#i should still have enough to guarantee him by the time he comes out too fingers crossed

[ambalambs]

Won the 50/50 ;u; now I just gotta hold out for her brother

[ozzgin]

WAIT WAIT WAIT!!! I have an ask for Yandere School! What if, Y/N finally did become a yandere for someone, BUT Y/N is the 'never lets on' type of yandere?

There's no change in Y/N's grades, no change in demeanor, they still act- or maybe in this case- pretends to be innocent and oblivious to everyone, especially their crush (Y/N might abuse the fact that they're known as the worst Yandere student who acts more like a Darling, to gain their trust before they realize it's too late). The extreme obsession is there, but it's just not noticeable enough.

How will they react if Y/N shows subtle signs of being a yandere? Will they actually believe Y/N finally became a yandere, or will they have doubts? This is just optional, but imagine Y/N became obsessed with a yandere, but both of them didn't knew they're yandere to each other, so they always unintentionally end up sabotaging each other's plans (ex. both Y/N and the yandere are asleep on the table, because they spiked each other's drinks. The Yandere is genuinely confused and had been trying to stalk find Y/N for hours, unbeknownst to them Y/N is secretly following behind them all along)

Soo this is yet another Clumsy!Yandere crossover, but it just makes a lot of sense to me. Hear me out.

You’re consistently failing classes and struggling to keep up with your peers. Everyone finds it cute, however, and it's a fantastic excuse to get closer to you.

Then the Yandere School x Darling Academy event happens. You immediately take the initiative and pair up with your best friend, Clumsy!Yandere. And that’s when things take an unexpected turn.

It turns out that when it comes to Clumsy!Yandere, you can be extremely protective. You don’t even realize it. In your eyes, you’re just looking after your sweetheart. To everyone else, you’re flawlessly executing the role of a yandere.

The other fellow students can only stare in disbelief, watching you as you figure out things you were previously clueless about.

“I c-could do the yandere part”, your clumsy partner suggests with feigned confidence.

Oh, no. You know how competitive your classmates are. No way you’d ever allow him to potentially get hurt. Not on your watch.

Were you always this good of a yandere?

When the teachers ask you to replicate that same performance, you have no idea what they’re talking about. You’re back to your pathetic, helpless self. A paradox yet to be deciphered by your peers.

“That damn pest”, one classmate curses out, pocket knife sneakily hidden as they wait around the corner ahead of Darling Academy.

They can’t take it anymore. The way you look at him, the way your voice softens whenever you speak to him…it should be them instead! What has he done to deserve your grace? He needs to be dealt with.

“Enjoying your walk?”

The student jolts in surprise and turns around. It’s you. Yet you look different this time. Your smile is cold, and your eyes have an eerie glisten to them.

“H-how did you know where I-”

“I don’t think you’re supposed to be this close to Darling Academy. I suggest you leave.”

“Are you going to tell the teachers?”

“Teachers? Nonsense. I can take care of you myself", you say mechanically, blocking their path.

An abrupt shiver crosses their spine, and they scramble. Revenge will have to be postponed for now.

Moments later, Clumsy!Yandere greets you with a cheerful smile.

"I hope you weren't waiting too long. Shall I walk you home?" he proposes with a blush. Your answer doesn't really matter, truth be told. He will follow you either way. How else is he meant to guarantee your safety?

You'd be lost without him.

[Yandere School] | [Clumsy!Yandere]

[finsplurtz]

can’t dom — katsuki.bakugou

— subtop ! male.reader x dombot ! Katsuki Bakugo

— contents : dom!bottom bakugo to sub , riding , challenge lol! overstim , crying , biting , -150 aura

warnings : none that ik of…

✩°｡ ⋆⸜ 🎧✮

last time you fucked bakugou he tried taking control. you guys were mid fuck when he pounced on you and tried riding you but you quickly regained that control by fucking him into next week.

he wasn’t upset at the moment but afterwards, definitely. he refused to speak to you or even acknowledge you.. but he couldn’t go very far with the silent treatment as he started to crave you again.

“yn why don’t you let me dom.” he asked when you guys were alone.

“well….because you probably suck at it and you won’t make me cum, I have my own pace” you smiled and kissed his cheek while he shoved you away.

“HOW DO YOU KNOW I SUCK AT IT I COULD BE REALLY GOOD.” he yelled at you, you sighed.

“fineee if you really wanna try to, go ahead but I guarantee you won’t be able to make me cum”

“you’ll fucking see you bastard..” he grit his teeth and stormed out of the room.

well this should be erm fun

“I’ll make you eat your words bitch..” said the blonde while he pressed your tip against his hole. you were lying down on your bed with your hands behind your head watching your cute boyfriend try to use you as his fuck toy.

as expected, he was going painfully slow. taking his time. not on purpose… you’re just really big and getting you inside him without your help takes mad time.

“nngh…” he moaned at the stretch, he wasn’t even half way down and you started to contemplate wether or not you should just knock him out and fuck him restlessly, enough that he forgives you for not letting him dominate.

once he FINALLY got you all the way in he was already out of breath and flustered, his hands rested on your abdomen and he looked at your…..unsatisfied face…..

his breath hitched and he grit his teeth.

“I-i can make you…cum..! I won’t stop till you’re..crying from me m-milking you..” he smirked as best as he could, you just smiled at his cuteness, you were fighting the urge to fuck him up right then and there….

He slowly lifted himself up and lowered himself down, his own body already twitching. He’d glance at you to see some sort of reaction but you were just watching it happen, with a nonchalant expression.

His bit the inside of his cheeks and picked up the pace, hitting his own prostate harder and faster drawing nasty whiny moans out of him.

he peeked at you and felt his dick throb at the sight of you panting with furrowed eyebrows. He started getting restless, bouncing on your cock. the sound of skin slapping skin and moans filled the room along with the sweet smell of sex.

“haa…auhn..~ s..sto..” the blonde whined feeling your hands gently caress his milky thighs, he harshly grabbed your hands and placed them above your head as to…….pin you

your boyfriend being shorter than you, he was basically laying on you and gave up on trying to hold your hands back. He continued to fuck himself on your dick, his moans sounded clearer since he was closer to you, he was making this way harder.

“uugh-! Imma c…c..uaahhn~!” He jolted up, his cum spilling on both yours and his stomach. you quietly sighed and pet his head as he was trying to catch his breath.

he was confused but then realized…..you still hadn’t come yet….? he sat up and looked you in the face with an angry expression.

“I…I’m not.. done…” his shaky hands helped him lift himself up and SLAM himself down on your twitching dick, you let out a very small grunt of pleasure and he grinned.

he continued to do that, just slam himself on your length while squeezing around you, it hadn’t even been 40 minutes and this was already taking a lot of out him, you weren’t even close to coming…

he continued to do that for at least 2..and a half hours

by now your dick hurt from it being rubbed on too much, but other than that you were totally fine. Your boyfriend on the other end….. his thighs would twitch out of nowhere, his shaky arms couldn’t even help him lift himself up. Tears stained his frustrated face, a bit of drool slipping out. he’d made a sticky mess downstairs, his cum covered his dick and your stomach, he didn’t have the energy to get it up anymore.

“ugh…w-why won’t you…c-c…cum..” he slowly began to grind on you to maybe get you to cum. The only reason you haven’t taken over was cause well, he asked you not to and he was DETERMINED.

“katsuki, are you done?” you brought your hand up to his cheek, caressing it with your thumb. His eyes widened…….you weren’t…close at all..

more tears welled up in his eyes and his lip trembled, you almost felt bad…

you sat up and he squeaked feeling you accidentally hit his sweet spot. “you did well, dear..” you kissed his lips. He was too tired to fight you off, his eyes were starting to flutter shut

“k- katsuki don’t pass out on me…….” you gently tapped his face to keep him awake. He had riled you up, there’s no way you can go to sleep now… but he’d come so many times:(

“fine just…let me..” he gasped as you lifted his ass up and slowly slid him back down, this was like the pace he was going at. you can’t come to this… you began to fuck into him quicker and rougher, his chest rose and fell rapidly as louder moans filled the bedroom.

“UGH FU- STOP S..SLOW D-DOWN—! HURTS..!” he bit your shoulder hardd, you hissed and pushed his back on the bed continuing to fuck him while watching him freak out and lose himself in the pleasure.

“NNH..C..CUM..” his nails digging into your thighs as he twitched and came with a scream. you kept going even after he came, you were close just need a bit more….

“aghh…~! so..so d..deep mhhn”he didn’t struggle anymore, no complaints he just took it. you could hear a bit of a smile behind his moans, you looked at him and he was in pure bliss.

this pushed you over the edge and you let out a pathetic whimper into his ear as you filled him up with your hot liquids.

hair stuck to his forehead and he bit his bottom lip moaning girlishly.

He was trembling crazy, he laughed a little before telling you to fuck him deeper in which you sighed tiredly and pulled out of him. He whined a “noooo” in return, the tiredness coming back to him.

you moved him closer to you and ran your fingers thru his hair to put him to sleep faster. he let out a small “hate you” before knocking out for the next couple hours.

next morning he woke up and started a tantrum

“you lost”

“NO FUCKFACE YOURE JUST HARD TO PLEASE”

“you had 3 hours of riding me and you couldn’t get anything out of me….” You argued and he yelled at you for hours

he tired himself out once again and fell back asleep in the comforts of your arms.

a/n; he’s cute yall sthu

[j-nope-not-today]

HP characters reaction to s/o being a muggle

Harry Potter

He does not care

Literally doesn't have an opinion on the subject

Bc he loves youuu and not your magic or non magical abilities

I really feel that his main concern is some snobby witch/wizard being rude to you

But could give a fuck less if anyone commented on you being a muggle

"Okay and? So what if she/he can't do magic. She's/he's still great in bed."

10/10 will say some snarky/sarcastic ass shit if someone is rude to you about it.

He is THE Harry Potter

He would probably love for someone to point it out so he can say some shit back about it.

He will defend you through thick and thin.

May god have mercy on whatever poor soul wants to be prejudice against you.

Will love doing muggle things with you. I mean he did grow up as a muggle.

Otherwise though he loves you and your muggleness very much. It reminds him of home ❤️

Ron Weasley

Aww your his little cutie patootie

Will brag about it to anyone who will listen

"Oh? Well my gf/bf made me dinner from scratch."

He'll brag about literally anything he can. It could be the simplest shit too

Is very impressed that you do everything and without magic too

He'll start doing things without magic just to appreciate the simplicity of it

But yeah..definitely tells everyone and their mom about how proud he is to be with you

Ain't no one gonna be rude about it either. He will guaranteed shut that shit down as soon as it starts.

Fred Weasley

He loves it.

Loves absolutely everything about it

Not to mention he loves it even more because romancing you is so much more fun for him

Will always pull a fancy magic trick from out of his sleeve to impress you or flirt with you

"For you beautiful"

Does complain about doing things without magic

But will begrudgingly do so to please you

But yes. He will complain about it the entire time

I don't think anyone would be ballsy enough to insult you or say some rude shit about you being a muggle

Knowing fred that would start world War 3

But he looooves you. Vv much

George Weasley

Admires you so so much

Bc how do you do it?

Will watch you do the simplest most mundane shit and come out of nowhere with a

"My god you look so fucking gorgeous right now love."

Wouldn't complain about helping you do stuff without magic

I think he finds he enjoys it much more without magic. It's more rewarding

Will beg to do muggle things with you absolutely wants to experience it all

Just like with fred. Ain't no one ballsy enough to say something lest they want to die

But he absolutely adores you and everything about you

And will remind you every day how much he loves you

Draco Malfoy

He didn't expect to end up with you

But he sure isn't complaining

And he'll be damned if you lift a single beautiful fucking finger when he's around

He will 100% dote on you in his every waking moment

For a second you might be convinced you aren't a muggle

He uses magic for just about everything and will not let you do something when he can do it for you

"Listen dear it's just simpler this way. Let me do it."

Your spoiled and he'll make sure you know how appreciated and loved you are

Can never wrap his head around muggles.

Thinks you make everything way more complicated than it needs to be

And should anyone be insulting or rude. They might find themselves hexed or cursed.

Neville Longbottom

This man LOVES you

Will not for a second let you think otherwise

And he'll probably absolutely love doing muggle things with you

And you will have a garden

I can just see him loving gardening with you. The muggle way.

Will randomly whip out flowers and small little gifts for you

Just to impress you

And he'll definitely have words for anyone who wants to be rude to you because how dare they?

To him. Your absolutely perfect

[hyuckswoman]

mark and you arguing pt2

pt1

genre: angst then fluff

summary: after rain comes sunshine, he finally listens.

pairing: mark x y/n

“good morning” you say to your boyfriend as you pass through the kitchen reaching into a cabinet to take out a glass 

last night had been tense, because of the argument you had a really hard time sleeping, waking up every five seconds. it didn’t help that your boyfriend was the exact same, the only difference between you two being the guilty look on his face

you wanted nothing more than to tell him to forget about it and just cuddle him to sleep because being mad at him or more like emotionally tired wasn’t easy. yes, he fucked up but he’s still the greenest of green flags ever and you just love him too much so being apart with all those angsty feelings was taking a toll on you

but you decided to stand your ground nonetheless, it couldn’t be like every other time where he swooned you with his words and you ended up forgiving him. he had to learn. and even on your end, it’d be fucked up to put yourself through this. so when you woke up this morning with no one next to you, you decided to not care. turns out he was just in the kitchen though

“good morning lovely, i tried to make breakfast, i couldn’t so i went and bought some, your favorite of course, i’m just reheating it right now, juice is in the fridge by the way” your boyfriend greeted you, his back facing you (which you 100% guarantee is because he’s shitting his pants and hopes the tension eased) 

it did not though

“not only did you call me bitchy yesterday, you also said some dumb ass thing about if you were with her.. mark you’re not dumb you damn well that it’s going to take more than breakfast to ease things with me, don’t piss me off so early in the morning please” you said pouring water into your glass, getting out of the kitchen. you and mark took pride in your communication skills, so you weren’t giving him the silent treatment more like you didn’t want to be in the same room as him right now because him acting as if nothing happened pissed you off even more 

the guy was going to have to practically beg for you to be okay with him again 

“..i know, and i’m sorry” mark sighed as he joined you in the living room with the food he bought earlier hoping that despite you not being happy with him, you’d still eat cause no matter how bad the situation is, it’s important to take care of yourself! 

“like i said yesterday, i heard you mark but you know.. actions speak louder than words, until we’ve reached a point where she won’t ever be the cause of a disagreement there’s always going to be some sort of tension” you said as you reached for the food. yes, the food wasn’t an enough apology but that doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy it 

“i know, that’s why i’m going to see her later today, set some real boundaries, tell her off kind of because i do really- and i’m not just saying this to please you or whatever, she has crossed some boundaries that she shouldn’t have so yeah maybe her and i aren’t as close friends as i thought we were” your boyfriend says pouring your favorite juice into your now empty water cup 

first of all, you did appreciate your boyfriend doing all of that (FINALLY!!) but you weren’t going to explode with joy because of him doing the bare minimum 

second of all, your boyfriend is just as much in the wrong as she is. and you debated on telling him that he should also self reflect but decided that you truly wanted him to realize it without you spelling everything out to him 

so you just hummed to the news, finishing up your breakfast heading upstairs while your boyfriend cleaned up and got ready to meet his friend

external pov? 

“hi markie” his friend said as your boyfriend took seat in front of her 

“did i make you wait long?” he replied. despite him not greeting her, her smile grew as she realized he cared about her enough to worry about her time 

“no don’t worry i just got here, anyway you wanted to talk?” she asked in anticipation, it was probably going to be good news (although good news for her meant bad news for you) she hoped your guys maybe broke up or something 

“yea and i’m going to talk for a while so please do not interrupt me” he asked as she nodded eagerly waiting for the breakup news to drop 

“i wanted to talk to you about yesterday, or every single hangout we’ve done ever since i started dating y/n. like i said, y/n and i are dating and i truly think she’s the one so i want to do everything in my power not to fuck it up. and that includes you stepping over boundaries that you shouldn’t step over seeing as though we’re friends. i think last night made me realize how odd? you were around me, how your hands lingered on me maybe a bit too long for a friend, or how you cut off my girlfriend when she was trying to talk, how you made backhanded comments towards her and look, i'm not asking you to like her but she's my girlfriend and she deserves some respect and i'll choose her over you in the blink of an eye. that’s why i’m choosing to put some distance in between us, at least until i’m 100% sure your behavior won’t be the same” mark finishes his rant, his fingers playing with his ring, dreading his (impulsive) friend’s reaction

“ain’t no fucking way you’re being serious right now mark, i’ve known you my whole life and you choose some random girl over me?” his friend says angry that not only you guys are still together but he’s dropping her for..you?? 

“if you don’t have anything respectful to say about y/n i’ll just leave clearly you’re not listening” your boyfriend answers, his patience getting tested 

“no, you don’t get the last word i do. you want to drop me for her? fine. i’ll do fine without you mark but what you cannot do is put the blame all on me. yes, i’ve been inappropriately acting with you but it’s only because you allowed it. each time i thought i was maybe reading too much into the mixed signals you were giving me you reassured me by apologizing because- in your own words - she was being irrational. mark, you are as much to blame as i am and i won’t sit here and let you shift the blame entirely onto me because you allowed me to flirt with you, which is something you would’ve never done if you loved your girlfriend as much as you say you do. and for the first time ever, i do hope you guys break up but not because i want you to myself but because she deserves better than you. fuck you mark” his friend says leaving the café leaving a dumbfounded mark. 

i mean she wasn’t wrong, if he had set clear boundaries from the start she would’ve never flirted with him. your boyfriend started to wonder if that was perhaps the reason why you weren’t THAT enthusiastic this morning when he told you he’d make things right.

so the whole drive home, mark’s head was clouded with thoughts that mainly centered around him being the biggest asshole ever, not only from the words he told you yesterday but also from the way he’s been acting all this time. and it saddened him that he put you through all of that. 

it’s with a heavy heart that he entered your shared house, silently praying god you weren’t going to realize that you do deserve better than him (which he knew was selfish but didn’t care) 

« so… how did it go? i don’t know what you told her but if it’s the same thing you told me this morning I’m guessing she didn’t take it very well » you say watching your boyfriend enter the house 

you guessed it must have went sour judging from the gloomy face he’s making and how deep in thought he seems to be. You didn’t like his friend but you know he liked her very much so you hoped that she said something along the lines of ‘yes i understand and i’m sorry, i’ll respect your boundaries better in the future and i’m hoping we can still be friend’ to salvage their friendship but at the same time you weren’t a fool and you knew that it realistically could never happen 

« it didn’t go super great, we’re not friends anymore but you know in retrospect it’s not a huge loss she wasn’t as good of a friend as i believed she was » you boyfriend started sitting down next to you on the couch 

you wondered what was up with him though, he looked genuinely devastated and it worried you to see him in such state 

« then what’s up? i wouldn’t usually pry and instead wait until you open up to me, but mark i’m concerned you look… sad. and i know we’re in a disagreement right now but i still sincerely believe that you’re the love of my life so i hate to see you upset » you say as your boyfriend slowly lifts his head and looks at you with glossy eyes before his first tear shed 

you immediately hugged your boyfriend rubbing his back as he mumbled through tears about how you deserved better, which you were confused about where it came from, so when his tears quieted down you looked at him waiting to explain

« she just… she said something about how we’re both in the wrong and it upset me because she’s right and she made me realize it instead of me realizing it on my own.. and she said you deserved better and at first i thought whatever she’s just mad i don’t care but she’s not wrong. You deserve better than a boyfriend who lets his friends flirt with him and who dismisses you and acts as if their friend is correct. i’m not trying to victimize myself or manipulate you with my words i’m just really sorry that i’ve been such an undeserving boyfriend and i selfishly don’t want to let you go when maybe i should so, please, give me another chance and i’ll prove to you that i can be the boyfriend you deserve. i swear i’ll be better just please don’t leave me » you boyfriend says. 

you were honestly kind of taken aback by every single one of his thoughts. you did feel a little guilty at first but that quickly went away when you remembered why you guys were in this situation in the first place. 

« listen, like i told you i’m not mad. i was just tired of you not listening to me but it seems like you’ve heard me this time even though i wished it had not gotten that far. i love you and i do not deserve better than you, you fucked up but i fuck up all the time as well and even though i did not picture the end of this situation with me reassuring you, it does not mean that you’re manipulating me, you feel guilty and that’s normal because you messed up but we’ll move past this. it’s a little bump in the road. and i sincerely think that if this situation has taught us anything it’s that we shouldn’t listen to your friend, ESPECIALLY when she says you’re not good enough for me. now dry your big boy tears and let’s go watch a movie yea? all is better don’t worry anymore » you told your boyfriend. 

you really meant your words, everything that mark needed to learn from this he learnt, you knew him well enough to guarantee that you won’t ever be put in a similar situation ever again and that this whole mess kinda made your boyfriend grow up a little? 

plus you were never one to hold grudges, so finally calling this fight over to cuddle and watch a movie with your highly sensitive, still borderline crying boyfriend was quite an easy thing to do. And even though you told him it was okay the next billion times he apologized to you during the following days, it did not stop him from spoiling you with gifts, kind words, actions etc.. like the man shoved all five love languages down your throat and even though it wasn’t necessary, it was always nice and made you feel loved.

that’s why in retrospect, you were (kinda) glad this whole thing happened and he was glad he learnt how to be better for his pretty girl. 

[theminecraftbee]

Before they'd started, this time, Scott had confidently asserted: "You know, if this time we're going to be drawing wild cards, I'll learn to count them. If it's going to be a game, may as well learn to give myself a guarantee, right?"

He'd said it like it was obvious. Easy. If he just practiced enough, he'd win every time. Skizz sometimes thinks that's how Scott thinks of the world, or maybe how Grian does, or Martyn. If he just tries this time, he'll win, a certainty that's only stopped by the fact he isn't trying the same way he might have in the past. Skizz thinks about that sometimes. He doesn't say anything, because he's not a rude asshole, but he thinks about it.

Skizz thinks about what it says about a man, to be so certain he could simply be the last one to survive if he wanted to, then to--not.

Skizz thinks about what it says about a man, to assert he's going to learn to count cards for the sake of a prize that he doesn't seem to actually want.

It's none of Skizz's business, really, and as he said, he's not a rude asshole. He's here to have a good time, or if not a good time a time, or if not that, to at least help his friends have some kind of time. He's not bothered, not really, by hearing Martyn or Scott make plans to circumvent or play into the game as to best win. He'll care if they get all stabby-backstabby but he's not teamed with them so it doesn't matter anyway. He is teamed with Grian? But Grian's way of "counting cards" never really involves that much backstabbing, just a lot of emotional avoidance, so.

Anyway, he tries to forget about it right up until Mumbo, nervously, says: "You know, maybe I should, er. Learn to count wild cards. Metaphorically, I mean. Just so that no one--"

"That's not how it works," Skizz finally says.

"Well that's a bit rude," Mumbo says.

"Sorry, sorry," Skizz says. "People just keep making references and that's not how that works! It doesn't even guarantee you win even if we were playing blackjack!"

"Really?" Mumbo asks.

"Yeah, it's like... you learn how many cards are in the deck, and you wait until the deck is mostly high cards, and you bet and stuff. Or, well, it's more complicated than that, but you don't know what cards are coming next for sure even if you do count. You just, uh, have a bit of an advantage over the house? Like, a 1-2%? And it adds up over time but you still lose. A lot."

"Oh," Mumbo says.

"I don't know," Skizz says. "I just... I know how this stuff works and it just really grinds my gears the way they talk about it sometimes. There's still a lot of random chance, you know! You can't guarantee things! It's still random! And the house could change the rules on you any moment and then counting wouldn't be worth it at all anymore!"

"Huh," Mumbo says. He's quiet for only a moment. "You know, I think we've lost track of the metaphor a bit here? I mostly meant to try to steal the cards from Grian while he wasn't looking. So we can, er, figure out the wild card before anyone else."

"Oh," Skizz says. "Well that's just cheating!"

Mumbo squints at him. "And counting cards isn't?"

"No!" Skizz says.

"Alright, if you say so," Mumbo says. "I mean, I guess our advantage is that we know that. Seems awfully silly now, the way people were talking about it before."

"Yeah, well, love the guys, love them, but I thought that anyway. Without the metaphor," Skizz says, and he thinks of the empty look in Scott's eyes as he said it. It's not that he wouldn't be an advantage player if he could be, Skizz thinks. It's not that he wouldn't try to beat the house. It's just...

Well. It's just something that isn't Skizz's problem right now, really. He just wants better than that for Mumbo. For him. For Grian too, once he comes back. There are better ways to have fun in a casino than to sit and wait for the count to be high, after all.

[flwrkid14]

The Immortal Weight of Tim Drake

There’s a part of Tim that he keeps buried deep inside, locked away so no one can see it—will ever see it. He can’t let them know. Not Dick, not Jason, not Bruce. Hell, not even Steph or Cass. It’s better this way. Because the truth is, Tim Drake isn’t like them. He can’t stay dead.

No matter how many times it happens—how many times a blade finds its way into his gut, a bullet catches him in the chest, or a fall from a skyscraper crushes every bone in his body—Tim comes back. Not right away. No, it takes minutes, sometimes agonizing minutes, where he lies broken, breathless, and unmoving, with nothing but the darkness pressing in. He feels it each time. The quiet nothingness of death that should be final but never is.

He’s not like Jason.

Jason died. Really, truly died. He was buried, mourned, and remembered as the second Robin. His grave sat cold, a monument to a boy too good for the world, too bright to last. And Jason, when he clawed his way out, became a zombie in every sense of the word—not quite living but not quite dead either.

Jason knows what it’s like to rise from death, to feel like he doesn’t belong, like a walking corpse.

But Tim doesn’t know that part.

Tim knows what it’s like to die. He knows the brief moments of oblivion that come with it, the aching cold, the stillness. But he’ll never stay dead. His revival is a guaranteed, while Jason's was a miracle. He’ll never have a grave. Never be mourned, because he’ll always come back.

And that’s what hurts the most.

No one sees him die. He’s careful. So damn careful. On the rare occasions when he can’t hide the fact that he’s dead for a few minutes—those close calls where he doesn’t get up fast enough—he brushes it off, masking the pain with a smile and a joke. If anyone noticed the blood pooling in his suit or the sickening sound of his heart stopping for too long, they never questioned it. The danger passes, and life goes on.

For them, anyway.

For Tim, it never really stops. Every death, every time he’s pushed past the edge, it weighs on him. He knows he’s playing with something dangerous—something unnatural. But what choice does he have? The truth is, it’s not just that he can’t stay dead—it’s that he should be dead. So many times over, in fact.

There are days when Tim wonders if he’s meant to be this way. Maybe, in some twisted, cosmic joke, the universe decided that Tim Drake would be the one who can’t die. Maybe it’s because Gotham needs someone like him. Someone to shoulder the risks no one else can take. After all, if Tim can’t die, what’s one more mission where death is a near certainty? What’s one more gamble with his life? It doesn’t matter anymore, right?

And he doesn’t want them to know, because the moment they know, everything changes. If Dick saw Tim’s body cold and unmoving for just a little too long—if Bruce knew Tim had been gone, even for a heartbeat—what would they do? Tim knows exactly what they’d do. They’d stop sending him on the dangerous missions. They’d protect him, smother him with concern, lock him away to preserve him like some fragile thing that can’t be touched.

But the truth is, Tim’s more dangerous now than he’s ever been. Because he can go where no one else can. He can risk everything, go into every deadly mission, every impossible scenario where the chance of survival is zero. Because he’s already proven that, for him, death is temporary.

That doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt. It doesn’t mean he isn’t scared every single time it happens—when he feels life slipping away, the weight of his body going limp, his heart stopping, his breath gone. There’s that brief moment, that flicker of panic in his chest as he wonders, Is this the time I don’t come back? Is this the one that sticks?

But then the pain rushes back, and so does his heartbeat.

He’s alive again, and no one’s the wiser.

Tim can die a thousand times over, but he’ll always get back up. And that’s his curse. To always come back. Even if it means he’ll always be alone in the moments that matter most.

He’ll never have a grave. Never be mourned. But maybe that’s the point.

Jason can have the grave, the tragedy, the return from death that breaks the world apart. Tim just… dies. And he’ll keep dying. Keep coming back. Because that’s what he’s meant for.

It’s better if no one knows. If they don’t know, they won’t hesitate to send him on the missions no one else could survive. They’ll trust him to do what they can’t. And Tim will keep shouldering that weight, carrying death with him like a shadow, never far from his heels.

Because for Tim, death isn’t an ending. It’s just another step in the fight.

[fluentmoviequoter]

A Room Away (No More)

Part 2 of A Room Away

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!roommate!reader

Summary: Your abusive ex reaches out, and you hide it from Tim until it's almost too late.

Warnings: angst, domestic violence, abuse, assault, anxiety/panic attacks, fluff and a happy ending guaranteed!!

Word Count: 3.7k+ words

A/N: A Room Away is one of the first Tim fics I wrote and it took me a few months, but I loved writing this continuation! I hope you enjoy!🤍

Picture from Pinterest

Masterlist | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

Tim’s thumb brushes back and forth over a nearly invisible scar on your arm as you wait for your dinner guests. Remembering that it has been days since your last nightmare and nearly a week without a migraine makes you smile, and Tim glances at you but doesn’t ask any questions. The doorbell rings and he grumbles under his breath as he leaves your side. As he opens the door to invite Angela and Wesley in, your phone vibrates beside you. Tim is giving Angela a hard time, as usual, and you take the moment when her attention isn’t on you to read the new text.

Unknown There is nowhere you can go that my love won’t lead me to find you.

The sentence is familiar, too familiar. You read the message again, and before you finish another comes through.

Unknown Los Angeles isn’t big enough to hide you from me.

“Are you okay?” Angela asks.

You lock your phone quickly and clear your throat before you look up at her and nod. The message repeats over and over in your head. Your phone may not know who sent the text, but you do, and knowing that your ex is in the same city as you terrifies you. Deep down, you know you should tell Tim, but you can’t.

“How’s Timothy treating you?” Angela adds.

She sits beside you, and you try to forget about the text for now. “He still won’t reduce my rent,” you complain jokingly.

Tim watches you from his spot in the kitchen. The last few weeks have been good. Your nightmares are becoming less frequent, you let Tim touch you without flinching or panicking, but the look on your face right now isn’t right.

“How are things?” Wesley asks. “Need a prenup, yet?”

“Funny, Wesley,” Tim replies without looking away from you. “I hope Angela cleans you out in the divorce.”

“He can keep the kids,” Angela adds from beside you.

“Good luck getting rid of me,” Wesley says. He lowers his voice and turns away from Angela to ask, “Seriously, Tim, is everything okay?”

“Yeah. Things are good, great even. I just don’t want to do anything that makes us go backward.”

“Abusive relationships are hard to get over, but you’re helping her with that, Tim.”

“I hope so.”

“Wasn’t a question, Sergeant.”

Tim rolls his eyes as he puts your favorite food on a plate. It isn’t often that Angela and Wesley come over, but right now, Tim wishes he was alone with you so he could check on you. You don’t seem to hide things from him on purpose, and he understands the time it takes to trust people after having your trust betrayed and being abused. He’ll never push, but the moment you pull, he’s there. Never more than a phone call or a room away.

“Here you go,” Tim murmurs as he passes you a plate.

Your shoulders tense as he nears you but drop just as quickly. The jumpiness is something that was completely gone just yesterday, and Tim furrows his brows as he watches you accept the plate and look out the window. He runs a finger over your jawline to bring your attention back to him, and you smile at him.

“You alright?” he asks.

It seems to be everyone’s question tonight, and you once again lie, “Yeah.”

Tim nods and you thank him for the food before moving to sit by Angela. With his eyes on you throughout dinner, Tim decides that something is wrong, and he needs to get to the bottom of it. You open up as the night continues, yet when Angela and Wesley leave, you fall silent as you clear the table.

“Hey,” Tim calls softly.

He wraps a kind hand around your wrist to stop you, and you flinch away from him involuntarily. Tim raises his hands, and you drop your chin toward your chest and fight the tears threatening to spill. You’re scared because of the text, but that is no reason to move away from Tim. As you struggle not to panic, Tim whispers that everything is okay.

“I’m sorry,” you breathe out.

Tim shakes his head to remind you that you never have to apologize. You step closer and pinch his shirt between your fingers before wrapping your arms tightly around his waist. Strong arms settle over your back, and you push your cheek over Tim’s heart.

“I’m just feeling off, or something,” you say. “Please don’t worry about me.”

Tim hums and moves a hand to brush your hair away from your face. He won’t agree not to worry about you, and it’s too late to pretend like he’s not already doing just that.

The next few days pass slowly, and as you continue to spend more time at home, Tim’s concerns grow. You’re up and moving around, so it’s not a migraine, but you haven’t worked more than eight hours in three days. Every time Tim sees you at home, he hugs you, kisses you, and silently reminds you that he’s right beside you, but you keep up your act that nothing is wrong. It’s a failing façade, though, and you’re just waiting to break.

When you wake just after 1 in the morning, you can’t stop the scream that escapes. Your ex was in your room, in Tim’s home, and when he was done with you he was going to cross the hall and do the same to Tim. Of all the nightmares you’ve had, seeing Tim moments away from being hurt was the scariest of them all. You pull your knees up to your chest and drop your head as you sob, your panicked scream making way for the fear you’ve been burying since you got the text.

Tim comes in without question or knocking, and when your door hits the wall, you lift your head and flinch to the other side of your bed. At the sight of Tim, however, you launch yourself toward him and let him pull you close. You cry against his chest as he whispers comforting promises, but the only thing that helps you is the tangible reminder that he is safe. You tell yourself over and over, clutch his shirt, and listen to his heartbeat. He’s safe, and he won’t let anything happen to either one of us.

As he holds you, Tim keeps you as close as possible. He knows that you shouldn’t ask questions now. Not that you’d give him an honest answer anyway, he thinks. Whatever you’ve been hiding is making you scared, and it breaks Tim’s heart to see you affected this way. Waking up to your scream scared him, so he can only imagine what must be going through your mind.

Unknown I saw the planetarium today. Can you see it from your new home?

Unknown Met a girl in the supermarket who looked like you. But I won’t settle for second best.

Unknown Clues, clues, clues. Am I getting closer, baby?

With each new text you receive, you have to talk yourself out of running from Tim. You don’t want to pull away from him, but you constantly worry that if you’re found, Tim will be in danger, too. A knock on your door draws your attention away from the newest message, and Tim smiles when you meet his eyes.

“Want to go to lunch? Just us?” he offers.

You should say no, but you nod before standing. Nothing bad can happen in public, and being beside Tim is the safest place to be, you think. Even as you try to convince yourself that going to lunch will be fine, you can feel the fear and anxiety building in your chest. It weighs down on you and makes it hard to breathe, so you measure each breath and focus on Tim instead of the adrenal responses flooding your body.

Tim turns into a random subdivision and slows down. You raise your brows and look at him, but he only offers a hand extended over the console. When you lay your hand over his, he intertwines his fingers with yours and pulls your hand closer to him. He makes another turn, and you realize that he’s not taking a shortcut to the restaurant.

“What are you doing?” you inquire quietly.

“I don’t want to push you too hard or too soon,” he says. “But something is bothering you, and I can’t help if you stop talking to me.”

“Tim, I’m fine, I promise. I’ve just been feeling off.”

“Why?”

“It doesn’t matter. It’ll pass.”

“What will pass? Pushing me away and blocking me out won’t fix whatever is happening!”

“And telling you will?” you ask. You’re getting defensive because you’re scared, and you try to pull your hand away so you can stop talking to him.

“Why did you ever let me in if it was just going to end like this? I’m with you, but why can’t you trust me enough to tell you what’s making you scream in the middle of the night and jump when I walk up behind you?”

“Because he can threaten me all he wants, but I don’t want Brent to find you too!” you snap.

“Brent?” Tim asks lowly. He pulls his hand away and sets his jaw to ask, “Brent who?”

You shrink in the passenger seat and whisper his last name. Tim’s brakes squeal as he presses the pedal to the floor and parks on the side of the road. You can tell without looking at him that he’s angry, and you slipping up and saying your ex’s name certainly didn’t help.

“Get out,” Tim orders.

“Are you serious?” you whisper brokenly.

“Out of my truck. Now.”

You slide out of the passenger seat and close the door behind you. Tears have been building in your eyes for a week, and you let them fall freely now. You’re scared and hurting, but Tim refuses to look at you as you stand on the curb.

“Tim, please don’t do this,” you plead through the rolled-down window.

Tim doesn’t answer, and when he shifts the truck back into drive, you know he’s serious about leaving you here.

“Tim, please!” you beg through your tears.

“Go home,” he says over the engine.

The truck pulls away from the curb where you stand, and you harshly wipe your tears away to clear your vision. As you dig for your phone, you know it’s time to take Angela up on her offer. She said to call if Tim was ever mean to you, and you think leaving you on the side of the road counts.

Tim turns around in a nearby cul-de-sac and parks behind a tree where you can’t see him, but he can keep an eye on you. He’s angry and needed a second to calm down, but he never intended to leave you. He sighs as he types the name of your ex into his phone. He’ll ask Angela to run it later. When Tim looks back up at you, you have your back to him, and your phone raised to your ear. Your shoulders shake as you cry, and Tim taps his knuckles against his steering wheel. He made you cry this time, and though he’s glad to have a few answers, he wishes this wasn’t how he got them.

After moving in, you confided in Tim that Angela told you to call her if he was ever mean to you. When her car pulls up and you climb into the passenger seat, Tim shakes his head fondly. You’re mad at him, but you’re still perfect in his eyes. Now that he knows you’re safe, Tim decides to stop by the station and do some digging on your ex.

“I think I’m going to text Tim,” you say.

“What? No! He abandoned you. Just eat your ice cream and wait for him to come and beg on his knees,” Angela replies. She points her spoon at you and adds, “You’re too good for him, anyway.”

“I think that’s the other way around.”

“Fine,” she groans. “Text him. But I’m still mad at him.”

Your text to Tim is short, a simple apology, just: I’m sorry. His response is nearly immediate, and you smile when his name pops up in the notification.

Tim I’m not mad at you. I know you’re with Angela. Want me to pick you up?

Tim You don’t have to come home if you’re not ready. Whatever you want.

Your response is a promise that what you want is to be with Tim. Angela rolls her eyes at your smile, but she’s happy for you and Tim. After all, it’s because of her that you found a place a live and met Tim. She begins to ask a question, but your ringing phone cuts her off.

“Tim?” you ask as you answer.

“When did the texts start?” he inquires.

“Uh, about a week ago, I guess.”

“Change of plans, then. Let me talk to Angela.”

You pass the phone to Angela, and she listens for a moment before she stands and walks into her bedroom. Whatever they’re talking about, they don’t want you to know about. Tim said there was a change of plans, which sounds suspiciously like he won’t be taking you home tonight. The panic from earlier returns slowly as you wonder if he’ll ever let you go home again.

“Your boyfriend wants to talk,” Angela says, cutting through your doubt as she returns your phone.

“Sorry,” Tim begins. “I looked into your ex. He flew into LAX about a week ago, so the texts weren’t just threats. He’s here. And a week is a long time when you’re trying to find someone. I want you to stay at Angela’s tonight, okay?”

“Are you- are you working tonight?” you ask softly.

“I am now. Brent’s got an arrest warrant, and the threats he sent you make him a higher priority. We’re gonna look for him. We will find him,” Tim promises.

“Be careful, Tim.”

“I will. I have to get home to you, right?”

“Right.”

“I’ll call you later and check in. Let Angela know if you get more texts, please.”

“I will. Sorry for not telling you sooner.”

“I promise I’m not mad at you.”

“I know,” you murmur. “See you later, Tim.”

Tim’s decision to drive by his house before he starts looking for your abusive ex was both a precaution and about Kojo. The house looks exactly as it had when he left with you for lunch, and Tim puts Kojo in the front seat of his shop before driving toward Angela and Wesley’s house. If Brent goes to his house to find you, both you and Kojo will be safe and sound with Angela Lopez prepared to defend you. There aren’t many people Tim trusts, but when you called Angela, he knew you made the right choice. It’s the one he would have made, too.

Kojo pushes past Angela to meet you when she opens the door. You happily invite him into your lap and hug him tightly. He soothes your nerves without trying, and you loosen your grip on him only to look up at Tim.

“Nothing yet,” he says with a shake of his head. “I’m a call away if you need anything.”

“Thank you, Tim,” you reply.

He lays a hand on your shoulder and smiles as he promises, “I’ve got you.”

“Where’s your car?” Angela asks you.

“I just moved it. Public parking off Sepulveda,” Tim answers for you. “He doesn’t seem like the smartest guy in the world, but, just in case.”

“He’s not,” you agree.

Tim slowly pulls his hand away before he leaves again, and you lean closer to Kojo for his comfort. Angela disappears into her bedroom again a few minutes later and returns in a rush.

“I have to go. There’s been a homicide,” she explains. “I called Tim and he’ll be here in less than thirty minutes. Don’t answer the door for anyone; he and Wesley have keys.” She slows to ask, “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Go solve a homicide.”

She rushes out the front door and locks it behind her, but you stand and double-check it anyway. Your phone is empty of notifications, and you can only wait until Tim arrives. After you settle beside Kojo again, you give him your attention. You and he freeze simultaneously when your phone chimes on the coffee table.

Unknown Walk outside or you will cost them everything.

You read it twice before you realize what he’s asking you to do. The moment you step out in the open, he can do anything and everything he wants. But you look around and see the life Tim and Angela have built for themselves and know that you can’t do anything to jeopardize that or their safety. So, you quickly shepherd Kojo into a bedroom and lock the door before slowly flipping the locks on the front door and stepping out into the Los Angeles night. The sun recently set, but there’s enough light you can see someone standing at the corner of the yard. Tim can’t be more than a few minutes away, but his thirty-minute estimation feels like an eternity.

“Los Angeles,” Brent says before laughing. “I knew you’d run somewhere you could hide but the city of angels? You, baby, were never going to fit in here.”

“What do you want?” you ask, willing your voice to be strong.

Brent smiles and you take a step back as he moves closer. You stumble against the sidewalk behind you, and Brent surges forward to wrap a cruel hand around your arm. He twists your skin with his grip, and everything about his touch is the opposite of Tim’s. For the first time since you met Brent, you fight back. Your free hand makes contact with his jaw, but he recovers quickly and shoves you to the ground.

Pulling your knees up, you try to create momentum to knock Brent off of you, but he pushes your legs down and shoves the heel of his hand between your ribs. The air is driven from your lungs, but you know you can’t stop fighting. When Brent moves his hands, so one is holding your face and the other is reaching for something in his waistband, you panic. You need Tim, but he’s a call away, and you left your phone inside.

“Domestic dispute and assault in progress at…”

Tim doesn’t hear anything past Angela’s address, and he hits the lights as he makes the final turn onto her street. Several neighbors are gathered on the opposite side of the street and watching an altercation in Angela’s front yard when he reaches the curb. A woman screams, and Tim slams the shop into park when he sees the glint of a gun being pulled. He opens the shop door and immediately ducks as a shot is fired. “L.A.P.D. Put down the weapon!” he yells from behind his open door.

He calls your name, but there’s no sound. No reply, no calls or screams from the neighbors, and Tim peeks around the door. Slowly, the gun is tossed to the side and the man, your ex, slowly clambers onto his hands and knees. When he sits back and puts his hands up, Tim has a clear view of you lying on the ground. There’s blood on your face, and you’re not moving, so Tim rushes forward. Two more police cars join Tim’s shop, but his complete focus is on you. He kneels beside you and pushes two fingers against your pulse point.

“I’m okay,” you whisper when you feel Tim’s skin on yours.

Tim sighs and drops his head before wrapping his arms around your shoulders and pulling your torso off the ground and into a hug. You return his tight grip as he sits on the sidewalk and holds you close. Two other officers handcuff Brent and put him in the back of a cruiser, and you’re surprised but pleased with the lack of threats directed toward you.

“Sergeant Bradford, the weapon was discharged, but the bullet was fired into a tree. CSU will gather data for ballistics,” an officer tells Tim quickly.

His grip tightens on you at the mention of the gunshot, and you sigh against his shoulder. As you lean up, he gets a better look at the bruise under your jaw and the fresh blood pooling against the older, dried blood under your nose. He moves you gently so he can stand and calls for a paramedic.

“Tim, I’m fine,” you say with a painful chuckle.

“Respectfully, I want a second opinion,” he replies. “And then we’re going home.”

“Don’t forget Kojo.”

“I’ll get him.”

“Oh, you may need a key.”

Tim furrows his brows at you but doesn’t ask what you’re talking about as he lowers beside you again. His hand in yours distracts you from the pokes and prods of the paramedics, and your mind is no longer anxious and scared, but excited to go home and remind Tim how much you appreciate his protectiveness.

Tim doesn’t let you out of his sight or his hold from the moment you enter his house. He pulls you against him and sits on the couch, inviting Kojo to join you. You’re finally okay, and it makes it easier for both you and Tim to show the affection you’ve been avoiding.

“I don’t want to be a call away anymore,” Tim confesses softly. “Not a room away… I need to be right beside you.”

“Tim, I only asked for the separation because I had to have it. Thinking that he would come after me was concerning, but the closer I got to you, the more worried I was he’d hurt you, too.”

“I understand that, but it’s over now. So, it’s your choice again.”

You nod and tilt your bruised face up from Tim’s chest to look into his eyes. “I don’t want to be a room away either,” you whisper.

Tim smiles and brushes a gentle thumb over your cheekbone before withdrawing his touch from your face. He kisses you gently, a series of pecks more than a real kiss, before allowing you to move closer.

As you fall asleep in Tim’s arms, you’ve never felt more at home. His touch, his presence, his protectiveness, and his care make him special, and he’s the best roommate-turned-more you could have asked for.

“I love you,” Tim whispers, and you wake up faster than ever.

[bu-blegh-ost]

Something just occured to me. Circling through each beautiful moment in the campaign, I noticed a pattern. Gillion never initiates hugs. Every time, no matter if he is the one consoling or the one being consoled, he never is the first person to offer an embrace. And I think it says something.

When Jay wants to hug Gill, she always asks first. She opens her arms as an invitation and always gives him a clear sign that she wants to be close to him. And any time she offers, anytime Gillion gets permission, any time he feels like he is allowed one, he clings to her desperately and fully, starved for it, finding himself unable to let go too quickly, savoring it like he isn't sure when he is going to be allowed to have another.

Chip's hugs are unprompted and usually done with just as much desperation. They are completely controlled by emotion, and are a form of a language that Chip uses when love and appreciation cannot be expressed by words anymore. Chip never asks for hugs, he takes them. He needs them, so he is scared to ask like Jay does, cause asking means risking to be denied. It is safer to steal it. In contrast Jay is still asking cause she is still afraid of taking love for granted.

But they both, in the end, ask for hugs and comfort in their own ways. Gillion doesn't. He wants it, he needs it so often, but he never dares to ask for it. Cause he still treats love as a reward that he needs to earn, that he is not allowed to ask for, that can't be had, unless he does something that makes him worthy of being loved. Affection and love is a currency and Gill was taught that he needs to fight for it. That it's something he should never dare to request on his own.

How many times on their journey did he need to feel someone else's body close to his, but his lips were sealed, suffering in silence, thinking he Has not done well enough to be given the privalage of being comforted? How many aches and worries did he swallow down and burried deep inside? How many old wounds is he trying to fill with every single hug he receives, when someone else offers it to him? When he dares to take it, when he grips their clothes in an iron grip, trying to make the best out of it before it's gone? Cause who knows when someone allows him to have that again?

The only person Gill ever hugged first was Edyn, the first time in Allport. It was done with the same ferocity of a hurt child, of a little boy who Has been going through hell and his sister is his only remedy. The only person that always lets him have love for free. The only one he knows he can hug for sure. One who for so many years has been the only source of comfort.

The rest of the world is uncertain and even with Chip and Jay, Gill still strives to fulfill the unsaid cryteria of when he is worthy of their affection.

But I know that with enough reassurance and care, he will be able to ask for love himself and start treating his crew as people he can fall back on. And just so you know, the moment in which Gillion is the first one to hug Chip or Jay is going to make me cry like a little baby.

_______

Edit: more thoughts occured

Did you notice that Jay always seems to match Gill and Chip when it comes to hugging? She never asks Chip for hugs and takes them the same way Chip does, no matter if she is the one seeking or offering comfort. And the same goes with Gill. Regardless of whether she is the one in the need of comfort or she is the one comforting, she always verbally communicates a desire to hug first. Like she kinda feels that this is what Gillion needs from her to accept it.

So maybe Jay is actually always trying to search for the most effective way to get a hug, to increase her chances. She believes she has to, cause she cannot take love for granted anymore, not after Ava's death. She took her for granted and now she is gone. So now Jay struggles to freely express her own desires and instead clings to all the ways that she thinks guarantee her the affection she needs, an act of desperation in its own right. A silent plea for acceptance.

Each Captain on this ship treats each embrace as a treasure to savor and protect. It's a result of their past and their fears, but also a proof of unyielding love they have for each other. It's beautiful and one day the same love that they still dread to take, will heal them.

[lani-heart]

|| ENHYPEN SERIES – 7 TALES MASTERLIST ||

genre(s) -> hybrid au, non-idol au, university au paring(s) -> ehyphen ( individually ) x reader(s) warning(s) -> angst, violence, crimes, bullying, drinking, etc.

abstract -> what can go wrong in a world of hybrids?

-> uploading will start May 18 //Schedule tbd -> taglist open !!

RIKI NISHIMURA || SPOILED & MISBEHAVED

abstract -> Freshman in college and put to socialize with the other kids from wealthy families. y/n and Riki Nishimura being childhood friends and hybrid / master weren’t anything like other owners. Instead, Riki misbehaves and is rude when around others wanting his owner for himself. Getting her in trouble a few too many times had got him worried that he’d be replaced like her father had warned him. So instead of waiting to be replaced… There's a new etiquette class available at the same school as his owner. How convenient… now was that gonna guarantee him a spot by her side forever?

COMPLETE -> preview

CHAPTER ONE || “perfect hybrid” CHAPTER TWO || etiquette CHAPTER THREE || misunderstandings  CHAPTER FOUR || fake relationship CHAPTER FIVE || for you

JAEYUN SIM || EVERYTHING FORBIDDEN

abstract -> Seeing how Riki is treated, Jake, jealous and tired, runs away from the adoption center. Only to save a girl from the predatory men on the streets of Seoul. Not knowing he’s a hybrid, they both have the time of their lives… while he pretends to be human. How scandalous… the daughter of a wealthy known CEO to be caught with a stray hybrid?

COMPLETE -> preview

CHAPTER ONE || outcasts CHAPTER TWO || luxury CHAPTER THREE || abandonment CHAPTER FOUR || forbidden CHAPTER FIVE || anything

PARK JONG-SEONG || NEVER ENOUGH

abstract -> Haechan always liked to interfere where he didn’t belong. Making a scholarship student take a hybrid and making a bet she’ll regret wasn’t on this year's calendar. Especially with how mean and rude he was… no way he was the well-behaved and sought-after hybrid the rich kids wanted. But… was sweet and caring, at the end of the day, however, he wouldn’t turn his life from riches to rags… right?

ON GOING -> preview

CHAPTER ONE || temporary CHAPTER TWO || scholarship  CHAPTER THREE || mean CHAPTER FOUR || insecurities CHAPTER FIVE || forever

KIM SUNOO || WON'T YOU BE MY MUSE ?

abstract -> The principal's spoiled daughter returns from her trip to China only to find that her artist's block hasn't gotten any better. Who knew a cute and innocent fox would fix that? However… she swore never to own a hybrid so she could only admire him from afar as his owner turned out to be everything Sunoo hated. Even through that hatred and pain… she still saw him worthy enough to be her muse. 

COMING SOON -> preview

CHAPTER ONE || artist block CHAPTER TWO || exhibition CHAPTER THREE || envy CHAPTER FOUR || disappointed CHAPTER FIVE || muse

LEE HEESEUNG || DYSPHORIC BEAUTY

abstract -> Never adopted… I mean who would want to adopt a hybrid with big antlers on his head? It was a shame that such a pretty face had such an ugly thing growing out of his head. Would you want to adopt him? Even after he tried to cut them off risking his life in the process? Even after your parent's threats?

COMING SOON -> preview

CHAPTER ONE || ugly CHAPTER TWO || doe eyes CHAPTER THREE || antlers CHAPTER FOUR || empty CHAPTER FIVE || pretty

PARK SUNGHOON || GRACE OF AN AMNESIAC

abstract -> The figure skater hybrid was sought after being sold for millions… but he met his match to take care of a clumsy woman. He was famous after all why should he have to take care of an idiotic woman like you who forgets to look both ways when crossing the street? Especially when you’ll end up forgetting him… all over again? 

COMING SOON -> preview

CHAPTER ONE || spring CHAPTER TWO || lies CHAPTER THREE || hate CHAPTER FOUR || truth CHAPTER FIVE || winter

YANG JUGWON || ESCAPE ARTIST

abstract -> Daughter of two renowned lawyers who just busted a case on the black mart hybrid traffickers damned their daughter with a hybrid. They thought it was a good thing to have someone to go home to after a long day… well that wasn’t true when he tried to run away every day. Until… one day she decided to not go find him.

COMING SOON -> preview

CHAPTER ONE || service CHAPTER TWO || escape CHAPTER THREE || law CHAPTER FOUR || riot CHAPTER FIVE || liberty

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[gaywarcriminals]

Bby siren SJ & spoiled kid SY 

I cleaned up a ficlet from a sprint I did with @danmeichael while ago! Cw implied murder & cannibalism (none depicted, just normal siren stuff)

"My parents said I'm not supposed to get in the water," The young human— Shen Yuan, he called himself— explained with patience but no small amount of self-importance, as though Shen Jiu was the one being difficult and the human was being the bigger person by humoring him. 

"I can't play on land" Shen Jiu said with a put-upon pout, flicking his tail above water-- the small, short glimpses of his shiny scales were usually enough to beckon the human children closer. They were, in all honesty, usually quite easy to trick. Safer, too– even if humans were softer and weaker, Shen Jiu was still far too small to over-power an adult. When it had been the two of them, he and Qi-ge had been able to catch larger prey, but now– well now, Shen Jiu had to look out for himself, and that meant smaller kills, even if he had to venture much much closer to shore than he would have liked.

“We could, um,” the human paused, “I guess you can’t have games or books underwater…” he trailed off for a moment, before his face lit up with a charming smile. “I can read to you! I can read chapter books now,” the boy said with great aplomb, as though it should mean anything to Shen Jiu, “wait here, I’ll go get one from my parents!”

"NO!" Shen Jiu cried out. If the boy left, there was no guarantee he would return, or worse, he might come back with his kin trailing behind him. Shen Jiu hadn't eaten in weeks; he couldn't allow this chance to slip through his fingers.

Shen Yuan blinked at him, and then sat back down on the rocks, his cross legs out of reach of the lapping waves. Still not close enough for Shen Jiu to drag him under before the other humans heard his screams. Then, miraculously, and without any further beckoning the boy leaned closer. Shen Jiu's body tensed, tracking the movement, waiting for the boy to reach an angle where gravity would do most of the work to send him toppling into the waves.

"Are you lonely?" Shen Yuan whispered. 

Shen Jiu jolted. "What-?" The anger was immediate and instinctive. He snapped his teeth. His hand jerked up, but no, the human was still too far from the edge, from Shen Jiu, all Shen Jiu was doing was flagging his intentions as plainly as a whale, like an idiot--

"Hey, that's-" annoyance flickered over the boy’s face, and for a second Shen Jiu thought he had caught on, that he would run, and Shen Jiu too would have to flee, wasting more of his energy with a failed hunt– but then Shen Yuan was once again the picture of a young lord. The boy cleared his throat. "I mean, you don't have to be embarrassed. I would be upset too if I had no brothers or gameboy," he said with the air of someone delivering sage wisdom. 

Shen Jiu blinked. “Yes,” he repeated, perhaps unconvincingly, “I’m very sad without a ‘game-boy’ or… my brother.” he finished with a whisper. Shen Yuan nodded sympathetically. 

“Ah!” His eyes widened and then curved, sparkling in the midday sun. He shoved a hand into his clothes and dug around, before pulling out some kind of small white and blue object. 

“Da-ge always gives me milk candy when I fall and skin my knee. It’ll cheer you up!” He explained, dropping the thing towards the water. 

Shen Jiu fumbled to catch it, only for the crisp white and and blue paper to start dissolving in his hand. He dropped it on instinct— bright colors spreading through the water could only mean poison. He glanced up and sent the human a viscous glare. 

"Nooo, you have to eat it before it gets soggy!" Shen Yuan urged, seemingly oblivious to Shen Jiu’s ire. 

Shen Jiu considered for a moment. This creature was far too stupid to poison someone, and seemed to have been carrying this for some time without any precautions or fear of it. It probably was just food. Shen Jiu’s stomach grumbled. Cautiously, he grabbed the ‘milk candy’. The blue had fallen away to reveal a white pellet that sat nicely in his palm. He put it in his mouth. 

“Mm—“ Shen Jiu couldn’t suppress the noise. His head fins fluttered in delight as the creamy, sweet taste spread. He held it there carefully, letting it slowly melt over his tongue. 

“It’s good, right?” Shen Yuan asked, just a little smug. Shen Jiu reluctantly nodded. He reached down to pat Shen Jiu’s head, as no one had done in so long. “You don’t have to be sad. If you’re lonely, I’ll be your friend.” As the boy gently stroked the siren’s silky hair, Shen Jiu decided that lunging up to bite wasn’t worth losing the treat in his mouth. It was okay to stay like this, just for a little while.

[seireiteihellbutterfly]

Second Chance Sorcerer Chapter 3 - The Trials

Pairing: Nanami Kento x Fem! reader A/N: Chapter 3 is here! I'm glad I was able to write this out. As usual, this has been adapted to y/n format. To read the OC version, check out AO3.

Oh, and I highly recommend listening to Yet by Switchfoot while reading this chapter. It just pairs well. Warnings: childhood trauma, lots of angst

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Nanami masterlist

“By facing your deepest regrets.”

Nanami feels a chill rake over his spine as the shadow being says the words.

“Regrets? There isn’t a single sorcerer in the world that doesn’t have regrets. There’s no good way to rank them.”

“Really 7:3 sorcerer? You don’t believe some regrets hurt more than others?” The Spectator watches with keen eyes as Nanami contemplates its words. There’s a pregnant pause while he considers, glancing around at Phantom Tokyo as he does so. He didn’t like how the shadow easily figured out what he’d been hiding for years. 

A sorcerer’s life was always full of regrets; regret for not being normal, regret over their fallen comrades, regret over not taking time to themselves, regret for not being able to fall in love freely.

“What good is spending time thinking about regrets anyway?” he asks finally. “There’s nothing we can do about them. We learn to accept them and move on.”

“Have you? Accepted, that is?” the shadow asks back. Nanami stares at it, feeling a jolt pass through him.

“Of course I have. Now unless time travel is something the purgatory realm offers, I don’t see the point. I can’t go back and undo the things I regret. So of course I learned to accept them.”

“Then why do you never allow yourself to think about them? If you’ve really accepted them, then thinking about them shouldn’t bring that feeling of guilt in your chest, should it?” There’s a sly tone to the shadow’s question as it asks.

Taken aback, Nanami glares at it but doesn’t answer. Anyone who had lived his life wouldn’t question the guilt that accompanied his regrets. It was an endless cycle, reminding himself that most of the things that had happened weren't things he could have necessarily controlled yet it weighed down heavily on him. And how could they not? He was there when those awful things happened. It was a natural human tendency to wonder if the outcome may have been changed if he had done something differently.

The shadow does not fail to notice the less-than-kind expression on his face. “The only reason I ask, sorcerer, is because many try and fail to escape the purgatory realm even after agreeing to face their deepest regrets. Most believe it is coming to terms with them when in fact, it’s more than that.” 

It glides slightly closer to him before continuing. “It’s not enough that you come to terms with your regrets. But it’s learning to recognize that despite everything, despite all the guilt and unhappiness, life is still worth living. Many do not make it to that stage, and if that concept fails to take root, then the realm decides your life isn’t worth saving, and it will do what it was created to do, and end your life for you. You must want to live so much that all the regrets that feel like failures become reasons to live.”

“That’s unrealistic. Shouldn’t you have to find new things to live for instead? Who would want to continue living because of their regrets?”

“And what’s the guarantee those new things won’t become regrets later? Life doesn’t necessarily go linearly, does it? Something that brought you joy one day can make you miserable the next. It’s the same with people and relationships, isn’t it? You could have the best relationship with someone, and one day, they may hurt you, or you hurt them, and that too becomes a regret. Depending on the situation, it may be superficial or deep. If that person means enough to you, you won’t end the relationship because of that single regret, do you? Sometimes people experience multiple regrets with the people in their lives. It’s the same with wanting to live. You can keep finding new reasons to live, but ultimately, it’s realizing that life is worth living even with regrets.”

Nanami ponders the words, the frown on his face deepening. So many people in his life had come and gone. Some had been his choice, others due to circumstances beyond his control. He thinks about everyone he currently knows, and the shadow chuckles at his state. “I promise I’m not speaking in riddles meant to be solved. This journey is different for everyone. For some, it’s simple. Others need a few reminders about how much opportunity life offers.”

Nanami paces up and down the aisles of the bookstore, contemplating. “And what does facing one’s regrets look like?”

“It’s different for each person that enters the Trials. Some say it’s a withered garden, and they need to tend to the most neglected flowers and once the garden is in bloom, they can go back to living. Others are the only doctor in a hospital full of sick patients and don’t get respite until everyone is nursed back to health. But I will say that not everyone makes it through. Some become consumed by what they see or begin to feel hopeless with the amount of work necessary to survive. You have an additional restriction of being at the mercy of however long the neutralized energy remains in that charm of yours. So I’d say to not waste it much longer.”

Nanami glances at the aum charm on his wrist and feels a tinge of hope bubble inside him. He tries to think optimistically. Finding reasons to live even with the regrets…he hadn’t considered it that way. 

“You also have an unexpected plus. You have someone who desperately hopes you might come back to them. Most don’t necessarily have that privilege. The additional incentive will hopefully allow you to navigate this quicker.” The shadow adds trying to gauge his reaction.

Nanami again looks doubtfully at the charm. Deep in his heart, wedged away was a little box he hadn’t dared to open or peek at since he locked it away at 16. Even the sheer idea of it felt taboo, and he hadn’t allowed himself to dwell on it. But he allowed himself a moment of guilty pleasure, wondering if y/n had received his message by now. What would be your reaction? Shock? Happiness? Would you be crying tears of joy? 

He tries to imagine your face, putting together fragments of the various expressions he had seen during your time together. The lines of dissatisfaction that tugged at the corners of your mouth when he kept saying logistically sorcerers didn’t live very long, the glitter in your eyes when Itadori-Kun brought back a pastry for you, or the melancholic way the tip of your nose turned red when you watched those sad movies when he was teaching you how to channel your energy into the cursed doll. The day you had chosen Sophie’s Choice was a hard day overall, with him coming back from a mission only to see you, Ino-Kun, and Itadori-kun squished together on the sofa, the doll on your lap, all of you with tears in your eyes. 

Would you have cried like that for him after learning about his supposed death? Or maybe it was more intense than that? The kind of ugly crying where one trembles and can’t catch their breath? Or maybe there hadn’t been any crying at all. He shakes his head. He had no evidence that he had meant anything to you at all. The aum charms had been put on Ino-Kun and Itadori-Kun as well. Yet part of him hoped you had felt some kind of grief, that he had meant something to you, even if it was just as your teacher. 

In any case, whether or not you had cried was irrelevant. As the shadow had pointed out, it was thanks to your charm that he was now alive, and that wasn’t a thing to be taken lightly.

“You called it the Trials?” he asks The Mediator, who nods. 

“I will have to send you into another space where you can deal with your regrets. It’s rumored to be inside one’s heart but so far, no one has been able to confirm that. Now remember sorcerer. Once inside, you must look at your regrets, each one, learn the lesson it provides, and accept that you can live, despite having it. This isn’t about coming to terms with your regrets. It’s about understanding that your life isn’t any lesser to live just because you have them.”

Still not entirely convinced he knew what the shadow meant, he nods shakily. 

“Take your time, but don’t dawdle. You don’t have forever. And when in doubt, remember the reason you’re alive right now.”

“Have people have been successful before?”

“Indeed. And went on to live very happy lives, in fact even fuller lives than they had before.”

Nanami feels his pulse quicken. He had more questions but it felt pointless to ask them. As the shadow had pointed out, he was wasting precious neutralized cursed energy. He can feel his earlier dream of dying, of fading away into oblivion, slipping away like water through his fingers. 

“Ready?” The shadow’s silvery eyes gleam at him, waiting. 

With resolve, Nanami nods. It felt daunting, but he knows now he has to try. That there might be things he still needed to experience in the world of the living. 

The Mediator gives him a nod of finality before raising a shadowy limb from its side, looking eerily like the Grim Reaper for a moment, black smoky fingers curling up into its palm. Nanami turned to look behind him, transfixed, as what appeared to be a rectangle of light began to materialize. It had a strange metallic look, and as it grew larger, he could have sworn he heard the faint pulsation of a heart fill the space in the bookstore. Perhaps he really was going into a dimension of his own heart. The thought filled him with wonder, something he hadn’t felt since the loss of innocence during his teen years. 

He knew from a medical standpoint that his heart would be the same as any other human being, but he couldn’t help but try to imagine what it looked like in this dimension. Was it warm? Cold? Would he get a garden or a hospital? Or something more wondrous and complex than either of those? The rectangle finally stops growing and hovers a few inches off the ground and Nanami chances a peek inside. It looked curiously smooth and paved from his position, and appeared to have light reflecting inside it, and again, he heard the undeniable sound of a heart beating, like it was trying to urge him to look inside himself.

“This is where we part, sorcerer. I hope we do not meet again.” The shadow bows to him and Nanami returns the gesture, pushing his glasses back onto the bridge of his nose as he straightened. 

“Thank you for the guidance. I feel a little less willing to die at this moment.”

“That is reassuring to hear. Your initial attitude had me worried. Now go, there isn’t any time to waste.”

Nanami looks at the bright geometric patch before squaring his shoulders and purposefully stepping forward towards the metallic, reflective light. Y/n’s face burns in his mind as the sound of a heartbeat fills his ears and he walks through the door into what lay beyond. 

Once inside, he chances a glance backward and sees the portal sealing off, the briefest glimpse of the shadow creature catching the corner of his eye before it closes into a smooth surface of reflective glass. The dimension is plunged into silence, deafening and slightly unsettling. The blond sorcerer moves forward, taking in his new surroundings, astonished by what he saw.

His Trial was a smooth, long, corridor that appeared to be made of endless panels of mirrors from top to bottom. His shoes clicked on the polished glass as he moved forward. What was he supposed to do? Unlike the Trials that had been described to him, there was nothing here that needed his care or nurturing. He appeared to be alone, with nothing but his reflection for company. He ventures a few steps forward, thinking.

“The scenarios described to me said I needed to take care of whatever I found here,” he mused out loud, continuing to walk, randomly looking up, down, and to the sides where his glass image followed suit. “But I don’t see anything here. Wait, don’t tell me…” he almost laughs aloud, Y/n’s chief complaint echoing in his head. “Is the person I have to take care of myself?” he asks the mirror dimension. 

Immediately, the panel of mirrors on his left changed. While the ceiling, floor, and right wall retained his reflection, the left began to show swirls of color and distorted shapes. Fascinated, Nanami steps closer to the one nearest to him and peers into the glass. The abstract splotches instantly form a crisp image, playing like a scene from a movie and Nanami is astonished at what it shows him. A young boy with a tuft of messy blond hair ran towards a lake in happy abandon, water wings around his thin arms as he splashed in. Nanami’s gut twists as he remembers this day. The day so long ago, when he had learned that things such as curses really did exist, that they were not imaginary misfortunes cast by witches onto unsuspecting people like his storybooks had said. 

He watched his younger self floating at the surface of the water, his family a short distance away as they set up lunch on a picnic table. One of his cousins joins him shortly, giving chase as he lets out a peal of laughter and tries to kick away from him. Knowing what was going to happen, Nanami watched his younger self helplessly as he swam towards the middle of the lake, a brave 6-year-old unaware of the darker things that lurked in places that held negative emotions.

Unbeknownst to his family at the time, a girl had drowned there that past summer, something that Nanami had unearthed years later after this incident had occurred. His younger self now reached the middle of the lake and was suddenly lost, dragged under by an invisible force. The little boy blinks in shock, then opens his mouth and lets out a muffled scream as he sees the ugly curse that had caught hold of his foot. It grins, showing off too many teeth as he struggles, its pale green skin glimmering grotesquely under the watery light before he manages to kick the curse with his foot, swimming to the surface, coughing and spluttering, desperately trying to make his way back to land. His cousin looks at him in confusion as he swims in the opposite direction. 

“Get out of the water! Get out!” The shrill screams echoed off the lake as he finally made it to the edge and hauled himself out, laying on the grass shivering. He watches in panic as his cousin stays where he is, treading water and not making any attempts to come back. His father sprints over to check on the situation looking alarmed.

“Kento, what’s going on?”

“There’s something in the water! Tell aniki to get out!” Younger Nanami practically yells, trying to put distance between himself and the lake. His cousin shrugs, then takes a breath and goes underwater. When he resurfaces, he shakes his head. 

“There’s nothing in here! Kento did you see a huge catfish or something and freak out?” he taunts, a smirk appearing on his face. The blond boy shakes his head no vigorously. 

“There’s something there! I swear!”

“You’re just making things up! If you’re too scared, then stay there, I wanna swim.”

Nanami watches his younger self shrink, drawing his knees up to his chest in terror, watching his cousin swim fearlessly in the water. However, nothing happens. Several minutes pass by before his cousin finally comes back out, hair dripping. “Fraidy cat,” he shoots at him before joining the others at the picnic table. Younger Nanami walks to the table too, determined to get his point across.

“There really was something there!” 

His mother reaches out to pat his head. “It may have been a large fish Kento. It’s ok to admit it startled you,” she says emphatically, and the younger boy’s expression drops. Adult Nanami felt it inside his chest, that feeling of knowing they didn’t believe him, and that it was the beginning of almost a decade of them convinced he was a liar, saying things for attention. Younger Nanami becomes quiet after that, sitting in defeat at the table, the fresh barbeque and corn on the cob tasteless in his mouth. 

What was he supposed to learn from this? Adult Nanami pulls away from the mirror, feeling his heart tighten, feeling sad for the little boy sitting so dejectedly at the table. He takes a deep breath, knowing this was the moment he started to not trust his family, his parents, with any of the things he saw. The curses only worsened from there, almost like because he had seen one, all of them suddenly felt comfortable revealing themselves to him. His chest felt heavy with the grief filling him. The shadow had said to take the lesson from the memory and move on.

He leans against the opposite panel of mirrors, trying to get his feelings into check. Regrets from that day…he regretted scaring his family. He regretted being able to see that curse in the water. He regretted finding out he was different from everyone else that day. And how were these regrets supposed to become reasons to live? He racks his brain. He tried to warn his cousin about the unseen danger. That shaped him into becoming the responsible one in any situation. He had to be aware of what the others couldn’t see. It made him protective. It made him want his students to have a better childhood than he did. Was that it? Him turning into a guardian for everyone around him was a reason to live?

And just like that as the thought came into his head, the mirror began to frost at the edges, becoming more and more opaque as it covered the length of the panel before the memory became fully obscured, no longer visible to his eyes. 

Nanami swallows, still slightly unsettled by what he saw. It had been one thing to experience that as a child, but watching it as an adult, seeing how the people who were supposed to be looking after him brushed away his fears like they were nothing, hurt, even now. Part of him wanted to hug his younger self, to tell him he had become someone that everyone depended on, that someone wished for him to stay alive so hard that she put a neutralizing charm on him and saved his life. 

Was this how the rest of his Trial would be? If the first memory it showed him was this one, Nanami knew it would only get worse from here. His being felt painfully raw after seeing that childhood recollection, and he was unsure if he wanted to see more of that. The events that occurred at Jujutsu High when he was a teenager were unavoidable; he had been prepared for those to crop up based on the conversation he’d had with the shadow, but to see himself defenseless, as a child, with no one on his side was already breaking down his psyche. 

As he gathered his will to push on, he recalled the shadow saying this Trial was so he could face his deepest regrets. Deepest, not every. Could he have possibly found a way to get out of here faster? Nanami knew he had regrets that ran deeper than the day at the lake. If he approached each mirror, he would know which regret it was showing him. What if he could skip over the ones that weren’t as bad and only get to the ones that had really impacted him?

Motivated by the idea, he peeks into the next mirror panel, the colors and shapes coming into focus and he sees himself at 11, seated on the sofa with his parents, his dad looking stern, his mother exasperated. Recalling this event, Nanami quickly walks away from the mirror to the next one. Dealing with his regrets should not involve also dealing with his emotional trauma. That was too much. 

He stands in front of the next mirror and waits for the memory to come into focus. However, to his dismay, the colors remain as jumbled objects colliding with each other, refusing to coalesce. Hoping this was just a coincidence, he moves to the next one and is met with the same view, abstract movements, and blurs of action, refusing to show themselves to him. 

A regret is a regret, no matter how big, perhaps. Or maybe, the mirror dimension had determined what his deepest regrets already were, and he would have to face whatever it threw at him. 

With a sigh of defeat, Nanami turns back and goes to the mirror he was hoping to avoid. His heart was racing at the thought of reliving that day, but he was left with no choice. Once directly opposite to it, he braces himself for the memory. 

“Kento, this cannot go on any further. Your mother and I…we’re at a loss about what to do.”

“I’m sorry otosan.” His 11-year-old self keeps his gaze trained downwards, observing his legs that were swinging off the edge of the sofa. “But I mean it, it was there, trying to hurt my classmate.”

“Kento.” His mother leans towards him. “I am not sure what to believe anymore. These…incidents. These…stories. They’re becoming a more frequent occurrence. The doctors are baffled.”

Nanami’s dad, a man resembling him now in terms of height and build, tsks and shakes his head. “They’ve suggested medications, talking to a therapist-”

“The therapist wasn’t helping. They never believed anything I said.” The small boy appears to shrink a few inches in between his parents, his little fingers now fidgeting with each other as he speaks his words. 

“Kento, the problem is, we’re having difficulty believing you as well.” His mother looks like she’s about to cry and it fills his younger self with guilt, that he’s making her this way over him. “The doctors believe you have schizophrenia. It would explain you seeing things that aren’t there-”

“But they are there,” little Nanami insists desperately, looking at his parents with tears in his eyes. “They’re there, but it feels like I’m the only person that can see them.” He sees the look his parents exchange and feels like his worst fear is being confirmed; that his parents thought he was going crazy.

Adult Nanami steps away from the mirror, feeling sweat on his forehead. He feels his heart hammering in his chest and he slides down the smooth glass onto the floor trying to not fall apart. It was behind him. He had put this all behind him. He had vowed to never remember any of this ever again. It was why his will stated all his possessions should be donated to charity. He didn’t have a family. Had no one checking in on him. No one to visit during the holidays, save the other staff from the school. 

Jujutsu High had been both a blessing and a curse. But Nanami hadn’t felt like he was part of a family in decades. Hadn’t allowed himself to want that simple wish because it hurt too much. The aum charm swings against his leg, a pendulum reminding him of the limited time he has left. He realizes the day spent at the amusement park had been the first time in his adult life that he had allowed himself to indulge in that little fantasy. That the little group he had trained had somehow become his family of misfits. It wasn’t until now that he realized how much he wanted that to become a reality. That he wanted to belong.

Taking deep calming breaths, he gets to his feet, not totally prepared to face the memory again but is astonished to see the mirror has already frosted up, the memory blocked and gone. Admitting he wanted a family…another lesson learned. 

Unsteadily, Nanami moves on, hoping the next memory isn’t as brutal as the first two.  

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[yandere-romanticaa]

As a request, may I ask please for a reader running away from the Fatui debt collector and ending up by getting caught by Childe ?

The strong regard in which the Fatui held their contracts in could almost rival the nation of Liyue itself. By signing your name on the paper you signed off your entire life away, perhaps even your very soul if the situation or person called for it. The Fatui were rolling in mora and their Harbingers were some of the richest people to ever grace Teyvat. Their bankers know what they are doing, no penny is ever left unchecked and all of the clients pay what they are owed, no matter the cost.

You were one of those unfortunate clients.

On paper, their professionalism was okay, maybe even great if you're delusional enough. But everything came at a cost and you realized that the Fatui were only ever interested in keeping their side of the contract intact.

After mysteriously being laid off your job and losing every earthly possession you ever owned, you were left with no options other than to turn to the Northernland Bank. Despite its somewhat sketchy reputation there was also a decent amount of individuals who were quite pleased with the banks services, which is exactly why you felt all the more urged to go there. Everything was going smoothly for the first few months. You managed to pay rent and get some other basic necessities in order such as food and clothes but you were still far from the safe zone. You never managed to pay your debts on time which made the clerk at the bank frustrated with you.

"We can be kind to you only for so long." she'd say.

"Don't make the same mistake again."

You promised her that you wouldn't and you intended to keep that promise.

Unfortunately, life almost never plays out the way we want it to.

After weeks of endless job hunts, no one wanted to take you. It made no sense whatsoever! You had no criminal record, were always diligent on your previous job and had no enemies. Whenever you'd have an interview the people behind the counter would always be quick to shush you and tell you that they could not take you in. The last place you applied for, a small flower shop, was so quick to turn you down that it should be considered the world record. The moment you said your name out loud it was as if a switch was pressed and the owner switched gears entirely. Her demeanor went from calm and sweet to anxious and downright terrified as her entire body started shaking. She was beyond forceful as she shoved you out the door and told, no, begged you to not come back, ever.

In those brief moments you shared with the woman she became fear personified. You never understood why but right now that didn't matter.

Not when Fatui agents were pursuing you in the darkness of the night.

They were like the harrowing winter wind, sharp and swift. They barged into your home and demanded you pay what you owed unless you wished for more serious consequences to take place. The hooded agent pressed his large blade against your neck and his fire red eyes tore into you, daring you to make a move.

He was not expecting you to actually do something, let alone kick him in the shin.

A cryo mage and a hydro skirmisher were hot on your tail but you managed to quickly outrun them.

Panting, you hid behind a large pile of wooden crates near the harbor. There was little to no light aside from the stars, providing you ample cover against your assailants. This wasn't unfortunately only an advantage for you alone as they too could make use of this darkness. Not only were you outnumbered but also found to be completely and utterly defenseless. With little to no combat training and no vision to speak of, this endless chase became more and more unbearable. Options were also limited - keep hiding and make a run for it outside of the city but risk getting chased all over the content or come out of hiding and face the music.

Neither option was good. Death was all but guaranteed. The Fatui did not understand the concept of mercy.

That was a sentiment that the 11th Harbinger knew all to well.

He watched you from a window, ocean blue eyes tailing after every single move of yours. His chin rested on his hand while the other toyed with a white glaze lilly that grew close next to him, the soft petals providing him a much needed source of silly entertainment. In his eyes you were this glaze lilly - gentle, beautiful. Easy to break. It took him no effort whatsoever to tear your life to shreds and keep you docile. Tartaglia was a little bitter how you did not remember him back when you were younger, which might be the reason as to why he is being so harsh right now. He always liked to play rough and the sight of you shaking made his blood rush with pure and utter glee. Everything was going according to plan and he could not have been more satisfied. A wicked smirk danced on his lips as he ripped the glaze lilly from the pot, its green stem now firmly in his hands. A wave of determination came over the young man as he let out a quiet laugh to himself.

As fun as this was, he was done. No more games, he was going to have you.

It was time to step into the heart of the action.

Like an acrobat, Childe leaped out of the window and landed gracefully on both his feet, the bow on his back firmly set in place. His fingers twitched in anticipation as he creeped up closer and closer towards you. He was so quiet that not even a mouse could hear him.

It really wasn't your fault for screaming so hard, he thought to himself. Anyone would have gotten scared if someone just came up to them like that. As a matter of fact, he even found it kind of cute!

The shrill screams naturally caught the attention of the people he told to hunt you down and in a flash they stood before the two of you, panting but ready for action. The measley subordinates were, unsurprisingly, startled to see a Harbinger out in the open like this, prompting them to immediately lower their heads and bow deeply.

You were too caught up in your own paranoia to hear Childe mumble a quiet "You are dismissed." command to them. You trembled, fat tears caking your face as the ginger turned to face you, a small smile on his lips. He scared you enough for now, hasn't he? Reaching out towards you he held your quivering body, your face pressed deeply against his chest as you wept loudly. The grey fabric of his clothing soon turned a much darker shade due to the heavy tears but you could not care less.

Tired, you were so tired.

Despite having no clue to the identity of the man who held you so gently, there was absolutely no chance you were letting him go. You made your decision right there and then - snaking your arms around his thin waist you stayed like that as you let out everything out of your system, the pain, the fear and every other dark emotion which clouded your heart, all the while having no clue that your savior was the one who brought out all of this misery to you.

He could be a sadistic bastard, Childe knew this. He went too far in tormenting you and was most surely going to make everything up to you.

Right now though all he could do was sit on the ground and cradle you in his arms as his heart wept alongside yours, but with much different reasons than yours. He was a walking paradox, both the tormentor and the savior. All in due time though, you would grow to love it.

He would make sure of it.

🥀 TAGS: @genshinarchives, @mod-kisa-blog, @juuuuuj101010, @kalopses-sonderes, @b10h4z4rd, @xiaopleasecomehome, @yumekos-gamble, @mayulli, @cc-6789, @saturnalya, @mewmeowmika, @ranposgirlboss

[loveinhawkins]

After the almost end of the world, Steve tells Eddie that he can have a shower first.

It feels surreal that they’ve both made it here—that Eddie is standing in his hallway, leaving mud stains on the floor from his boots: remnants of The Upside Down mixed with normal dirt.

Steve almost wants to ask if he can walk around some more, create countless marks as proof of his existence; hell, even take his hand and run it down the beige walls.

Leave a trail, Steve thinks, through a fog of complete and utter exhaustion. So I know it’s real. So I can find my way back to you.

What he says instead is, “Try not to get your dressings wet.”

Eddie pauses on the stairs. Smiles. “Okay, nurse,” he says, and it’s a gentle tease if anything, his voice softened by tiredness.

He’s holding himself a little stiffly while turned to speak, his upper body almost at an angle.

Steve thinks about the jagged line down his side (“If the bats died, like, ten seconds later, you’d have—you asshole,” Dustin had rambled through tears, thumping Eddie on the arm); how Eddie had narrowly avoided a hospital stay. Thinks of the way Eddie tried to reassure Dustin, fiddling with the guitar pick hanging around his neck in a show of nonchalance—but Steve still saw how his hand shook.

“Guess I’m just a lucky son of a bitch, huh, Henderson?”

It shouldn’t have been luck; it should have been a guarantee. Steve should have ensured it.

Eddie makes his way upstairs with slow, heavy footsteps. Steve waits until he can hear the water running, then heads to the phone.

He’s used to this routine by now. Robin and Nancy first, as he knows they’ll pick up rather than their parents.

“Oh, thank god,” Robin had said when she answered the phone after Starcourt. “I thought it was a horrible dream.”

“Thank god?” Steve echoed, laughing.

“Yeah,” Robin said, quite seriously. “It was either I dreamed up everything alone, or we saw it all together.”

And Steve, touched beyond words, had called her a dingus instead.

Tonight, their phone call is much quieter.

“I’m home,” Robin says. “I love you.”

Steve’s hand clenches around the phone. “Love you too,” he whispers, and he ignores the warning sting in his eyes, because he doesn’t have time to—he still has so much left to…

“I’m home,” Nancy says. She adds, “Get some sleep, Steve,” in the fatigued tones of someone who will not be taking their own advice.

Eddie comes downstairs sometime during Steve’s phone call with Mr and Mrs Sinclair. He’s quiet; the only sign that alerts Steve to his presence is the faint smell of mint body wash.

When Steve hangs up, he has to take a breath, still clinging to the phone pointlessly.

“What are you doing?” Eddie asks quietly.

Steve breathes out. “Checking in,” he says.

He dials another number.

It began after Starcourt, the Sinclairs having bought the excuse that Steve had been trapped with Erica in a broken down elevator as the ‘fire’ began—technically true, Steve had thought, just in the wrong order.

Their conversation had been all anxious tones, all, You were there, Steve, what exactly…? Should we be worried that…?

And he gets good at it, at bridging the gap between worlds: keeping the full truth from parents, but giving them just enough information, little things that go beyond the surface level cover story, that somehow help put their mind at ease—cultivating the sense that Steve is the witness, the one being honest with them.

Christ, he’s tired.

The call with Max’s mom is hard. She’s still at the hospital, and technically there’s nothing to really worry about (Max’s arm had a clean break), but that doesn’t change how it all felt, how she shook with pained sobs as Steve tucked her into his side.

“She’s sleeping now. She said you were with her,” Susan tells him, voice low. “Steve, I’m—I’m so grateful.”

But I wasn’t, Steve thinks. Not when it mattered.

He doesn’t realise that he’s still holding the phone after the call has ended until Eddie takes it from him and puts it back in the cradle.

“Hey, can I, uh, use the phone? Wanna call my uncle,” Eddie says.

Steve doesn’t mention the fact that Eddie has already spoken with his uncle, that Steve had overheard him fighting tears in the hospital as he called the plant where his uncle was still working: because even the earthquake-like rumble felt all over town as Henry Creel died wasn’t enough of an excuse to warrant clocking out early.

“Pretend I’m s-someone else calling,” Eddie had whispered, his voice breaking. “Wayne, I-I’m okay. Got stitches, but I’m okay. Fuck. I love you.”

And Steve tried not to think about how it could’ve so easily been him making the call, telling Wayne Munson that his nephew will never come home again.

Eddie pauses, hand hovering over the phone. Then he twirls his index finger in a little circle: turn around.

Steve does. Can’t find the energy to smile.

“Shower,” Eddie says, then taps him very gently on the back, once, twice, like he’s saying off you go.

Steve manages to twist his body so his own fresh bandages don’t get wet, carefully tilting the shower head away from them. He methodically washes away the dirt; the heat of the water is welcome, but it also seems to weigh down his limbs with every drop.

When he goes back downstairs, Eddie is on the phone. He keeps repeating vague little mm-hmm sounds, and Steve somehow is sure that he isn’t on the phone to his uncle.

“Yeah,” Eddie says as Steve approaches. “Yeah, he’s here.”

There’s a little side table next to the phone; Eddie reaches for the notepad, scribbles, then turns it round so Steve can see.

Dustin’s mom

And Steve…

He knows he should talk to her. He knows Claudia will no doubt have questions, even if Dustin’s probably already given his own half-baked explanation about how he hurt his leg—“It’s just a sprain,” he’d insisted, even as Steve hoisted him up, took all of his weight.

The right thing to do, surely, is take the phone from Eddie.

But Steve suddenly can’t bring himself to even lift his hand for it. He feels drained, feels vulnerable and exposed after the shower—that along with the grime being lifted from his skin, it’s also left his stupidly fragile, exhausted heart on show.

Eddie’s eyes flicker over his face like he can see it, see everything, and without so much as an awkward pause, he murmurs into the receiver, “He’s tired. Yeah, he’s—he’s okay. Mm-hmm. Yeah. Yeah, I will.”

He hesitates for a moment, a fleeting sheen to his eyes, and then he says, “Thank you. Goodnight, Mrs Henderson.” Another little pause. He smiles, adds, “Goodnight, Claudia,” and hangs up the phone.

“Is she… okay?” Steve asks. “What did she—is Dustin—”

“All good,” Eddie says. “She was just… checking in.”

The checking you were okay goes unsaid, but Steve can still hear it.

It weighs him down like the shower had done. He doesn’t register that he crosses through to the living room, just knows that he’s suddenly sinking down onto the arm of the couch, that Eddie is sitting next to him.

Steve doesn’t consciously decide to speak, the words tumbling out of him like it’s inevitable.

“This wasn’t supposed to happen,” he mumbles.

He can practically hear Eddie frantically trying to make sense of what he’s said.

“Well, yeah, no plan’s gonna go perfectly, man, that’d be—but, hey, we fuckin’ made it, we—”

But Steve is shaking his head. “No, I… I thought I’d figured it out, I—”

He doesn’t know how to explain it; it’s too much to…

It’s something too big to put into words.

The fact that, as Nancy relayed each phase of the plan, he had listened closely, only agreed because at least he was in the group that would be closest to the ‘blast zone.’

That he’d hated leaving Lucas, Max and Erica alone, but had tried to reassure himself that at least they weren’t in The Upside Down.

That once Dustin knew where Steve was going, he wouldn’t take no for an answer, that he’d follow him to The Upside Down no matter what.

And, honestly, Steve would’ve preferred Eddie not getting dragged into this bullshit for any longer than he needed to be—that if it was feasible, Steve would’ve just told him to take the RV and run.

But Steve had seen how he was with Dustin, roughhousing in the grass. Knew that where Dustin went, Eddie would follow, too—a shield in his hand.

And Steve also knew something along those lines was true for him and Robin: that if he thought he could get away with it, he would’ve told her to watch over the kids at the Creel House, but knew she’d choose to be with him.

That all he could feel about going into Henry Creel’s lair himself was relief—not because he thought he was an essential part in all of this, but because he just…

He needed to be there. Just in case.

Because there was a look in Nancy’s eyes that terrified him. It said that if she had to, she’d die with Henry Creel, so long as it would all be over, so long as Barb would be avenged.

Out loud, all he can say is, “It… it was too close.”

“Steve,” Eddie says. “No-one got—”

“You’re not listening,” Steve says, and there’s a scream in his throat begging to be released; he doesn’t let it go. “It was too—I almost—almost had to—”

“Steve.”

“S-someone’s gotta call home,” Steve goes on. “And I—fuck, I was so scared I’d h-have to—to tell them that—”

“Steve,” Eddie whispers.

“But I-I would’ve,” Steve says. His voice cracks. “I couldn’t have just—they would’ve got a-answers, I would’ve—”

“I know,” Eddie says softly, and he’s got a hand in Steve’s hair suddenly, guiding him to his shoulder. “I know you’d—hey, I’ve got you. I know.”

The first sob, when it starts, hurts—feels like it comes straight from his stomach. Eddie holds him through it, almost like he’s afraid Steve might drift away to some unreachable place.

“I’ve got you,” he keeps saying. “Oh, sweetheart. I’ve got you.”

When it’s over, when Steve gives a final, shuddering breath against Eddie’s shoulder, Eddie murmurs into his hair, “S’too late for any more phone calls, Steve. C’mon. Show me where to sleep?”

It’s not even all that big of a thing, when Steve leads Eddie to his bedroom, lies down on the farthest side of the bed. Leaves deliberate space.

“You don’t have to—there’s a guest room,” Steve says, tongue thick with exhaustion. “Don’t wanna—kinda worried I’ll hit your dressings in my sleep.”

Eddie looks at him from the doorway. “You’ve been patched up too, Steve,” he points out.

Steve shrugs.

Eddie steps into the room. “It’ll be fine,” he says, smiling. “We’ll both be gentle, huh?”

Steve nods through a yawn. When Eddie makes to shut the door, he says, “Don’t, leave it open. Just—just in case the phone… I’ll sleep right through it otherwise.”

Eddie’s still touching the door handle. “D’you trust me?”

Steve’s eyes keep closing against his will. “Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, I trust you.”

Eddie shuts the door so quietly that it barely makes a sound. “Okay. ‘Cause I have, like, freakishly good hearing.” Through his lashes, Steve sees Eddie smirk wryly. “Like a bat.”

Steve thinks he makes a noise of acknowledgement—isn’t quite sure as his eyes have closed.

He feels Eddie lie down next to him, feels the covers being drawn up.

“I’ll hear the phone,” Eddie says. “I’ll answer it, ‘kay? I’ll come wake you up, if I need to.”

A gentle hand on Steve’s forearm.

“Promise,” Eddie says.

Steve breathes in. Out.

“Okay,” he replies, and he falls asleep completely: not needing to stay half-awake, not needing to pick up the phone—not needing to do anything at all.

[syluscore]

I Would Never Let You F**k Me

~Leon Kennedy x fem! Reader~

Word count: 1196

This is my writing for @myrarenee ‘s ask that I have copied below:

This isn’t really a question but I think a Leon Kennedy smut where he hacks his best friends camera system and watches her fuck herself with his names on her lips. And one day she get snippy and says “id never let you fuck me” or something of the sort. He just grips her jaw and says “Sweetheart, I’ve been watching you fuck yourself while moaning my name.” “Why don’t we make it real this time”

!!!!!!!MINORS DNI! GHOSTKENNEDY IS STRICTLY 18+!!!!!!!

“But our babies would be so cute. It’s theoretical, you can agree to a stupid deal that probably won’t come to fruition,” Leon teased you. The both of you lazily sat on the couch, watching some shitty rerun on TV that you weren’t really paying attention to. You’d be lying to yourself if you claimed this whole conversation between the two of you didn’t make your heart flutter in your chest. He’s your best friend, the only guarantee in your life. Everything could go to shit and Leon would still show up and show out for you. You’d been crushing on him since the two of you met so many years ago.

He could so easily jokingly flirt with you, because unlike you, he wasn’t repressing feelings in order to preserve your friendship. You’ve fucked up so many things in your lifetime and you refused to let Leon be another one. All you could do was shake your head, “We are full ass adults, Leon. You don’t need some agreement with someone to marry and have kids if you don’t have it figured out in ten years. You’ll find somebody and will breed your spawn, you will be just fine.”

You stared at Leon as he pouted at you. Once this man had his mind set to something, it was impossible to persuade him another way. You sighed before speaking, “You do realize babies don’t magically appear right? Like we’d have to have sex to make one. Me, you, fucking. That thought alone should be enough to get your mind off your ridiculous deal.” He gasped and acted horrified at the mere thought, clutching his chest causing you to laugh hysterically. 

“Are you trying to hurt my feelings? I don’t think I’m that bad in bed, good god. I think we’d figure it out just fine,” he continued to insist on his idea. All you could do was roll your eyes at him. “Hey don’t roll your eyes at me! I haven’t had any complaints from the ladies who have taken a ride on the Leon-” you couldn’t bare to let him finish his sentence.

You snapped, “Just drop it okay? I would never let you fuck me.” Your tone was so much harsher than you intended, but you were desperate to drop this conversation. You didn’t want to go there with him right now. It’d be putting too much at stake and you couldn’t allow anything to ruin your friendship. A hurt look washed over Leon’s face and you felt so guilty. You were getting ready to apologize, to back track, maybe even just agree to his little idea, but then a smirk slowly grew on his face. He can be so confusing at times.

“Liar,” he suddenly proclaimed and you cocked an eyebrow up at him. You were ready to ask him what he meant by that before he continued on, “What do you think about when you touch yourself, hmm? And don’t fucking lie to me.”

You blinked at him, trying to comprehend if he really just said that. “Excuse me-” you started, ready to give him an earful about how inappropriate his behavior was. How none of that is any of his business.

He wasn’t having any of it though. He reached out for you, gripping your jaw tightly, making you stare right into his eyes. “I’ve been watching you, watching how you fuck yourself while moaning out for me. Moaning my name and holding back all those little noises you make. Watching your face as you cum while begging me to fuck you. So yes, you are a liar. How about you be honest with me and tell me exactly what you think about while touching yourself and maybe, just fucking maybe, I’ll give you what you’ve been wanting,” he said in a low, husky voice. Between his firm grip on your jaw and the way he was speaking to you, your traitorous pussy was becoming wet extremely fast.

“How?” you questioned him in an embarrassingly shaky voice. Your throat had run dry, your body slightly trembling as your nerves grew and your anxiousness peaked.

He snickered at you, “Yeah, the government training didn’t teach me anything. Surely, I wouldn’t be able to hack into some pesky little cameras. I gotta be honest sweetheart, the security system you installed is a joke. Someone could so easily access them and watch all the dirty little things you do when you think no one is watching.” With the grip he had on your jaw, he slowly pulled you closer to him until your faces were just inches apart. “Now, you still haven’t answered my question. Cmon, it’s just me, you can tell me,” he told you in a condescending tone.

“I-I,” you struggled to speak between your dry mouth and jumbled thoughts. He gripped your jaw tighter, raising his eyebrows as if he was daring you to test him. “I think about what it’d be like if you tied me up and did whatever you wanted with me,” you tried to turn your head away to avoid his gaze, but his grip on your jaw only got tighter. He gently nodded his head, encouraging you to continue. “I think about you forcing your cock down my throat and telling me how I’m such a good girl for you. About how pretty your cock must be. How you’d spank me if I disobeyed you,” you spoke softly and he hummed in response.

“Sometimes I fantasize about you bending me over and fucking me roughly in front of others. Showing them how well I take your cock. How hard I let you fuck me,” you confessed as you both slowly leaned in closer and closer to each other. “You’d mark me up so everyone knows I belong to you. You’d make sure every step I take for the next week reminds me of you and your cock,” you told him as he closed the gap between your mouths.

His hand slipped from your jaw to your hair as he pulled you impossibly closer. The kiss started slow and sensual, but quickly turned messy and desperate. Leon didn’t leave a single millimeter of your mouth untouched by his tongue.

Without breaking the kiss, he pulled you on top of him to straddle him. You wrapped your arms around his neck as his hands traveled down your sides until they landed on your ass, giving your cheeks a tight squeeze in his big, strong hands. You couldn’t help but whimper beneath his touch.

He pulled away from the kiss, a line of saliva still connecting your mouths together as you both greedily sucked in breaths. Leon reached his hand up, breaking the line of saliva and running his thumb across your bottom lip. He slowly pushed his thumb past your lips and you instantly wrapped your mouth around the digit, sucking it as you stared into his eyes. A moan slipped past his lips at the sight of you like this.

“What do you say sweetheart? Why don’t we make it real this time? You can show me just how much you’d never let me fuck you.”

~masterlist~

[genshin-scenarios]

pls pls pls more spiderverse lyney soup pls pls

After the events of Lyney's spiderverse story here...

It's been a week since the fight against the great narwhal, and neither Lyney nor Lynette have been at school.

The bitter part of you wants to be glad about it, but in truth, you were only left perplexed and scattered. How could they be the Phantom Twins? And how could Lyney have known about your true identity this entire time?

How long has he known? How did he find out? Was your entire friendship, and whatever else that was budding in between, all a lie?

"Please don't be mad."

You grit your teeth, slamming your locker door shut. It's Monday again, but this time, you spot a familiar shade of ash-blond dart around the corridor.

The twins are back again, but Lyney is uncharacteristically avoidant - he speaks to everyone normally but even your eyes on him are enough to make his posture shrink. And you don't know what to make of the flip in your stomach whenever he refuses to meet your eye.

Was this an act, too?

You don't know if you'd rather he be genuine or a great deceptor.

-

By the time you've become numb to the fact that Lyney had known your identity and somewhat-betrayed your trust, the boy in question was still tip-toeing around you.

It's almost impressive, considering how it's been a month. You've spent many restless nights coming to terms with the situation. It's time to move on.

...But why did he have to be a Phantom Twin of all things?! And the more annoying one, too!

"You're no longer mad at us." Lynette observes, while you're both working on a paired task. "But there's something on your mind."

You hadn't been as close to Lynette in the past, but since her brother has been avoiding you like the plague, she's taken the initiative to reassure you that both her and the third agent that night (Freminet) do not intend to spill your secret. Even their higher-ups won't know of it.

"I hope you will be able to do the same for us. While I cannot guarantee that we will never face each other again on the field, we are all still teenagers at the end of the day."

Teenagers who swing from rooftops and risk their lives every other weekend - but you understood what she was trying to say.

"How come you've never asked me to talk to Lyney?" You ask.

"Because he'll never forgive me if I pushed you into an artificial conversation." She hums, writing down notes. "Despite how he seems, my brother is quite a romantic and was very stricken with you. I'm afraid if you went up to him only to tell him off, he might never show his face in public ever again."

You tell Lynette she's exaggerating. She shrugs and returns to writing your report.

You decide to put Lyney out of his misery by cornering him after this class. Granted, the method sounded a little aggressive, but it was truly the only way for you to face him for more than ten seconds before he tried to evade you again.

"Ah, are you here to borrow the lab notes? I'm almost done, so I'll get out of the-"

"Lyney." You stamp your hand on the pile of papers, just as he placed his worksheet onto the top. Lyney tries to free it, fails, and hesitates. "I'm not mad anymore."

In the privacy of the empty room, Lyney's gaze drops to his feet. "...Not mad about what?"

Feigning ignorance? Or trying to pretend like nothing happened?

You lick your lips, thinking about what you should say. Subconsciously, you lean against the hand that's still placed atop the papers. It partially cages Lyney against the desk. "Well, I had a dream recently that someone close to me had a big secret, and it really changed the way I saw him."

Lyney desperately wants to say that your words are the only thing he's paying attention to, but when you're this close, his eyes can't help but dart between your arm and your moving lips. He can feel his guilt and feelings for you knot together, choking him. "I see. In what way did your opinion change?"

"I suppose that's up to you." At that, Lyney snaps out of his nerves in newfound surprise. "What were your intentions after you found out who I was? Did you only try to get close to me as part of some scheme?"

A pause. You continue. "Or did you think of it as some sort of game?"

When the show is over, only those behind the stage know what is real after the curtain call.

You think back to his initial animosity against Spiderman, and how it shifted. You think about his initial charms which have softened from rose-colored to fleeting lilac as you started to get to know the 'real' Lyney.

Then, how it all came to a halt as the same purple gaze trembled with strain.

"Playing with my knowledge was never my intention," he says, "to be honest, you stopped being a pursuit to me the moment I started to care about you." Lyney meets your eyes. "Even before finding out, I'd already... and I know you might not believe me, but knowing who you are didn't change my mind one bit. Manipulating you was the last thing on my mind."

"Then what was the first?"

"That the person I'm falling in love with was destined to be my foe." His lips press into a line. "That I didn't know how I'd face you the next day if I caused an injury that couldn't heal. That I didn't know how many sorries would be enough if I did expose you, and changed your life for the worst."

A beat. A reply.

"The first thing I thought of after I left the water, was that I've never seen you so scared." You admit. Your heart is in your throat. "Stupid, isn't it? Instead of worrying about my safety, I was thinking about how worried my enemy looked about my reaction. If you really were just trying to bait me with feelings, I guess that worked-"

Something warm cups your cheeks. Lynette's always said that her brother's blood ran hot.

You didn't realize you'd started crying.

"I don't know what I have to do to convince you of this, but I'd carve out my heart to prove it to you if I could." Lyney leans close like he's uttering a prayer. A fire in his eyes is trying to burn your fears away, but a million regrets are swirling in his gaze, too. "If I'm lying, you should be the last person beating yourself up over it. Just give your anger to me."

You take a deep breath, steadying your voice. Despite yourself, you laugh. "That's not a very healthy solution."

"I deserve it." His hands start to fall away. "I know it's out of our control, but I shouldn't have called out your name and-"

The sound of items crashing to the ground interrupt him. From behind Lyney, a cat has snuck in through the window and pushed all the items from the shelves onto the floor.

"Meow." It greets.

A part of you regrets how fast Lyney's warmth leaves you when you step away, but try to focus on the feline intruder. "Just how did you climb all the way up here?" You ask, about to pick it up to return it outside when the cat leaps from on top of the shelf and over your head.

"Look out!"

In a matter of moments, the world topples over and is blanketed by worksheets fluttering to the floor. You've fallen onto the ground while trying to dodge the cat, who's landed on the desk and sent the papers flying in the air.

And Lyney, who was behind you, had tried to shield you - only to find himself in a precarious position, with his arms propped around your sides and caging you against the ground. He's keeping himself hovering above you, but his ears are turning red. "A-Are you alright?"

"Lynette was right." Your mouth starts moving before you can think. "We should've talked sooner. You've already lost all your silver-tongued charm."

"I don't think all the charm in the world would be able to express what I'd want to you." Lyney seems to have returned to normal, save for his blush. As he sits up, he pulls you with him so that the both of you are still close together. "Was that a bit of your vigilante that I heard?"

"What can I say? I only know how to crack jokes at the worst times." You smile. "I'm surprised you haven't tried taunting me yet. Not as mean as you tried to seem?"

"I'll only be mean if you want me to be."

The thought makes you flush. "What kind of-"

But before you can finish, the door swings open. There stands a calm Lynette and concerned Freminet.

"Oh? I see the two of you have made up. Quite dramatically, in fact. Good work, brother."

"Wait, Lynette-"

"We'll delay the teachers a little longer." The door clicks closed.

You burst out laughing at the way Lyney's holding his face in his hands. "Your sister's great."

"I'm glad at least you're amused." He mutters, peeking over his fingers with a cute furrow in his brow. "I take it that this means we're friends again?"

You hum thoughtfully, taking one of his hands to entwine yours together. "Just friends?"

The way Lyney's pupils dilate might just be worth the trouble you both went through, to get here.

-

Post-resolution headcanons!

The Phantom Twin's missions and yours still clash from time to time, but since you're aware of each other's identities, there's a lot more diplomacy. The twins have told their Father that after the battle with the narwhal, a new truce of sorts has been established. Arlecchino has decided not to pry.

Lyney is still insufferable in his masked form. You're convinced that it's just part of the persona he puts on during his work - and despite knowing it's him, your dynamics don't change too much when interacting as Spiderman and Phantom Twin. There's less anger and aggravation from you, replaced with exasperation and competitiveness. You'd like to think it's a healthy separation of your private and public lives. You're guilty of having your own superhero-personality, too.

Lyney and Spiderman however? It's almost uncanny how his civilian self slips into a sharp, knowing gaze and asks leading questions to you. He's always careful about looking too comfortable with Spiderman, but aids you in figuring out villain schemes in a subtle way. You wonder with a chill if that's what his expressions look like under his mask during his agent work. And what other personas he may have under his belt (surely they also functioned with other disguises, rather than just the Phantom Twins)

Oh, but as just Lyney and the regular you? He's happy to partake in your diagrams and investigation files, so long as it doesn't affect the House of Hearth's business. This is where you get the chance to appreciate and witness Lyney's wit, which he often hides behind his cleverly charming personality. If he catches you staring, he smiles. It's been a while since he'd stopped getting flustered from being admired by you.

And as the regular you and Phantom Twin Lyney... it's a rare occurrence, but Lyney's good at greeting you in passing with a small nod or glance. If you're stuck in between one of his fights, however... you may or may not be prone to joining in with a haphazard weapon (the last one was a metal pipe) to whack the pursuer over the head with. Lyney has to admit it was very hard not to kiss you on the spot.

Your version of the upside-down Spiderman kiss is you hanging from the monkey bars in the gym or other sort of furniture, surprising Lyney with a smile. The two of you are too careful to do such a thing the traditional way, with you in your hero-form and sneaking a kiss in the night. But Lyney won't say he hasn't daydreamed about it. If only both your lives weren't so riskily intertwined!

Regular dates include cute cafe visits, studying in the library, in either of your homes... your favorite memory is when Lyney cooked for you during a sleepover, and you played a range of board and console games with his siblings before turning in for the night.

...You'd woken up with Lyney clinging to you, unsure of how you'd shifted closer in your sleep. A polaroid of that day still sits in your wallet. You suppose if anyone ever tried to find out your or the Snezhevich siblings' identities, you'd just play the fool and proudly label the cute ashen-blond as your boyfriend.