#ACTIVELY GETTING YOU CRYSTAL

[midnight-mourning]

Ouaugegeh

sobving crying

i think abt confused spirit

i think about it alot.::

ihymgodh i love confused spirit

I wake up

and go

man how i love confused spirit

and the n go about my day

HEVDBDH

GIVING YOUFLOWERS💐💐💐💐💐🎉🎉💐🗣️‼️

I REALLY LIKE YOUR WRITING I THINK YOURE SO COOL!!!!!

and then i run away 🤾🤾🏃‍♂️💥

ASHKJHSKDJAS HEY GET BACK HERE!!

I also think about confused spirit on the daily omg we have so much in common-

but for real, thank you!! <3333 Twas the goal to make a fic that would haunt people one way or another /j

gah I'm flustered and can't think of what to say ummmm

take this snippet from an upcoming chapter (spoiler warning for those not caught up)

taking your flowers and giving you some back bc YOU 🫵 are also very cool!!! I eat up your art and lovely comments every time I see them askjflksd 💐💐💐💐💐💐💐💐

[bowiestarzzz]

God I genuinely don’t get why people hate Nightheart so much. Every reason they have is they’re actually just angry at the authors not at Nightheart lol. Like you’re allowed to hate whatever character u want but I just saw a comment saying the fandom should scalp every Nightheart fan alive and it’s like woah okay. Jesus he’s just a cat dude

[active-mind-15]

Finally got around to drawing big bro Oreshi and baby bro Bokushi with goofy grins/laughs as requested by @japeneselunchtimerush some time ago. I'm trying to drag myself out of an art funk so I gave up on making this higher quality, but at least I have created a visual. I'll redraw it when I get better. Enjoy :)

[Art related to my fic, Accidental Siblings.]

[selvepnea]

Some builds I've been working on

[mizulekitten]

I love the Case of the Two Dead Dragons ep for a lot of reasons, but the scene where they're talking to Twitchy Richie, like when they first start to mess with him is just so... perfect. Like the way Charles steps up and says "Ooh, try it, mate," his crossed arms coming down. And in the following scene when it shows just Richie & Crystal it's like "What's he going to do omg."

Except Crystal tilts her head with the stupid lighter in her face and it's Edwin that goes "Don't mind if I do." And Charles just looks so enamored and Crystal and Edwin are both so pleased with themselves.

I don't know. It's just the way they're working in tandem with each other for once. Not just with one another, but exactly in step. Crystal knew, without a word, that they'd play along. Edwin could've just let Charles do his thing, especially after what he said, after knowing they kissed (even if they broke things off right after). But it's like... Crystal is a part of their team now. He may not be super close to her yet, but they're both bitches /pos that of course this is the moment they fall in step. It's a shared trait that they were using to hurt and annoy each other, but now it's a bonding moment, a crossing of that divide between them.

So of course Charles lets them have their little moment and is so happy to do so. Whether it's queerplatonic or romantic, this is his best mate for 30 years and his new best friend. He knows they'd get along in their own way if they got through it. And here they are.

Perfect sync, not just Charles and Edwin, but Charles, Edwin, and Crystal.

[blackwaxidol]

Most of the difficulty from that fight is in Morak'Al and co. trying to give me a colonoscopy, really...

[musashi]

posts about the alt-right pipeline being compassionate towards young men while radical leftists shun and shame them are not fucking saying "the men are becoming violent because feminists are too mean!" and if that is your takeaway you need to get off tumblr until you've better honed your critical thinking skills.

those posts are talking about how effective the language and approach you take in your activism can be. this is literally cult deprogramming 101. if someone is being taken in by a violent or dangerous group, that violent or dangerous group is usually offering them compassion and solace while working hard to convince them everyone else in the world is their enemy. you are under no obligation to coddle or act compassionate toward these men and their violent ideologies, but if you have the means to try, it is something that you can do to make a tangible difference.

radicalized people are often only one loving friend or family member or external voice away from being de-radicalized. of course that is not always the case, but it very often is. a lot of y'all rightfully understand that you do not carry the burden of being that voice, but a lot of y'all also have a lot of internalized ideas about morals and punitive justice and have simply written off these people as deserving of only the worst and not worth saving.

ten years ago, my grandmother was a fox news watching republican who voted red in every election and very well could have fallen down the qanon rabbit hole if not for me and her daughter challenging her compassionately, walking her through hypotheticals that validated her feelings & proving why they were false, & being patient with her despite our extreme division in political ideology. it was frustrating fucking work! but i decided i wanted to do it, because i could see the horizon and i could see me making a difference!

"misogynists have been saying feminists are too mean for years, get new material" that is not the fucking POINT. the point is that you, feminist, can be the compassionate voice that guides your brother, your father, your cousin, your grandfather away from fucking becoming or staying a nazi. you can show them compassion and companionship. you can be the woman they think of when their alt-right bros try to convince them that women are the enemy. and you can choose to crystallize that image of yourself so wholly in their mind's eye as worth protecting that they may very well choose to reject those harmful ideas.

it's not saying you HAVE to do it! it's saying you CAN do it! don't you 'firebomb a walmart' people all love taking change into your own hands? where the fuck is that energy right now, huh?

[everythingisamazing]

We all know about most of these by now, but I thought it'd be fun to make a comprehensive list of all the things of varying degrees of insanity both Jayce and Viktor have done in the series to, for and because of each other: 1. Viktor looking at Jayce in the most intense but also thoroughly enchanted way in the council room scene

2. Viktor stealing Jayces notebook from Heimerdinger after Jayces research was officially deemed "dangerous" by the council

3. Saving Jayce from suicide and instilling new hope, along with a sense of adventure in him manic-pixie-dream-girl-style.

4. Jayce asking for Viktors name in the most romantic way possible and Viktor answering him with 2 syllables and bedroom eyes

5. Jayce-I-egotistically-sign-all-my-notes-with-my-name-Talis going instant commie mode by calling his life long dream "our" dream after Viktor scribbled something on a blackboard and cracked a silly little joke once.

6. Casually snacking on pickles, bread, wine and coffee as if they weren't committing crimes and there wasn't a huge hole in the wall while nerding out about magic

7. Breaking into Heimerdingers lab together

8. Viktor using taking Jayce to his bedroom as an excuse when getting caught, and Jayce being too stressed out to notice

9. Viktor then having the audacity to look disappointed in the background when Mr. Oblivious reacts to Mel the way every single person with functioning eyes would react to that goddess of a woman

10. Both trusting each other enough to risk exile after knowing each other for like a day.

11. Jayce, although having just experienced the same crystals blowing up a building, going through with the dangerous experiment simply because Viktor says "trust me".

12. Viktor sacrificing his cane, which is basically an extension of his body, to keep the door shut 13. Jaye carrying him bridal style because of that afterwards.

13. Experiencing what they'd both probably rank among their top 3 moments in life when floating in the magic they just created together

14. Viktor smiling the only full on smile we see him do in the show because of that.

15. Jayce drawing a portrait of Viktor in his notebook, next to a little doodle of two brains with lightning between them and a reminder to ask him for his last name.

16. Working alongside each other as best friends for 7 years and creating world altering technology

17. Viktor yearning for Jayce each day, for each of those 7 years ("Viktor wanted things Jayce couldn't give him at the time")

18. Whatever the fuck happened at the distinguished innovators competition that was probably also among their top 3 moments because of the way Viktor looked when Jayce brought it up and the fact Jayce used it to remind Viktor of things that make life worth living

19. Jayce constantly touching Viktor. In almost every scene. Whenever he can.

20. Them giving each other the same dumb heart eyes but always when the other is not looking 21. Viktor looking at Jayces lips in the scene before he gives his speech

22. The way they say each others name. It gets progressively more breathy as the show goes on.

23. The way their pupils dilate in several scenes when looking at each other

24. The butterfly symbolism connecting them throughout both Seasons

25. (Debatable, but I will include it) Jayce having a bi-crisis when Ambessas twink reminds him of a certain someone

26. Jayce asking "You had a vision?" as if it is the most normal thing ever. (Thank you Jayce. We love a husband, who unabashedly supports his witchy partner, plagued by visions and omens.)

27. Jayce having his sex scene with Mel be intercut with scenes of Viktor (not something they actively did, but still has to be mentioned)

28. Jayce leaving Mel to be by Viktors bedside when he wakes up in the hospital

29. Viktor being the only one shown to notice how stressed Jayce is about getting pushed into being a councilor via the deep exhale he does in that scene

30. Jayce not letting Heimerdinger interfere with the experiments that might save Viktors life, no matter how dangerous

31. Jayce removing Heimerdinger from the council because of it

32. Viktor immediately thinking of Jayce when Singed mentions the word "love"

33. Viktor instinctively knowing Jayce will reach out his hand to help him up without having to look during the bridge scene

34. Viktor slapping his hand away, but then accepting when Jayce puts it on his lower back a second later

35. Jayce stopping Viktor from taking his own life

36. Jayce granting Zaun independence because he doesn't know how to save Viktors life but he has to do something to honor their shared dream

37. Jayce seeing the council room completely destroyed, with several people hurt and dead, but only tearing up when he sees Viktor

38. Jayce running several blocks while carrying Viktor to their lab

39. Breaking his promise to Viktor (and probably several laws) by performing necromancy on him

40. Jayce saying "fuck the council" and everything he has worked for, when he realizes none of that matters without Viktor

41. Jayce staying holed up in the lab for god knows how long to watch over Viktor 42. Jayce adding unnecessary details to his sketch of Viktors body, like the exact swoop of his hair.

43. Jayce immediately waking up after Viktor quietly says his name, whereas we saw him sleeping through an air alarm before that.

44. Viktor looking...very different, but all Jayce cares about is that he is alive. 45. Jayce, glancing between Viktor’s legs in his changed form an ungodly number of times.

46. Them embracing very closely while Viktor is nude, ending with Jayce looking slightly embarrassed when the emotions are threatening to overwhelm him

47. Jayce covering Viktor in the blanket from his childhood bedroom which Viktor will keep even after reaching godhood.

48. "My place was always here with you."

49. "It was affection that held us together"

50. Jayce getting glassy eyed when Viktor tells him he is leaving and holding out his hand as if he is expecting him to come back and grab it.

51. Jayce looking heartbroken at Heimerdingers reminder of him having broken into the lab before

52. Jayce generally giving off freshly divorced vibes in that whole scene

53. Jayce longingly looking at the remains of two male figures embracing in the AU while sitting in the rain

54. Jayce hallucinating Mel turning into Viktor in the fire at the bottom of the ravine.

55. Jayce basically walking a mile in Viktors shoes, fighting his way from the depths of the Undercity to the top of piltover with a broken leg. 56. Matching leg braces on opposite legs.

57. Viktor walking a mile in Jayces shoes by becoming a leader in S2 and his body finally being strong, while Jayces gets broken in the Au.

58. Viktor designing the sphere in the commune similar to the top of the Hexgates he built with Jayce

59. Viktor finally realizing through Singeds memories, that he wasn't kept alive by Jayce as an experiment, but out of love

60. Jayce tenderly stroking the hexcrystal on his bracelet

61. Viktor tenderly stroking the gear that reminds him of the night him and Jayce became partners.

62. Jayce looking at mage!Viktor in the exact same awestruck way he did when he was a child - even after about 6 months of pain and suffering

63. Jayce being ready to sacrifice himself after mage!Viktor reveals the truth to him

64. AU Jayces corpse responding to Viktors touch 65. The fact that the only "beautiful" place left in Piltover was where Jayces corpse was

66. Jayce dramatically adding "...and with me" after saying to Viktor how he thought he was done with hextech, like the bitter divorced husband he is.

67. Viktor excitedly inviting Jayce to the commune, believing he finally knows how Jayce really feels about him

68. Viktor waiting for Jayce floating in the air like a venus fly trap, with his upper body bare, while holding the gear in his hands

69. Viktors eyes changing color when he sees Jayce, because as confirmed by the writers, when he looks at Jayce he’s reminded of his humanity and is tied to it once again </3

70. Jayce visually having to fight himself to be able to shoot Viktor and not being able to look while doing it

71. Viktor never taking his eyes off of Jayce after being shot by him

72. Jayce leaving without as much as a glance back while looking absolutely destroyed

73. Jayce now dressing in dark colors - both Zaunite and mourning coded

74. Jayces clothes being asymmetrical in the final scene - Zaun style

75. The most homoerotic fight in history.

76. Viktor giving bedroom eyes #2

77. Viktor choking Jayce (twice)

78. "Let's do this once again as partners." (Viktor didn't speak when he said this. He purred.) 79. Viktors robot "crying" after being rejected by Jayce once more (shortly followed by "the line" starting to play </3)

80. Jayce lovingly caressing the gold poured into the broken council room table as if it was the golden lines in Viktors new skin. 81. Jayce having a dead wife-flashback, remembering Viktor lying dead in the rubble as he does this. (it's fast in the show - blink and you'll miss it)

82. Jayce having another dead-wife-flashback when Cait says "Viktor is at the center of all this, isn't he?", remembering him smiling, with a strand of hair prettily falling in front of his face, when that isn't what Viktor really looked like in that moment.

83. "I've been confused about a lot lately."

84. Viktors Mask as the herald resembling the Talis Symbol

85. Another homoerotic fight

86. Jayce never looking at Viktor in any of his forms with disgust, not even as he becomes some sort of eldritch being, but like this instead:

87. Jayce kneeling down calmly infront of Viktor, accepting his fate

88. Jayces whole speech on the astral plane. Calling Viktors imperfections beautiful. Basically revealing how his plan was to deter Viktor from destroying the world by confessing his love to him.

89. IN ALL TIMELINES, IN ALL POSSIBILITES. SOULBONDED ACROSS INFINITY. INEXTRICABLY BOUND. ONLY YOU CAN SHOW ME THIS. NO MATTER THE CIRCUMSTANCES, IT'S ALWAYS GOING TO BE YOU.

90. Viktors eyes practically glowing in Jayces memory of him.

91. The "you have no idea how beautiful it is"-magic Jayce had been chasing since he was a child turning out to be Viktor all along.

92. Viktor bending the laws of the universe because he cannot let Jayce die

93. Jayce dooming the world over and over again because he cannot let Viktor die

94. "Because I promised you."

95. Jayce embracing Viktor again and Viktor, starting to glow gold where Jayces hands touch him.

96. Viktor telling Jayce to go, giving him the choice to live on without him

97. Jayce looking at him so tenderly yet sadly, because Viktor STILL doesn't realize he will never go. Ever.

98. Jayce passing the rune embedded in his wrist back to Viktor as if handing him his heart.

99. "We finish this. Together."

100. Them fighting to hold on to each other even though the force of the Arcane is pulling them apart

101. It finally giving up underneath the touch of both their hands

102. That one shot directly after where Viktor looks up from where their hands are touching and he has this expression on his face as if FINALLY realizing that he is no longer alone because of how Jayce truly feels about him.

103. Their final embrace: Touching foreheads. Jayces hand on Viktors neck. Viktor gently stroking his arm as if to soothe his partner.

Ps: If I have missed anything, let me know! I want to add it to the list :D

[kirbyddd]

see see this is a big part of what's gone. whatever tf that process of active memory retrieval is. so recalling and holding onto information at will, but also like for example when i have to look for something these days, i can't actively seek the visual object, i have to like just scan my eyes around and hope if it's there it triggers my pattern recognition. i can't "keep an eye out for it" as they say

[the-travelling-witch]

i’ve been cooking something small

[ambrosiagourmet]

I've been thinking about Laios' succubus lately. Mulling it over a bit.

Because I've seen these pages brought up a fair bit, but almost entirely in the context of shipping (on all sides, really). And I really want to understand what they are doing for the story beyond that.

When I went back to reread the scene and section, a few things caught my interest: the way Laios responds to both forms of his succubus, the themes of the volume the chapter is found in, and the other events of the chapter itself.

So let's dive into those three things, and what I think they say about the succubus scene's purpose.

Laios is never fully frozen by the succubus

So. If you compare Marcille and Chilchuck's reactions...

to Laios':

-

There is a difference. Sure, the basics may look the same once it turns into Scylla Marcille, but even then, it functions differently.

Chilchuck and Marcille are completely frozen once they catch sight of their succubus. Izutsumi, as well, isn't able to look away, and completely freezes up once her 'mom' starts talking to her. As Chilchuck describes, "just looking at them makes you unable to move."

And yet, Scylla Marcille has to actively convince Laios to comply. He even looks away from her at one point!

Laios accepts this succubus, but he is never actually helpless to it in the same way. Taken in? Convinced? Sure, at least enough to let things happen that he probably should question more than he does. But magically compelled? Not really. Not the same way as everyone else is. So that's interesting. But let's move on for now.

2. Volume 9 is all about drive and desire

I don't often look at chapters within the context of the volume they are included in, but I think there's some really fun things to be found with that perspective in mind.

For one, volume 9 starts with an exploration of what desire brought Laios to the dungeon:

And ends with a question of what desire brought Laios to the dungeon:

It's also very concerned in general with questions of why people do what they do. Why they are in the dungeon, why they are with the people they are with, why they stay, what they fight for.

In addition to Laios, we see it with Marcille...

Izutsumi

Kabru

and Mithrun

Hell, we even get it for the demon!

It's certainly not the only volume concerned with desires and motives, but it is particularly focused on these ideas.

The succubus scene fits quite well into the ongoing question about desires, especially Laios' desires. It is even placed at an interesting spot within the volume. The volume is six chapters long, and the scene takes place at the start of the 4th chapter. It's almost smack-dab in the middle.

With all this in mind, it is interesting that, with both versions of the succubus Marcille, it's not totally clear which parts of her Laios is rejecting.

The first version of Marcille looks human, but Laios attacks when he identifies her as a monster. The second Marcille looks like a monster, but he seems to believe that she is the real (human)(ish) person that he knows. So is he rejecting the monster at first, and then accepting the person? Or is he rejecting humanity and only interested in the monstrous?

Something to consider as we look at the next point...

3. the rest of the chapter is a seduction, too

This is one of those things that might not be apparent on a first reading, but is crystal clear on a revisit. We see the succubus try and charm Laios over 7 pages, and then see the Winged Lion do the same thing for the next 19.

Much like the succubus, it offers the mingling of monsters and humans. Much like the succubus, it offers belonging.

(and this is the point where I absolutely must also link this post by fumifooms on the succubus, which has some great ideas on how the scene is informed by Laios' trauma and desire for acceptance!!!)

But, back to the point. The Winged Lion wants to feed on Laios just as much as the succubus did, and it uses similar strategies to try and make that happen. Though this chapter isn't really the turning point for the next Lord of the Dungeon (it is Marcille who will, eventually, become the Lion's next victim), it certainly behaves like it is.

Laios is convinced. The succubus gets its meal. By the end of the volume, the reader begins to understand how concerning his desires are. Together, it is all very good at building up that sense of dread and pending disaster, as we see exactly how and why Laios might just fall into the Lion's open arms and bring about the end of the world.

-

So that's the three things I noticed. But there's still something I want to touch on by looking at the way these observations overlap, and what they reveal, together.

As I said, by the end of the volume, you can feel the tension growing. Just as Kabru and Mithrun do, you look back for an answer to the questions that have been built, chapter by chapter: why is Laios here? Where will his loyalties fall? This chapter, and scene, seem to prove the inevitable truth: he will choose the monster, of course. He will choose the seductive, easy power of the Winged Lion.

But the details of what actually happens tell different story: one in which the Lion is wrong.

First, as a reminder - even in Scylla Marcille mode, the succubus never fully entrances Laios. It convinces him, but it doesn't have him completely under its thrall.

Similarly, in the dream, the Lion does convince Laios to embrace the world he is offering. But even within that dream, Laios continues to ask questions that will be vital to him later. It is because of those questions that Laios comes to a new understanding about Thistle.

And it's this realization that he cites later as part of his reason for refusing the Lion's offer.

He is thinking through things the entire time, just like he continues to question the succubus even after it turns into Scylla Marcille.

Laios also expresses an interesting reason for why he wants to see the future of this world. He's not just invested because it would mean people liking what he likes, or him getting to spend time with monsters. The thought that comes immediately before his acceptance is about what he wants for monsters and people.

I don't think it's a coincidence that this statement - "we're living beings that share the same world, but all we can do is keep killing each other" - can apply to the various humans races just as much as it does to humans and monsters. The thing he is thinking about here isn't just a matter of his personal daydreams. It's an idea that underpins every conflict in the story.

Laios caring about how people as well as monsters in this manner is something that the Lion gets wrong every time. Even at the end, he still frames Laios' desires entirely around hating people and loving monsters.

The Lion has heard him express an opinion about the future of the world! It happened right there in the dream, right in front of him! He just didn't take it seriously, and didn't view it through any lens other than "Laios likes monsters more".

He's convinced that he understands how to get to Laios. Maybe the Lion can't truly see everything, or maybe his vision into everyone's deepest desires has made it hard for him to realize how much choice still matters. That people can, and do, choose which desires to act on, and how to act on them.

Whatever the case, he's wrong about Laios, and the story shows us this over and over again.

After all, look at how the succubus interaction plays out:

A monster uses Marcille to appeal to Laios...

He realizes that something about the situation is wrong, and rejects her.

It changes strategies, and makes new offer: to turn him into a monster.

It also assures him that his friends are, or will be, taken care of.

He accepts. Or rather, allows the monster to have its way with him.

But Laios is not as helpless as he initially appears, and what the Lion thinks is a successful seduction also contains the seed of an idea that will allow Laios to later resist him.

We even get to see Izutsumi playing a similar role in both instances, as the one person fully able to take action in the face to the illusion.

The story lays out what is going happen, and then explicitly tells us that the demon and the succubus are thematically related.

The chapter performs a great sleight of hand here - everything about it seems to indicate that Laios is doomed give in to the option to have his deepest desires realized. But if you look closer, it also contains the evidence that he won't. There's a lot more going on for him.

Yes, he still falls for obvious tricks. He is still extremely into monsters, and he still doesn't feel like he fits in with other people. He may, deep down, crave to surrender to the monstrous - to let it absorb him. But he questions more than he seems to. He considers more than people realize. He cares so much more than anyone gives him credit for.

And I think this is part of why we see the succubus called back to so many times, especially with the wolf head addition to his Monster Form, which he specifically added due to his encounter with the Scylla Marcille.

This all stays with Laios. It doesn't just foreshadow the path of the story, it is fundamental to how and why he walks that path. It's not about him choosing monsters, and it's not about him choosing people. It's about how he considers both, and cares about both.

And it's about the forces that think they already know his answer. Mithrun and Kabru. The Winged Lion. The succubus.

It's about how they are wrong.

[drdemonprince]

any advice for coping with being on the receiving end of a public callout ?

Oh yes:

Do not acknowledge the callout publicly. It will only further its spread, lend it legitimacy, cause you to be interpreted as guilty, and convey to anyone who bears you ill will that you are rattled and feeling socially threatened.

Do not act out of urgency. One of the ways that cancelled people get themselves in far worse trouble is by spiraling due to anxiety and rushing to issue a statement about what has happened, or to attempt to socially manage public impressions about what has happened. Do not do this. Anything that you say will be picked apart and used against you. The situation is truly not as urgent as it might feel. A lot of times, doing nothing and being quiet is the best way to proceed, and the dust will settle better if you do.

Do not issue a public apology. If you truly feel that you have wronged someone, that conflict should be worked out in private with the people you have directly affected. You do not owe the anonymous public audience a damn thing. Do not apologize for something you don't honestly believe that you have done wrong. Take time and really think about what happened, and seek the counsel of people whom you trust in PRIVATE.

Do not attempt to disprove the callout unless you have crystal clear, smoking gun evidence that the person who accused you is actually victimizing you. And even then, probably don't do it. I have only seen a disproof of a callout work ONCE, and that was when Juniper Abernathy revealed the person cancelling her had been abusing her. Even if the facts are on your side, acknowledging the accusations will only make more people aware of them, give your detractors ground to criticize your every word, and will muddy the waters and make people find the situation confusing and troubling rather than clear.

GET THE FUCK OFFLINE. Delete your social media apps for the time being. Turn off notifications. Turn off DMs requests. Change your settings so that you only ever hear from people you already follow (I do this, on the advice of Philosophy Tube). Get away from the computer.

Connect with IRL friends. When you're wrapped up in a cancellation, the negative opinions of a handful of foaming at the mouth freaks loom way larger than they actually are. And social media dramatically skews our sense of social priorities such that the approval rating of complete strangers starts to seem more important than people we actually know, and trust, and who actually know us. Go get a meal with a buddy. Watch a dumb movie. Talk to your grandma about her plans for her garden. Surround yourself with real people you care about and focus on their life and problems, to help put things in perspective.

Find distracting, active, rewarding activities that bring you out of the digital space and into physical reality. Not everyone is talking about you, not everybody hates you, most people have no fucking clue what has been said about you, and most people do not give a fuck about you (that's good). There are so many areas of life that are completely fucking untouched by what a bunch of social media power users have to say online. Go volunteer to clean up a park, run some errands, take an exercise class, foster a dog, regrout your bathroom, knit a hat. Even if the worst case scenario happens and a cancellation sticks, it's really only among a certain very vocal group of miserable fucking people. There is a whole world around you that will not ever care, and you will have a life outside of this.

Good luck!!

[blood-smiles]

𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐘 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒 ᛝ

𝗬𝗔𝗡𝗗𝗘𝗥𝗘 𝗟𝗔𝗪𝗬𝗘𝗥 𝘅 F! 𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗗𝗘𝗥 . MDNI . NSFW MENTIONS . VERY UNEDITED

A freckled woman scrolled on her phone, her nails clacking against her phone screen gently. Her eyes scanned over a profile,

(Y/N) freaking (L/N).

A loser with little to no followers but somehow in a relationship with the hottest man she had ever seen.

She huffed out her nose, her hand playing with a delicately curled strand of her light brown hair. She clicked on your newest photo.

There you were, with that beautiful man again, he smiled at the camera delicately, the sunlight kissing his sharp features, the crystal of his thin rimmed glasses catching the light in a way that would suit a model.

She scrolled lower, this time the both of you were in some type of snowy place, white all around the both of you, a pretty snowflake on the tip of your nose. That wasn’t what caught her eye, heavens no, someone as boring and.. average as you could never even hold a candle to her.

But, your boyfriend. His pretty pink lips pressed up against your cheek, a soft flush spreading over his pale cheeks, his skin almost as white as the snow around him. She stared at his lips for what felt like hours, she saw how the corners of his mouth quirked up into a little smile, obviously enjoying the moment of tenderness with you.

Roma shut off her phone, throwing it on her bed as she got up, peeling her past boy toy’s hoodie off her body. 

She had seen that you were going out today, you had posted a photo of yourself at a mall. That must be your activity for today.

She went through her closet, her hands moving across different articles of clothing with distinct colors, textures and patterns.

She picked out an off shoulder top and some skin tight bootcut jeans, golden jewelry decorating her soft skin.

Roma looked at herself in the mirror, her makeup was perfect. Alluring, sexy and refined. She smiled a little, running her tongue over her carmine red lips.

The shopping center was filled with people, full but not the point it would feel uncomfortable or stuffy. You latched onto Alejandro’s arm, cheek pressed against his shoulder as the both of you navigated the mall.

He gazed down at you for a moment, he could stare at you until his eyes dried up and he went blind, it wasn’t even a challenge for him, he would do it without a protest as if it was just another day.

He sighed contentedly, this was perfect, the perfect moment with you. He nuzzled against your head, inhaling the scent of your shampoo.

You pointed and awed at different things, whether it was an item of clothing, a book or a cute plushie. The male added each item to his mental list of items he would get you this weekend.

It was all fine, all was well until someone approached you, slightly taller than you, not quite reaching his height though.

“Oh my god! Is that my little (Y/N)?” A sultry voice called out, moving closer to the both of you. 

You furrowed your brows for a moment, arms letting go from your boyfriend to wrap around yourself subconsciously.

You didn’t even notice but someone else did, the man accompanying you did. His eyes narrowed in thought, something was wrong.

..Was it that woman?

“O-Oh.. Hey, Roma!..” You strained a smile, your own hands rubbing your elbow gently.

Roma smiled cunningly, noticing how your body language was closed. How she loved that look on you, that insecurity made her strive.

“And who is this?~” she purred, leaning closer to your partner, licking her lips suggestively, her long eyelashes fluttering.

Holy shit, this was your significant other? How were you even able to pull him? 

Behind thin silver frames, eyes like ruby gems peered down at her, silky hair draping over one shoulder, the slightest intimidating tilt of his head telling her to stay at a distance.

Alejandro was not impressed, his arm curled into the inside your bicep, hugging your arm close to his chest. 

He subtly raised a brow. He hadn’t ever heard of her, but he did see that you scrolled on her page once in a while, although all she ever posted was her body in clothing you can barely consider as decent one.

“Uh. This is Alejandro, my boyfr—“ 

“Husband. I’m her Husband.” Alejandro cut you off sharply, nails gently pressing into your skin.

“..Is that so?” Rome asked, well this was even better! He had done his vows, wouldn’t it be wonderful if he were to break them with your own ‘best friend’?

“You wouldn’t mind if I joined you both would you?” The pretty girl smiled innocently, wedging herself between the two of you, nails indiscreetly raking down his forearm to the back of his hand, her long fingers ghosting over his veins.

“Yes, we would mind.” Alejandro immediately responded, not taking even a moment to think it over, snatching his arm away as if he had been burned by fire. 

You frowned, knowing that this moment would come, Roma always had this habit of being a home wrecker. But it seemed that your partner didn’t even bat an eyelash her way, completely uninterested and repulsed.

He moved to your side, grabbing your hand forcefully and pressing it on his waist, his arm rested on your shoulder.

He glared at Roma with disgust, did she not get the fucking hint? 

The woman was not affected though, so he was a mean one? God, that just made her panties wet.

The three of you walked about, a cycle going on and on, Roma trying to openly flirt with Alejandro, him saying something absolutely awful to her, then clinging on to you. The cycle went on and on.

You were on the verge of tears, this was supposed to be a fun day out with the man you loved but it had been spoiled by your worst enemy.

You had begun to feel that burning sensation in the back of your throat, the corners of your lips beginning to twitch.

“I-I’m going to go to the bathroom, I’ll be right back.” You squeaked out, finally sniffing as you brought your hand up to press against your mouth and nose.

The obsessed man began to chase after you like a lost puppy following its master, however he was stopped as a certain flirtatious woman appeared, hugging his mid section, full breasts pressed against his back.

If he had a knife with him right now, he would have impelled it right between her eyes.

He almost bashed her head into the wall next to him as he realized that she had no bra on, feeling the prick of her nipples against his lower back.

“Let go of me you insolent bitch.” He snarled, elbowing her in the side roughly, trying not to make a scene in public.

She giggled, as if not having heard him. Holding her hands up in mock surrender. Was he like this in bed too? Oh how she couldn’t wait until she had him under the sheets.

You wiped your tears, knees hugged against your chest as you hiccuped tears out. 

This was not fair, just when you had something going for you, that woman had to swoop in and ruin it for you.

She had everything always, ever since the two of you were girls she had always been the better one, she had developed early and like a beautiful blooming flower, you still didn’t even know if you had developed at your big age.

You flinched as you heard a soft knock on your stall door, the soft but deep voice of your boyfriend softly speaking to you.

“Sweetheart.. I’m sorry this happened, I understand why you’re upset. I..I am trying my best to keep your friend in check, but I know it’s hard for you to see her hitting on me. It’s frankly irritating me too. Can you please open the door?” 

You gently pushed the stall door open, wiping your eyes with your sleeve, not waiting a minute more, you ran into his arms, hugging him tightly.

Alejandro sighed softly, wrapping his arms tightly around you, “Awh.. poor baby..” He cooed, gently smoothing down your hair and placing a chaste kiss on the crown of your head.

His hands found your face, gently cupping his hands around your cheeks as he raised your head with them. His thumbs gently brushing against the drying tear streaks along your apple of your cheeks.

“Look at me.” He whispered lovingly, tilting your head up to meet his eyes. 

“I love you so much. You know that. I love you so damn much I wouldn’t think twice about burning this place down to the ground.” He offered a sweet smile, something only reserved for you.

Your hands came up to cup over his own that were gently holding your face, wrapping around his bigger ones.

“I have never seen you jealous. I don’t want you to be, that’s my job. Believe me that I would never, never ever in a lifetime betray you with anyone, not even if I was dying.” 

His hands dragged yours down, to wrap around his waist. 

“I am yours.” He quietly uttered, only for your ears to hear.

“My body is yours.” 

“All yours.” He whispered, dragging your hands lower to his hips “This is yours.”

Then shifting them higher to his chest, closing your hands over his pectorals. “This is yours.”

Finally, he put your hands over his heart, his heartbeat pounding under your hand firmly, steady, controlled, at ease. 

“And most importantly, my heart is yours.” He said louder, closing his eyes for a moment, a soft blush reddening his cheekbones.

His arms embraced you again, pressing you so hard against his own body you might think he was trying to mold your bodies into one.

“Let’s go home, okay?” He interlaced his fingers with yours, gently pulling you out of the bathroom and into the corridor.

He glanced down at you, gently bumping his hip closer to yours, you were a sensitive little thing, now he knew that. 

He thought all his rivals had been eliminated, however a slimy worm had slipped between his fingers. 

Alejandro needed a new method of extermination.

He had found a shiny red axe under a bed, brand new and gleaming under the light ominously. 

Now Alejandro has a new Roma shaped target to try out too.

@madam8 Hey!!! I saw your ask and wanted to answer it so here you go!!! It’s brief but I hope I wrote your ask in an okay way!!

[charlotteking27]

Please stand up if Bruce Wayne was forced to marry the reader and then one day discovered that she was a superhero like him

The Hero's Bride

Bruce Wayne x reader

Summary: You are the daughter of a wealthy businessman forced into a marriage with the prince of Gotham, Bruce Wayne. But secrets within your marriage start unfolding.

Warnings: Sorry, it is not as long as my usual fanfics

It was a field day for the tabloids as Bruce Wayne, their prominent bachelor prince, was getting married to the daughter of a wealthy businessman. 

The newspaper reported on the events of the power couple, with your picture and Bruce Wayne's featured prominently in the middle of it all. The headline 'our playboy billionaire finally settling down'

The crystal chandeliers of Wayne Manor cast dancing shadows across the marble floors as Bruce Wayne adjusted his tie for the thousandth time. Another charity gala, another performance of the billionaire playboy. Except tonight was different. Tonight, he was meeting his future wife.

"The arrangements have been made, Master Wayne," Alfred said, his voice carrying its usual mix of concern and dry wit. "Though I must say, agreeing to an arranged marriage seems rather... medieval, even for Gotham's standards."

Bruce's jaw tightened. "The Wayne Foundation's reputation is everything, Alfred. After that disaster with the Gotham Gazette's exposé on my... nocturnal activities, the board thinks a stable relationship might help." He didn't mention how those 'nocturnal activities' involved more timely distractions to uphold his secret.

________________________________________________________

You stood in an elegant emerald evening gown, waiting anxiously to leave and get home, but tonight was different. Tonight, you are meeting your future husband.

The arrangement had come as a surprise. Your father, CEO of one of Gotham's largest tech companies, had presented it as a "mutually beneficial partnership." Bruce Wayne needed to stabilize his public image, and your family needed stronger ties to old-money Gotham. You'd agreed, if only because it provided the perfect cover for your nighttime activities.

Wayne Manor looms before you, gothic architecture stretching toward the clouded sky. Your driver opens the car door, and you step out, automatically scanning the perimeter – old habits die hard. The massive wooden doors swing open to reveal Alfred Pennyworth, Wayne's butler, and behind him, Bruce Wayne himself.

He's more imposing in person than in photos. Tall, broad-shouldered, with sharp eyes that seem to catch every detail. Including, you notice, the way you've already mapped every exit in the room. Interesting.

"Miss," he says, extending his hand. "Welcome to Wayne Manor."

"Mr. Wayne." Your grip is firm and professional. You notice a faint bruise near his collar, poorly concealed by makeup. Curious. Several things ran through your mind, the obvious one: how much of a playboy Mr. Wayne really was.

The weeks before the wedding pass in a whirlwind of public appearances and private arrangements. Attending numerous galas and other events to show the public the perfect couple.

You find ways to maintain your secret life – slipping out at night, patrolling the streets of Gotham in your specialized suit, complete with built-in stealth tech of your own design. If Bruce notices your occasional limps or mysterious absences, he doesn't mention them. Then again, he has his own habit of disappearing at odd hours.

The wedding is a spectacle worthy of Gotham's elite. You play your part perfectly – the accomplished businesswoman, the perfect bride. No one notices how you scan the crowd for threats, or how your bouquet hides reinforced knuckles that could crack concrete.

Life at Wayne Manor settles into an odd rhythm. You and Bruce orbit each other like binary stars, together but separate. You respect each other's privacy, never questioning the mysterious phone calls or unexplained injuries. During the day, you attend board meetings and charity galas. At night, you slip away to protect the city in your own way.

"Late night?" Bruce asked one morning, not looking up from his newspaper as you slipped into the breakfast room at 6 AM, still in yesterday's clothes.

"Charity gala planning committee," you lied smoothly, hiding your limp. The drug cartel you'd busted hadn't gone down without a fight. "You?"

"Board meeting in Tokyo." His tie was perfectly straight, but you spotted foundation covering a fresh cut along his jaw.

They were good lies, practiced lies. The kind that came with years of maintaining double lives.

It's during your fourth month of marriage that everything changes. You're tracking a human trafficking ring through the warehouse district, your suit's electric blue accents dimmed for stealth. The intel suggests Batman might be investigating the same case, but you've always managed to avoid him before.

Not tonight.

You kept your operations separate from Batman's territory, focusing on Gotham's tech-driven criminal underground. You had history there – scores to settle with your father's former partners who'd turned your family's Technologies' innovations into weapons.

But Gotham had a way of bringing its heroes together, whether they wanted it or not.

You'd avoided Batman for months, but now, crouched in the shadows watching him work, something felt familiar about his movements. The way he disabled the security system matched a technique you'd glimpsed Bruce using on their home's alarm panel.

The second you closed your eyes and reopened them, he was gone in the dark.

You sense his presence before you see him – a darker shadow among shadows. You turn to flee, but he's faster than expected. A grappling hook wraps around your ankle. You counter with a move learned in the mountains of Nepal, breaking free and landing in a defensive stance.

That's when you see his face in the moonlight, cowl knocked loose in the scuffle. The realization hit you like a thunderbolt

"Bruce?"

He stares at you, equally shocked. "You're the mystery vigilante?"

For a moment, neither of you moves. Then you start laughing, the sound echoing off the warehouse walls. "So this is why you're never around for midnight snacks."

"Me? You're the one who keeps claiming yoga classes run late." His voice carries a hint of admiration. "The tech industry's break-in last month – that was you?"

"Had to destroy some evidence of illegal weapons manufacturing. My father's old partners aren't as clean as they pretend to be." You step closer, studying his suit. "I always wondered how Batman got his tech. Wayne Enterprises explains a lot."

"How long have you known?" he asked, removing his cowl.

"About thirty minutes." She deactivated her mask, letting it dissolve into her suit's collar. "You?"

"I suspected something when you took down that smuggling ring last month. The tech they were using came from one of your family's Technologies' old subsidiaries."

"Cleaning up family messes." She shrugged. "Sound familiar?"

His laugh was unexpected – rich and genuine in a way she'd never heard from Bruce Wayne, socialite. "Alfred is going to love this."

"Alfred already knows," she said. At his surprised look, she added, "He's been leaving medical supplies in my bathroom for weeks. That man sees everything."

"The two-year gap in your resume," he says. "Training?"

"League of Shadows. Left when I realized what they really were." You notice his slight flinch. "But you already knew about them, didn't you?"

He nods slowly. "We have... history."

"Well," you say, smiling at your lips, "I suppose this makes our arranged marriage more interesting."

"It certainly explains a few things." He pauses, then adds, "Your father doesn't know?"

"About as much as your board knows about your nighttime activities." You activate your mask in place.

"So." Bruce stepped closer, studying you with new interest. "What happens now?"

You smiled, already seeing possibilities unfold. "Now we stop pretending our marriage is just for show. Between your resources and my tech, we could do more good together than apart."

"The press will notice if Batman and the new vigilante start working together simultaneously, you and I become inseparable."

"Let them talk." You activated your suit's systems, preparing to leave. "Besides, every good marriage needs a hobby. Speaking of which, I've got some traffickers to catch. Care to join me?"

The smile he gives you is genuine – perhaps the first real one you've seen from him. "Lead the way."

As you swing across Gotham's skyline together, you realize that this arranged marriage might be the best thing that ever happened to you. Not because it saved Bruce Wayne's reputation or strengthened your family's social standing, but because it gave you something you never knew you needed: a partner who understands both sides of your double life.

Later that night, as you both tend to your wounds in the newly revealed Batcave, Bruce looks at you with newfound respect. "You know," he says, "most people marry for love or money. We married for public relations and ended up with a crime-fighting partnership."

You laugh, wincing as Alfred patches up your shoulder. "Well, they do say marriage is full of surprises."

The next morning, headlines screamed about Batman and the new vigilante team-up against a human trafficking operation. But it was the society pages that really got people talking, with photos of Bruce and you sharing a surprisingly passionate kiss at a charity gala.

The papers call you Gotham's power couple, the perfect merger of old money and new innovation. If they only knew the half of it. By day, you run your companies and attend charity galas. By night, you protect the city together, two vigilantes moving in perfect sync.

And if the criminals of Gotham complain that Batman's gotten twice as effective lately with improved tech? Well, that's just one of the many perks of married life.

[deepspace-scenarios]

[scenario/drabble] Claymores and first aid

Summary: LI's reactions when they accidentally get injured by you. Because sometimes, keeping you safe in orbital trials means fighting in close proximity, and accidents are bound to happen. Genre: Fluff, mild hurt/comfort, vague mentions of injury (not graphic); TW: suggestiveness

SYLUS

The moment the Wanderer dissolves into shimmering particles, Sylus turns away- too quickly. You catch the flicker of silver light along his ribs- a signature mark of your claymore- before his regeneration powers can fully activate. 

His smirk is already in place when you grab his wrist, but you feel the faint tremor in his muscles. Black and red mist lingers on his side for a moment, his wound soon disappearing along with the mist.

"Kitten," he says, "You're more distraught than I am."

You press your fingers to the wound, and his breath hitches- just once. The glow of your claymore lingers stubbornly, despite the skin being healed. His amusement fades into something darker, more intrigued. 

"Hm. Seems your blade left a signature." His hand covers yours, pressing it harder against his skin. “I'm beginning to think you chose the claymore on purpose, just to do this to me,”

The way his eyes gleam suggests he wouldn’t mind if it was. 

You scoff. “If I wanted to use weapons on you, it wouldn't be during battle.”

He leans closer. “You're getting so soft these days, kitten, it's hard to believe.”

Two can play at this game. 

You tug at his jacket, pulling him close. His crimson eyes widen, just the slightest.

“Well I'm your accomplice, aren't I? Besides, if I really wanted to leave a mark on you- I'd do something else,” You kiss his cheek, tapping the spot with your finger afterwards.

“I'll take your word for it.” He smirks, bringing you in for an embrace, the kind that feels grounding, solid, and infinitely safe- that is, until you feel his fingers thread through your hair. He holds the back of your head to his chest now- a subtle, gentle grip, but one that reminds you of his true strength and command on any battlefield.

Yet, for someone who just teased you for being soft, his tone when he speaks again remains doting, the kind he uses when he's endlessly endeared by something you do.

“It will take much more than that sparkly sword of yours to wound me. And- if you're still worried about the sparkles on my skin, just see it as a little souvenir to commemorate this victory.”

---

XAVIER

Xavier kneels amidst the fading ice crystals from the Wanderer, his cloak dusted with frost. He doesn’t react when you approach- not until you see the silver glow seeping through the fabric at his upper back, along his shoulder. 

Oh, no.

"Xavier-"

"Not your fault," he murmurs, as if he's read your mind already. But when you reach for him, he catches your wrist, his grip firm. 

"Your claymore carries remnants of the galaxy," he says, head turned to the side to study the shimmer along his wound. "Fascinating."

When he looks at you, his gaze is steady, and his voice is soft.

"Will you help me inspect it?"

His fingers intertwine with yours to bring you closer, a silent reassurance that you are still his reliable partner despite the outcome of battle. Your heart swells with both hurt and guilt. He's always so calm, so patient, even when his well-being is on the line.

You nod, gently removing your hand from his and moving to check the injury. He lets out a shaky breath when your fingers touch the torn fabric.

“Xavier- let's get you back to the Association's clinic,”

“Can't we go home?” 

You can hear the pout in his voice. He winces when he tries to stand up, a clear sign that he isn't fit for any place but a medical facility.

You bring his uninjured arm over your shoulders to help him stand up. He groans at the movement.

To think that this is happening because of you sends a fresh wave of guilt through you.

When you turn to look at him, the pout is back in place- and you try to push the guilt aside and rack your brain to think of ways to persuade him.

“Would you go if… if you get cuddles in exchange? And as many kisses as you like, when we get home. For the rest of the week,” you ramble.

He lets out a small chuckle, a faint sparkle returning to his eyes. “Do I seem like one to fold under bribery?”

Hearing his banter, some relief washes over you- and then you remember. He's also good at pushing aside his needs for you.

You sigh, and try to swallow the lingering guilt. “Xavier... I'm just trying to help. I'll be with you all the way to the clinic- until we're home.”

He blinks, noticing the slight strain in your voice. “If it eases your mind- I'll take your offer. I'll be fine as long as you're with me.”

Later that night, he doesn't just accept your offer- he makes sure he eliminates any shred of doubt and guilt on your mind, with tender kisses and soft touches, letting you know he’s safe, and everything will be fine.

_____

ZAYNE

Zayne is already assessing his own injury when you spot it- a precise slash along his forearm, glowing faintly with residual energy. His expression doesn’t change. 

"Fascinating," he mutters, probing the edges. "Your blade interacts uniquely with the dermis."

You rush over to his side. "I didn’t mean to-"

"Focus and assist me." He instructs, his tone clipped. “Undo my necktie and just press it onto the wound-”

When you hesitate, his gaze softens- just slightly. "It’s not fatal. Though," he adds dryly, "if you’re feeling concerned, know that this hurts less than losing control over my own Evol.”

Your expression crumples. “Zayne, that hardly-”

“I will also appreciate the distraction of you undoing my tie,” he adds with a wry smile.

You force your trembling hands to work quickly, bringing the fabric to his wound. “Let's head to Akso just to get it checked out-”

Zayne shakes his head, already heading away from the clearing- bringing you along, your hand still clasped over the fabric on his wound. “I have enough first aid supplies at home.”

“Surely the doctors and nurses at Akso will do a much better job than me-”

He glances at you, “Consider it a chance to learn, in case of future emergencies,” 

You feel your heart clench. His comment is practical as always, but hardly easing your worry.

“I don’t want any future emergencies,” you say softly.

“It is always best to be prepared.” From his tone, you can tell he isn’t arguing with you. Simply stating the cold, hard facts and making a clinical judgement.

You know that you're speaking to Dr. Zayne, and whether it is the wish to get him back to the warmth and safety of home, or the understanding that this is Zayne in survival mode- you let him be.

The ride home is silent, for the most part. Just you glancing at Zayne at every red light, and him reminding you not to go over the speed limit too much.

Once you're seated next to him around the dining table, he guides you through the steps of first aid and wound dressing- it's nothing you haven't come across in your first aid training, but in your current state, none of that knowledge would be retrieved if it weren't for him.

When the wound is all bandaged and he is leaning against pillows in bed, you curl up next to him. 

“I'm sorry, Zayne.”

“Mm? I thought I told you not to apologise,” he says, shifting his weight as if he wants to hold you close. You gingerly move aside and walk to the other side of the bed, away from his injury.

Once you're settled next to him again, you hug his uninjured arm close. “Yeah- I just wanted to say it properly.”

“Do you feel better, now that you've said it?”

The question catches you off guard, and you frown in thought.

“...sort of,” you say, unsure of what to do with the guilt lingering in your heart.

“I'm not upset, nor do I feel the need to blame you. So don't drag yourself through hardship,” He presses a quick kiss to the top of your head. 

“In case you need a token of forgiveness on my behalf,” He explains.

Warmth blooms in your chest- and you return his kiss, a chaste one on his cheek. 

“Payment for the token.”

_____

RAFAYEL 

The fragments of the wanderer disperses around you in a flurry of particles, the harsh sounds from battle fading into a sudden, haunting serenity. Rafayel gasps the second he notices the gash on his thigh, a faint silver glow lingering. 

"Oh no! My leg!” He collapses dramatically against you, bringing you two crashing onto the grass.

You panic- until you see the grin tugging at his lips. You narrow your eyes at him when it clicks - he shielded you to break the fall onto the grass as well, his muscle coordination impeccable as ever.

“Let me assess the injury, Rafayel,” you say with a sigh, sitting up.

“How will I ever dance at the gala now?" He frets.

You look at his injury. It does look like it warrants a dramatic response, a new diagonal slit in his dress pants, skin broken underneath. 

"Unless…" He bats his lashes. "My hero carries me?"  

You shove him. 

He laughs, catching your hand. "Hey! Be nice to the wounded soldier!”

“...Does it hurt a lot?” You ask, gently skimming your fingers around the torn fabric, aware of how he flinches when your fingers are near the wound.

“Kinda,” he says, voice quieter now.

A pang of hurt ripples through you. Of course he tries to hide it with theatrics. “Alright. I'll carry you,”

Not that you really could make it all the way back to the car bearing his full weight.

“Awww, Miss Bodyguard,” he coos, nuzzling against you. “You can help me walk, and I'll make it there juuust fine,”

His voice drops. "Though next time, maybe aim for the ugly brute instead of the artist, hm?"  

_____

CALEB 

Caleb doesn’t even acknowledge the wound until you point it out- a slash across his ribs, pulsing faintly with silver. He blinks. 

"Huh. That’s new."

It's you, you did this.

There's a tingling numbness in your hands, and your knees go weak. You force yourself to take a few more steps towards him as apologies tumble from your lips. 

He just grins, but you notice it doesn't quite reach his eyes. "Relax. I’ve had worse from training."

You inspect the wound, noting the cleanly torn fabric and his injury- not deep, but hardly just a scratch.

“Don't say that- it's- we need to clean your wound-”

Your trembling hands are covered by his. “Pips, hey. Look at me. It's an injury, but I'm okay,”

“But- I did this to you,” you say, voice cracking.

"Aw, pips.” He tugs you closer, holding you firmly in his arms. It's comforting, familiar and grounding - but it does little to ease your mind.

“No, wait- you'll irritate the wound like this,” you say, trying to step back and finding his arms locked tightly around you.

“If you reeeally wanna make it up to me… You can help me dress the wound when we're home.”

“And I need to get you the ointment to counteract the claymore's effects-”

“Well, I got plenty of first aid supplies from the Fleet. They have a bit of everything for anything. You can help me test out the antidote,”

If you saw the mischief in his eyes, you would've told you the testing won’t involve much of a test.

When you're home, you find that his test is more of him dragging out instructions and praises with barely-concealed heat in his purple eyes, voice low and rough, and you putting the ointment on with a blush dusting your cheeks.

Once you're done, you reach for the tissue box and wipe the excess ointment off your fingers. 

“Does it still hurt?” you ask, voice breathier than you intended.

“I'm fine because you're here,”

With that, he pulls you in- sealing his lips over yours with a fervour that tells you he's definitely going to be alright.

Opposite scenario here!

[reidrum]

glory of the snow

note: the return of insecure!reader my beloved <3 i had a bunch of requests to bring her back so i hope we like it! this is really just a gentle reminder from spencer that we should be kinder to ourselves. also i wanted to have them actually fuck but it didn't seem right to fit that in here so ,,, part 2 question mark who is to say. anyways my inbox is always open for any thoughts, comments, questions, musings all of it! love y'all mwah

summary: you freak out when spencer walks in on you accidentally, and he just loves you too much to let it go

cw: smut 18+ minors dni, fingering, masturbation (r, just mentions), heavy petting/kissing, comfort, talks of intimacy issues, self-deprecating reader

wc: 3k

“Oh, sweet girl.”

Three words, maybe two and one syllable, that in any other instance would have had you melting into a puddle at the softness it reared. Words that have so easily turned you into a preening cat but are now aimed at you, albeit no judgement from his end, with no room for escape.

Spencer had come home after a long day of paperwork when he first heard it. He would have brushed it off if it didn’t happen again moments later, and louder. Concerned, he walks toward the bedroom, a flush rushing to his face as he comes to recognize what it is. A small crack of the door allowed him the glorious sight of you in the center of the bed, hand between your legs, eyes shut in ecstasy. You’re mesmerizing to him and he really can’t bring himself to look away, and he doesn’t notice himself subconsciously leaning on the door causing a faint creak that alarmed you to his presence. In that moment, however, he’s less worried about scaring you, and more about the overwashing look of shame on your face.

The soft creak of the door pulled you out of your daze, screaming when you saw the figure behind the door. Your eyes are bulging out of their sockets nearly, heartbeat still racing with adrenaline from when you haphazardly threw the blanket over yourself. You were conflicted, but getting caught doing something that is a common and completely normal instance in relationships really shouldn’t make you feel this guilty. Although you do know the guilt was created by a previous version of you where you had told Spencer that you wanted to take the pace of your relationship slowly, and had little to no desire to engage in such activities for the time being. Or so you said.

He cautiously steps closer, careful not to startle you further, “I’m not upset, or anything.”

You’re not upset either, you’re mortified. “I lied to you.”

“You did…but I don’t think you meant to, right?”

There had been a time where you were tangled all up in him, and poor Spencer, his hands were in the wrong place at the wrong time to no fault of his own and entirely yours, and your shutdown was unavoidable. The blood in your veins seized up like crystallizing water turning into ice, paralyzing both the physical and mental before you could realize.

Intimacy for you was a complicated concept. While it wasn’t novel or unwanted, physical intimacy was something you struggled to accept with open arms. Call it a consequence of your self perception, but it was hard to accept the soft touch of love when you felt like you didn’t deserve it. Spencer never minded, although his heart ached to make you see yourself the way he saw you, he was always more than willing to meet you where you were.

It almost pains you with how understanding Spencer was of the whole situation because you knew any other person would be deeply upset. Every other person was upset.

Spencer never was just any other person, you suppose.

“I don’t know how to explain this.” Another lie, you could easily explain the reason.

It’s not that you weren’t ready, it’s that you didn’t feel like you looked ready. The thought of subjecting Spencer to the one dark cornerstone of your being in the early days of being together seemed illogical and burdensome, and so it was more simple to play it off as wanting to take a slow pace.

But, as biology would see it you have needs and your boyfriend just happens to be so detrimentally attractive that the simplest act has been sending you into a hot fit as of late. The culprit this time was an innocent mirror picture of him at the store trying on new trousers. You had no chance.

You had found that your intimacy issues lie within extending it to others, and less with yourself. The solution of you finding release on your own quickly became a habit when you realized there was no fear on your own. There’s no one to let down if you’re alone.

Spencer perches at the foot of the bed, flat hand outstretched on the blanket towards you but keeping a comfortable distance, “You don’t have to explain anything, honey.”

“No I know, but—fuck—I should.” you bury your face, choosing to only speak to him from behind your hands for now, maybe forever.

He takes a moment to take inventory of your physical being—you don’t look in pain. Clearly you didn’t sound in pain. Your face is flushed, and though he’s sitting a little far from you, the heat radiating from your body hits him like a space heater.

“Sweetheart…I’m not upset.” he repeats, in hopes a reminder might provide reassurance.

It doesn’t. “You’re never upset at me, it’s concerning.” you mumble.

“You make it kind of hard to be upset at you, ever really.” Spencer braves and lays a hand on your leg.

You take a deep breath, the cold of his hand grounding you more and more. Spencer senses the calm it’s bringing you and rubs circles into your calf.

“Can you tell me what you’re feeling?” he asks gently.

What are you even feeling? You ponder for a moment—anxious, nervous, bad.

“Embarrassed.”

“Honey, there’s nothing embarrassing about masturbating. In fact, it’s more than healthy to do it to keep cortisol levels low,” he explains, “I just don’t know why you didn’t…want to tell me.”

The guilt swirls in your gut, hearing the twinge of hurt buried beneath the comfort he’s laid out for you. He just wants to help you, but you won’t let him in and that hurts him more.

“It’s more complicated than that.”

“How so?”

“It’s just…I…Look it’s…You’re just so hot—“ you slip out, clamping your hand over your mouth before leaking any more intrusive thoughts.

A faint smirk ghosts his face, “I’m…hot?”

“No—Well, yes. I just…ugh.”

“Okay, okay calm down,” he scoots closer and gently brings the hands covering your eyes to rest in your lap, “You don’t need to be all secretive, you know I’d never judge you.”

“I know,”

“I just thought you wanted to wait.”

“I do.”

“But, not with me? It’s okay if it's not with me.”

“Spence, I do. It’s not that.”

“Am I missing something?”

You gulp, “I just…it’s a personal problem. With me. Not you.”

His brows furrow, “Like what, baby? Do you need to see a doctor?”

“Yeah, if a doctor can fix my shoddy self esteem and make me like myself again.” you chuckle.

He doesn’t laugh. 

The pause he takes seems to be ages long before he speaks again, “Angel, how long have you been feeling like that?”

You’ve been caught red-handed, water filling up the tank faster than you can tread, “It’s nothing, I was just joking.”

“Hey,” he says with a rare firmness, “How. Long?”

You deflate under his hard gaze, “A…while…long enough… for it to feel like a…like a default setting, I guess.” you trail off.

Spencer couldn’t hide the hurt on his face if he tried. Not hurt from your lack of admission, hurt that you had felt like this for so long, dealt with this for so long on your own, and he didn’t even know.

All he ever hoped and wanted was for you to be happy, and if he could be the source of that he would ask for nothing more in life. So to hear about you struggling with this, that you felt like you had to keep it to yourself, was heartbreaking.

Spencer remains in his head a little too long as he’s broken out of it by your small voice, “Are you sure you’re not mad?”

He sighs and moves to sit next to you, making sure he stays above the blanket for your comfort. His back is against the headboard of the bed, and he raises his arm a little, gesturing for you to fill the you shaped crevice. You hesitantly move into the space, hating how you feel every move you’re making is calculated, but all of that goes away the second your head meets his chest and his hand comes up to comb through your hair, the other smoothing your arm down, and all you’re left with is him.

“I promise I’m not mad,” he whispers softly, “Just wish you told me. I would have helped you.” He’s intentional in his wording—would, and not could. Could implies he has a choice, a want to do or not do something. I could have helped you, or I could have not helped you. Would is finite, he is doing it because it is programmed in him that caring for you is a need. I would have helped you because it is the only thing I know to be certifiably true, that you deserve to be cared for.

“It sounds stupid out loud but I was afraid you wouldn’t like me the same if you saw me like…that. It seemed logical for me to remove that option altogether.”

His heart aches painfully, and he wishes he could take everyone who’s made you feel that way to target practice. “You are the most beautiful girl in the world. I would spend every day of my life proving that to you.” he utters with unequivocal resolve.

You sigh out shakily, “You’re too kind to me.”

“I’m always kind to you. You deserve kindness. You deserve a lot of things actually…” he trails off.

“Like what?” you ask.

“Well, did you um—” he trails. You look at him quizzically, he continues, “Like before I came in did you…finish?”

Oh. “Oh. I…I don’t think I did, actually. It’s okay though, no big deal.”

He stares at you intently, “Do you want to?”

Your eyes widen, “Spence oh, no it’s okay really you don’t have to do that.  

“You’re encouraged to say no if you feel even an ounce of doubt, but I’m offering because I love you and I want to show you that you can feel safe with me, even when you feel otherwise.”

The familiar sting returns to your eyes as the tears pool up. You’re not used to anyone putting this much effort and concern for your comfort, it’s a novel feeling but if Spencer is willing to handle you with as much care as he is, you’re ready to welcome that sentiment in with open arms.

“Yeah, yes.” you waver.

He grins and leans down, gingerly pressing his lips to yours. His hand ghosts from your calf to your knee, testing the water before moving more intent. An unwelcome yet familiar onset slowly rises, trying to break through to you, “Wait—“

He retracts his hand immediately, “You okay? We can stop if you need to.”

You shake your head. “No, no I’m fine. I just need a second.” you breath out, trying to self regulate. 

He pulls back his hand but you stop him, “No keep it there, it helps. I just…” You don’t know how to phrase it. You think it’s because you’re not in control. When you’re alone it’s only you at the helm calling the shots. But when it really comes down to it, the lack of control is nothing compared to the lack of predictability that comes with the former. Explaining that out loud was daunting to even think about.

Yet Spencer understands what you need, because he always knows what you need. His hand returns to your knee, giving it a soft squeeze, “You tell me to stop whenever you need to.”

He continues kissing you while smoothing his hand up your leg, making wide and sweeping motions across the plush of your thigh so you can feel where he is and where his hand is going. The gesture is comforting and makes you feel grounded, but your head is in a dreamy haze at how good Spencer’s hands feel on you.

The haze leaves through your lips as Spencer feels you sigh against him, feeling you relax more and more as the seconds go by. His hand reaches your upper thigh, fingers ghosting on the inside. “Is this okay?”

You nod, feeling your nerves idling like a distant wave in the ocean. But Spencer’s presence is a lighthouse shining through the fog and guiding you to his shores while the calm washes over you.

His fingers lightly trace the fabric of your panties, ones that you had slid back up your hips upon his entrance into the room. The motion causes you to jump and he pulls back to gauge your reaction. When he sees no fear in your eyes, more so stunned by your wide eyed gaze, his fingers move with more precision, adding more pressure to your clothed core.

A gentle gasp leaves you as he strokes up and down your slit. You’ve given up on continuing to kiss him, the feeling of his hands being too overwhelming to have both sensations at the same time. You tuck your head into the crook of his neck, your body involuntarily curving towards him as he draws symbols on you with his index. Your breathing gets heavier and faster the longer he goes, and soon small moans begin to escape you.

He drags his finger to the top of your panties and toys with the band, faintly asking, “You still with me, sweet girl?” You preen into the crevice of his neck as he keeps talking, “Want me to keep going?” 

He feels you nodding into him as you breathlessly whisper, “Please.”

His finger dips below the fabric and travels down to your entrance, gathering the slickness and spreading it all over you. “Fuck,” he curses softly, “Look how wet you are, baby.”

You whimper at his words and Spencer ascends to the heavens if there even is one, and if there is it’s the one where you sound like that for him. He circles back up to your clit, paying special attention to the bundle of nerves before sliding back your slit and repeating the whole sequence a few more times.

Your moans are coming out at a steady pace, and he’s been prodding around your entrance for some time now, teasing and edging you closer. “Gonna put a finger in now, okay? Doing so good for me, baby.” he murmurs.

The feeling of his finger entering you is satiating. But it’s not enough, and you need more. “Spence,” you manage to get out, “Can take another one, please.” His eyes shut tight as he revels in your desperation for him, and how cynical he must be to love having you at his mercy this much. He would confess the darkest of sins if you asked him in that tone, and he has no choice but to oblige. He stifles a groan at how easily the second finger slid in, his other hand moving up to play with your hair and cradle your head close to his chest as he works his ministrations.

The familar coil builds in your gut, but at an intensity you’ve never felt before. His fingers move in and out of you urgently, his thumb returning to your clit. He’s a man determined to get you there, and your moans and cries of his name only spur him on further. After a few minutes your moans and cries turn into whines and babbles, and he knows you’re close.

His head leans down to croon in your ear, “Shh, it’s okay. I got you, sweet girl. You can come, ‘m right here.”

It’s enough to push you over the edge and you come harder than you ever have on your own, the waves of your climax overtaking you completely. Spencer continues to pump his fingers through your orgasm, talking you the whole way down. Mutters of praises and kisses flow through your subconscious as the euphoria high takes its peak and you come back down to this realm.

His hand smoothes your hair back as you continue to pant against his chest, words unable to find you.

“You okay?”

You finally catch your breath, “That was—fuck—the most insane orgasm I have ever had.”

Spencer beams at this. For one, his obvious and impressive skills that have stunned you into oblivion. And two, because you look so relaxed. The stark difference of your anxiety filled face from when he first came into the room to the blissed out daze you have right now makes his heart swell five sizes up.

He hugs you closer and whispers, “I’m so proud of you, angel. Thank you for trusting me.”

Sleep is fighting you hard as you laugh airily and tuck yourself under his arm again, “I don’t know why I thought that would be scarier.”

He sighs, his smile faltering but still fond, “Past experiences and self perception complicate the anxiety around sex and intimacy. It’s a natural response based on your lived experiences.”

“Oh.” you mutter, slight deject in your tone.

“But we can work on it, if you want.” he adds, “It’s all up to you with what you’re comfortable with and how you want to do it. If you’ll allow me, I’d love to help you in any way I can, angel.”

You really don’t know how you got so lucky. Someone so kind, and patient, and willing to be with you as you navigate these things you normally would have kept to yourself. You feel grateful to be able to bare a piece of yourself to him, and know that he would receive it with open arms, wrapping it up and handling it with as much care as he can bear.

You cuddle closer, and mumble before your eyes succumb to sleep, “Love you. So much.”

Spencer looks down maybe two seconds later and you’re already out like a light. He chuckles softly to himself and whispers, “I love you more than you’ll ever know, sweet girl. Good night.”