#tw: really dark vent time

[demigod-of-the-agni]

Forgive me, forgive me. I ask, I beg, I pray, but it never comes.

You know I find it incredibly bewildering to see just how much kalki reflects myself in him like YEAH Duh of course he does, he’s my little guy it’s like his full time job. But at the same time he is a fully functional facet of my being and he is at the mercy of my whimsies, and whatever he discovers in his arduous journey of self realisation is ultimately a reflection of what I discover in the real world. It’s also incredibly funny because ffxiv lore for dark knights is really baked into the idea of (re)discovering yourself amongst the bloodshed and continuing to live and love and thrive despite the world working against us. who would have thought such a raw message could come from an mmorpg side quest about edgy emo boys of all places

also adamantite armour of fending i would lay down my LIFE for u

variant + phone bg version + ID below the cut

tch as if you guys are actually going to use artwork of my little guy as your phone background. i know. how dumb. let a girl dream. i should make an alternate version but it's of Fray and Myste

[START ID: A picture with a red background focusing on the character's bust that is placed to the left of the image's centre. He is coloured with a dark blue overlay, contrasting with the red background. He has brown skin, long black hair that falls over his shoulders, and is wearing blue and gold armour and earrings. He is looking at the viewer, right eye dark brown and the left an glowing unnatural red, with an expression that looks determined and angry and yet bitter and forlorn. In the foreground and on the right side of the piece, a miniature version of the character stands coloured in a light blue overlay and wearing the same blue and gold armour, looking as if he is glowing. He is facing towards the left of the piece, or perhaps at the character bust, his expression unreadable. Above the miniature character's head is the symbol representing the FFXIV dark knight, coloured in gold. END ID.]

[somelazyassartist]

I don't know why random bursts of nostalgia happen but I am very very suddenly sad that the bowling alley my grandma used to play at got shut down a few years ago. And that I will never be 7 years old again, sitting in the backseat of her car at 11pm on a Wednesday, half asleep because it's far past my bedtime, with a box of half-eaten tater tots and burgers in my lap (which the cook always cut into a heart shape for me when I tagged along after school) and my backpack full of homework and the whole A Series of Unfortunate Events collection next to me, sleepily crunching my way through a box of Boston Baked Beans (given to me by a now long gone family friend), listening to the oldies rock station and the soft rumbling her car makes and trying not to fall asleep so I can ask mom to read me a story before bed when I get home. I miss the bowling alley so much sometimes.

[rosesradio]

.

[traumacodedtransbitch]

I hate that I can never get rid of that embarrassment and shame about who I am. I'm embarrassed at my social skills. At my interests and passion. My breakdowns over nothing. How I express myself. I've spent my life feeling like an utter embarrassment and shame because of who I am. Ever since I was a child and dealt with the trauma of being ridiculed and bullied for who I was. Being neurodivergent in this society is a living nightmare. I can't just be normal and carry on with my life. I can't just explain my feelings without feeling fucking weird about them, because how do I in a way that actually makes sense? Why do I fall apart at the smallest trigger?

I can't enjoy my life normally. I can't function normally. I'm either obsessed or can't be asked. What the fuck am I doing with my life? Who the fuck am I anymore?

[applecaviar]

Hey love, your LADs fics are 🥵🔥🫠.

If you are accepting requests, could you pls write a College AU with the LADS men?

A study sesh leads to smut (can include love confession if not in established relationship).

Have a lovely day/night~ 💖

I hope I did it right. Enjoy!

College AU with the LADS men 🎓

Part 1: Zaynexreader

TW: SMUT

**Both reader and Zayne are Med students**

Zayne looks up from his textbook, his eyes meeting yours as you walk into his dorm room. His room is tidy, almost clinically so, really different from your own chaotic space down the hall. Zayne has always been the organized one, the responsible one, while you...well, you were something else.

"Your room is still a disaster zone, I take it?" he asks, arching an eyebrow. When you smile and nod, he laughs softly and shakes his head. "I don't know how you manage to live in such chaos."

Zayne's gaze drifts over your textbooks stacked in your arms, his eyes narrow slightly as he takes in your appearance, noting the dark circles under your eyes and the way you seem to be running on pure adrenaline. He sets his textbook aside and leans forward, elbows resting on his knees.

"Tell me you got some sleep last night," he says, there is concern in his voice. "You look exhausted, y/n. I know this semester has been tough on you." he looks at you like a parent waiting for their child to confess to staying up too late. "And your test?" he asks when you don't immediately answer. "How did it go?" Zayne knows you had an important test this morning. He's been quietly supportive, offering to quiz you or just listening as you vented about the material leading up to it.

"I survived," you sigh, as you flop down on the bed across from Zayne's desk. "But I don't think I did as well as I needed to. I swear, every time I think I've got it, I realize there's a whole other layer to learn."

You groan, burying your face in one of his pillows for a moment before sitting back up to look at him "I don't know how you do it Zayne. Don't you ever just want to give up?"

He stands and walks over to his mini fridge, pulling out a bottle of water. "Here, drink this. You look dehydrated." Zayne gives you the bottle before sitting on the edge of his bed next to you. His brow furrows with concern as he watches you drink deeply from the water bottle, his eyes searching yours.

"Y/n, how many hours of sleep did you actually get last night?"

"Two," you say quietly. " Maybe a little more". His expression softens as he listens to you. He knew you were pushing yourself too hard, but hearing the confirmation of just how little sleep you'd gotten hits him like a punch to the gut.

"Lay down for a bit. I'll wake you up in two hours, and we can continue with your study session then." There's a gentle authority in his voice, Zayne's not going to let you talk your way out of this one. He knows you need the rest, and will make sure you get it.

As you hesitate, he reaches out to take the now empty water bottle from your hands, setting it aside on the nightstand. His fingers linger on yours for just a moment, a silent plea for you to listen to him.

"Please," he murmurs, his eyes holding yours. "You can't keep doing this. You need to take care of yourself if you want to make it through this program." His other hand comes up to cup your cheek, thumb brushing softly over the dark circle beneath your eye. It's a tender gesture, full of care and concern. He's not just your study partner and best friend, he's the one person who truly sees you, exhaustion and all.

"Fineeeee, whatever you say Dr Zayne"

He watches as you lay down on the bed, your head coming to rest on the pillow. He feels a bit of concern seeing you so drained, but also a sense of relief that he convinced you to get some much needed rest. Almost as soon as your head touches the pillow, your eyelids flutter shut and your breathing evens out.

You startle awake, your heart racing. You're not used to sleeping so deeply, especially not in the middle of the day. As you blink the sleep from your eyes, you become aware of a warm, solid presence next to you on the bed. Turning your head slowly, you find yourself face to face with Zayne, his body next to yours. He must have dozed off while you were sleeping, still clutching his textbook in his hands, now lying open and forgotten. Soft snores escape his slightly parted lips, a light frown etched between his eyebrows as if even in sleep, he's focused on the complex medical diagrams. He looks almost boyish in sleep, the hard lines of his face softening, a lock of dark hair falls across his forehead, and there's a vulnerability to his stillness that makes your heart clench. For a moment, you just watch him, taking in the gentle rise and fall of his chest, the long lashes casting shadows on his pale cheeks. Then, carefully, you reach out and pluck the textbook from him setting it aside. Zayne stirs slightly at the loss of the book, but doesn't wake. In sleep, his hand finds yours, as he settles closer to you. Your fingers intertwine instinctively, and you feel a rush of warmth spread through you at the contact.

You feel the heat of Zayne's breath ghosting over your face. Even in sleep, he seems drawn to you, his hand tightening around yours as if he's afraid you might disappear if he lets go. A soft blush rises to your cheeks at the intimacy of the moment, at the way Zayne's face is inches from your own. Your heart starts to race for a different reason now, a fluttering sensation that has nothing to do with the sudden awakening and everything to do with the man next to you.

You've shared countless study sessions, late night talks, and inside jokes with Zayne, but this...this feels different. More intimate. More charged with a tension you've never dared to acknowledge before. His eyelids flutter, and for a moment you think he might wake. You hold your breath, but he doesn't wake. Instead, he just sighs softly, his breath fanning over your lips. You know you should pull away, give him space, but you find yourself rooted to the spot. Captivated. Your free hand comes up to brush a lock of hair from Zayne's forehead, your fingertips lingering on the soft skin. He's so warm. So real. So...inviting.

You swallow, your mouth suddenly dry despite the water Zayne had given you earlier. Your tongue darts out to wet your lips, and you see Zayne's eyes flutter open at the movement. For a moment, you're frozen, caught in the hazel gaze that seems to see right through you. Then, slowly, Zayne's eyes focus on you. Confusion clouds them for a moment before a flicker of something else, something hotter, sparks in their depths. His grip on your hand tightens.

"You're awake," he murmurs, his voice husky from sleep. His gaze drops to your mouth, stays there for a long, charged moment. You feel your heart pounding against your ribs, your breath coming faster. The air between you feels thick, heavy with a tension you've never dared to put a name to before. His thumb brushes over your knuckles, a sensual caress that sends a shiver up your spine. "How are you feeling?" he asks, but there's something else to his question, a double meaning that makes your cheeks flush hotter. And you know you should answer, should break this moment with a silly comment or a joke but you can't seem to find your voice. You're too busy drowning in the heat of Zayne's eyes too busy wanting...wanting more. Wanting to close the small distance between you and feel his lips on yours, wanting to tangle your fingers in his hair and pull him closer until there's no space left between your bodies.

But you don't. You can't. Because this is Zayne. Your best friend, the one person you trust above all others. The one person you can't afford to mess this up with, so instead of giving in to the temptation, you take a deep, shuddering breath and try to gather your composure. You wet your dry lips again, your voice a bit husky as you manage to choke out an answer.

"I...I feel better," you whisper, your eyes still locked with his. "Thank you for...for letting me sleep." It's a clumsy reply, but it's the best you can manage in this moment.

Zayne's eyes search yours for a moment, as if trying to find the true meaning behind your words. Then, slowly, he nods and starts to sit up, his hand sliding from yours and leaving you feeling suddenly cold. "I'm glad, you needed the rest." He glances at the clock on the wall and frowns slightly. "I'm afraid I may have let you sleep a little longer than we intended though."

He starts to gather up the scattered pages of his textbook, his movements a little stiff, a little self-conscious. It's clear that he's feeling the shift in the atmosphere as much as you are. "We should probably get back to studying," he says, not meeting your gaze as he stacks the pages neatly. "You've got that big test coming up, and you need to be ready." He says it lightly, but there's a tightness to his voice that wasn't there before. A tension that has nothing to do with the impending test.

You nod slowly, sitting up as well and swinging your legs over the side of the bed. You feel a little unsteady, a little off-balance. And it's not from the sudden awakening.

"Yeah," you agree softly. "You're right. I should get back to it."

You stand up, stretching slightly to work the kinks out of your muscles. As you do, you catch Zayne watching you from the corner of your eye, his gaze intense and unreadable. A shiver runs down your spine at the weight of it, and you quickly busy yourself with straightening out the rumpled blanket on the bed, avoiding his stare. "I'll just...I'll just go freshen up real quick" You say, hurrying towards the bathroom, needing to put some space between you, to collect your racing thoughts and calm the frantic pounding of your heart.

Once you are in the bathroom you splash water on your face, and take a few deep breaths, trying to will the blush from your cheeks. But no matter how much cold water you use, you can't seem to banish the memory of Zayne's sleep-roughened voice, the heat of his breath on your face, the way his hand felt curled around yours.

You shake your head sharply, pushing the thoughts away. You can't afford to think like that, not about Zayne. He's your rock, your constant, the one person you know you can always count on. You can't risk destroying that.

Squaring your shoulders, you take one last deep breath and step back out into the bedroom. Zayne is sitting on the bed, his textbooks spread out in front of him, his glasses perched on his nose as he scans the pages intently. For a moment, he looks like a picture of concentration, the very image of the dedicated medical student. As you approach, he glances up, and you see the flicker of something else in his eyes. Something warmer. Something that makes your heart stutter in your chest. "Is everything all right?" he asks softly, a note of genuine concern in his voice. He stands up, taking a step towards you, and you find yourself looking up at him, your breath catching in your throat.

"I...yes," you manage to say, your voice a little steadier than before. "Everything is fine.

"Good," he says, and there's a quiet satisfaction in his voice. He gestures to the bed, "It will be good for us to review the material together," Zayne continues, his voice warm and encouraging. "We can go over the key points and make sure you've got a solid grasp of everything before the test"

He steps closer to you, his hand coming to rest lightly on the small of your back as he guides you towards the bed. The touch is innocent, a gesture of friendship and support "Sit down," his breath stirring the hair at your temple. "Let's get to work."

Zayne watches as you chew thoughtfully on a grape, your eyes scanning the medical text. Hours have passed, and despite the late hour, you're both still engrossed in the material, determined to ensure you're fully prepared for the upcoming test. As Zayne sits in his chair, he flips to a new page in his textbook, his brow furrowed in concentration. When he glances up at you, ready to ask a question, he notices a small, glistening droplet of grape juice on your lower lip.

For a moment, he's distracted, his focus torn between the anatomical diagram on the page and the tempting sight before him. He clears his throat softly, trying to regain his train of thought.

"Y/n," he begins, his voice a little rougher than before. "What are the primary symptoms of acute kidney injury?"

As he waits for your response, Zayne finds himself leaning forward slightly, his gaze still fixed on your mouth. The drop of juice on your lip, threatening to drip down at any moment.

He swallows hard, his heart beating a little faster in his chest. He knows he should look away, should focus on the important task at hand. But he can't seem to tear his gaze away from the mesmerizing sight of you.

Finally, as if sensing his stare, you glance up from the textbook. Your eyes meet his, and for a moment, time seems to slow. Zayne's breath catches in his throat as he realizes he's been caught staring, his pulse jumping at the realization.

"The primary symptoms are...decreased urine output, blood in the urine, swelling in the legs or ankles, nausea, and fatigue." You begin, your voice clear and confident despite the late hour.

As you speak, he watches, as the grape juice slowly slides down the curve of your lip. It leaves a glistening trail in its wake, a path that draws his eye like a magnet.

"And then there's the secondary symptoms," you say, unaware of the effect you are having on him "Hematuria, azotemia, electrolyte imbalances..."

As you speak, he feels a sudden, overwhelming urge to close the distance between you, to lean in and catch that glistening drop of grape juice with his tongue.

When the thought hits him it leaves him momentarily breathless. In this moment, with the late hour and the intensity of your study session, he finds himself fighting with a desire he's long suppressed.

As you wrap up your explanation, Zayne quickly looks down at his textbook, needing a moment to collect himself. He clears his throat, trying to will away the sudden tightness in his pants and the heat rising in his cheeks.

"That's...that's correct, y/n," he manages to say, his voice a little rougher than intended. "You've got a solid grasp of the material. That's impressive."

You smile at Zayne's praise, feeling a surge of pride and accomplishment. The late-night study session had been intense, but seeing the approval in his eyes made it all worthwhile. As your smile widened, the droplet of grape juice that had been perched on the curve of your lower lip began its descent.

Zayne, already on edge and distracted by his sudden surge of desire, doesn't hesitate. Acting on pure instinct, he reaches out and across the short distance between you, his thumb outstretched. In a soft gesture, he brushes his thumb along your chin, catching the errant drop of juice before it can fall any further. The touch is brief but electric, sending a shiver down your spine.

Before you can react, Zayne's thumb trails upwards, coming to rest gently on the plush, soft skin of your lower lip. His eyes flick up to meet yours, and in that moment, the air between you feels charged with a new energy. His gaze is intense, his eyes searching yours as his thumb lightly traces the curve of your lower lip. He's waiting for a reaction, for any sign that you feel it too this sudden, undeniable spark of attraction that's impossible to ignore.

His voice is a low murmur, almost a whisper, when he finally speaks. "You had a little... grape juice," he explains unnecessarily, his thumb still resting on your lip. "I just... I couldn't let it go to waste."

He feels his breath hitch in his throat as your small, pink tongue darts out and laps at the remnants of the grape juice on his thumb. The sensation of your wet, warm tongue against his skin sends a jolt of electricity straight through him, settling heavily in his lower abdomen.

"Now it won't," you say softly

As you hold his gaze, Zayne feels the last of his restraint slipping away. The walls he's built to keep his feelings locked away, crumble like sandcastles against a tide.

Slowly, giving you every opportunity to pull away, Zayne leans in closer. His other hand comes up to cup your cheek, his long fingers splaying gently against the warm, smooth skin. He tilts your chin up slightly, angling your face towards his.

"I've wanted to do this for so long, y/n," he confesses. The scent of his words is tinged with the faint aroma of the grapes you were eating, a heady and intoxicating combination. His eyes flick down to your lips, now glistening and parted slightly from your earlier actions.

"Tell me to stop," he whispers, his voice strained with tension. "Tell me you don't feel this too, and I'll stop. But god, I need to know if you want this as much as I do."

Your heart races as you feel Zayne's breath mingling with yours, his lips now centimeters away from your own. The heat of his skin, the intensity of his gaze, it's all so overwhelming and intoxicating.

"Don't stop," you breathe out, your voice barely above a whisper. It's all you manage to say before you close the final centimeter of space between you, your lips pressing softly against his. The moment your mouths meet, it's like a spark igniting a wildfire. Zayne's lips are soft and firm against your own, molding to the contours of your mouth as if he was made to fit there.

You hear a low groan escape from the back of his throat as you deepen the kiss. His fingers tighten slightly on your cheek, his thumb brushing over the apple of your cheekbone. You press closer, your hand coming up to tangle in the short, dark hair at the nape of his neck. Your fingers thread through the silky strands, anchoring him to you as you lose yourself in the sensation of his mouth moving against your own.

Zayne pulls back from the kiss just enough to hook his hands under your armpits. With a gentle but insistent pressure, he lifts you up and out of the bed, bringing your body flush against his own. As his lips claim yours again, his hands slide from your armpits down to your waist. He grips you firmly, his long fingers splaying across the small of your back as he pulls your curves snugly against the hard planes of his own body.

Still lost in the intensity of the kiss, he starts to walk you backwards, his body pressed against yours, until the soft give of a wall meets your back. He breaks the kiss just briefly as your back hits the wall, long enough to flash you a look that's equal parts hunger and desperation. His eyes are dark, the pupils blown wide with desire, and his chest heaves with each breath he takes.

"You drive me crazy," he rasps, his voice strained and rough with want. "If I take you to bed now, I won't be able to hold back. I'll lose control, and I don't want to rush this."

You close the distance once again and your teeth graze his bottom lip "Please Zayne" you whisper.

Unable to resist your urging, Zayne gives in to your demand. He leans into you, allowing you to tug his shirt upwards and expose the toned, muscular chest beneath. His abs are defined, each muscle group carved by years of dedicated discipline. As his shirt clears his head, Zayne captures your wrists in his hands, pinning them gently but firmly against the wall on either side of your head. He looms over you, his larger frame caging you in, his eyes roaming hungrily over your face and body.

"Please, what? Tell me what you want, y/n. I need to hear you say it."

His hips press against yours, the hard, thick length of him evident even through the fabric of his pants. He grinds slowly against you, letting you feel every inch of his desire. His hand releases one of your wrists to cup your jaw, his thumb brushing over your swollen bottom lip. His touch is gentle, a stark contrast to the rough, desperate edge in his voice.

"Tell me," he demands, his gaze intense and unwavering. "Tell me what you need, and I'll give it to you. I'll give you everything."

"Zayne," you breathe out, your voice trembling with desire. "I need you, all of you" You feel his hands grip the backs of your thighs, his long fingers sinking into the soft flesh as he hoists you up. He lifts you effortlessly, your legs automatically wrapping around his waist as he pins you against the wall with his hips. Once he feels your legs secure around him, Zayne's hands slide up, his palms skimming over your thighs and coming to rest on your hips. He squeezes gently, his fingers digging into your curves as he holds you in place. Sensing your movements, Zayne leans back just enough to allow you to remove your shirt. As the fabric falls away, revealing your bare skin and the delicate lace of your bra, his breath catches in his throat.

"Fuck" he breathes out, his gaze hungry as it roams over your exposed flesh. Unable to resist, Zayne leans down and starts to place open-mouthed kisses along the column of your throat. His lips and tongue map out the delicate skin, tasting you, teasing you, as his hands slide up your sides. They come to rest just below the band of your bra, his thumbs brushing the underside of your breasts. He looks up at you, his eyes dark and filled with promise, silently asking for your permission to continue.

You reach back, fingers unhooking the clasp of your bra. The lace falls away, baring you completely to his hungry gaze. He takes a moment to drink in the sight of you, your chest heaving with each breath, your nipples pebbled in the cool air of the room.

"Perfect," Zayne murmurs, his voice a low, appreciative rumble. "Absolutely perfect."

He lowers his head and draws one straining peak into his mouth. His tongue swirls around the sensitive bud, teasing it, before he suckles hard. His other hand kneads the soft weight of your other breast, rolling and plucking at the neglected nipple. Zayne's hips press harder against yours, the thick ridge of his arousal grinding against your core.

"Zayne," you gasp, your head falling back against the wall as pleasure courses through you. "Please, I need more." Your hands fist in his hair, anchoring him to you as he lavishes attention on your breasts. Your legs tighten around his waist, urging him closer, silently begging him to take you.

Zayne releases your breast with a wet pop, his lips moving to your other breast to give it the same treatment. He suckles and nips, his teeth grazing your skin, marking you. His mouth never leaves your breasts as he carries you towards the bed, his lips and tongue continuing their relentless assault on your sensitive flesh. He walks backwards and as the back of his knees hit the edge of the mattress, Zayne sits down, allowing you both to tumble onto the bed in a tangle of limbs. He rolls you over, positioning you beneath him. Zayne's hands roam your body, caressing every curve and dip, as if committing your form to memory.

Still focused on your breasts, he kisses and licks, suckles and nips, until your back arches off the bed and your fingers tangle almost painfully in his hair. Your nipples are reddened and swollen, glistening with his saliva, and aching for more of his touch. Zayne pauses in his ministrations, glancing up at you with a playful smirk as he slowly unzips your skirt. As he removes it he takes in the sight of your blue panties adorned with a tiny snowman.

"I wasn't exactly planning on seducing you tonight," you admit with an embarrassed blush, biting your lower lip. "I didn't think we'd end up like this."

Zayne's eyes soften as he takes in the pretty blush coloring your cheeks and the swell of your breasts. He finds your embarrassment endearing, charming even. It's a rare sight, given how composed and put together you usually are.

Zayne shakes his head and smirks "I'm glad you didn't plan this," he murmurs, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip. "Because if you had, you might not have chosen such...cute underwear"

He glances down at the snowman grinning up at him, then back to your blushing face, his smirk widening into a genuine, boyish grin. "Don't worry, sweetheart. They're perfect. Just like you, but let's get rid of them, shall we?" he whispers, his voice low and seductive "I want to see all of you."

Zayne takes his time peeling your panties down your legs, his fingers grazing your skin. As the fabric slips past your knees, he tosses them carelessly aside, his dark eyes never leaving yours.

When you instinctively close your legs, Zayne pauses, his hands resting on your thighs. "Open them for me, pretty girl," his voice filled with desire. His hands start to slowly push your thighs apart, his thumbs brushing over your inner thighs and sending sparks of pleasure racing through you, and when your legs part for him, his gaze drops to your exposed sex, his eyes darkening with hunger and need.

"Fuck, love," he breathes out, his voice strained. "You're so beautiful. I could look at you for hours." He leans in closer, his breath ghosting over your sensitive flesh, making you shudder in anticipation. He inhales deeply, taking in your scent, before placing a soft, open mouthed kiss to the inside of your thigh. His lips and tongue work their way slowly up your inner thigh. He places kisses to your skin, occasionally grazing it with his teeth, sending jolts of pleasure and pain straight to your core. He takes his time, savoring your taste and scent, drawing out your anticipation and desperation. The closer he gets to your aching, empty sex, the more your hips squirm and cant upwards, seeking his touch.

"Zayne, please," you whimper, your fingers tangling in his hair, trying to urge him on. He nips at the sensitive skin where your thigh meets your sex, making you gasp and your hips jerk involuntarily. He places another kiss, higher this time, his lips brushing against your lower lips. At the same time, he pushes your thighs further apart, opening you up to him completely.

"Tell me what you want," he urges, his breath hot against your cunt. "Tell me how you want me to touch you."

"Please, I need your mouth on me. I need your tongue, your fingers, something."

Without warning, he dives in, his mouth latching onto your sex with a hunger that steals your breath away.He kisses and sucks, his lips moving against your sensitive flesh as he explores every inch of you. His tongue delves between your folds, stroking along your slit and dipping teasingly inside you.

"Mmm, you taste even better than I imagined," Zayne rumbles, his words muffled against your sex. He looks up at you, his eyes glinting as he holds your gaze. "I could feast on this sweet cunt for hours, my love."

He then seals his mouth over your clit, suckling hard as he slides two long fingers deep inside you. He pumps them slowly, curling and twisting, stroking that spot that makes you moan his name. Your back arches off the bed as you cry out, your head thrown back in ecstasy. Suddenly he pauses, looking up at you with a playful glint in his eye. He smirks, his fingers still buried deep inside your throbbing sex. "How about we make this interesting, love? We can practice what you've learned today."

He starts to withdraw his fingers slowly, his thumb brushing over your clit and making you gasp. "Let's start with a simple one. What's the medical term for the heart?" He watches your face, his fingers poised at your entrance, waiting for your response.

"Fuck, it's c-cardio," you stutter out, your voice breathless and shaky with desire.

"Good girl," Zayne purrs, rewarding you with a slow lick along your slit. "What's the primary function of the kidneys?" His fingers dip back inside you, pumping shallowly, teasing you as he waits for your answer. Your hips twitch, trying to pull him deeper, but you force yourself to focus.

"F-filtration and secretion," you manage to say, your words coming out in a rush.

"That's right," Zayne murmurs, placing another lingering lick on your clit before suckling gently, rewarding your correct answer. "The liver's main function?"

"Nghh, m-metabolism and detoxification," you gasp, your head falling back as pleasure courses through you.

"Mmm, excellent. The brain's primary function?"

"I can't....Zayne please..." you pant, your fingers gripping the sheets as you fight the urge to grind yourself against Zayne's face. "I...its controlling and coordinating actions and..and ...activities,"

He wraps his lips around your clit and gently sucks it, his fingers pump faster, curling to stroke that special spot inside you with each thrust. You can feel your release building, your walls starting to flutter around his fingers.

"Lungs' primary function?" Zayne asks, his voice a low rumble against your sex.

"Res...respiration," you cry, your hips bucking up to meet his hand as your climax fast approaches.

"That's my clever girl," Zayne praises, sealing his mouth over your clit and sucking gently once again.

Zayne feels your walls fluttering and clenching around his fingers, knowing you are teetering on the brink of your climax. He looks up at you with intense eyes, his voice low and urgent.

"This is the most important question, my love. How many chambers does the heart have?"

His fingers pump faster, stroking that sensitive spot deep inside you with each thrust. His thumb rubs firm circles over your clit, the pleasure almost too much to bear.

"Four!" you scream, your voice breaking and cracking with the intensity of your impending climax. At your desperate scream of the correct answer, Zayne dives back in, his mouth latching onto your sex with renewed hunger. His tongue circles your clit exactly four times, each rotation perfectly measured and deliberate.

As he completes the fourth rotation, you finally shatter. Your body convulses as your orgasm crashes over you like, your sex clenching and fluttering wildly around his fingers.

Zayne groans, feeling your release gush over his tongue and fingers. He works you through it, his mouth and hands never stopping their assault, drawing out your pleasure until you collapse back onto the bed, boneless and spent.

Zayne crawls up your body, his eyes filled with satisfaction and pride. He cups your face, capturing your lips in a kiss that steals your breath away. You can taste yourself on his tongue, and it only makes you feel more desired.

"Good girl," Zayne praises. "You did so well, my love. I'm so proud of you."

You try to sit up, but Zayne gently but firmly presses you back down onto the bed, his hands resting on your shoulders. He shakes his head, giving you a playful smirk as he tucks you in snugly under the covers, pulling them up to your chin.

"Where do you think you're going, love? You need to rest now," Zayne says softly, his voice filled with a tender warmth that makes your heart flutter. He brushes a stray lock of hair from your forehead, his fingers lingering to caress your cheek.

"You've had a long day. I want you to sleep now, sweetheart. Let your body recover and recharge." He settles in next to you, wrapping his strong arms around your waist and pulling you close, spooning you from behind. He nuzzles into your neck, inhaling the scent of your hair as he holds you possessively, protectively.

His hand rests on your stomach, his thumb rubbing gentle circles, a comforting, lulling motion. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your back and the soothing sound of his voice soon has you both drifting off into a peaceful sleep. Unaware that once you both become respected doctors in your respective fields, you find yourself transported back to this day every time someone mentions the four chambers of the heart.

It could be during a lecture, a patient consultation, or even a casual conversation with a colleague. The moment the words "four chambers" leave their lips, you're instantly transported back to that bedroom, with Zayne's head between your legs, his tongue circling your clit in perfect, deliberate rotations as you screamed out the answer that brought you to the most intense orgasm of your life.

You'll feel a rush of heat to your cheeks, and you'll have to bite back a smile, glancing over at Zayne to see if he was also transported to that moment. More often than not, you catch him looking at you with a knowing, smoldering gaze, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips. You know he's thinking about the same thing.

I

[thecloudsaremyhome]

✧Yandere platonic omega emperor x teen beta reader✧

Summary: you’ve always have been having to look out for yourself no parents to comfort you or protect you no pack to vent to and to feel loved it’s always been just you. Well until you accidentally decided to pick up a job to steel from the feared emperor of your nation that is. How did you end up like this?

Tw: mentions of neglect and abuse, bad parenting and abandonment, yandere behavior and kidnapping and nesting, forced infantization.

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

You've always been alone. Even when you were living with your parents they never treated you like their kid. They where never the best parents but it could've been worse, that's what you've had to constantly tell yourself.

Growing up as a beta in this society was never easy either, you have to constantly prove yourself to everyone is has never been easy to be a beta while alphas and Omega's are looked at very highly

betas are at the bottom of th food chain constantly have to fight for survival an proving themselves to people who just don't give two shits unless your a noble and a alpha or Omega people just don't care.

Half of the commoner Population is betas yet your still looked down upon by everyone for being a beta for not having Omega or alpha traits.

It's sad really I guess your whole existence in this world is to be a disappointment at least that's what your parents used.

To say they were very greedy people guess that's maybe why they sold you off to a strange to make some extra cash because they have no need for you which hurts really badly, you remember it like it was yesterday.

“Mama! Papa! Please don't leave me with them please! Come back!”

You struggle against the grip holding you back from running to your parents who are casually walking away not even sparing you a second glance as Your taken away against your will.

They didn't even seem to care for your cries for help as you put into a large carriage restrained as the people who bought you start the carriage but just before they could ride away your break free From your restraints frantically as you make Break for it out into the open streets away from the dark alleyway you were just as you run down the streets frantically trying to Lose your captors.

But before they could get any closer to your running form your captors accidentally knock over an alpha noble which results in your captors getting scolded, thankfully you managed to get away from them and loose them.

That memory till this day makes you shiver will anxiety. You've always been on edge especially years after that incident hoping they won't find you again.

Even after you were able to escape from your captors you were never able to find your parents it's like they took the chance after they sold you to flee the Capitol you grew up it.

Pathetic well you honestly wouldn't especially anything else from them they where drug addicts and gamblers but still they were your parents and the only family you had.

You didn't have any other family members or pack members well you didn't really have a Pack at all your parents were too conservative and disapproved of the thought which made you feel even more lonely than you already were.

But over time you didn't have to worry about them because they aren't here right now and you have to do everything you can to survive or try to at least.

That's why you resorted to stealing, sadly many jobs accept a 14 year old especially a inexperienced beta at that so you had to resort to stealing to survive,

you removed when you first stole from a shop vender at a market in the more busy parts of the Capitol it felt Exilirating having the wind in you hair an the adrenaline pumping in you veins as guards chance after you.

It felt amazing, so you started to steel more valuable objects for you and some neighbors you live with who can't afford much.

It felt nice helping the people you care about because they are all that you have besides yourself that is.

That was until a Strange man approached you one day while you carried your bah full of stolen gold and food you froze in your tracks as you inspected him caustiously.

He then introduces himself as Ethel a noble man from the South part of the Capitol

he proposed a propersition for you to steal the emperor's crown in exchange for a fortune of gold that you thought could last you a life time.

and it could help the people in your building so you excitedly agree to the offer unknowing of the dangers ahead that will cost you your freedom.

You got this you think to yourself as. You. Anxiously look in the dusty mirror glancing back at yourself. This should be pretty easy right?

And he offered you a fortune to do it so you can't really turn it down now. But what if they catch you? What if they execute you?

The emperor has known to be ruthless every since he killed the previous emperor and empress he has been know to rule with a iron fist and him being an Omega, is even more of a surprise to a lot of people but.

That doesn't make him any less deadly. Snap out of it (name) we don't need to focus on the what ifs just sneak in and sneak out right? Easy?

This is far from easy once you sneakily entered the palace grounds near the entrance.

It was littered with guards stationed from left to right. Luckily Ethel gave you a map of the palace layout.

You didn't want to ask him where he got it nor did you want to know. You sigh in relief as you were able to avoid the first set of guards near the palace garden.

It looks like they are about to switch shifts soon, a perfect chance to sneak in.

You examine the guards placed at the front entrance of the palace. You can’t go through the front that would be to risky. What if you just climbed up? Yeah that could work you could climb uo the palace walls and use your grappling hook!

Then you could break through one of the palace windows and head straight for the royal fault! Perfect plan! But their is a problem their also must be guards, guarding the vault so you’ll have to knock them out which won’t be easy on your part but it’s better to at least try than do nothing.

So with your plan set in motion you grab your grappling hook from your back pack and swing it up towards one of the windows making sure it’s hooked on and steady you start to slowly climb up making sure to make a lookout for any gaurds passing bye just in case.

You grunt in exhaustion as you finally make it up to the windows edge. You grab a screw drider and try to open the window from the other side thankfully it works.

it’s better than breaking the window because you’ve tried that before with a previous robbery and it did not turn out so good so you’ve learned to use the screwdriver for fear rain windows to unlock.

You carefully jump down from the window onto the marble floor taking notice of the surroundings.

Luckily for you it looks like you broke into one of the many spare bedrooms in the large palace. With a large king size bed with a golden headboard and a very soft carpet.

Wow is this what it feels and looks like to be living in royalty. You’d admit you're very jealous but not time to ponder right now you have a mission to complete!

So you exit the spare bedroom and quietly make your way down the hallway making sure to avoid any passing servants or guards patrolling the area.

You sigh as you luckily was able to hide behind a curtain as another passing gaurds walk past you, you grab the map Ethel has gave you as you scan it trying to double check if you are even remotely close to the royal vault, sadly you aren’t.

You don’t even know how the heck Ethel got this map and you don’t want to know when or how it’s really none of your business you're just here to get the job done and that’s all.

Sadly the royal vault is on the other side or the castle which is heavily guarded and you also have to pass the emperor's chambers which is also heavily guarded! Great! So fucking great. You are totally not going to make it out alive.

You rush through the hallways trying to be as stealthy as possible. You finally made it to the other side of the palace havung accidentally allerted the gaurds when you passed the emperors chambers.

you have to do this quick and fucking fast before they alert the emperor and their is a whole fucking search party to capture you.

You pant as you finally make it down an empty hallway as guards rush past you.

You sigh in relief as you take another glance at your map, you just have to pass this hallway then you’ll be the at the royal vault. Hopefully no one will be guarding it since your little mistake.

Thankfully for just your luck no one was guarding it which causes you to use you Bobby pin to pick lock the huge lock on the door. Finally you get the door open but you accidentally trip a wire which sounds off an alarm.

you jump in suprise fearful of your outcome as you quickly grab the crown and rush out the door only for it to be blocked off by gaurd surrounding you blocking your path towards the door. You whimper in fear as you try to hide the crown you stolen. The gaurds glare deadly at you.

Finally the captain of the gaurds a tall and imposing alpha with dark brown hair flowing down his back and a tall structure. He steps forward glaring deadly at you. “What exactly is going on here?”

He states as another more nervous gaurd then says “we caught this beta here tripping the alarm to the vault and stealing the crown captain we already alerted his highness.”

“I see. Apprehend them now and hold them down we need to secure the crown.” The guards nod in approved and pin you down taking away your bag with your supplies and the crown.

You try to fight against their hold but to no use you fail to get them off of you. You feel tears streaming down your face. This is it isant it? Your going to either be executed or rot in jail for the rest of your life?

Just for some fucking stupid fortune you should’ve never taken up this job. Maybe you are a failure like your parents use to tell you.

Unbeknownst to you your upset pheromones reach Eugene the omega emperor he quickly enters the royal vault with two guards standing behind him he takes a look at the situation at hand and his eyes soften. “What exactly is going on here?”

The emperors imposing voice breaks you out of your crying fit as you look up at him in awe at his beauty from his talk muscular built to his long dark black hair to his violet sharp eyes that can represent the stars themselves.

He looks down at you as he speaks eyes soften just a bit as you look at him in suprise. The captain of the guards then speaks

“our guards caught this young beta tripping the wire and stealing the crown your majesty. What shall we do? Shall we execute them or throw them in the dungeon?”

Eugene looks down at you softly, how could anyone hurt someone so precious your scent gives off a sour taste but smells like fresh baby pounder and cherrys.

Oh you look like a baby in his eyes so precious and small he just has to keep you.

“No.” He states firmly glaring at the guards holding you down

“bring then to my chambers in one peace if I see any scratches or bruises on them your heads will be off do you understand?”

The guards nervously shake their heads “yes your majesty!”

The captain of the guards looks at the emperor in shock but shakes his head dismissively. Eugene exits the room swiftly leaving you alone with the gaurds.

You stare in shock at the scene that just occurred.

You can feel your anxiety rising, oh fuck your going to die aren’t you he’s going to kill you himself and there's nothing you can do about it.

You cry frantically trying to get out of the guards grips frantically, you can’t die! No you can’t! You have to get out of here.

Your fight or flight kicks in and you start to slowly have a panic attack as you're crying. You don’t even notice the sterilizer being injected into you before it is too late.

You fall limp on the ground as your struggles cease, you pass out in the arms of one of the guards you vision going black as you finally pass out.

You groggily wake up to the feeling of a soft mattress under you, and a soft pillow-like feeling surrounding you.

Your bed has never been this soft before, wait this isn't your bed. You slowly open your eyes looking around as you take notice of the sunlight peeking through the extravagant window.

You quickly sof uo looking anxiously around the room as you notice you're in a king size bed with pillows and blankets surrounding you to form a nest like structure.

You start to panic trying to get up and out of the nest. But before you can exit the bed a strong force pushes you back down you look up to see the emperor holding you down.

“Shhh it’s okay pup lay back down I know your very sleepy don’t worry daddy will take care of you.” He coos at you looking at you with an obsessive glint in his eyes, you struggle trying to get out of his hold.

but he shushes you as you whine lifting you up into his lap as he lightly brushes his calloused hands through your hair, trying to release calming pheromones to calm down your panicked state

which unfortunate for you it works causing you to unwillingly relax against his hold, which causes him to coo at you.

“it’s okay baby you’ll be okay daddy’s here to take care of you now and forever.” What exactly have you done…can you even make it out? You don’t know but you don’t want to find out…

Authors note: hey y’all I hope you like this one shot I hope its to your liking I tried to make it as long as I could I kinda lost motivation at the end but I wanted to at least give you guys something I’ll defiantly make a part 2!

[cherry-romper]

Hi! Hope you have a nice day. Can I request Mk man with a fem/reader who have a hard time being vulnerable both physically and emotionally especially sexually due of the past traumas and mk man helps them by taking things slower for sake of the reader comfort. Thanks in advance (o^^o)

𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐡𝐜𝐬

+ Lui Kang, Kung Lao, Raiden, Bi-Han, Kuai Liang, Tomas Vrbada, Johnny Cage, Kenshi Takahashi, Syzoth, Shang Tsung. ᥫ᭡ Warnings; TW: the trauma is not mentioned by name but sexual assault is alluded to. ᥫ᭡ Contains; GN!reader, Comfort, Fluff.

Liu Kang;

The most understanding and patient person to ever exist. 

Will absolutely never pressure you into anything and will reassure you when you ask or when he feels like you need it.

Will always ask if what he’s doing is okay, if you’re comfortable and if you are sure. 

You have a wordless understanding, if you’re not feeling it or if you need some time alone, you don’t really have to say anything, he always knows and gives you the space you need.

Kung Lao;

He’s a monk, he’s not big into sexual intimacy anyways. Obviously he’d love to, but it's forbidden, so he’s also fine with just the basics.

Honestly, he thinks you being with him is like a reward. So, he doesn’t feel the need to push things because you’re already with THE Kung Lao. Do you need more than that?

Can be difficult at time to communicate with. Sometimes he only hears the sound of his own heart beating and he can’t see past it but when it comes to really serious conversations his attention is all yours. 

He’s no stranger to trauma, he’s understanding in his own way. 

Raiden;

Incredibly patient, he doesn’t push it at all. You only told him once that you wanted to take things slow because of a dark past and he understood immediately. 

Feels a lot of anger for the people who hurt you, though he won’t seek revenge, he thinks about it. He hates seeing you flinch away from intimacy. 

You can talk freely to him about everything. If you need to vent or a shoulder to cry on or even if you need space for prolonged periods of time, he won’t question it.

Checks up on you throughout the day, when he can. Will being you things too, to make sure you’ve eaten and drank enough. 

Bi-han; 

Took some time coming to terms with the fact that you just don’t want to do certain things. 

Initially, he didn’t understand. He’s mostly just angry that someone hurt you so bad that you can’t trust him, but he also knows what it’s like having to hide things, so he came around. 

Honestly, he doesn’t care about sex. He care more about loyalty and power. So, sex isn’t something on his mind. Prefers pure devotion to him and his cause. 

Doesn’t bring the subject up again. It’s like you never even mentioned it. He just avoids it the best he can. 

Kuai Liang;

Patient and understanding, but pushes you to get professional help.

He prefers having someone who can calm his fire AND match it. A perfect balance. For you to not be able to achieve your full potential because of past events, it makes him upset.

Encourages you to push your comfort zones and face your fears, but will never EVER force you. If you’re uncomfortable and feel overwhelmed or afraid, he’ll stop everything and comfort you. 

Gives the best hugs and pep talks, but is also amazing at giving you your space.

Tomas Vrbada;

Was so upset when you told him about your past. He hates that people are capable of such things. Comforted you immediately and set the ground rules there and then.

Always asks if you’re okay, if you need help, if you need space, if there’s anything he can do to make you feel better. 

Doesn’t baby you, but worries about you a lot. If you’re training, he’ll be watching you like a hawk, not even critiquing you but watching for any signs that you might want to stop, or if you’re uncomfortable with the people around you. 

Same goes for when it’s just the two of you. He’s patient and not going anywhere. He’s fine if you have moments of vulnerability, and deals with them as best he can.

Johnny Cage; 

Takes time to adjust. He forgets himself sometimes. Gets so upset if you flinch away from him and apologies like his life depends on it. 

He loves being around you, so when you ask for your own space he can find it hard because you’re the only thing on his mind. He can help think about how hard of a time you’re having and wants to help take that away. Hates that he can't help.

Has some trouble when it comes to communicating. He never means to make you feel unheard or inadequate, but seems to do it without noticing. He’ll realise after and apologies again.

You both work out a good middle ground, and find a way to make it work without anyone feeling unsatisfied or unhappy. 

Kenshi Takahashi;

Patient but needs to know the details of what he can and can’t do immediately. 

The last thing he wants to do is make you feel bad, so the quicker he knows the details, the better he’ll be able to treat you. 

Takes everything into consideration, and because of his heightened senses, you don’t really need to tell him when you’re not okay, he already knows. 

The whole thing is really easy, and you never need to explain yourself, he just accepts it and helps you the best he can. 

Syzoth;

He knows what it’s like having things taken from him. You don’t need to explain yourself, he knows. 

Is often away on business but writes to you as often as he can, he’ll send you things he think will help cope with the trauma. 

Is so sweet with intimacy and take it at whatever pace you set, he’s also fine with not at all. 

He communicates so well and is also an incredible listener, he’ll always be there for you. Even if he’s on official duty, he’ll take a portal to you if you ask him to, no questions asked. 

Shang Tsung; 

Is shocked to learn about your past and isn’t sure how to react.

He’s not going to make you uncomfortable or belittle you, but he takes time coming to terms with it.

Tries his best with being respectful with your wishes, and communicates his wants and needs well too. 

Can be difficult at times, since sometimes his work ends up coming first and he forgets the things you’ve been through, but once he comes down from his power trip he’s incredibly remorseful and tries his best to make it up to you. 

[syluslnd]

Hello! I am one of the silent readers I truly adore your writing<3!! I just wanted to ask if you could write about the reader and sylus, reader dealing with eating disorder/,body dysphoria,and just has trouble taking care of themselves, snapping once or twice hurt/comfort, heavy comfort,mentions of psyhical issues,consistent pain and cold as well as Sylus gaining readers trust about this specific thing a bit by bit,and how he would act?? You don't have to take this request if it's too much/too dark,it's just something I have been struggling with!!

when your ed consumes your life but sylus sticks with you through it all

tags-angst with eventual comfort,mentions of calories,tw ed

word count 3.9k

(Note-I’m so sorry you’re struggling with this,I think every person struggling with an ED is worthy of recovery,if you feel like you need to vent you can always reach out to me love xx)

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The restaurant is lavish, the kind of place where every meal comes with an air of sophistication. Sylus is calm as always, seated across from you, his dark eyes scanning the menu with ease. You, however, are tense, heart pounding in your chest. Your hands feel colder than usual as you grip the menu, trying to decipher the options.

No calories listed. Panic flickers in your mind, twisting your stomach. How are you supposed to know what to pick? What if it’s too much? What if you can’t control yourself?

You glance around, catching sight of a girl a few tables over. She’s effortlessly thin, her figure draped perfectly in a sleek black dress. You hate how your mind jumps to her. Look at her arms, you think bitterly. She probably doesn’t even have to try. She’s not bloated. She’s not panicking about what she eats.

You lower your eyes, feeling that familiar rush of shame for even thinking that way, but it doesn’t stop the thoughts. The woman across the restaurant is laughing at something her date said, her hair bouncing as she moves, carefree. You wish you could be like that, but every thought is consumed by numbers. How many calories. How much you can eat without spiraling into guilt. Even your skin feels wrong—too thick , too suffocating. You wrap your arms around yourself, feeling the chill that never really goes away.

Sylus clears his throat softly, his gaze flicking up from the menu. “You decide yet?” His tone is light, relaxed, but his words make your chest tighten.

You shift in your seat, staring at the options, willing yourself to choose something, anything that won’t make you feel sick with guilt later. But every meal feels like a minefield. You glance up at him, trying to hide the unease you know must be showing on your face.

“I’m still looking” you mumble, your voice tight. You hate how strained you sound.

Sylus leans back slightly, his brow arching ever so slightly, though his expression stays calm. “Take your time” he says, still polite, though there’s a subtle suggestion in his voice, like he’s trying to gently push you to make a decision.

Something snaps inside you. “well maybe if you didn’t take me to such an unhealthy restaurant I wouldn’t be struggling with what to choose” The words come out harsher than you intended, the panic in your chest twisting into frustration. You can see the surprise in his eyes but he stays composed, watching you carefully, trying to understand.

You instantly regret it, swallowing down the lump in your throat. He didn’t mean anything by it. You know that. It’s not his fault. But now your chest feels too tight, and the pressure of being here, in this fancy restaurant with all these indulgent options, is overwhelming. You’re suffocating in your own thoughts.

Sylus remains calm, though you can see the flicker of concern behind his steady gaze. “I just thought you’d like it sweetie” he says quietly, his voice smooth, without a hint of anger. “You don’t have to eat anything you don’t want to.”

His words are kind but they only deepen the pit forming in your stomach. You force a small, apologetic smile, trying to smooth things over. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it” you murmur, your fingers fiddling with the napkin in your lap.

He nods, and though the moment is awkward, he doesn’t push further, allowing you the space to collect yourself. When the waiter comes by, you order the only thing that feels remotely safe: a Caesar salad, something you know you can control. No dressing, of course and you only plan on picking at it anyway.

When the food arrives, Sylus digs into his meal with an almost graceful ease, cutting his steak neatly, chewing slowly. You watch him for a moment, your mind spinning. How can he just eat like that, so casually, so… politely? Every bite he takes is deliberate, calm. You feel so out of place, like you’re being suffocated by your own fears.

Your salad sits untouched for a while before you finally pick up your fork. The chicken on top looks perfectly cooked but you can’t bring yourself to touch it. Too many calories. Instead, you nibble at the lettuce and croutons, calculating the numbers in your head.

The lettuce is probably only 60 calories. The croutons… maybe 130? You do the math over and over, feeling a mix of disgust and guilt wash over you for even eating that much. It feels like too much. Too indulgent.

Across the table, Sylus glances at your plate, his expression unreadable. “Not hungry?” he asks and his voice is soft, like he’s trying to avoid making you uncomfortable.

You force a smile, pushing the food around your plate. “Just… not much of an appetite today” you lie, hoping he doesn’t press further. But inside, all you can think about is how much you’ve already eaten, how you’ll need to make up for it later. The guilt gnaws at you, making you feel sick.

Sylus doesn’t push but you can feel his eyes on you, watching. It’s like he knows something’s off but doesn’t quite know how to bring it up and as the night drags on, all you can think about is how you’re failing. How every bite feels like a battle you can’t win.

The guilt from last night had been gnawing at you since the moment you woke up. Your mind was set: no food today. No exceptions. The plan felt necessary, like a way to atone for the indulgence you let yourself have. The 60 calories of lettuce, the 130 for the croutons… You couldn’t shake the disgust, the shame for what you ate. Every time you replayed the night in your head, you felt like you’d lost control.

You wrapped yourself tighter in a blanket, your body feeling colder than usual, though it wasn’t even winter yet. The headache from your lack of calories was already starting to throb, but you could deal with that. It was better than the guilt.

Sylus had said he was busy today, so you weren’t expecting any visitors. The day stretched ahead, just you and your plan to fast. But as the afternoon rolled in, the sound of the doorbell echoed through your place. Confused, you hesitated before answering. You weren’t in the mood for visitors. Not today.

Opening the door, you froze in shock. There stood Sylus, dressed in his usual dark, tailored clothes, holding a bag. Your heart sank when you realized what was inside: your favorite candies, the kind that would wreck your fast in an instant. Your pulse quickened, panic swirling in your chest.

“Hey kitten” Sylus greeted, his voice casual but there was an undercurrent of warmth. He gave you a small smile, one that would’ve made you melt on any other day. “Thought I’d surprise you.”

You stared at him, feeling your blood boil. How could he? you thought, anger bubbling up out of nowhere. He didn’t even tell you he was coming over, and worse, he brought food. The sweets you loved, the ones you knew you wouldn’t be able to resist. It felt like he was sabotaging you, like he didn’t understand how hard you were trying to control yourself.

Your fists clenched at your sides, and before you could stop yourself, the words snapped out. “Why are you here?” Your voice was sharper than you intended, and Sylus’s brow furrowed, his eyes darkening just slightly at your tone.

“What do you mean sweetie ?” he asked, his voice calm but with that underlying tension. “I brought you these.” He gestured to the bag of candies, the smile still there but faltering as he noticed the shift in your demeanor. “You love these, remember?”

The sight of the bag sent a wave of panic through you. I can’t eat that, your mind screamed. I’ll get fat. I’ll lose control.

Anger surged again but it was tangled with guilt. How could he be so thoughtless? How could he show up with this when you were trying so hard to fast, to make up for the mistakes of yesterday? Your head pounded, the cold feeling in your body clashing with the heat of frustration.

“I can’t” you snapped, taking a step back, shaking your head. “You should go.” The words tumbled out before you could stop them. You saw the confusion flicker across his face, followed by a hint of worry.

“What’s going on?” Sylus asked, his voice low, probing, as he stepped forward instead of retreating like you’d demanded. “Why are you pushing me away?” He didn’t raise his voice but the way he said it made your heart clench. He wasn’t one to back down easily, especially not when something was wrong and you knew he could see something was wrong.

“I’m busy, Sylus” you tried to deflect, feeling the walls you were putting up starting to crack. You wanted him to leave but you didn’t. It was confusing, suffocating. You couldn’t handle this. You couldn’t handle him here, with that bag of temptation, ready to ruin everything. You felt so guilty for snapping at him but how could you explain? How could you tell him he was going to make you fat if he kept bringing over food like this?

Sylus’s eyes narrowed just slightly, but his voice remained calm. “Busy with what?” He glanced behind you, then back at your face, studying you, searching for something you weren’t ready to admit. “You haven’t been answering my calls. Now you want me to leave?”

You bit your lip, hating how cornered you felt. The panic was rising again, faster this time, swirling with guilt and anger and all you could think about was how out of control you felt. How could he not see that?

“Just go” you whispered, your voice breaking. The words felt heavy, like they cost you something just to say them. You couldn’t meet his gaze, not with the way he was looking at you, with those dark eyes that always seemed to see more than you wanted to show.

There was a long pause, the air thick with tension. Sylus didn’t move. He didn’t just leave, as much as you’d wanted him to. Instead, he stood there, quiet, and you could feel the weight of his presence pressing in on you. It was suffocating and yet… part of you didn’t want him to go.

After a beat, Sylus sighed, and for a moment, the tension in his expression softened. “You don’t have to talk to me right now” he said slowly, choosing his words carefully, his voice softer than before. “But I’m not leaving because you’re pushing me away.”

That made your chest tighten with guilt and you cursed yourself internally. He wasn’t mad but he was concerned, and that made it worse. You didn’t know how to explain. How could you tell him that the sight of that bag in his hand sent you into a spiral of panic, of guilt? That the one thing you feared more than anything was losing control?

“I just… I need space” you said quietly, though the words felt like a lie. You didn’t know what you needed. Sylus watched you for a long moment and finally, he nodded. But before he turned to leave, he set the bag of sweets down on the table by the door.

“If you need me, you know where to find me” he said, his voice steady, though there was something softer in his tone and with that, he walked away, leaving you standing there with the heavy guilt hanging in the air. The bag of candies felt like a cruel reminder of how out of control you felt and though you told him to go, part of you hated that he actually left.

The week of fasting had left you feeling like you were floating through the days, your body running on empty, but your mind clinging to the small sense of control. It wasn’t easy—drinking only tea and coffee, trying to keep that gnawing hunger at bay—but the numbers on the scale kept going down. You were making progress, right?

Today, though, something felt different. The familiar lightheadedness from the fasting had turned into a fog that clouded your thoughts, making everything feel distant. You stared at the zero-sugar creamer you’d added to your coffee earlier, the bitter taste still lingering on your tongue. You told yourself it was fine—it didn’t count. But your stomach churned and the guilt sat heavy inside you.

After ignoring Sylus for a week, you finally sent him a message, apologizing for how you’d acted. You couldn’t let him think you were pulling away because you didn’t care, even though the truth was far more complicated. You needed your space to stick to your plan, to make progress without any distractions. Sylus… he was becoming a distraction.

You agreed to meet him at the arcade, something that felt like a safe, neutral ground. You pulled on a baggy sweater, the oversized fabric hiding the changes your body had gone through over the past week. As you walked toward the meeting spot, the cold autumn air bit at your skin, though it felt like the cold had already been inside you for days.

When you finally spotted Sylus standing by the entrance, his demeanor shifted the moment his eyes landed on you. At first, he didn’t say anything—he rarely did unless he had something important to say—but the tension in his jaw, the way his eyes flickered with something deeper than concern, told you everything you needed to know. Sylus was observant, annoyingly so and you knew he had picked up on the way your skin had lost its color, how your steps seemed a little slower, more deliberate.

“Hey sy” you said, forcing a smile as you approached. Your voice sounded distant, even to you, like it had lost some of its energy. Sylus didn’t smile back, his gaze lingering on your face a little too long, as if searching for something.

“You alright kitten?” he asked, his tone casual, but the undercurrent of worry was unmistakable.

“Yeah, just a little tired” you lied, brushing it off as you led the way inside. You didn’t want to have this conversation. Not here. Not now.

The arcade was loud, full of flashing lights and the constant beeping of games, but even that felt distant through the fog in your brain. Normally, this place was your comfort zone. The claw machine was where you shined and it was always fun to show off in front of Sylus. But today, everything felt off.

You approached the claw machine, the one you usually conquered with ease but your hands felt shaky, your movements slow. Your brain struggled to focus as you pressed the buttons and you missed the toy by a wide margin. You clenched your jaw, frustration bubbling up, but it wasn’t just at the machine—it was at yourself.

“Damn, you’re usually a pro at this” Sylus teased lightly, though there was something off about the way he said it. His eyes hadn’t left you, watching your movements too closely, like he could see through you.

“Guess I’m just off my game today” you muttered, trying to force a laugh, but it sounded hollow.

You tried again, guiding the claw toward another prize, but your hands felt disconnected, like you were moving through water. The world tilted slightly as you leaned closer to the machine and you had to blink several times to steady yourself. Sylus was still watching, his body language casual but his eyes sharp. He could tell something was wrong—he always could.

As the claw dropped and missed the prize again, you felt your frustration spike. You were normally so good at this. Why did everything feel so hard today? You could feel Sylus’s gaze on you, and it made you uneasy. He wasn’t one to pry but you knew he was reading every sign, every small movement.

“You’ve been quiet” he said after a beat, his voice calm but probing. He leaned against the machine next to you, crossing his arms. “Something going on?”

You bit your lip, your brain too foggy to come up with an excuse but you couldn’t tell him the truth either. Not about the fasting. Not about why you looked like this. He wouldn’t understand.

“I’m just tired, Sylus” you said again, more forcefully this time, though it came out weaker than you intended. “That’s all.”

His brow furrowed slightly, his gaze lingering on your face before trailing down to your hands, which were trembling ever so slightly. He didn’t say anything but you could feel the tension between you growing heavier by the second.

You fumbled with the claw machine again, missing the prize for a third time. The frustration built inside you, but it was more than just the game. It was everything. The pressure, the guilt, the fear of losing control. It all felt like it was crashing down on you and Sylus standing there, watching, only made it worse.

Without a word, Sylus reached out, gently taking the control stick from your hands. You blinked in surprise as he smoothly guided the claw toward a prize, his movements precise, controlled. He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, a small, almost imperceptible softening in his expression.

“Let me help” he said quietly, his voice low, but there was something in his tone—something that told you he wasn’t just talking about the game.

You didn’t protest as the claw machine successfully grabbed a stuffed animal. Sylus handed it to you without a word, his fingers brushing yours for a moment and though you could tell he was trying to keep things light, you could feel the weight of his concern in that small gesture.

Your chest tightened as you looked down at the plush toy in your hands, guilt swirling inside you. You couldn’t hide it forever. Not from him. But for now, you just let the moment hang in the air, trying to hold on to the small flicker of control you had left.

As you and Sylus walked through the noisy arcade, the flashing lights and sounds started to fade into the background. You barely noticed when he steered you toward the bar area, where the bright signs advertised an assortment of sugary treats, slushies, and milkshakes. Normally, you’d have been overwhelmed with excuses, telling him you’d already eaten or that you weren’t hungry, but today… everything just felt so heavy.

Your head swam as you tried to focus, to muster up the energy to protest but your body had other plans. The edges of your vision blurred, and the last thing you remembered was the floor rushing up to meet you before everything went black.

The next time you opened your eyes, you weren’t at the arcade. A bright, sterile light flooded your senses, the sharp scent of antiseptic filling your lungs as you tried to take in your surroundings. You were in a hospital room, lying in a stiff bed with an IV attached to your arm. You blinked, disoriented, your brain sluggishly trying to piece together how you got here.

Then, you saw him.

Sylus sat in a chair by your bedside, his arms crossed, his face clouded with something you couldn’t quite place—worry, maybe? You’d never seen him like this before, his usual cool composure replaced by a tense stillness that made the room feel even colder than it already was.

For a while, he didn’t say anything. The silence between you stretched out, thick and uncomfortable, as you struggled to focus on his expression. Finally, after what felt like forever, he spoke, his voice low, serious in a way you hadn’t heard before.

“The doctors said you’re underweight” he began, his tone careful but firm. “They think you haven’t eaten in days, kitten.”

You felt your stomach twist as his words sank in but your mind was still too foggy, too tired to fully process it. You shifted under the scratchy hospital gown, trying to find something to say, anything to brush off the severity of the situation. It was easier to avoid, to deflect, to act like none of this mattered.

“I’m fine” you mumbled, your voice hoarse and weak. “It’s not a big deal. I was just tired.”

Sylus’s jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing slightly as he leaned forward, his arms still crossed. He wasn’t buying it. You could feel the shift in his demeanor—this wasn’t just concern anymore. This was frustration, mixed with something deeper.

“Kitten, don’t do that” he said, his voice sharper than usual. “Don’t pretend this isn’t serious. You passed out. In front of me. You’re not ‘fine.’ ”

You looked away, unable to meet his intense gaze. Your heart raced, the familiar panic rising in your chest as you tried to push the conversation away but Sylus wasn’t letting it go. He wasn’t his usual teasing, playful self. This time, he was more assertive, his voice carrying an edge you weren’t used to.

“I’m just… not hungry” you lied, your voice barely above a whisper. “It’s nothing. You wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me.” His tone was firm but there was a softness behind it—an unspoken plea for you to open up, to let him in. But you couldn’t. You wouldn’t. He wouldn’t get it. He didn’t have to worry about his body like you did. He didn’t have to restrict, to starve, to be worthy of love.

“You don’t have to diet every second of your life just to be loved” you said a bit more louder than intended, your voice rising with frustration. The words came out before you could stop them and you could see the impact they had on him immediately. His expression darkened but it wasn’t anger—it was something else, something more vulnerable.

His lips parted, his eyes flashing with a mix of emotions before he spoke. “Sweetie, if you keep going like this… you’re going to die.”

The words hung heavy in the air, cutting through the tension like a blade. You felt your chest tighten, your throat constricting as you tried to swallow the lump that had formed there. You knew he was right, deep down, but the thought of stopping, of losing control, terrified you.

“And if I die skinny and beautiful, it’ll be a worthy death” you shot back, your voice shaking with defiance. The moment the words left your mouth, you wished you could take them back. But they hung between you, raw and unfiltered.

Sylus’s eyes widened, his expression shifting from frustration to something deeper—shock, anger, but most of all, sadness. He stared at you, his face softening in a way you had never seen before, the weight of your words hitting him like a punch to the gut.

You hadn’t meant to hurt him. You hadn’t meant to push him away. But the look on his face… it broke something inside of you.

Tears welled up in your eyes as you saw the pain etched across his features, the way his normally composed demeanor had crumbled. He didn’t say anything, just looked at you, his brows drawn together in a mix of anger and heartbreak and for the first time, you saw how deeply he cared—how much he was trying to hold it together, for your sake.

Your lip trembled as you tried to blink away the tears, but they spilled over, hot and fast. “I… I didn’t mean…”

He stood up, moving to sit beside you on the hospital bed, his hand reaching out to cup your cheek gently, his thumb brushing away the tears. His touch was tender, careful, as if you were fragile. And in that moment, you realized how broken you really felt.

“I’m not letting you do this to yourself” he said softly, his voice hoarse with emotion. “Not anymore, kitten. You’re not alone in this. I’m not going to lose you.”

[totallynotcoffeeturtle]

Deep, Dark Sea

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Genshin masterlist || Scaramouche masterlist

CW/TW: kidnapping, slight asphyxiation but not in depth, obessive behavior

Tags: dead dove, pre-relationship, merman (octopus man) scara, obsessive scara, slight stalking Summary: Scara doesn't like that you haven't been coming back to the sea as of late.

a/n: mermay post yyayayayayay sorry for not posting in so long, life has been beating me to the ground so... ye. i haven't written in some time so sorry for the rusty writing

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You really can’t blame Scaramouche for his curiosity, he swears! His kind is well-known for their “pure hearted” pursuit of knowledge, especially of anything related to the taboo, the land dwellers. So of course when he has the chance to sneak away from his bothersome sisters, he would go up to the surface for some human-watching! The humans are so much smaller and fragile than what has been portrayed by the elders, he realized, especially compared to his large tentacle limbs. So how could you possibly blame him for getting oh so fascinated by the pretty little human that is you?

Scaramouche has been watching you since you came out to the choppy waves to scream out all of your grievances and has never stopped. You have been a pop of color to his borderline monotonous life at the bottom of the sea ever since. So sweet and pretty with your trinkets and accessories you are, kicking at the sand to vent your frustration. As years go by, your visits become more and more infrequent, making him panic. He needs things to change. In a moment of total brilliance, he snatched you up. 

Before you can get out a scream at the slimy hands tugging you down from the dock, water fills up your airway. You try to resist, as anyone would, but the weight pulling you down doesn’t let up until dark spots bloom in your vision and you black out.

When you open your eyes again, you are sopping wet, in a random cave with only a single sky well high above letting moonlight shine in and the entry point being a hole that leads to the sea. You can hear the waves lapping at the shore from afar, but nothing else. You look around in a panic, your hands tracing the area around you as you try to make sense of… basically everything. The only thing you remember before hitting the water was a pair of glowing eyes charging at you and sharp claws digging into your skin.

As your eyes adapt to your surroundings, you have a distinct feeling that you are not quite alone. The very opposite, in fact. You slowly turn around, your breath hitches. The same glowing pair of eyes.

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taglist: @amyminhminh @xrmywaifxx @samyayaya

[amethystarachnid]

May I be so bold to ask for a fic?

PLATONIC Modern day reader gets sent back in time/ universe to the avengers.

Life is going as expected now that they have taken her in, yes even though she’s 21 in a Time were she supposed to be 10 years old is weird, you get used to it.

Imagine though it’s the middle of the battle of New York, all of a sudden JARVIS says you appear to be having a panic attack based on your vitals, and he cant see you due to the cameras on the floor being down.

Now everyone thinks this is a Tony kind of panic attack, so imagine the surprise when they see reader flying down in a half put together Ironman suit (boots chest gloves and helmet) swinging a metal baseball bat at some aliens with thunderstruck playing in the back.

Tony- “that’s my girl!!!”

Bonus if Tony from the future (when they all went back in time) sees the reader and just cry’s a little bit an still cheering goes “that’s my little girl”

I never see fics with people that are used to getting random panic attacks and are pretty good at handling it.

TIME TRAVELER

⤷ ANTHONY “TONY” E. STARK

ᯓ★ Pairing: Anthony “Tony” E. Stark x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: platonic!, fluff, a little angst

ᯓ★ Request from: normal request

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Word count: 8.5k

ᯓ★ Summary: just what the ask said

ᯓ★ TW(s): time traveling, panic attack but well handled

ᯓ★ I really hope you like the story because I had some troubles understanding what you meant in your ask, but I tried my best and hope you like it! <3

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Holiday Special

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

You know something is wrong the moment you open your eyes.

You’re lying on your back, staring at an unfamiliar ceiling, one that’s definitely not yours. Gone are the grey metal slabs and dusty air filters of the Avengers compound. In their place is something sleek, futuristic even, a ceiling lined with recessed lights and small silver vents, like it’s from a science fiction movie. The air smells new—no, it smells like money. It’s a rich, clean scent, faintly mixed with the lingering aroma of coffee and a trace of cologne.

You sit up, groggy, disoriented, the faint ache of too many sleepless nights reminding you that, yes, everything that happened—the Snap, the losses, the grief—all of that was real.

Or… was it?

No. You refuse to entertain the thought that you might’ve dreamed up a whole nightmare. But something is definitely wrong, because the last thing you remember is… being in the lab. You and the others had been there, going over the latest quantum research to get everyone back. And then—nothing. Just a sudden, blinding light and then… this place.

Panic grips you as you swing your legs off the bed and take a look around. The room itself is lavish. Glass walls line one side, letting sunlight stream in with an almost blinding intensity. Beyond the glass, you can make out the towering skyline of New York City in the daylight. Which, given the circumstances, feels strange enough—when’s the last time you saw anything but darkness or emergency lights back at the compound?

Trying to gather your thoughts, you push yourself to your feet, glancing down at your clothing. You’re dressed… strangely. Not in the clothes you put on yesterday, but a loose-fitting T-shirt and a pair of plaid pajama pants that don’t belong to you. You reach up, patting your hair, finding it slightly mussed, like you just woke up from a long, unplanned nap.

Your pulse quickens. Nothing about this makes sense.

A soft click behind you sends you whirling around, only to see the glass door to the room slide open. In strides Tony Stark—unmistakable with his confident swagger, his trademark Iron Man T-shirt, and a curious gleam in his eye. But it’s not the Tony Stark you’ve come to know in these last few years of grief and recovery, the one who’d been almost completely worn down by the fight to fix the world. No—this Tony looks younger, brighter, with sharper edges and that familiar arrogant smirk that makes your breath hitch.

He stops in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest as he gives you an appraising look. “So,” he says, drawing out the word, “you gonna explain why you were taking an unscheduled nap in one of my guest rooms?”

There’s no warmth, no familiarity in his tone. And why would there be? You realize, heart pounding, that this isn’t just any Tony Stark. This is 2012 Tony Stark.

You swallow, trying to keep the panic from spilling over. This is impossible. You’d read up on every theory, every bizarre scenario Doctor Strange and Bruce had briefed you on, but none of them involved anything like this.

“I… I think there’s been a mistake,” you manage to stammer, knowing just how lame it sounds, and yet not knowing what else to say.

“A mistake?” Tony raises an eyebrow, stepping fully into the room, hands on his hips. “Right. A mistake. So, just to clarify, you, a complete stranger, just happened to show up in my guest room, dressed in pajamas I definitely didn’t provide, as part of some cosmic mistake?”

You nod slowly, your throat dry as you search for words. “Yes,” you say quietly. “I mean, no. I mean… I don’t know.” You close your eyes, willing your brain to function. “The last thing I remember, I was in the Avengers compound, in 2023.”

“2023?” he repeats, his eyebrows shooting up. “Okay, so now we’re time traveling. Makes total sense.” His tone is dripping with sarcasm, but his eyes are sharper than ever, scrutinizing every detail of you. “All right, let’s go with that. What’s your name, Miss 2023?”

You blink, feeling your cheeks warm under his gaze. You hadn’t expected the encounter to go this way—hadn’t even expected to have an encounter like this at all. “(Y/N),” you say finally. “My name is (Y/N).”

He gives a thoughtful nod. “Nice to meet you, (Y/N) from the future. I’m Tony Stark, but you already knew that.” He pauses, giving you a look that’s equal parts amused and wary. “So, mind telling me how you got here?”

“That’s… the thing,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady. “I don’t know. I was working on some experiments with quantum mechanics, and there was this… flash of light, and then I was just here.” You glance around, realizing that it feels just as bizarre to you as it probably does to him. “And I didn’t… I mean, I didn’t think I’d end up here. Or end up… meeting you.”

The smirk fades from his face, replaced by something more guarded. “Quantum mechanics, huh?” He crosses his arms again, his expression growing serious. “Let’s pretend, just for fun, that what you’re saying is possible. That you somehow popped out of 2023, dodging all kinds of laws of physics, and ended up here. Which, by the way, happens to be 2012. Care to explain why?”

“I don’t know,” you admit, feeling more and more vulnerable with each word. “All I know is that something went wrong. The tech we were working with… it’s not fully stable yet. It could have triggered something, maybe even pulled me into some kind of anomaly.” You stop, trying to read his reaction, but he’s impossible to read, his face completely inscrutable.

“An anomaly,” he echoes, almost thoughtfully. For a second, his expression softens, like he’s trying to imagine what you’re describing, before he snaps back to his usual, unflappable self. “Well, (Y/N), welcome to the past. I’d offer you a drink, but something tells me you might not be in the mood.”

You exhale sharply, trying to resist the urge to pace. “This doesn’t make sense. I don’t belong here. This is years before… before everything. Before the Battle of New York, before the Avengers Initiative really took off.” You pause, your eyes widening. “Wait, you haven’t… You haven’t even gone through that yet?”

“Not sure how much of my life you think you know,” he says, quirking an eyebrow, “but yeah, the big alien invasion hasn’t exactly been penciled into my calendar yet.”

You swallow, feeling the weight of your situation settle even heavier around you. This isn’t just a strange turn of events. You’re in a different reality, back in the days when the Avengers barely knew each other. Tony hasn’t even faced Loki yet; the wounds from that invasion haven’t left their mark on him.

“Tony, I… I think I’ve gone back in time,” you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Congratulations,” he says with a humorless chuckle. “Now, that’s a party trick I’d actually like to know about.”

As he studies you, his gaze sharpens, like he’s considering what to do with you. But then his phone buzzes, and he glances down at the screen, momentarily distracted. It’s just enough for you to get your bearings.

Taking a deep breath, you try to focus, to think of what Doctor Strange would say, what he might suggest in a situation like this. He always had a contingency plan—always had a way of approaching the impossible with a methodical mind.

“So,” Tony says, tucking his phone away and turning his attention back to you. “I take it you’ve got a rough idea of what happens next in my life?”

Your hesitation must be clear, because he holds up a hand. “Don’t worry, I’m not asking for spoilers. Just… let’s say, hypothetically, I’m not as skeptical as I’m letting on.”

It’s clear he’s testing you, trying to see if you’ll slip up, if you’ll give away some hidden detail about the future. You can almost see the wheels turning behind those dark, piercing eyes, and you’re caught between two urges—to convince him of the truth and to protect him from it. How much can you tell him? How much should you tell him?

“I know enough,” you answer cautiously. “Enough to know that this could be dangerous. And that I need to get back. I don’t belong here.”

“Well,” he says, gesturing around the room, “you’re here now. And if you’re really from the future, then there’s a reason for that. If you’ve got even a single thread of an idea of how to reverse this little slip through time, I’d suggest you hold onto it, because as far as I know, I don’t have any quick fixes for ‘accidental time travel.’”

He’s right, of course. No matter how much you might wish it, there’s no easy answer. And for the first time, you realize that you’re truly, utterly out of your depth. You’re in 2012. The Tony Stark you know isn’t quite this Tony Stark, and the Avengers are far from the team they eventually become.

But as you meet Tony’s gaze, you can’t help but feel a strange, almost unexplainable reassurance. This is Tony Stark, after all. The same man who built a suit of armor in a cave, who can adapt to anything life throws his way. If anyone’s going to help you figure this out, it’s him.

“All right, then,” you say softly, a hint of determination in your voice. “Let’s figure this out.”

And just like that, Tony Stark—the 2012 version, at least—gives you a faint, approving smirk.

“Well, time traveler,” he says, almost affectionately, “welcome to the club.”

Absolutely! Let’s continue this and dig deeper into the tension and awe of meeting the Avengers in their early days. Here’s the next section for you:

It doesn’t take long for Tony to inform Nick Fury of your strange arrival, though you’re not sure if he’s calling it in as an “emergency” or just sheer curiosity. By the next morning, Tony’s guiding you down a hallway of Stark Tower toward a conference room, giving you little more than a reassuring nod and a devilish smirk as he leads the way.

"Just be yourself,” he says with mock encouragement. “They’re all a bit paranoid, but we’ll work with it.”

The thought of meeting them—the Avengers, as they were in 2012—stirs something inside you, both excitement and dread. It’s impossible not to feel overwhelmed at the prospect of facing the familiar faces you know from the world after the Snap, but now stripped of the experiences and battles that hardened them. You remind yourself not to expect too much, to remember they’re different versions of themselves here—strangers, almost. As you take a deep breath to steady yourself, you can already hear Fury’s voice from down the hall, smooth and commanding.

Tony holds the door open for you, a smirk lingering on his lips. “After you, time traveler.”

You step inside, and Nick Fury’s one good eye pins you with a look so intense you feel almost frozen in place. Dressed in his black trench coat, with his signature eyepatch, Fury’s gaze alone is enough to confirm that he’s as imposing as ever. Standing around the room, waiting with a mix of skepticism and curiosity, are the other original Avengers: Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanoff, Bruce Banner, and Clint Barton.

“Let’s get one thing straight,” Fury begins without preamble. “I don’t know who you are, where you came from, or what kind of science experiment brought you here. But Stark seems to think you’re worth our time, so I’ll give you a chance to explain yourself.”

Every gaze is trained on you, and suddenly, all the things you had been preparing to say feel like sand slipping through your fingers. You glance at Tony, who only offers you a shrug and a faintly amused smile. He’s enjoying this, clearly.

You clear your throat. “My name is (Y/N). And I’m… Well, I’m not exactly from here. I’m from a different time. The year 2023, to be exact.”

There’s a palpable tension in the room as you speak, each Avenger processing your words in their own way. You can feel Steve Rogers watching you, eyes sharp and calculating as he assesses you, while Natasha leans back in her chair, a faint smirk playing on her lips, more curious than suspicious.

Bruce steps forward cautiously. “You’re from the future?”

You nod slowly, feeling the weight of their disbelief. “It wasn’t intentional, believe me. I was working on a project with… well, with Tony and some of the others. Something must have gone wrong, because the next thing I knew, I was here.”

“Time travel,” Clint scoffs, crossing his arms as he narrows his eyes at you. “Sounds like something out of a bad sci-fi movie.”

“It does,” you agree. “Believe me, this isn’t exactly how I wanted to start my week either.”

Fury’s brow furrows as he studies you intently. “If what you’re saying is true, you know things about the future. Events. People.”

There’s a pause. You know the answer he’s looking for, and you’re prepared to give it. But the thought of revealing too much, of saying the wrong thing… You don’t know what kind of impact it could have, and even in 2023, people warned against messing with the timeline. Doctor Strange had made it clear that even the smallest shifts could ripple outwards in unpredictable ways.

“I… I can’t say too much,” you admit, feeling the weight of everyone’s scrutiny. “I know things, yes, but if I start talking about specifics, I don’t know what kind of consequences that might have. I don’t want to risk changing anything important.”

Natasha raises an eyebrow, arms folded, her expression skeptical. “So you’re from the future, you can’t tell us anything about it, and we’re supposed to just… believe you?”

Tony, watching the exchange with keen interest, cuts in, “Hey, I’m the skeptic in the room here, and even I think there’s something to this. She knows about things she shouldn’t. Things no one outside of SHIELD should even have access to.”

Fury nods, turning back to you. “So why don’t you give us something harmless? Something to prove you’re telling the truth that won’t mess with the timeline.”

You pause, your mind racing. There’s one thing that comes to mind—a detail that should be inconsequential enough, but that would be enough to convince them of your legitimacy.

“All right,” you say slowly, looking at Fury. “You have a hidden eye scanner behind the painting in your office that only recognizes you, Maria Hill, and Director Pierce.”

Fury’s face hardens, a flicker of surprise passing over his expression. For the first time, he seems truly convinced. “How do you know that?”

“Because I’ve seen it,” you say quietly. “I’ve been in your office more times than I can count.”

Silence settles over the room as they process this revelation. Natasha exchanges a glance with Clint, while Bruce looks at you with newfound curiosity, the scientist in him piqued.

Steve steps forward, his voice softer, more open than the others. “If you’re from the future, then… that means you know what’s coming. Are we in danger?”

It’s a loaded question, one that instantly makes your throat tighten. The instinct to tell him everything—the invasion, the battles, the losses—is overwhelming. But you’ve been trained for situations like this, for protecting information even if it’s difficult.

“Yes,” you say carefully, meeting his gaze. “But you’re strong enough to face it. All of you.”

Steve nods, his jaw set, seeming satisfied with your answer even if it’s not as detailed as he might like. There’s a resilience in him, even at this early stage, that feels like a warm thread connecting this version of Steve to the man you know from the future.

Fury, however, doesn’t seem quite as content. He steps closer, crossing his arms as he looks you over. “I hope you understand the situation you’re in, Miss…?”

“(Y/N),” you repeat, your tone respectful but firm. “And yes, I do.”

“Good. Because as long as you’re here, you’re going to be under SHIELD’s supervision. You’re a risk, whether you mean to be or not.”

“Understood.”

“Then we’ll get you set up with temporary accommodations,” he says, his tone all business. He nods to the group. “Everyone, I want you to keep an eye on our visitor. See what you can learn. And if she can help, even better.”

The meeting disperses, the Avengers filing out one by one. You can feel their eyes on you, some friendly, others more reserved. Bruce, though cautious, gives you a faint nod before leaving. Steve, always the gentleman, offers a polite smile, though you can see the curiosity and concern in his gaze. Natasha and Clint exchange a look before walking out, their silent communication something you recognize instantly; you’ve seen them do this a thousand times in the future.

As the last of them leave, Tony’s still lingering by the door, leaning casually against the frame, arms crossed as he watches you with a mixture of intrigue and something else—an awareness, maybe, that he knows more about you than the others.

When the room finally empties, you let out a long breath, shoulders slumping as the tension eases. Tony steps back inside, glancing around before giving you a lopsided grin. “Well, you survived your first interrogation. Not bad for a time traveler.”

You manage a weak smile. “It could’ve gone worse, I guess.”

“Could’ve gone a lot worse,” he agrees. “For what it’s worth, you did pretty well back there. Kept things vague enough to avoid causing a paradox or whatever, but gave them just enough to work with.”

You nod, biting back the urge to spill everything right then and there. The urge to confide in him—to tell him everything you know about the future, about how he changes, how he sacrifices so much—is almost unbearable. But the thought of how much damage you could cause keeps you silent.

Tony seems to sense the turmoil behind your eyes, because he rests a hand on your shoulder, the touch surprisingly grounding. “Look, I’m no expert in whatever quantum mechanics or time travel theory you’ve got going on, but I can tell when someone’s carrying the weight of the world on their shoulders.”

You glance up at him, startled by the gentleness in his voice. “I just… I don’t want to mess anything up,” you confess. “You all have so much ahead of you. So much you’re going to accomplish, and I don’t want to take that from you.”

He gives you a long, searching look, the cocky demeanor fading as he considers your words. “Then don’t. Just take it one day at a time. Hell, take it one minute at a time. You don’t have to carry the whole future on your shoulders, okay?”

There’s something about the way he says it that fills you with a small, fragile hope. You nod, finding strength in his words. For now, you’ll follow his advice—take it

slow, one minute at a time. Because the Avengers here in 2012 are still in their early days, still unscarred by the battles that lie ahead. And as long as you’re here, you’ll do everything in your power to protect that future without changing it.

Together, you and Tony leave the conference room, each step carrying you deeper into a past you know too well yet can’t afford to let yourself alter. It’s a delicate balancing act, but one thing is clear: with Tony by your side, you just might have a chance to figure this out.

Over the next few days, you start to settle in among the 2012 Avengers, trying to adjust to the surreal reality of getting to know them as strangers. They’re cautious, skeptical, yet undeniably intrigued by you and your claim to be from the future. You try to be as helpful as you can without tipping off the events that lie ahead, slowly building their trust by sharing bits of innocuous information—small things that don’t seem significant enough to impact the timeline but reveal just enough to confirm you’re telling the truth.

Steve is the first to approach you, polite but with his guard up, as he invites you to join him in the gym. You recognize the familiar tension in his shoulders as he goes through his training routine, movements precise and controlled.

“So,” he starts, without looking at you. “You seem to know quite a lot about us. Or, at least, about who we’ll become.” He catches the punching bag on its swing back, steadying it with a quick, efficient grip. “Care to share a few details?”

You think carefully, picking a memory you know won’t alter his future. “You and I fought together a lot, actually,” you say, smiling. “And it was an honor. You’re one of the best fighters I know.”

Steve raises an eyebrow, surprised, but there’s a small, shy smile tugging at his lips. “Coming from someone trained by Stark, that means something.”

“Actually,” you correct, a hint of laughter escaping, “you trained me, too. When I joined the team in the future, you helped me with my technique. You insisted on it.”

He seems pleased by this, nodding thoughtfully. “Guess that makes sense.” He pauses, looking down. “Good to know I’m still around in the future.”

The words catch you off guard, but you manage to keep your expression neutral. “Yeah. You’re… very important to all of us.”

He gives a small, appreciative nod, not pressing for more. Trust forms slowly between you two as he begins to open up, sharing some of his own hesitations about being part of the Avengers. It’s subtle, almost shy—the beginning of a mutual understanding that grows from small gestures and quiet support.

It’s Natasha who finds you next, joining you in the kitchen as you’re grabbing a snack. Clint follows soon after, leaning casually against the counter with an appraising look.

“So, future girl,” Clint says, popping a grape in his mouth. “Tell us something we don’t know.”

Natasha, sitting across from you, is more direct. “If you can’t tell us everything, then tell us one harmless thing about me and Clint. Something that won’t change anything.”

You think about it, wondering what would be safe to share. Then you recall something small, a tiny detail from the future that has no bearing on any grand event but makes you smile.

“All right. You two like to compete over who can pull off the crazier stunt in the field,” you say, grinning. “It’s… kind of legendary, actually.”

Clint chuckles, leaning back. “Legendary? You hear that, Nat? We’re legends.”

Natasha rolls her eyes, but there’s a faint hint of a smile on her lips. “Legendary, huh? So, who usually wins?”

You raise an eyebrow. “Oh, you do, of course.”

Clint throws his hands up, feigning outrage. “What? I’m pretty sure I would win that fight.”

Natasha’s expression doesn’t change, but you can see the amusement flickering in her eyes as she watches you. For the first time, there’s a hint of trust and warmth there, a softness that she usually keeps hidden. It’s a small moment, but one that feels like progress.

Bruce is one of the quieter members of the team, and for days he keeps his distance, observing you with a mix of curiosity and wariness. He’s naturally cautious, and you can tell he’s wrestling with a thousand questions.

It’s not until you’re alone in the lab, tinkering with some outdated equipment, that he finally approaches.

“I wanted to ask you something,” he begins, pushing his glasses up as he studies you. “In the future, do I… do I get a handle on things? On myself?”

You hesitate, knowing exactly what he means. In 2023, Bruce has indeed found balance, integrating his two selves into what he calls “Professor Hulk.” But you’re not sure if it’s wise to tell him something so significant. You decide to keep it vague, focusing on the reassurance he seems to need.

“You make peace with yourself, Bruce,” you say softly, offering him a warm smile. “You become… someone incredible. And the world is better for it.”

His shoulders relax, and he seems to breathe a little easier. “I’m glad to hear that. Sometimes it’s… hard to imagine things ever being different.”

“They will be,” you assure him, your voice filled with certainty. “Trust me.”

From that day on, Bruce seems more at ease around you, and he even starts inviting you to join him in the lab, talking to you about theories and experiments in ways that remind you of the future you left behind.

After a week of cautiously earning the team’s trust, Tony decides to host an impromptu “team bonding” night in his penthouse—a sort of welcome-to-the-past celebration for you. The others show up, mingling and relaxing, and as you watch them, the differences between these younger Avengers and the versions you know in the future become all the more apparent.

Steve still holds himself a little apart from the group, clearly unused to being surrounded by people who look to him for leadership. Natasha’s edges are sharper, her eyes always watchful, as if she’s waiting for the next mission. Clint is easygoing but guarded, wary of anyone outside his tight circle. Bruce is quieter, more reserved, his mind constantly turning over unspoken questions, while Tony… Tony is, in some ways, exactly the same, though his arrogance feels almost untested, his confidence still untempered by the battles that await him.

At some point in the evening, Clint challenges you to a game of darts, while Natasha observes from the side with her usual unshakable calm. Clint’s sharp eyes and steady hand give him the advantage, but you manage to keep up, hitting the bullseye once or twice.

“Not bad,” Clint says, grudgingly impressed. “Maybe you’re not all talk.”

“Oh, I’m definitely all talk,” you joke, smiling as Natasha chuckles softly beside you.

Steve and Bruce, seated across the room, are deep in conversation, and Tony—well, he’s regaling the group with his latest plans for Stark Tower, gesturing wildly as he describes his latest tech upgrade ideas.

Seeing them all together like this, young and full of potential, is a strange experience. It’s almost bittersweet, knowing what lies ahead for each of them and yet realizing they have no idea. You hold back the memories, keeping your face neutral, not wanting to give anything away.

But at some point, Steve catches your eye from across the room, and he gestures for you to join him. As you approach, he shifts uncomfortably, clearly thinking through something serious.

“You seem to know us… really well,” he says, his tone thoughtful. “But we hardly know anything about you.”

The others fall silent, turning their attention to you. The question isn’t exactly unexpected, but it catches you off guard nonetheless. What can you say to them that won’t give away too much, that won’t ruin the innocence they have here?

“Well,” you begin, choosing your words carefully, “I joined the Avengers because I wanted to help. You all inspired me. You made me feel like… like the world was worth saving.”

Steve seems touched by this, and you can see a faint sense of pride and surprise in his expression.

“It’s strange,” Bruce says, smiling faintly. “Thinking of ourselves as… inspirations.”

“You are,” you assure them. “All of you. I can’t say much, but… the Avengers become something big. You make a difference. And even when things get hard, you never give up. None of you.”

Tony raises his glass, flashing you that familiar, playful grin. “Here’s to being legendary, then,” he declares, and the others lift their glasses in a quiet toast.

As they take their sips, you feel the weight of your secret settle back on your shoulders. You know you’ll need to leave someday, that the version of you who fought beside the Avengers in 2023 belongs to a different time. But for now, here in this moment, you let yourself believe that maybe, just maybe, you can make things a little better.

Trust builds gradually, each Avenger letting you in a little more each day. Clint eventually invites you to join him and Natasha for target practice, jokingly betting on whether you can keep up. Bruce starts consulting you on his experiments, asking for your advice with a respect you never thought possible from the reticent scientist. Steve includes you in his training routines, guiding you with gentle patience, his easy confidence growing every day. And Tony—well, Tony becomes a constant companion, checking in on you, teasing you, always eager to draw out your knowledge of the future without pushing too far.

The team is becoming something more than just an assignment or a mission. They’re becoming your friends.

One day, when the group gathers in the common room, Steve suggests sparring matches as a team-bonding exercise. Clint and Natasha go first, their movements sharp and perfectly

in sync, and the others watch, laughing and cheering as the pair battle it out. As you join in the fun, you catch Tony’s eye, and he gives you an approving nod.

Thor arrives with all the grandeur you remember: the flash of lightning, the distant rumble of thunder, and his booming voice filling Stark Tower as he greets the team. The others seem mostly unfazed, having grown accustomed to their Asgardian ally’s dramatic entrances, but you can’t help the flood of memories that come rushing back. Here he is—the same Thor you know from 2023, yet younger, less tempered by the losses and battles he’ll face. The unshakeable pride, the wide-eyed enthusiasm for Midgard—it’s all there, untouched by the trials that lie ahead.

He strides into the room, his golden armor gleaming, the red cape flaring behind him, and, of course, Mjolnir in his grip. Thor’s blue eyes twinkle with mischief and curiosity as they land on you, and his deep voice carries an unmistakable warmth.

“And who might you be?” he booms, glancing at Tony and raising an eyebrow.

“This,” Tony says, stepping forward with a half-smile, “is our new resident time traveler. She’s from the future, knows a few things, but she’s under strict instructions not to mess with any timelines.”

You manage a smile, offering Thor a small wave. ��Hi, Thor. It’s… nice to see you.”

He steps closer, giving you a curious look. “You know me, then?”

“Oh, yes,” you say, trying not to give too much away. “I know you very well. You’re… quite the hero where I come from.”

He lets out a hearty laugh. “A hero, indeed! Well, I am glad to hear that even in the future, the people of Midgard recognize greatness!” His laugh echoes through the room, and he claps Tony on the shoulder. “And Stark, I trust you are as impressive in the future as you are now?”

“Oh, I’m impressive,” Tony replies, flashing a grin, though you catch a flicker of discomfort in his eyes. You know Tony doesn’t like to talk about the future, especially when it comes to his own destiny.

It doesn’t take long for the team to settle back into their routines with Thor joining them, and that night, Tony and Thor chat quietly in the common area. Tony seems relaxed, yet there’s a quiet intensity to his gaze whenever he glances at you. You’ve noticed it more and more over the past few days—the way Tony’s curiosity has shifted into something more protective, like he’s trying to read between the lines of everything you say, preparing himself for the worst, even if he’s pretending not to.

Later, after most of the team has dispersed, Tony approaches you, hands in his pockets, his expression pensive.

“You know,” he says softly, “Thor’s arrival means that Loki isn’t far behind. The whole reason he comes to Earth right now is… well, because of the Tesseract.” He leans in, his voice low. “The Battle of New York, right? That’s coming up?”

You nod, feeling the familiar pang of helplessness. “Yeah. It’s… it’s coming soon.”

He watches you carefully, something searching in his gaze. “And you can’t say anything that would help us?”

The question hangs in the air, both of you understanding the weight of it. You swallow hard, shaking your head. “I can’t, Tony. I wish I could. But if I do, I risk changing everything that’s supposed to happen.”

Tony’s face is unreadable, but there’s a hint of frustration there, a simmering anger he’s clearly holding back. “So, what are you supposed to do then? Just… stand by and watch us walk into a war without warning?”

You feel his words like a punch to the gut. You hate this part—the helplessness, the burden of knowing exactly how things are going to unfold and being powerless to stop it. But you also know what’s at stake if you interfere.

“Yes,” you say, your voice barely a whisper. “I can’t change anything, Tony. Even if it hurts to stand by and watch, even if I wish I could do more.”

His expression softens slightly, and he steps closer. “I get it,” he says quietly. “And I know this whole ‘not changing the future’ thing is supposed to be important. But I’m telling you now, if you ever need to tell me something, I’ll listen. No questions, no judgment.”

You nod, managing a weak smile. “Thanks, Tony. That… that means a lot.”

He hesitates, then places a hand on your shoulder, a rare moment of gentleness that sends warmth through you. “Look, I don’t know who I am in the future, but here, now, I’m gonna do whatever it takes to keep us alive.” He drops his hand, giving you a small smirk. “That includes you, time traveler.”

You smile back, heart pounding. “I’ll do what I can to keep you safe too, Tony. Even if I can’t change things.”

The Night Before the Battle

As the days pass, tension begins to settle over the team. The warnings they’ve received from SHIELD, the unusual activity around the Tesseract—all of it points to something big on the horizon. You can feel the weight of the coming battle pressing down on you like a storm cloud, and while the others prepare, you feel like a ghost, wandering the Tower’s halls, struggling with the knowledge you carry.

That night, Tony finds you on the rooftop, staring out over the New York skyline. The city lights twinkle beneath the stars, oblivious to the danger that’s soon to come. Tony approaches quietly, his presence grounding.

“Thought I’d find you here,” he says, his tone light but his eyes serious. “You know, you spend a lot of time up here, brooding.”

You smile weakly. “It’s hard not to when… I know what’s coming.”

He leans against the railing beside you, crossing his arms. “I don’t blame you. But I’ll let you in on a secret,” he says, his voice softening. “Even though you can’t say anything, you’ve helped us. You’ve helped me. Just knowing you’re here… it gives me this weird feeling that we’re gonna make it through this.”

You swallow hard, feeling a lump form in your throat. “I wish I could do more. But… knowing you’re here, Tony—it helps me too. You’ve always found a way to keep everyone together, to find solutions, even when things seemed hopeless.”

He looks at you, surprise flickering across his face, followed by something softer. “You really believe that?”

“Yeah, I do,” you reply, voice steady. “More than you know.”

For a moment, the two of you stand there in silence, the distant hum of the city below filling the night air. Then, Tony turns to face you, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Well, if this is our last night before everything goes sideways, I say we make it count.” He offers his hand. “Come on. Let’s go raid the stash of champagne in my suite. I may be a genius, but I’m also a pretty decent bartender.”

You laugh, taking his hand as he leads you inside. Together, you head up to his penthouse, and soon, you’re seated on his plush couch, sipping champagne and trading stories. He talks about his early years at Stark Industries, the crazy nights and the high-stakes projects, and you share some of the most lighthearted moments you’ve had with the team in the future—moments that won’t give anything away but capture the heart of what the Avengers are.

“Sounds like we’re not half-bad in the future,” Tony says, grinning as he refills your glass.

“You’re more than not half-bad,” you reply, laughing. “You’re legends.”

He shakes his head, looking down at his drink. “You know, I never thought I’d have a legacy. Not really. I figured I’d make a bunch of tech, sell it off, and that’d be it. But hearing you talk about the future… it’s weird, but for the first time, I kind of want to be there to see it.”

You reach out, placing a hand on his arm. “You’re going to do incredible things, Tony. You have no idea how much you’ll mean to all of us.”

He meets your gaze, his expression softening, and for a moment, there’s a quiet intensity between you—a feeling of connection that goes beyond time, beyond the secrets you’re forced to keep. You don’t have to tell him everything to let him know how much he matters, not just to the future, but to you.

“Guess I’ll have to stick around then,” he says, a hint of vulnerability creeping into his voice. “For you, and for… whoever I become.”

You smile, heart pounding, and you squeeze his arm gently. “I’m glad.”

In the quiet that follows, he reaches over, clinking his glass against yours. “To the future,” he says softly, his voice filled with a determination that’s almost heartbreaking.

You raise your glass, fighting the emotions rising in your chest. “To the future.”

The morning dawns heavy, and as the team gathers, the tension is palpable. You stand on the sidelines, watching each of them prepare, the reality of what’s about to happen pressing down on you. Tony catches your eye before he puts on the suit, his gaze steady and reassuring. He doesn’t have to say anything—you already know.

“See you on the other side,” he says, voice muffled by the suit’s mask as he flashes you a confident grin.

You watch him go, your heart aching with a strange mix of pride and fear. There’s no guarantee that things will unfold exactly as you remember, but for now, you have faith. The Avengers are ready. And so are you.

The dust of the battle hasn’t even settled, but after capturing Loki, the team allows themselves a small moment of relief. As the Avengers regroup, Thor stands guard over Loki with a mixture of grim satisfaction and frustration, while Natasha and Clint exchange relieved nods. Steve is already eyeing the damaged buildings, making plans for containment and crowd control.

Tony, however, is still pacing, his gaze flicking to the holographic interface in front of him. He watches JARVIS’s live feed, examining damage reports, crowd dispersal, and tracking the few remaining Chitauri soldiers scattered through the city.

That’s when JARVIS’s calm voice cuts through. “Sir, I must alert you that Y/N’s vitals are highly irregular. Her heart rate and breathing pattern suggest she may be experiencing a panic attack.”

Tony’s brow furrows, worry creeping onto his face. “Where is she?”

“She was last located on the floor directly below you, but the security cameras on that floor are currently offline due to structural damage. I’m unable to locate her visually.”

A pang of alarm runs through Tony, and it catches the attention of the rest of the team. Natasha and Steve share a concerned look, Clint straightens, and even Thor’s expression shifts from watchful to worried.

“A panic attack?” Clint asks, confused. “I thought panic attacks were Tony’s thing.”

“Hey!” Tony snaps, but it lacks his usual edge. There’s a flicker of anxiety in his expression, and he’s already reaching for his comm. “Y/N? Can you hear me? If you’re there, talk to me.”

Silence.

He feels a sinking dread building in his stomach, and he exchanges a glance with Steve, who nods, immediately stepping forward. “Tony, do you want backup?” Steve asks.

Tony shakes his head. “No, I’ll find her. Just… keep Loki locked down, all right? We don’t want him getting any ideas while we’re distracted.”

With that, Tony heads down a damaged stairwell, calling JARVIS’s name and reactivating every broken camera he can find. After what feels like an agonizingly long few seconds, he finally picks up a faint, distorted signal from one of the lower floors.

And then he hears it—a deep, mechanical thud that echoes through the empty floor below. He rushes down the last few steps and stops dead in his tracks when he reaches the corridor.

At the far end of the hall, there’s Y/N… only she’s barely recognizable. She’s suited up in what looks like Tony’s Iron Man armor, or rather, parts of the armor—a strange, improvised mix of boots, a chest plate, gauntlets, and a helmet. Her arms and legs are half-exposed in her torn battle gear, and in one hand, she’s gripping a metal baseball bat, the metal shining under the harsh emergency lights.

Tony takes a stunned step forward as Y/N raises the bat with all her might, swinging it into a remaining Chitauri soldier, sending it flying back with a satisfying crash. The alien hits the wall hard, but she doesn’t stop. There’s a ferocity in her movements that he’s never seen before—raw, desperate, and relentless. She stumbles forward, chest heaving, breath heavy and erratic over the helmet’s comm system as she swings again and again, knocking down every remaining Chitauri that crosses her path.

The rest of the team arrives behind Tony, and they all freeze at the sight. Steve’s eyes widen, Clint’s mouth drops open, and Natasha raises an eyebrow, looking impressed.

“Is she… is she wearing your suit?” Steve finally asks, his tone equal parts confusion and awe.

Tony doesn’t answer, too busy staring. She’s moving erratically, swaying slightly, her movements sharper and more frantic than he’s ever seen from her. There’s no precision, no strategy—just sheer, brutal determination as she takes down the last of the Chitauri.

And then, as the dust settles, her chest heaves as she drops the bat to the ground with a clang, her breathing audible even through the helmet. Tony steps forward slowly, cautious, not wanting to startle her.

“Y/N,” he calls softly, “you okay in there?”

For a moment, she doesn’t respond. The helmet dips, as if she’s looking down at herself in disbelief. When she finally speaks, her voice crackles through the helmet, shaky and breathless.

“Tony?”

“Yeah, it’s me,” he says, his voice softer than usual. “You wanna… you wanna take that thing off?”

The silence stretches, and then, with a trembling hand, she reaches up, disengaging the helmet. It slides off, revealing her face, pale and streaked with dirt and sweat. Her eyes are wide, glassy with fear, and there’s a tremor in her hand that she can’t quite control.

“I—I couldn’t find any of you,” she whispers, her voice catching. “And I just… I saw them down here, and I couldn’t—”

Tony steps closer, his expression softening. “Hey, hey. You did good. You took them out. You’re safe, okay?”

Her breaths come fast and shallow, and he realizes she’s still in the grip of panic, her body trembling in the remnants of adrenaline and fear. He reaches out, carefully placing a hand on her shoulder, grounding her. “Y/N, you’re okay now. Just breathe with me, all right?”

She nods, her breaths starting to slow, her eyes flicking up to meet his. There’s a vulnerability there, a rawness that cuts right through him. She looks like she’s holding back a flood of emotion, and his heart tightens.

One by one, the others approach, keeping a respectful distance but offering her reassuring nods. Steve steps forward, placing a steady hand on her other shoulder, his gaze warm and reassuring.

“We’re here,” he says, his voice steady. “You didn’t have to do this alone.”

The reassurance seems to break something inside her, and she lets out a shaky laugh, wiping at her face. “Guess I got a little carried away, huh?” she murmurs, trying to steady herself.

Tony raises an eyebrow, smirking slightly. “Just a little. Though I gotta say, you wear that suit well. Never thought I’d see you flying down here with a bat and half my armor.”

Her cheeks flush, and she lets out a self-conscious chuckle. “I just grabbed whatever was closest. I couldn’t… I didn’t want any of you to get hurt. I had to help somehow.”

Clint, watching with a mix of amazement and amusement, crosses his arms, grinning. “If I’d known you had this side in you, I’d have handed you a bat weeks ago.”

Natasha steps up beside Clint, nodding approvingly. “It takes guts to throw yourself into a fight like that. Especially alone.”

Y/N looks at each of them, her expression a mix of gratitude and embarrassment. She shakes her head, glancing back at Tony. “Guess I still have a few things to learn about… not panicking under pressure.”

Tony chuckles, but there’s a gentleness in his eyes as he meets her gaze. “Trust me,” he says, “you’re not the only one who freaks out when things get intense. I know it doesn’t feel like it, but you’re not alone here. And next time? You don’t have to handle it by yourself. Got it?”

She nods, a small, grateful smile tugging at her lips. “Got it.”

As the team disperses, Tony stays with her a moment longer, studying her carefully. “You know,” he says quietly, his tone softer than usual, “I can upgrade that baseball bat if you’re thinking of making this a regular thing.”

She laughs, a real, genuine laugh this time. “I’ll keep that in mind. But maybe I’ll leave the suits to you next time.”

“Fair enough,” he replies, grinning. He pauses, his expression turning thoughtful. “Hey… don’t feel bad about what happened, okay? You stepped up. You saved us a lot of trouble back there.”

There’s a flicker of hesitation, but she nods, a shy smile appearing. “Thanks, Tony. For… everything.”

He gives her shoulder a gentle squeeze, his gaze soft. “Anytime. Now let’s get you out of that armor before you short-circuit it.”

With a grateful smile, she follows him, feeling a weight lift from her shoulders. For the first time since arriving in this unfamiliar past, she feels a sense of belonging, knowing that these people—the Avengers, her friends—will always have her back, just as she has theirs.

Unbeknownst to you, or to the Avengers around you, just a few blocks away, a much older Tony Stark is crouched in the shadows with Steve Rogers and Bruce Banner, their eyes fixed on the commotion unfolding at Stark Tower. They’ve come to 2012 to retrieve the Tesseract—an essential part of their mission to save the future. Their objective is clear: get in, grab the Tesseract, and get out without causing any disruptions. But when Tony’s gaze catches sight of the familiar figure in half of his old suit, wielding a bat and going after stray Chitauri with a fierce determination, he freezes, completely taken off guard.

Steve glances at him. “What’s wrong, Stark?”

Tony’s eyes are glued to you, his expression softening as he watches you clobber a Chitauri, then brace yourself as the helmet’s targeting HUD helps you line up your next swing. “I… didn’t expect this,” he murmurs, voice filled with awe and something closer to pride than Steve has ever heard from him.

Bruce follows Tony’s gaze and frowns in confusion. “Wait—is that… Y/N? But that can’t be right. She wouldn’t be here. This isn’t even her timeline.”

“Oh, it’s her,” Tony whispers, his voice choked with both joy and heartbreak. He can’t help but let a small grin sneak onto his face, one that shows just how much he cares for you and just how proud he is. “That’s my little girl.”

Steve shifts uncomfortably, but there’s a softness in his gaze as he watches Tony’s face, lit up with admiration and bittersweet nostalgia. “Tony, you know the rules. We can’t interfere.”

“I know,” Tony says, the reality settling over him like a lead weight. “But look at her.” He nods toward you, a small, proud smile tugging at his lips. “She’s got guts. Always has. I knew she’d be a fighter.”

Steve watches you for a moment, then gives Tony a small, supportive nod. “She’s in good hands. You saw her out there—she’s fighting with the team, and you know this version of you will keep an eye on her.”

“I know,” Tony murmurs, his eyes never leaving you. For a moment, he loses himself in the scene—watching you alongside his younger self, surrounded by the team, all of you laughing and joking after the battle. He swallows hard, trying to keep his emotions in check. It’s like looking through a window into a different time, one where he could just stand there and watch over you, make sure you were safe.

The younger Tony steps forward in the armor, calling out a comment that makes you laugh, a real, bright laugh that reaches even the ears of the time-traveling Tony hidden in the shadows. He can see how his younger self leans forward, his eyes full of quiet care as he reassures you, and Tony’s heart swells with pride and longing.

“She’s tougher than I realized,” Bruce says with a small, approving smile, giving Tony a reassuring nudge. “She’ll be all right, Tony.”

“Yeah, yeah, she will,” Tony says, nodding to himself, though there’s a tightness in his voice that betrays the mix of joy and sorrow swirling inside him. He may not be able to approach you now, to tell you how proud he is, but he can watch you from the shadows just this once, a silent guardian, letting himself soak in the sight of you alive and well, even if it’s in a past that isn’t his.

He clears his throat, steeling himself, reminding himself of the mission. “All right, guys. Let’s get the Tesseract and get out of here,” he says, but his voice is softer, less biting than usual. “I’ll… I’ll be back soon, anyway. To the right timeline.”

As he and the others move to leave, Tony sneaks one last look over his shoulder. You’re taking a deep breath, looking around at your team with a smile that’s just a little shy, a little amazed, as if you’re still surprised that you belong here. His heart aches with pride, and his voice is barely a whisper as he says, “That’s my girl. Stay safe.”

With that, he turns and follows Steve and Bruce, his heart a little heavier but his soul a little lighter, knowing that, even if he can’t protect you directly, he’s left you in good hands: his own hands, in a way. It’s enough, for now.

I don't know if I'm really satisfied with this...I just hope that whoever requested it likes it!

[a-hazbin-reader]

Hehehehe what about Vox and a fem!S/O that makes it a habit to fluster him or smother his techy butt in affection? I really just wanna take care of this stressed and overworked man whdiskansoskns-

Oh I suppose we can throw him a bone~

Vox X Reader Headcanons

✅️Romantic

❌️Platonic

TW: None I think??

Description: ☝️⬆️

Vox is probably the most stressed out of all the V's, not necessarily because of his workload but because of his temperament

A lot of little things get to him even though he tries not to show it

So he really appreciates having you as his S/O, especially on those days where he's losing his shit, because your affectionate nature helps him focus on something else

On those days, you manage to get him to lay down and accept a back massage from you, and you only tickle his sides a little

You couldn't help it

Sometimes, he actually falls asleep only to wake up to you lying on top of him, arms wrapped around his chest

Or you kiss the side of his screen and hug his neck while he vents to you, holding you securely in his lap

He doesn't want solutions, he just wants you to listen and keep cooing at him like you agree with him

Sometimes all he needs is just a hug from his favorite person in the world and you are more than willing to give it

He could die happy wrapped in your arms and breathing in your scent, your fingers gently caressing the edges of his screen

He loves how affectionate you are with him, knows that he would probably been driven mad by now if it weren't for you in his life

But if you do it in public or around the V's?? He's absolutely mortified and will actually just fizzle out right then and there

Not that you care, you'll take care of him

He's on tv doing his show? No matter, you blow him kisses from behind the camera until he's too flustered to go on, ending it earlier so he can go to you

Definitely doesn't cash in on all those smooches you were blowing his way

Not you interrupting a meeting with the V's because he forgot his phone, you practically demanding a kiss goodbye before you go

"Y/N, we're in a meeting I can't just-"

"I won't leave without a proper kiss!"

Smooch

Not Valentino hooting and hollering at you two as you grip onto your mans and really kiss him

Vox is so dazed by the time you scamper off, flopping back into his chair and hardly registering anything being said

...he definitely had his phone in his pocket before he left...he just didn't check after you pulled him in for a hug...

Did you pickpocket him just to kiss him at work!? In front of his friends!?

And now his screen went dark

The two of you are going out somewhere? You insist on holding his hand and kissing it at every opportunity, gazing up at him innocently

He chokes on his own spit

Even when you aren't awake you're so affectionate

Vox tries to get out of bed and get an early start on the day? Not unless he's taking you with him, your sleepy arms wrapped around him like a vice

More often than not, Vox is seen carrying you around while he sips his coffee, you peacefully dozing against him

You always rub your face on him, practically purring in your sleep because you're so content to snuggle him

He's blushing the entire time while trying to keep a neutral or annoyed look on his face, sipping his drink while scrolling through the news

If anybody mentions it then they're fired

If you ever wear lipstick or anything like that? You bet Vox is stumbling out of closets and rooms covered in kiss marks, blushing furiously

You look so innocent when you step out behind him, like you didn't nearly take his soul

Don't worry, you'll clean him up~

You give him affection and love so freely that it's difficult for him not to be embarrassed, not used to such a thing

He does try to reciprocate but it's not nearly as easy for him as it is for you, but he wants you to know he feels the same

So every once in awhile when you two are alone, he'll pull you into his lap and kiss the back of your neck in an attempt to hide his blush

"You know I'd be so lost without you, right?"

Now he's just asking for you to kiss him until he's begging for mercy

"Y/N W-WAIT!"

I had a lot of fun with this one! I hope it was okay!

[this-hopeless-war]

i haven't been online so here's some headcanons idk if i've posted before im eepy

(tw talking about sh, kinda dark so don't read if that's triggering, that part will be at the end and separated so you can easily skip it)

Ace fucking loves snow

Dallas has shitty vision but he doesn't want nor can he afford glasses (and let's be honest, he'd break em within a day)

When Pony turned 15 Soda started teaching him about cars and etc, when pony was 16 he got a job at the DX 

Due to them working together Pony started to like Steve more

Darry hates when it rains because it means he can't do his roofing gig and he'll come home stressed/grumpy over missing a day of his paycheck

Dally can go a scary long time without sleep, he'll be up for 2 days straight and still be socializing and shit

Dally and Two-Bit once had a drinking contest that didn't end well for anyone involved 

Two-Bit took high school drama (thinking about this is genuinely how I get through the day at school)

During the week Pony was gone, Soda vented to Steve a lot, they honestly grew a lot closer

The first time he was alone after Pony and Johnny got back, Steve cried from relief

⬇️warning here's where talk of sh starts (also added some resources at the end if you read them then feel distress😨)

Steve has had issues with sh (OUGH I love him)

And because of it being in an environment where mental health isn't really talked about at all or very understood, he doesn't really know that sh is, like, an actual thing, he just considers it a way to take out emotion when fighting isn't doing it

And no one ever really acknowledged it (they can see scars on his arm)

Though i'm toying around with headcanons for a bit in my head where (TW) he relapses at the back of the DX after a REALLY bad night where his dad said and did some not-so-handy-dandy things and Soda walks in (Spoiler alert: Steve gets a hug and cries but Soda doesn't cause he thinks he should be tough abt it or something, when he gets home he does though)

After that Steve is at the Curtis's even more and Soda even goes over to the Randle's a couple times cause when Steve is feeling really horrible he calls him up

I also have vague ideas for a bit with Evie

Where she, like, does smt abt it cause she's worried and he's always dodged questions

not 100% sure how it'll work yet though

This is a post of a list of hotlines for the USA, if you found this triggering or are in distress in general please message/call one

⬆️There are help lines everywhere, please done hesitate to search up the numbers for your country and call/text them

And here's just some websites or apps that can help you in times of distress

Have a handy dandy day!

[mesopotamism]

Carve (Choi Su Bong AKA Thanos x Reader)

You never expected to see him again – but if it had to happen, you never expected it to be here. (PREVIOUS FRIENDS -> STRANGERS/ONE-SIDED ENEMIES -> FRIENDS AGAIN -> LOVERS)

tw: mentions of blood, a knife, hospitals, references to mental illness, mentions of psychiatric care, mentions of non prescription meds LOL, metaphor of an injury, it’s set in squid games so that is kinda expected.

(WHERE ARE MY FREAK NASTY TOUCH STARVED BITCHES. MENTALLY ILL POS DRUGGIE LOVERS RISEEEEE)

Chapter 1: 2.6k words

The stinging, antibacterial smell of tile was something you were all too used to. You couldn’t even find it in you to feel surprised, at first, waking up in that godforsaken room; encased by beds all around you, the walls a white and green pattern that was far too cheerful for the situation.

Even here, with all these other losers, you scoffed at their stupidity as they stood, looking around in shock. Anyone who thought that signing up for an undisclosed game for money was going to put them in a safe situation is deluded, you thought. Anyone who didn’t feel a sense of dread upon seeing the gray van pull up to the meeting point, in the dark, alone, their breath freezing in the air…was an idiot.

The same numb feeling encased you now, seeing that your clothes had been stripped of you and replaced, along with your belongings, as it had encased you when you saw the narcoleptic gas billowing from the car vents last night. Maybe it was the all-too-sterile environment around you that comforted you, knowing that blood had been spilt already, and you would not be the first. All in all; you weren’t surprised by anything that had happened in the last 24 hours. Playing stupid games, winning stupid prizes, it all didn’t matter when the only other alternative was to end it all.

Curiosity pricked your mind, however, when personnel emerged, wearing masks, each adorned with a shape. The shapes differed – some had a triangle, some a square – but all of them wore the same, uniform, pink tracksuit.

You climbed down from the bunk bed, eyes squinting from the light bouncing intensely off the bright white and green walls. You knew you should focus on the personnel, but their pink clothes hurt your eyes the worst. Everything was in too much color.

“Hello, everyone, and welcome,” the front guard, wearing a square mask, began. As he tried to begin, shouts of dissent erupted from the crowd.

“Hey, where are my clothes?”

“Did you drug us? In that van?!”

“Where are our phones? I need to text my parents - they don’t know I’m here…”

If you have a family, why be here? Why resort to something as hopeless as this? You thought. You focused on the ground, trying to avoid the color bursting from around you - but even your sneakers were squeaky white and clean.

Out of the sea of people, a complaint stood out to you from them all.

“What about my shoes? Those were limited fucking edition!”

For the first time, from the time you were smacked in the face by a man in a suit who offered you money to play a children’s game, to being drugged in a van and waking up in this sterile bell-jar, a shudder of shock ran down your body, freezing to the bottom of your spine.

“All of your belongings are being kept safely. They will be returned to you once the games are over.”

“And what if something happens to them, huh?! You gonna pay for them?”

“Like I said, all belongings, including clothes, shoes, electronics, and anything else, will be returned after the games.”

“You motherf—”

The screen above the guard flashed to life, showing a video clip of that violet-haired idiot staring at the screen with challenge flashing in his eyes, taking a hit from his blue and yellow vape.

It really was him.

“--Player 230, Choi Su-Bong, debt of 1.9 billion won.”

Your shock had faded slightly from that point, and resignation had taken its place. It was unlikely to see him here, but yes – very like him to do. That fucking idiot.

“Kim Hyun Ju, debt of 1.2 billion won. Kang Mi-na, debt of 850 million won.”

As the guard continued to name and berate each person who had spoken up, you turned your head in the direction of where that idiots’ shout had come from.

A shock of violet carved into your vision through the sea of brown and black hair. You couldn’t help it - you stared. Even after being humiliated, his eyebrows raised sharply in challenge, his lips somewhere between a pout and a grimace, like a petulant child. His hand messed absently with the zipper at the top of his green tracksuit, and – as if the amount of color wasn’t enough – his nails were painted an array of bright colors.

You studied his hand as it twitched absently on the zipper. You could recognize his hands just as easily as his face. They were hard to miss, as he never talked without waving them around in ridiculous, emphatic expressions, or without holding a substance to his mouth. The vein that trailed up the back of his right hand disappeared into the green cuff of his jacket, and you knew – you could picture – where it continued to go, and where it ended, under the fabric.

His hand stilled. You shifted your gaze back up to his face, to find him looking back at you.

You fixed your expression into one of indifference as fast as possible, but you knew your eyes had given you away. You turned your eyes back to the front as naturally as possible, forcing your neck to slow the movement and appear natural. Your heart rate raised slightly, and you knew Su-bong too well to doubt that his eyes were definitely burning through the back of your head.

The guard began to talk about the games themselves, drawing your attention back to the front. The guards ordered people into lines to sign the consent forms, and you shifted idly to your right to suit a line. As you crept up to the front, you saw out of the corner of your eye the same unkempt violet hair swaggering to the front of the line, as player 124 grabbed player 333 by the shoulder next to him.

“The amazing Myung-gi from MG Coin? Right?” 124 spoke.

“...Who are you?” you heard 333 ask him nervously.

“You may not know me, but I know you, MG Coin,” Thanos spoke up. “I was subscribed to your channel.”

You can see Su-Bong shift closer to 333, who backs nervously away by a step.

“And I lost a shitload of money, asshole,” Thanos’ voice drops as he sidles closer to 333.

“As did I,” 124 chimed in.

You couldn’t help but have the edge of your mouth quirk up a bit. It made complete sense that Thanos would lose everything to something as brainless as a crypto scam. At least he wasn’t the only one – his new groupie was now eyeing the scammer with the same predatory smile.

“...You’ve got the wrong person,” 333 responded unconvincingly, trying to walk past them. Thanos pressed a large hand firmly to 333’s shoulder, holding him in place.

Good fucking luck, dude, you thought out to the scammer – player 333. Not only was he the smallest of the three, but it was clear from Su-bong’s body language that he was still as apt to pick a fight as he used to be. In highschool and college, he only ever won fights more than half the time – and usually, that had been from enlisting more groupies, as player 124 had turned into now – but whether he lost or won, he never lost the pettiness and gall needed to elicit one.

“I watched your content all day, every day,” Thanos continued. “Now I even see you in my dreams, motherfucker.”

He set his elbow on 124’s shoulder.

“Your name is Nam-su, right?”

“-Gyu, Nam-gyu, remember? From Club Pentagon.”

“Ah, right, right,” Su-bong responded airily.

You jerked your attention from them, read the consent form diligently, and quickly marked your name. Forcing your head away from the child’s fight Thanos was picking, you hung at the back of the room, waiting for new directions. You thought about how he had met your eyes earlier, and couldn’t help the stab of bitterness you felt that he hadn’t indicated his recognition since.

You took a deep breath of the sterilized air, and closed your eyes. For a second, you were happy to imagine yourself back between those white walls, the beeping of machines, the creak of those old hospital doors opening and shutting. When you wiggled your toes, you could almost imagine the feel of the tile on your sock-clad feet. The only sort of freedom you got in a place like that – to walk around in just socks.

“Señorita, excuse me,”

Your head snapped up, meeting his eyes. Close. He was so colorful, and so close. He raised his hands to his chest, pressing his palms against himself.

“Not gonna say hi?”

“You didn’t,” you reply as evenly as possible. He hadn’t really done anything, and he already felt like a thorn lodged under your skin.

He scoffed, switching back to Korean, his voice taking on his usual air of petulance.

“Hey, you saw me first. You were watching me pretty hard…” he dipped his voice, and you made yourself stay still as he leaned closer. The scent of his body hit you like a ton of bricks, carved through you like glass. Just how it used to be. The faint, sour scent of man-made stimulants and hallucinogens. A cologne far too macho and expensive for his style, or his bank account. Coupled with the perfumed smell of hair product, he travelled coolly through your sinuses, filling your head with the heady scent of him, him, him.

“It’s hard to miss you with that nauseating fucking dye job,” you say bitterly, and he laughs.

“Wow, so mean,” he says, clutching his chest and bending his knees so his face is level with yours. “You’re not still hung up on-”

“--Attention, players. Please line up and follow the path into the hallway as marked. Player identity photos will be taken before the first game begins.”

You brush past him, clipping him with your shoulder as you do so. You hear player 124 ask him a question, but if Thanos responds, you don’t hear. You file into the middle of the line, away from the way he overwhelmed every sense you had.

…….

The hallways were even worse than the dorm. You reminded yourself to feel grateful for the white linoleum when you went back later as you messed with the end of your braid. As you observed everyone lining up to take their photos in a line of booths, commotion and grumblings of discomfort arised from over your right shoulder. You turned your head to see Thanos and Nam-gyu pushing their way ahead in line.

He stopped when he pushed far enough to be in line with you, rolling his shoulders back as he swaggered. You saw him look at you from your periphery – you could even see his jaw work and roll. God knows how much dental work he’s gotten from substance abuse at this point. His underbite was definitely slightly worse than you remember. You ignored his gaze.

“What’s going on with you? No hello for your old frie-”

A lanky, sharp-featured man appeared from a line over from Su-bong, peeking over his shoulder.

“You’re Thanos, the rapper,” the man said lowly. Thanos looked him up and down in surprise.

“Oh, shit!” the man said in surprise, bursting into one of Thanos’ verses. He pointed at Thanos knowingly. “The runner up from the Rap Battleground Final!”

Thanos’ expression turned to face forward, closing off from you. As everyone shuffled forward in line, you stole a glance at him. His expression was pained, distant.

The man persisted. “I’m Gyeong-su, big fan. I’ve been to several of your concerts, please take a picture with me…” the man begged quickly as Thanos started to step towards the photo booth. Many other people felt comfortable approaching after Gyeong-su had, and they chimed in.

“Me too!”

“Me too, please!”

It didn’t take any sort of feat to see the way Su-bong’s expression brightened with confidence and ego, but it made your heart twist all the same, seeing him try to fix his face and pretend to be irritated by their request instead of elated. It reminded you of who he was before, when he’d been himself, not this caricature of Su-Bong – Thanos – standing before you.

Nevertheless, nostalgia hit you seeing him not-so-humbly accept a photo with the players, and you felt faint surprise at how many people continued to push past you to join in, even more that young adults still remembered who this washed-up rapper was.

Suddenly, Su-bong’s head turned, his cool brown eyes meeting yours. He extracted his hand from the herd of crowded bodies, beckoning towards you with two fingers curling towards himself. He jerked his head to the space next to him.

“Hey, I don’t mind having one more person.”

You raised your eyebrow in slight offense.

“Come on,” he encouraged again in English, turning his fingers up and back to the floor, as if he expected you to comply with ease.

A ding sounded from in front of you, and you released the end of your braid, turning to see a guard beckoning you in to take your photo. You rolled your eyes at Thanos’ offer and walked into the booth, missing his slightly deflated expression. As you emerged a moment later, you caught the end of 124 ushering the other players away from the rejected photo, just soon enough to catch Thanos raising his hands to flip off the camera. The way his lip curled was so reminiscent of his stage mannerisms, you had to look away.

Was it bad, you thought to yourself, that he was throwing you off more than the scent of antibacterial liquid masking blood had in that dormitory? That his voice set you more at unease than the modulated ones behind masks? Or was it simply your body adjusting to the whiplash that was experiencing someone again that once had been normal, and yet had long ceased to be?

“I’ve got five days to bother you, I’ll get you to talk,” he commented as he sidled up to you, running his palms over the flat sides of his bright hair. You glanced up, catching his profile as he fell into step with you. For once, he didn’t turn to face you, instead pretending to be fixated on seeing what lay ahead in the hallway. Although, he didn’t need to look back at you; the sight of his upturned smirk told you enough. It nauseated you. Or, maybe it was just the sickening amount of color and detail about him that sickened you. His violet fucking hair, spiked like he’d rolled out of bed – the thick black tattoo that ran from his neck, to his hand, and disappeared down his back – his fingernails, painted neon, individually, with care – that heady scent of powdered drugs and rich cologne – even his pooling brown eyes that threatened to fool you, weaken you. If anyone was to make someone feel sick through experience alone, it’d be him, you thought bitterly. He cut through reason like a knife, and carved his name on you like he deserved to own everything. After all of these years, you felt him again, in the last place you wanted. Running a blade over the long-faded scars of where his name was once etched into your traitorous, weak soul.

(I’ve written fics for YEARS but never posted on tumblr! Sorry the format is jank - but if literally one person reads this I’ll die happy. THANKS LOVE Y’ALL)

[therocketeer0501]

IDW Starscream X Reader

Rendezvous Part 3

Rating 18+ (TW blood, mentions of death, Starscream is silly doesn’t know anything about humans)

Starscream unclenches his fist where he had slammed it on the desk next to you. His optics dart to the tiny hand reaching out for him. Desperation and pain etched in your features. It was like his servos started moving on their own towards your hunched figure. He slowly, carefully wrapped his hand around behind you letting you rest against it. His optics widen in surprise as you lean your little fragile body into him. He can feel your tiny heartbeat, weak at the moment, against his palm.

Everything is just noise and color. The throbbing in your head is the only thing keeping you conscious. It was warm and dark but now it feels as if you’ve been placed on a freezing cold glass surface. Reaching towards the heat once more, you try to speak but only a pained groan slips from your chest. Your head swam as you tried to sit up and look around. Clearly you weren’t at a hospital yet and that alarmed you. Half broken thoughts spilled into your brain as you reached out for something. Anything to grasp to keep you in this reality. In your half conscious state you feel something warm and gentle press against your back grounding you in your panic. Leaning gratefully into it you lose consciousness once more, the color draining from your face.

Gently, Starscream lifts you to rest against his chassis alongside his canopy. After you reached for him he figured out what you were searching for was warmth. But there was still a huge problem. The human is still leaking that awful deep red liquid from the gash on its processor. Impatient, he paced the length of the room, just holding you to him as he tried to figure out what to do with you. He couldn’t fix it. He knew nothing about humans and it was clear that his first interaction with one had ended as all things do with him. Whatever he touches ends up dead or suffering. He vents trying not to think about how many things he’s tried to keep and lost. Stopping to examine you leaned against his chest plate, he makes up his mind. Alarm ringing through his frame as he examines your lifeless and slowly greying form. He’ll take you to your own kind. They can fix this. He opens his canopy and places you gently inside. Once more trying his best not to jostle you as moves down the hallway for a third time that night. He transforms and takes off as fast as he can towards the town.

~3 weeks later~

Your alarm wakes you early on a Saturday morning. It had been awhile since your accident and still no one was able to tell you exactly what happened to you. Fire fighters had discovered you outside of a remote fire station at the base of the mountain. That station was located about twenty miles from the lake. The lake was the last place you remember being conscious. You became the talk of the town. People everywhere wanted to know what exactly had happened on that night. You keep hearing over and over that you are lucky to be alive at all. After a moment, you run a cautious hand over the place on your forehead where you received nine stitches, grimacing as the pain still lingered. So many unanswered questions roll through your mind as you get ready. Today was the day you’d go back to that lake. You needed answers and the only way to get them was to go yourself.

After dropping you off, Starscream hovered in the air above the station. He needed to make absolute sure the humans inside took you in. If only to keep the pathetic thing off of his conscience. He kept telling himself that he didn’t really care about the pitiful little creature. But his thoughts kept straying to the way you reached out for him. That utter dependence on him and his complete lack of knowledge took him off guard. He can’t help himself. Every single night since then he keeps coming back to that lake. If only to be away from it all. But a small part of him hopes he’ll see you alive and well. He didn’t want to admit how desperately he wanted to feel needed again.

[animeyanderelover]

Okay s/o who is a minx with yandere bakugo,gaara,subaru sakamaki?

Tw: Yandere themes, toxic relationship, possessive behavior, obsession, delusional mindset, jealousy, clinginess, stalking, paranoia, controlling behavior, abduction, threats

Tags: @shumidehiro

S/o is a minx

Gaara

🐼​He loves you, Gaara really does. However, your behavior tends to give the Kazekage very high anxiety multiple times a day. Whilst it is your pert and bold personality that have been reasons why he loves you as you had no shyness in approaching him and stubbornly persisting to get to know him better, it's those very same traits that also cause his anxiety to spike as often as it does. Because Gaara knows that he isn't the only on you treat that way. You have no shame in acting the same way towards other people with no consideration for others feelings. You flirt with other people, you are very playful and seem to enjoy causing him such troubles by making him jealous on purpose. That doesn't give you the best image as Gaara, despite his dark past, has risen up to be a very beloved Kage in his village so the civilians of Sunagakure tend to dislike you for playing with his emotions as much as you do. His siblings are going as far as to openly advice Gaara to give up on you.

🐼​If it would only be that easy to do. A part of him knows that you are a tad bit toxic for him but he always melts like butter whenever you spend time with him. His heart is racing every single time yet it is a very bittersweet feeling as he knows that he isn't the only one you have treated like this. Perhaps you just enjoy seeing how much control you have over Gaara, purposely fueling the anger of the people around you by treating him as if he were a toy at times. Despite knowing that, he still defends and protects you against their anger which only enables you even further to act the way you do. Perhaps your biggest worry should have been Gaara from the very beginning though as his fear, jealousy and insecurity eventually get the better of him and cause him to lock you away. You couldn't have predicted this development as nothing seems to work on Gaara as he seems adamant to keep you locked away until he has calmed down. Hopefully you'll have learned to hold back by then, otherwise this might happen again.

Katsuki Bakugo

💥​You really are just trying to trigger him, don't you? It's like you are doing all of this on purpose whilst he is watching. Bakugo has been aware of your bold and troublesome behavior even before he had felt anything for you and he has been avoiding you and any of your advances. It's obvious that you don't intend anything serious whenever you approach him or someone else, you probably see it all as a fun game. It is for that reason an incredibly bitter pill for him to swallow when he slowly comes to realise that your charm seems to have won him over. Yet Katsuki knows that if he lets you realise that he has caught feelings for you, you will only use it to your advantage. He refuses to be outplayed by you so he tries to hide everything deep inside, although his frustration with the situation at hand shows itself in a form of agitated aggression as soon as you try to talk to him as he always sneers at you to get out of his face. He should have known that you are more cunning than he may give you credit for though.

💥​He used to ignore you so the sudden and very intense change within his behavior spells suspicious to you and you wonder why. So suddenly he finds himself surrounded by you as you always follow around or make sure to hang around the places where he is. You have a theory and you test it out by flirting with others in front of him and you know that you have won him over when you take notice of the way he looks like he's about to explode before storming away to vent his anger out on something else than the person you were using. Bakugo isn't dumb either as he knows that you have probably figured him out by now too. This could be troublesome because he knows that you would love to torment him for his attraction for you. He knows that what he is about to do will definitely not be very heroic but he knows that if you go on any longer, he will have a meltdown. Seems like he has to teach you some basic manners as soon as he has abducted you. Don't expect to leave the house until you have learned proper manners.

Subaru Sakamaki

⬜You are playing with fire by daring to act in such a way with Subaru as he has no restraint nor has he anything that would motivate or force him to hold back with his emotions. Subaru has no lid that would hold his feelings back and you only make everything even worse for him. He despises you for acting the way you do and he loathes you even more when he realises that despite knowing all about you and your ways, he has still managed to get as obsessed with you as he did. It is pretty much over for you from that point on though as Subaru sees no reason to control himself nor to hold back. He very quickly assaults or even kills anyone he sees you flirting with and whether they even wanted it or not doesn't even matter. He just sees red as soon as you try to allure someone and by acting the way he does, you soon have a very bad image clinging to your back as people think you are cursed as such terrible things only happen to those you decided to spend your time with.

⬜​This was not intended by Subaru but is is quite enjoyable because not only does it ease his raging jealousy but it also serves to damage you as you find yourself being made into an outcast as everyone is afraid that the same thing will happen to them if they spend time with you. Nevertheless though, Subaru still feels paranoid that you will do it again and so you have an abduction coming for you very quickly and you find out that trying to appease him by trying to appeal to him only serves to trigger Subaru further most of the time. The vampire is unable to trust you as he always believes that you are only trying to play with him. The situation between the two of you is quite fragile as his temper causes him to hurt you at times, especially if you behave the same way around him he has seen you behaving around others which only ever ends in your blood getting drained until you feel dizzy and painful bite marks on your skin. Since Subaru believes that he can't trust you, he keeps you completely shut away in his room so that you will never be able to meet any of his brothers.

[kitkabam]

The Light Behind Your Eyes - A Vyn Richter/Reader.

Things were good, but then they got worse. Dr Richter is here for you, always.

(A vent fic I wrote during a very dark time in my life, and wished Vyn was there to help me. It was around 2022, and it gathered dust in my Google Docs until I originally posted it on ao3. Since I found that some really appreciated the deep writing, I thought it would be good to cross-post on Tumblr. Please know that if you yourself are struggling, you are never alone. If you, or anyone you know, needs help, please never hesitate to reach out to those you trust. Not really a romance-centered fic, but of course, it's suggested they like each other. Reader is NOT the beautiful Rosa.) (Also, yes, the title is a My Chemical Romance Song.)

TW; Implied Suicidal Thoughts, Suicidal Ideation, Depression, Implied Self-Harm, Depression Symptoms, Heavy Mental Health Issues.

 The light filtered through the trees, the remnants of the early morning rain shower washed away as a rainbow displayed itself across a sea of endless blue, white clouds rolling by without a single care in the world. The window in your psychiatrists office always piqued your interest from the moment you would walk in; accompanied by the nose tickling scent of fresh tea, something floral and sweet, as well as the clinking of fine china as a cup is set onto the small side table beside the chair you found oddly comfortable despite its off shape. Sometimes you’d catch your gaze naturally drift to the window, as if drawn to the sky…before your psychiatrist softly chides you for daydreaming in the middle of your consultation. You never miss the small smile he holds, signifying the playful nature of his words, as well as the way he writes down another little note in his book; probably something about you spacing out again, as you always seemed to have done from day one of treatment. 

 There was nothing that could slip past the infamous Dr. Richter. You once teased that he’d be the sort of man to notice even the smallest changes in a woman’s home, like a new set of curtains that look only slightly different from the last one. He chuckled, warmly and genuinely, with a slight shake of his head. You’d taken it as a sign of modesty, only for you to be proven wrong the very next day when you stopped by to pick up something you left behind by accident during your appointment. He complimented the tiny bit of makeup you decided to wear, just to raise your own spirits, a smug little smirk on his lips as he turned away, leaving you to blush in silence and watch his back as it disappeared behind the door. 

 It’s why you weren’t very surprised when he noticed your relapse before you could even tell your mental state was getting worse again. You thought you were on your way to a real recovery, the world around you adorned with much more color than you believed there was, your smile less forced, and your holding a twinkle that your friends always complimented. You were proud of your progress, under the impression that the medicine was working, that these walks to the Gianovyn Research Center were not for nothing. Your treatment plan was seeing so much good progress…so then how did it all come crashing down so fast? 

 Slowly you started to isolate yourself from your loved ones even more, you lost the passion you did for the one thing that brought you light in this dark world, and getting out of bed took much more energy than it should’ve. Then you stopped taking care of basic hygiene, you’d skip meals because your appetite was not existent…or you’d eat comfort food nonstop in order to cope with your emotions. 

 Dr. Richter had asked once if you were getting proper sleep; you responded with some excuse that your brain reassured you he’d believe you were watching some new show and you lost track of time or you were up late on the phone with a friend. You never let it slip that your mind would start to race, that you’d be tossing and turning for hours as the voice inside your head degraded you, bringing up everything you’ve done wrong from the moment you were born to the present. 

 He would ask you about any new writing projects, expecting the usual eagerness that followed as you’d excitedly talk about some new characters you thought of or some plot ideas you needed to brainstorm over more before taking it roughly to paper. He’d slightly frown when he saw the shrug he was instead answered with, a mumbled explanation about having a drought of writer's block. In truth, you just never saw the point anymore. 

 Just like you stopped seeing the point in living. 

 After all, who would miss you? Your friends must be burdened by your existence. Your family would have one less thing to worry over, wondering if you’d ever get better enough to get back on your feet. Dr. Richter … 

 Well, he’d have one less patient to fill up his schedule, right? He’d have more time to find someone else worth helping, a person that’d make more progress and stay on the right path to healing. 

 And, as these thoughts filled your mind, your tired eyes rested on a familiar razor’s edge. It was pathetic; everyone commended you on how strong you were, yet as you stood before your bathroom mirror you looked so vulnerable… so weak. It would just be once, wouldn’t it? Yeah, just one time. Who cares if you’ve been clean for two years now…? It’d give you the brief release you needed, the escape from this horrible black and white reality you lived in. 

 If only it was just that one time.

 Once became twice.

 Three, four���

 Before you knew it, there you were, back in the office of your psychiatrist, your arms covered by the thick hoodie you wore to hide the scars that were etched across their once bare skin. The man's actions were quite elegant as he poured some freshly brewed tea into your cup; chamomile, with a hint of honey. You felt his gaze rest on you as the sound of liquid being poured out of the kettle in his hands stopped; you resisted the urge to meet it, the view of the outside leaving you enraptured. You wondered how it would feel to look down at this world from the view of the clouds…perhaps it was then you’d see the beauty that everyone else spoke of in all those poetry pieces you’d come across? 

 Dr. Richter cleared his throat; you twisted your head over then as he sat down in the seat across from where you laid back. You saw a bit of the rainbow outside reflected in his golden irises, along with a few mini versions of the clouds. It was almost as if he held a sky of his own in those eyes of his…one that threatened to leave you just as captivated. Yours, in comparison, were so dull that you could bet all the money in your wallet that an old penny from the 1900’s would hold more luster. With your attention on him, the silver haired psychologist spoke.

 “It’s been awhile, hasn’t it? You know you missed the appointment we scheduled for you two months ago…can you tell me why you weren’t able to show up, Miss. (l/n)?” His voice was as rich as the tea he served, yet kept an air of pure professionality that always kept it known that he saw you as nothing more than a patient that was left in his care. 

 You wondered if he was seeing anyone…he was a rather handsome man, surely he was taken by a woman of similar beauty. 

 Your throat did dry at his question, the thought a natural tactic to distract you from the nerves that bubbled up in the pit of your stomach. You knew you needed to be honest by this point, that lying would only lead you into more trouble. And if you don't tell the truth…it only makes you fall further down into the abyss that threatens to swallow you whole. Your heart ached, your exhausted body shifting as you reached for the steaming cup of tea that waited to be enjoyed. 

 The silence was killing you, so you blew to cool off the hot drink, and took a sip to try to get more time to gather your words, as well as wet your parched throat. It was no easy feat, exposing your negative thoughts and self destructive actions to a professional in this criteria, yet it was for the better that you did. If you couldn’t help yourself, then surely this man had the ability to give you further aid, right? 

 You placed the cup back down.

 “I…didn’t want to come. I knew if I did you’d try to help and…I didn’t want that.” God, the words that came out of your mouth left a sour taste on your tongue,”I…couldn’t muster that energy to do it. I mean, what was the point?”

 His features softened, his fingers that were interlocked together unwoven as he wrote down whatever notes he needed to record down on his notepad. Your hands shook a bit as the anxiety started to seep through your whole body…what if you ended up admitted into the psychiatric unit of the Stellis Hospital…? The idea frightened you, so much so that you were much too tempted to bottle up everything else you had told yourself you would talk about today; to get this appointment over with, and return home to burrow under the blankets for another two months. Your lower lip trembled.

 “I-I don’t know, Dr. Richter…it all went bad again so fast! I don’t get it! I thought things were going amazing, my life seemed to be taking a turn for the better once I started your treatment plan, but then suddenly it all relapsed. The thoughts…they ate at me, every single night…I couldn’t sleep properly anymore, I didn’t want to go outside or write anymore…everything just lost its color. I wanted an escape from this pain, this…this bitter reality!” Tears blurred your vision, your voice grew louder as your heart cried out for sweet release,” What am I supposed to do , doctor?! The medicine isn’t working anymore! These sessions aren’t doing it for me! I can talk and talk and talk about my feelings all I want but there is this hollowness in my chest, this numbness, that won’t go away! I’m so desperate to feel something, anything, that I..I…”

 A sob cut through your words, tears rolled down your cheeks one after another as you found yourself breaking down before the eyes of a man who has seen this very scene many times with all sorts of people. You wondered if your crying would give him a headache, if the sound of it would only annoy him…until a hand rested on your shoulder, heavy and not quite as warm as you expected, but a comfort that you found yourself naturally leaning into. You looked up from your lap at the man who suddenly kneeled in front of you. Your tear swollen eyes and puffed up cheeks were on full display to him, reflected in his eyes instead of the sky that you always seemed to adore watching…yet saw no sign of irritation.

 No, for a moment you swore you saw something akin to concern, but not the type you’d usually see from a therapist or any doctor. One you’d see from a friend, a loved one, who only wanted you to be happy. 

It made your heart skip a beat, which you thought was quite inappropriate for it to do when you were in the middle of a breakdown, but you decided to let it slide. You can lecture yourself later.

It was the soft utter of your name that made your body tremble more violently; the squeeze of your shoulder that threatened to make the sob you swallowed choke back up. 

“...I won’t lie that it upsets me to see you in such a state and that you didn’t inform me sooner that your symptoms were returning, even more so getting worse. If you had I could have done something a lot sooner or..or…” His eyebrows knitted further together, as if the words he wanted to say were right on his tongue, but he refrained for your sake, not his,”...I am glad you told me now, before you could do anything too reckless. I know it must’ve taken a lot of strength to even consider coming to the appointment today and I am proud of you. But, as your psychiatrist, you must know that this only shows me you’re a danger to your own well being and I must do what I have to in order to ensure your safety, even if you might not like it.”

You knew this, yet to hear it from Vyn…it sent your emotions down into another spiral, the teardrops only continued to fall and fall…and your brain shouted at you for being so stupid, that you should’ve just lied and masked it all up like you did in the past. But no. You refused, you needed to get help- sure, you might not come out of this being the same person you were, but you’d be better and that’s all that should matter, right? Plus it was clearly what Dr. Richter thought was for the best…who were you to deny a professionals opinion in his own work?

“Of course, I’ll be here every step of the way. I will admit you into one of our rooms so I can keep a closer eye on you. I will also need to make the proper adjustments to your medications, ensure that the environment is safe, and…” Vyn cut himself off, mouth left ajar as if he just realized how much this was to take in all at once,”...My apologies, I’m getting ahead of myself. Please, take your time to let your emotions out during our session. If more time is needed, I have no further appointments after your's so it won’t be an issue. You're not alone, not now, and not going forward."

(Thank you for taking the time to read this very important fic! Honestly, if Vyn were real, I bet he could fix me. If you enjoyed this, I'd love to note that my requests are open! And the link to my Ko-Fi is in my bio if you'd like to leave a tip! If not, reblogs and likes are also so very appreciated!)