completely worn me out. With the upcoming tour, I'm just so exhausted." Minho said, running a hand through his hair. You listened quietly, offering a comforting presence.

"I could only imagine how tough that must be. But you were doing an amazing job. It's okay to take a break and just breathe for a bit..." You replied, stifling a yawn as you started to feel sleepy.

"You've never seen me in the practice room. You need to know how tiring it is! Jisung keeps falling, or Chan forgets to mirror the dance." He continued, shaking his head.

You kept listening to his ramble, it made your heart flutter when he opened up to you. Today was just different—you were more tired than ever. You wanted to hear more and value these moments, but you shifted slightly, and your head eventually rested against the edge of the couch.

Minho continued talking until he heard your little snores, realizing you had fallen asleep. He glanced down and was surprised to see you resting against the edge of the couch, a gentle smile forming on his lips.

Not wanting to disturb you, he carefully moved to sit on the floor beside you, letting you rest comfortably.

"I didn't realize how exhausted you were. Make sure you get some rest. I'll stay here for a while."

You knew you loved him more, and it was becoming clearer each day. Every time you were with him, you could feel butterflies in your stomach and a warm flush across your cheeks. Even if you didn't really hang around the building or accompany him during practice, the time you spent together was enough to make your feelings grow stronger.

You loved him, and you couldn't even describe your own feelings. You could talk about him all day, about the little things he did that made your heart race, the way he smiled, or how he always knew what to say to make you feel better. But no matter how deeply you loved him, a nagging doubt always lingered at the back of your mind.

Did he see you as more than just a friend? Or were you forever destined to be just his best friend, standing on the sidelines of his heart?

It was night time when Minho invited you to tag along with the group at the carnival. You didn't really want to get on the rides, so you chose to just watch them. As time went on, you all walked around, talking and laughing, but you found yourself lagging behind Minho, falling behind the others.

You glanced at his back, wanting to cherish moments like these just with him. Your mind trailed off, and you couldn't help but think that one day, he'd find someone who truly matched him. There were so many beautiful idols out there, and you began to realize.

Maybe you just weren't meant for him.

A deep sadness settled in your chest as you trailed behind, feeling the distance grow between your heart and reality. You watched him from afar, caught between the joy of being near him and the painful acknowledgment that your feelings might never be returned. The carnival lights seemed to mock your longing, a bittersweet reminder of what could have been but likely never would.

You bit your lip, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to fall. You didn't want to ruin this moment—he looked so happy, enjoying himself with the group.

Why couldn't you be strong for once? Why couldn't you just move on from him?

The self-doubt and heartache overwhelmed you, making you wish you could just disappear at this point.

"Y/n? Are you alright?" Minho asked softly, his hand gently resting on your shoulder as he tried to get your attention. As you looked up at him, you saw the concern etched on his face. You didn't want to make him worry.

"I'm fine, Minho. I was thinking how can cats eat leaves." You assured him, adding a joke to deflect his concern. You hoped it would be enough to brush off his worry.

Minho raised an eyebrow, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Cats eating leaves? You're such a weirdo, Y/n." You laughed softly, relieved as his playful comment eased the tension.

Throughout the night, the ache in your heart never quite went away. No matter how hard you tried to push your feelings aside, it felt like everything around you kept reminding you of them, making it hard to enjoy the evening.

Lee Know from Stray Kids Rumored to Be Dating a Member of a Girl Group.

As you read the headlines, and a knot tightened in your stomach. A flood of questions overwhelmed you, each one gnawing at you and making it harder to breathe.

You knew this day might come, but you didn't expect it to hurt so much. It was as if your heart was being shattered into a million pieces, each one cutting deeper than the last.

You stared at the screen, the words blurring as tears welled up in your eyes. You tried to hold them back, but it was useless. Each tear that fell felt like another piece of your heart breaking away. You should've known better. But why couldn't you just leave him be? Why couldn't you just let go?

You let yourself cry the whole day, dying to ask him if the rumors were true or not. Yet, you didn't dare touch your phone to message him. You were afraid, you were scared. The fear of hearing confirmation, of shattering your last glimmer of hope, kept you paralyzed. Every sob seemed to wrack your entire being, leaving you feeling more fragile and broken with each passing moment.

You clutched your pillow, drenched with your tears. You never imagined that loving him could be this painful. Everything felt unbearably heavy, and it seemed like pure torture. It was as if your world was collapsing, each breath more difficult to take under the weight of your unspoken love.

Luckily, you didn't have class today, so you could cry as much as you wanted. If there had been class, you were sure you wouldn't have been able to focus.

What made it worse was that you didn't have any friends other than Minho and the other Stray Kids members. You hated yourself for not branching out more, and now you had to face the painful reality of moving on from your only close friend.

You kept your word, making an effort to avoid him as much as possible. Your days felt lonelier, and your apartment seemed colder, each corner a reminder of the emptiness you felt.

You hated having to be this way with your own friend. After two weeks, you responded only with short replies or didn't answer his messages at all. His calls went straight to voicemail.

When you arrived back at your apartment, you looked around and realized just how much you missed him. The reality of it hit hard—you were nothing like him, and you felt utterly miserable without him.

"Hyung, I haven't seen Y/n in a while. I tried to message her but she said she's been busy lately." Han said as he took a seat next to Minho in the studio. He then began to type something on his laptop.

Minho's eyes widened in surprise. "You know about Y/n? I've been trying to reach her for weeks, but she's been completely unresponsive."

Han glanced up from his laptop, noticing Minho's distress. "I didn't know something was going on. I thought she was just busy with school or something. Is everything okay?"

Minho sighed heavily, unsure of what to say. He had never truly asked about you. Running a hand through his hair, he muttered.

"I don't know... She's not her usual self these days..." Minho admitted, his voice tinged with uncertainty. He was confused about what to do, feeling lost without knowing what was going on. Normally, you always knew exactly what to do or say in moments like this, but now, without you, he felt completely lost and unsure of how to fix things.

"You know? Y/n is my voice when w-words fail me, she's the person who listens patiently to all my thoughts, and she's the person I depend on when I need someone to be there..."

Seeing his hyung, who almost never talks about his feelings, open up like this was like watching someone who'd been silent their whole life suddenly find their voice. Han could sense just how much you meant to him. It was as if you were the missing piece of Minho's life, the one person who made everything make sense.

God, he wished for someone like you to come into his own life.

"Hyung, I'm sorry to ask this, but do you have feelings for her?" Han's question left Minho stunned.

"What kind of question is that? She's my best friend!" Minho snapped, his words coming out sharper than he intended. There was no way he could have feelings for his own friend, right?

Han looked down at his laptop, trying to gather his thoughts. He had no intention of breaking into his hyung's boundaries, but since he knew you too, he was sure one of you was in love. That thought was embedded in his mind, an unspoken truth he couldn't ignore. He didn't say much, but he noticed the subtle glances and fleeting smiles, the silent language of affection that spoke louder than words.

Minho didn't know what was going through his mind. His instincts urged him to see you, as if something inside was telling him he needed to. He sent you a message saying he would pick you up today.

As he waited for you to finish class, the minutes seemed to stretch on endlessly. When you finally received his message, you were taken aback.

You spotted him waiting for you, his face obscured by a mask and glasses, and a hat pulled low over his eyes. His attempt at disguise almost made him unrecognizable.

"Hey, dummy."

"Hey, why did you waste your time picking me up?" You asked, your tone coming off colder than you intended. You knew clearly he was supposed to have practice today.

"I have some free time, so why not? Plus, you've been acting strange lately, I was starting to think you'd vanished into thin air." Minho replied with a hint of a smile behind his mask. His eyes stayed fixed on you as you walked ahead, a look of concern and curiosity on his face that felt more intense than usual.

As you both walked side by side, the silence between you felt heavier than usual. You could feel Minho's gaze occasionally drifting towards you.

"Are you okay?" Minho finally broke the silence, his voice softer than usual. You hesitated, struggling to keep your composure. 

"It's nothing, really."

He stopped walking and gently placed a hand on your shoulder, making you turn to face him. "Y/n, you don't have to shut me out. If something's wrong, I want to help. You're my friend, and I care about you." 

Hearing him worry about you made your heart ache. You took a deep breath, struggling to hold back your emotions.

"It's just… There are things I can’t talk about. Not right now..." Minho's eyes softened with understanding.

You stood in silence, your emotions bubbling just beneath the surface. You wanted to voice everything you'd been holding back for so long, but the words felt trapped, unable to escape.

The awkward silence was broken by a soft, pitiful meow. You and Minho turned simultaneously, searching for the source of the sound. Minho's expression softened as he carefully approached, revealing a small, trembling kitten cradled in his hands.

Your heart melted at the sight. Without a word, you reached out and carefully took the kitten from Minho, your vet student instincts immediately taking over. As you examined the kitten with utmost care, you spoke gently to it, trying to calm its trembling. You reached into your bag and pulled out some supplies, preparing to tend to its needs.

Minho watched you closely, mesmerized by your gentle touch and genuine care. He was at a loss for what was stirring inside him, but as he watched you tenderly care for the kitten, you looked more beautiful than ever. His heart raced uncontrollably, and a warm flush spread across his cheeks.

As you finished tending to the kitten, you glanced up and caught Minho's eyes on you. He immediately averted his gaze, clearly flustered.

"See? You're okay now, little one..." You said, gently setting the kitten down. It looked a bit more refreshed now. You then brought out some food, carefully placing it near the tiny creature.

The warmth in your actions contrasted sharply with the coldness you'd shown him recently. The more he stared at you, the more his heart began to race, each beat louder than the last. He noticed the same habit you both shared, carrying cat food wherever you went. How could he have forgotten about that?

It was just like the day you met him.

You were helping a cat that had fallen into a sewer when Minho found you. He thought you were weird, which is why he called you an idiot. Despite that, he helped you rescue the cat. That shared moment had been the start of your friendship, and now, seeing you like this, he couldn’t help but feel a pang in his heart.

Maybe, Han was right.

"It's like the first time we've met..." He mumbled softly, just loud enough for you to hear.

"Yeah... It does." You replied, a small smile forming on your lips. The memory of that day flooded back, bringing with it a bittersweet feeling.

You bit your lip, feeling the weight of your emotions. With a trembling sigh, you looked up at him, your heart heavy with the realization of the truth you'd been trying to avoid.

"Minho." You started, your voice breaking. "I think... I think we shouldn't be friends anymore."

The words fell from your lips like a heavy, painful blow, and you could see Minho's world crumble in his eyes. As you turned to walk away, each step felt like a dagger to the heart. The light of your presence, once so vibrant, began to fade, leaving behind a suffocating coldness. 

Minho felt the warmth of your presence slipping through his fingers, replaced by an overwhelming chill that engulfed his heart.

"Is he okay?" Chan asked, peering through the door, the rest of the members trailing behind him. They all shook their heads, unsure. Chan sighed and approached Minho's side.

"Man. Listen, I don't know what's up, but you can't keep going like this. We've got stuff to do, and you're not doing anyone any favors by shutting us out. Just talk to us, okay?"

Minho took a deep breath, his voice trembling. "It's her... It's true what Han said, I really love her. Ugh, I didn't understand it at first, but now I see it clearly..."

Chan's expression softened as he listened to Minho's confession. "Then why don't you confess your feelings?" He asked gently. "You have a lifetime chance to win her heart, but that chance could slip away if you let your fears or ego get in the way. You need to be honest with her. It's the only way to find out if there's a future for you two."

Just as Chan's words echoed in his mind, a surge of clarity jolted through Minho. It wasn't too late to confess. He knew, deep down, that you were the only one he truly wanted. The thought of losing you forever was unbearable.

"Also, have you heard the dating rumors about you? That's probably what hurt her. If I'm right, those rumors have been spreading for at least a month—"

"Are you kidding me? A month?!" Minho's voice was a mix of anger and disbelief.

The realization hit him hard. The pain you must have felt—he now felt it deeply in his own heart. It was as if his chest was tightening, making it difficult to breathe. The weight of the rumors and the distance between you both crushed him.

Without thinking, Minho bolted from the room, his heart pounding fiercely in his chest. Never in his life had he felt such fear of loss. The moment you walked away had already broken him, but the idea of losing you forever felt like it would destroy him completely.

When he arrived at your apartment, he noticed the door was slightly ajar. Doubt and worry gripped him.

Why would you leave the door open or unlocked at night?

He hesitated for a moment, his heart pounding as he pushed the door open slowly.

"Y/n?"

When you didn't respond, he stepped inside more fully, the fear gripping him tightening around his chest. His eyes scanned the room frantically before landing on you.

Minho's heart ached at the sight: you were slumped over your desk, surrounded by scattered books and papers. Your exhaustion was palpable; dark circles shadowed your eyes, and your usually vibrant face looked pale and drawn.

Minho gently touched your shoulder, causing you to stir awake. When you fully came to, you were startled to find Minho's face so close to yours.

"Minho? What are you doing—"

Minho cut you off tenderly, his fingers brushing against your cheek with a warmth that felt both comforting and electrifying. You could see his eyes welling up with tears, his voice catching in his throat. The sight of him so broken and vulnerable was almost too much to bear.

"Y/n..." Minho's voice trembled, breaking through the heavy silence.

"I never imagined I'd find someone who could touch my heart like this. But the moment I knew I loved you was when I r-realized how empty my life would be without you. You're everything I've ever wanted and more..."

As Minho's heartfelt confession filled the room, you listened intently, your once-dull eyes beginning to sparkle with emotion. The weight of his words resonated deeply within you, and you could feel your own heartbeat quickening with every beat.

"When you left, the chill that settled in my heart made me understand just how much you were the fire that warmed my soul." Hearing these words, you could barely hold back the tears that threatened to spill. The relief you felt was overwhelming, as if the weight of unspoken feelings was finally lifted from your chest.

"Minho... You've no idea how much I needed to hear this. I've felt so lost, but now, hearing you, it feels like everything is falling into place." Minho gently cupped your face, his touch both tender and reassuring.

"My heart feels like it's been set ablaze." Minho pulled you closer.

As his lips met yours, the world seemed to melt away, leaving just the two of you in a tender, passionate moment. You gently placed your hands on his neck, fingers lightly brushing through his hair.

The warmth of his body pressed against yours, combined with the sweet pressure of his lips, sent a thrill through you, igniting a fire that mirrored the one he had described.

As you pulled away, breathless and flushed, your eyes locked with his. A soft smile blossomed on both your lips, and your noses brushed together in a delicate, shared moment.

"Then let me be the breeze that fans your flames, ensuring our fire burns bright." 

[blarshwritezz]

This one was inspired by this post by @suiana <3

Yandere Beauty x Beast Reader

M yan x GN reader

TW - obsessive behavior, mass murder, maybe mild stalking(?), people are meanies

You've grown so tired of this life, but it was all you knew. You've been trapped like this for years with nothing but your own rage to accompany you. Many of the once priceless paintings in your palace were now destroyed. It didn't matter. No one remembered this place. No one remembered you.

And it would stay that way until you die.

Every now and then some adventurers or travellers would find your palace, hoping for a place to stay the night, only to run away in fear. They'd rather take their chances with the wolves than with such a terrifying beast.

You expected another one of those interactions when you heard a knock at the doors. Some didn't even have that much decency. You weren't expecting such a beautiful man to he the one at your door. Nor were you expecting him to get down on one knee and ask to be your husband.

"You are the most stunning creature I've ever seen...please, allow me the honor of marrying you!" Of all things, did he have to call you a creature? You were technically a person! At least, you were a long time ago.

Not wanting to go through with whatever he could possibly be planning, you slammed the door in his face with a firm "No." He was probably trying to make a fool of you, or perhaps even kill you. Even though you hated this life, you didn't want to die. Not quite yet

How you wished that was the end of it.

He started sleeping outside the door of your palace, insisting on marriage if he ever saw you. Whether you we stepping out on the balcony, looking out a window, or tending to the garden he'd beg for your hand in marriage.

Even though his appearance became disheveled after the many days he spent outside your palace, he was still more beautiful than any woman you met as a human. Such a beautiful man surely had plenty of eligible bachelors and bachelorettes lined up at his own door, so why did he insist on a life with you? A life of solitude and silence. A life without a single friend. Even your servants were long gone. Broken mirrors, dusty furniture, spiders and bugs infesting the least visited corners, was that really a l8fe to beg for?

You finally got agitated at all his begging and pleading, of all the surely empty promises. As he followed you through your garden on day, you lost it. You turned back and gripped him firmly by the jaw, smooshing his rosy cheeks together as you demanded an explanation.

"You're amazing, your majesty! You're my greatest dream." He admit, a deep blush growing on his cheeks as your grip tightened. "I'll admit, I wasn't planning to propose, so I failed to bring you a proper ring. But I came out here, curious if the rumors were true...and the second I laid eyes on you, I was in love!"

It sounded more ignorant than you expected.

"I fell to my knees once I beheld you. You were too perfect for me to handle, and I knew it was a sign that I had to marry you!"

You really didn't know what to say. Was this guy all beauty and no brains? You didn't realize those kinds of people really existed.

You dropped him, firmly telling him to get lost and marry someone else. Someone better. But he instantly feel to his knees, gripping your legs and begging with tears in his eyes.

"Please! At least give me a chance, my love!" You never realized someone could be so pathetic.

You dragged him away. First you tried tossing him off the palace grounds, but he came crawling back. Then you dropped him half way through the forest. Again, he refused to leave your side. So you left him the last place you wanted to go.

You dragged him all the way back to the village, and instantly received the backlash you expected. You tossed him to the crowd, and they instantly took him. And as for you? They threw rocks, rotten food, and whatever else they could easily throw. The assault lasted until you were out of their sight.

At least now you could continue your days in peace.

Oh, you thought. You wished, you prayed. Your peace didn't even last a day.

That night, when you went out to you balcony to stare into the night, an unfamiliar sight caught your eye. The bright light of a fire. A large fire, consuming everything in its path. A horrible fire, turning the village to dust.

You gripped your balcony, crushing the metal of the railing. What were you to do? The villagers hated you. They loathed your very existence. They didn't remember you as you once were, only the beast you were today.

You were still supposed to be their ruler.

They were still your people.

You had to protect your people.

Without another second of hesitation you rushed out of your palace and through the forest. Only to find one person on the path there. The beautiful man you gave back to them earlier.

"I got rid of them for you, darling. Those barbarians didn't see how absolutely beautiful you are, and they can't keep us apart any more." He knealt down on one knee, pulling out a black box and revealing a stunning ring.

"Now let me do this properly...will you marry me?"

I WAS INSPIRED, OKAY? I know I have requests to get to 😭

[gibberishfangirl]

Hello~ Congrats on 100 followers!! You really deserve, it means writing is your AESTHETIC. Anyway, leaving the references aside... I'd like to request Furin boys, Togame and Endo (if it's ok with you) reacting to the reader getting stabbed in their place (the reader protects them) in a fight. You decide whether the boys will see this when it happens or on the way back home with the reader walking much further behind and everything, trying to hide it from the boys. Stay well and stay hydrated, CONGRATS ONCE AGAIN 💚

WIND BREAKER | worth the sacrifice

Characters ✰ Haruka Sakura, Hajime Umemiya, Hayato Suo, Akihiko Nirei, Mitsuki Kiryu, Toma Hiragi, Jo Togame

Contains ✰ sfw! violence, blood, reader gets injured, fighting, angst, comfort, guilty feelings, angry feelings and behavior, content of the boys reacting differently to the incident

★ a/n <3 : hiii! thank you so much for the kind words it means a lot! :) i did a mix of some characters finding out in the moment vs later. i didn’t include Endo, simply because im not confident enough in my skills to write him yet, sorry :’D </3★

★ feels enormous guilt, didn’t realize in the heat of the moment. realized you were hurt after it was over on your way home. blames himself for not protecting you ★

-> Haruka Sakura ᡣ𐭩

there weren’t enough words in the world to describe the amount of fear and heartbreak that struck Sakura in the moment when you collapsed on the walk home. Sakura was usually fearless in most situations, always confident in his own abilities but this time was different. he couldn’t help but feel lost, not knowing what to do besides picking you up and running to the nearest hospital as his mind was going insane.

he drowned in his own thoughts the whole way there and even after. ‘when did it happen? where was i? how did i let it happen?’ the man who usually was overflown with confidence felt weak.

Sakura would never be able to live with himself if you were to get a life changing injury under his protection. he felt responsible for everything. he felt pathetic, how could he ever be the strongest when he couldn’t protect you? the person he loves the most. ‘you were okay now but what if something happens again? what if things don’t work out next time? next time. there shouldn’t be a next time. there shouldn’t have been a this time to begin with.’

the incident changed Sakura in a way. he hadn’t been the same since that night at the hospital where he cried for the first time in front of you. where he sobbed into your arms crying “i can’t do this without you. i can’t be here if you aren’t, i need you here with me.” Sakura vowed to himself that he’d never let you or anyone else he cared for be put in that position again. he won’t let it happen again.

Sakura knows how much you love him as you tried to be strong for him. the way you smiled and said it was nothing once you woke up. the way you never flinched or showed fear when you had to stitches. he admired it and wants to do the same for you in return. he considers you to be one of the strongest people he knows and you gave him a new meaning to the word “strong”.

-> Akihiko Nirei ᡣ𐭩

Nirei wouldn’t have expected this is how the night would’ve ended. he feels terrible as he was sitting next to your hospital bed on a spare chair. he spent the night with you while you were sleeping. he hasn’t been able to sleep or eat since the incident. he can’t help but just keep beating himself up. if only he had been stronger… how did he realize so late? the two of you were walking home when he wrapped his arm around your waist and felt the blood gushing out from your body while you winced in pain.

“Nirei? You still there?” the sound of your voice quickly snapped him out his thoughts. your eyes adjusted to the darkness of the room, the small lamp beside you was the only source of light. he looked terrible, his eyes were swollen, face covered in bruises, dried blood on his busted lip, not to mention his eye bags were horrendous. his eyes looked so sad, the way he looked so defeated made you feel devastated.

“hey, are you okay?” even though he looked far worse than you, appearance wise, he was still more concerned about you instead of himself. the feeling of starvation hadn’t even hit him since you were at the top of his mind. he hadn’t even bothered to get checked up on himself.

“yeah, i’m fine. are you okay? have you gotten checked? you’re covered bruises,” you were cut off mid ramble by him embracing you. he hugged you so gently it was almost as if he was scared you’d break by the slightest amount of pressure.

“don’t do that ever again. i can’t lose you. i promise ill be the one to protect you next time— just don’t... i want to be the one you can lean on.” Nirei couldn’t stop the tears from coming before breaking out into sobs as you hugged him back. you couldn’t stop your own tears in time. you were more scared than you realized. you stepped in front of him without thinking, it hadn’t registered how scary the situation was until you were on the hospital bed getting rushed into a room. despite how scared you were you couldn’t imagine how much scarier it would’ve been to not have Nirei here with you now.

★ noticed too late, tried to prevent it from happening but fails. he couldn’t stop it in time and is very upset about it. incredibly irritated by the whole situation. ★

-> Hayato Suo ᡣ𐭩

Suo knew something happened. however, wasn’t exactly sure what that something was. the most he knew was that you were ‘fine’. he could’ve sworn he saw you get hurt but apparently not? every time he asked you if you were okay or tried to check on you, you’d back away and insist nothing was wrong. he couldn’t help but feel worried, mainly because he knew something was off. he quickly turned around when he had seen that guy sneak up behind him and you ran over to protect him. he tried to pull you away from any chance of getting hurt. he assumed he had succeeded when you didn’t have a physical reaction to any pain. a month and a half passed quickly as the whole incident continued to chew him up inside. since it was winter, it made things easier for you to hide the scar due to amount of gloves you wore. as the season quickly came to an end so did your excuses on covering up your injury. Of course Suo immediately noticed the scar on the palm of your hand. the sight of it immediately made him frown. you could feel your own nerves building up from just watching him examine your hand with a straight face. he gently grazed over the scar with such soft caring hands. it was rare to see your smiling boyfriend be so serious with a sad expression.

“why didn’t you tell me? i asked you about it… you could’ve told me the truth you know?” Suo’s gentle voice broke the awkward silence that consumed the air. his tone wasn’t angry, it was rather soft with a hint of sadness to it. did you not think you could trust him with this information? he could’ve been there for you. you wouldn’t have gone through it alone, he would’ve been there. it’s all he could think of while trying to understand why you wouldn’t tell him.

“m sorry suo, i didn’t want you to worry. you’re always taking care of me… i just wanted to show that i could also take care of you.” you felt bad looking at his expression. you assumed you were doing the right thing by keeping it from him. he always worried so much about you. you thought this would’ve made him more stressed out than he needed to be. you can see now by the way he looks that wasn’t the case. maybe you should’ve just been honest from the start.

“i don’t want you to take care of me if it means you’ll be the one to get hurt in return.” Suo couldn’t help but raise his voice a little as he blurted out the words before thinking. he immediately regretted saying it when you responded with a hurt expression. “wait! no, i mean. i don’t want you to get hurt because of my own mistakes. i should’ve seen it coming, im glad to know you care for me that much. i just don’t want you to get hurt. next time, let me take it.”

“no.” the small word casually left your lips. you know if you were to go back in time you would do the same thing all over again. Suo knew that as well which is why he responded with a small smile. he didn’t want to encourage this behavior but he knew you well enough to know that you’ll never stand by and let the ones you care about get hurt. you were thankful that your boyfriend was so understanding and knew your character so well. he simply sighed in response to your word with a “what am i gonna do with you?”

-> Toma Hiragi ᡣ𐭩

Hiragi felt himself wince at the sight of you getting hurt. he was helping out an underclassmen from getting beat up when the other guy tried to catch him from behind. he let out a yell to warn you while running over to you but it had been too late. the guy had already landed a swing at you with the knife before Hiragi grabbed his arm back knocking the weapon out of his hand. Hiragi couldn’t care less about the guy while you held your arm in pain. He did the most logical thing he could think of which was shoving the guy away from the two of you and making his way to the hospital with you on his back. ever since the two of you started dating, Hiragi made you a priority. he wasn’t planning on breaking that anytime soon. he’d deal with the situation later all that matters right now is you.

“wait! Hiragi- it’s really not that bad! i’m okay. we don’t need to go, you should go get him. i’ll be fine.” you tried to protest against his decision while holding onto him tightly. he was running so fast you were almost scared of falling off. keyword: almost. your boyfriend was incredibly strong and you knew the chance of him dropping you were slimmed down to a zero. Higari ignored your protests as you sighed in defeat. he didn’t leave your side for the rest of the day as the doctor checked up on you.

“Hiragi. I told you i’m fine, you should go back and see if everyone’s okay. you should go update Umemiya while you still can.” your words have fallen on deaf ears since the two of you have gotten there. Hiragi was completely ignoring your words, at least that’s what you thought. in reality he heard you loud and clear but he just simply didn’t care. he didn’t care about anyone else except you in this moment.

“i’ll call Umemiya as soon as i know you’re okay. don’t worry about it.” is the only response he gave to your rambling. you knew he had more to say but you didn’t know how to ask or bring it up. “i’m sorry. i should’ve been more careful with you being around. i didn’t think anything was going to happen tonight.”

Hiragi was genuinely apologetic. he had promised to take you on a date like good boyfriends do but the night went downhill fast. he felt terrible for dragging you into that mess involving his own duties. he often struggled with balancing his duties and your relationship with him but he always tried to make things work. “it’s okay, it’s just another excuse for you to take me on two date nights now.” you smiled focusing on the bright side of things. “of course, i would never say no to that.” Higari always did wonder what he did to get so lucky to have you.

-> Mitsuki Kiryu ᡣ𐭩

Kiryu cursed himself in his own head. he always went out of his way to keep you safe from any danger. so far, he had succeeded until now. he failed to react in time and pull you away. Kiryu wanted to pummel the guy who hurt you but he knew you needed him now more than ever. he hated the fact that anyone managed to hurt, let alone scare you, especially if he was there.

“hi love, are you okay?” with the way your boyfriends tone remained so loving and soft you would never know how angry he was inside. “i’m okay, doesn’t hurt too bad.” you blushed at the feeling of his hand caressing your cheek. your boyfriend grew irritated by seeing your beautiful skin bruise where the scar was starting to form. you caught a glimpse of your boyfriends eyebrows furrow up as his eyes stayed on your scar. the look in his eye sent goosebumps to your body.

Kiryu wouldn’t consider himself to be an aggressive person but he’d be lying if he said he’d never been more tempted to chase down a man and make him regret their decision in his life. Despite all these emotions Kiryu always put you first and stayed by your side. Even if he couldn’t help but wonder what he could’ve done differently to prevent everything from happening.

The way Kiryu always had the ability to manage his emotions was amazing. it’s a skill not most people have and you’re glad he’s one of the few who do. However, he can’t reassure you that he’ll be able to hold back on the day he runs into that guy again. honestly, for everyone’s sake that person better pray they never see you or Kiryu again. Kiryu’s kindness should never be seen as a weakness. that man is a lot more capable than he often leads people to believe.

★ angry at the world, feels so much anger at everyone. blames everyone, himself, you, those around you. slightly mad at you because he would’ve preferred it be him instead. can’t fathom why you would do that ★

-> Hajime Umemiya ᡣ𐭩

Umemiya was horrified at watching you get hurt and being so helpless at the moment. he felt so useless, so many relied on him and he managed to fail the one he loves most. he was angry and was having trouble holding it in. he sat there in anticipation waiting to hear if you were okay. he felt like such a failure as he continuously beat himself up. he slapped his face against his hands as he facepalmed. the moment was a consistent replay eating him alive. Higari had tried to convince him to leave to go get changed or showered or to go eat but Ume insisted he needed to stay with you. just in case. you needed him, he couldn’t be there for you when it happened but he’s here now. that counts… right?

Ume didn’t bother sleeping as he watched your restful state sleeping in the uncomfortable hospital bed. you didn’t deserve this, you’re the sweetest person he’s ever met. he was lucky to have you. he didn’t deserve you, he knew that much. how could someone ever do something like this to you? yeah it was his fault but who hurts such an innocent person? you were just there at the wrong time… and it was his fault you were even there to begin with. his body jolted up as he noticed your eyelashes fluttering as your eyes opened. “hey.. how are you? want some water?” his tone was soft and quiet since it was still the middle of the night. he didn’t want to startle you as he went up to you and softly caressed your face. you didn’t respond besides just holding his arm and tugging him towards you.

he let out a small sigh before getting into bed with you since you made some space for him. you instinctively cuddled into him and held him tightly. you quickly relaxed into his chest as he stroked your hair. “i’m okay Ume.” you finally responded trying to reassure him after hearing the way his heart was pounding. fortunately, hearing that come from your sweet voice relaxed him as he felt a new sense of relief that he never felt before.

“why would you do that (y/n)?” Ume finally built the courage to ask you the question that he had been wondering since everything happened.

“because you’re worth it Ume, i love you. id do anything for you as long as you’re safe.” you answered it so casually as if he was already supposed to know that. he felt his own heart melt from your response. typically Ume was always the one putting himself in front of danger for others. he’d never been on the other side of this experience, it made him feel oddly safe. all that previous anger he felt towards himself vanished at your reassurance. “i love you too (y/n).” Ume wanted to do everything he could to his ability to prevent something like this happening again. he was glad he could rely on you, that doesn’t mean he ever wants to see you in this state again.

-> Jo Togame ᡣ𐭩

pissed doesn’t even begin to describe the amount of rage Togame feels. he hates the fact that he even feels that way. his knuckles have turned white at this point with how tightly he was gripping the wheel. you had just gotten released from the hospital and you haven’t heard a peep come out of your boyfriend. the moment kept flashing in and out of his head of it all happening. the two of you were around so many people, how did no one step in? how couldn’t he stop it? why would you even get involved after he specifically told you not to? unfortunately the emotion of anger was seeking out of both of you. the tension was so thick, it was bad whenever the two of you matched energy in this way.

“i don’t get why you would do something so stupid. i told you to stay back for a reason. how many times have i told you? do not get involved. stay out of it.” Togame’s harsh words broke the silence quickly. you were more angry at the fact that he was the one who broke the silence instead of you being the one to do it. a small part of you was shocked that he was even angry at you but you saw it coming. he did tell you to never get involved if the situation ever escalated.

“excuse me?? well i’m sooooo sorry that i didn’t want you to get stabbed???!!!” you couldn’t stop the painful sarcastic laughter from leaving your throat while you ‘apologized’. you didn’t stop there, you couldn’t. you were the kind of person where once you got started there was no going back. surprisingly the two of you shared that annoying quality. “i can’t believe you’re actually mad at me. what was i supposed to do? you can’t expect me not to do anything! if it were the other way around you would’ve jumped in the way. why is it so different when i do it? it’s not.”

“it is, there’s a huge difference. i can handle it. you on the other hand, aren’t supposed to handle anything. so don’t bother to next time. i should be able to have you around me without having to worry that you’ll just casually walk in front of a weapon. who does that? i can do that. you can’t.” god sometimes you hated the way he thought. “no. i can, i will and i already have so there’s no changing that.”

“i just don’t get why. there’s no point in doing something like that. i’m not worth saving (y/n). you are, you’re worth everything to me. you can’t just sacrifice yourself for anyone. what if things had gone differently? what if you weren’t okay? what do i do then? what am i supposed to do without? i cant live without you so don’t put me in a situation where i have to even imagine that possibility.” Togame’s outburst caught you off guard. you knew he was angry but you hadn’t expected him to get so vulnerable. the look in his eye changed completely, they didn’t hold anymore anger. they held the feeling of sadness more than anything.

“don’t say that, you are worth saving. don’t ask me not to do it again. i love you, i wouldn’t let anyone hurt you. i’m sorry i worried you but im not sorry for doing it. i care about you. try to see it from my perspective, the feeling of losing you scares me just as much as it does you.” your words stuck with Togame as his expression softened. the feeling of being loved was still new to him and he had some difficulty accepting it at times.

★ a/n <3 : SORRY FOR TAKING SO LONGG </3 I really hope you enjoy this! it took me awhile to write because i wanted to make it as diverse as possible and include as many characters as i could. i wanted to make their reactions differently and have it happen in different ways. i hope i didn’t disappoint! thank you all for reading and being so patient. i appreciate you all! <33 ★

[phntxm]

} (newby) demon muzan, soft muzan?, arranged marriage, fiancée! reader, fem! reader, mention of bl00d, reader's face got cut

let's pretend that blo0d transfusion exists in haien period a/n; usually, I stick to writing headcanons and avoid posting scenarios because I worry it might not be good enough. however, I've chosen to take a chance this time so if there are any mistakes, please bear with me y-y wc : 1.2k

you never imagined that one day you would willingly sacrifice yourself to aid your sick fiancé, who barely acknowledged you

he was unkind. neither of you had agreed to this arranged marriage; it was solely the decision of his family, the Ubuyashiki clan, who couldn't bear the thought of their ailing son dying alone

at first, the situation was difficult, Muzan be believed having a wife wouldn't extend his life or be of any use. you tried your best, simply aiming to fulfill the marriage contract, we don't have to be in love

the arrangement benefited both clans. the Ubuyashiki clan could lessen their appearance of pity by providing a wife for their son, while your family could regain their lost wealth and noble status during their down in luck

and at the turning point, when he was injured and lost a lot amount of blood. neither his family nor yours offered to help him, they were afraid to give blood to someone like him. they're just hired a cheap doctor to care for him, you were the only one willing to give him your blood without hesitation

after that, he was more open to you

until the day the doctor's medicine was effective

but without knowing it, you were only happy for your fiancé to become healthy like normal people. you heard a nonsensical rumor about a demon attacking people at night, it must be a bear or wild animals..

" I am greatly rejoiced for thee, that thy health hath now become better " you said it as you started to sit beside him on the warmed tatami mat, gazing out at the garden beyond

" the physic hath wrought an unexpected efficacy upon me " he nodded in agreement, raising his arm and gently squeezing it to show the increased muscle and strength he now possessed

" I heard he was a thrifty physician, deemed unfit, yet he proved skilled to mend thee, I do delight exceedingly " as you mentioned this, making Muzan to reconsider his first encounter with the doctor. he couldn't believe he would successfully be healed, as the doctor was merely a cheap physician hired by his clan

" in speaking thereof, thou dost prove thyself useful to me " he turned his face towards you and smiled gently, a smile that could barely be called a smile

" I do greatly admire thy bravery " he said, his smile filled with pride and happiness, yet tinged with a sadistic undertone that sent shivers down your spine

his words left you stunned; you never expected a compliment from someone like him " my pleasure " you said as you bowed to him, It really makes you feel happy, yet it seems like god isn't kind to either of you

" yet unfortunately, I hope that one day thou and I may stroll together, now it is unwise to go abroad by night " you express how shameful it was for the chance of having a normal life with him to be interrupted by some kind of creature " folk do speak of a demon, that doth hunt people by night " you know he doesn't believe in anything silly like this, so the reaction he gave you afterward was not surprising

" demon.. tis the name by which they are called? " he chuckles softly, of course he would do that, you think, he's the man who- " art thou fearful of demons" his question caught you off guard. he doesn't mean it, does he?

sometimes he asks you strange questions, given that he has spent his entire life trapped in his own house. questions about the outside world grab his attention the most, so you didn't mind it, but that doesn't mean he would believe in such a fairy tale like this. you remain silent, not because you're trying to avoid his question, but as his voice shifts, growing more serious " in the night doth stalk a creature, feeding on flesh of men.. art thou afraid? " he looks at you, and you sense he already has an answer in mind. if you answer wrongly, you fear something bad might happen

" I do not believe in demons, tis but a wild beast " you answered while trying to hide the fear you felt, his question has indeed made the atmosphere awkward, you think

Muzan tilts his head slightly " is it so? what if... what if I be that demon? wouldst thou be afraid? " he seems to enjoy seeing you like that

" what do you mean? "

" thou hast heard my words. wouldst thou abandon me if I were that demon? even there is no chance of fleeing from me "

what on earth is he talking about? " I... " your words evoke a sense of fear and confusion, as he reaches his hand to gently touch your cheeks, his actions were so contrasting to what you felt; he touched you as if it were something fragile, yet not with the intention to protect, but to possess it, to do whatever he pleased with it

" what a pity. I do hold thee dear, and thou wilt surely prove useful unto me " you startled slightly; his hand felt so cold, almost as if he weren't human

" hast thou any final words? " you trembled, hearts beating fast, unsure if it was pure fear or excitement. you didn't feel the urge to run away; it was the same mix of emotions you felt when you first volunteered to give him your blood, the joy of helping someone you love, intertwined with the fear that death might be near, and you might not make it out alive " thou didst inquire if I fear demons? do I dread death? I would say, tis not that I lack fear, but the very thought of aiding thee doth making me to endure it " you're contemplating your feelings, realizing there's no right answer for him. in that moment, you didn't strategize on how to answer so he would spare your life, instead, you acted on what your heart felt, just being honest, something you wouldn't regret later— though there might be no 'later,' because you're going to die right here at his hands " I once gave thee my blood, I do not fear to give thee my blood again, it gladdens my heart that I may lend thee aid once more " you close your eyes, gently touching his hand on your cheek, cherishing this fleeting moment of happiness for the last time " take it all as thou dost desire " you said, as you turned to place a soft kiss on his palm, that even if he's not used to or doesn't like being touched, what's the worst that could happen? he's gonna kill me? then- well..

Muzan paused, stunned by your response. then, a sadistic smile slowly spread across his face once more, his eyes gleaming with a disturbing intensity. as he began to grow out his sharp, menacing nails, pressed them firmly against your cheek, and sliced your cheeks until they were red and bleeding " it would be discourteous of me to not return what I have received, I shall give thee my blood also " it was a gift from the demon king, leaving you unsure whether it should be seen as a blessing or a curse. nevertheless, if this is what god desires, then so be it