#and it’s the mask of a hero - the mask of the protector

[turtleblogatlast]

I love Raph and haven’t said that enough so to be more specific I love that Raph is a soft boy who loves bear plushies, a gross boy who eats an assortment of things that are definitely better left alone, a smart boy who is more than capable of taking down villains through planning and fortitude alike, a strong boy who is dedicated to training his muscles and fighting prowess, a teenage boy who loves his brothers but is more than happy to tease and roughhouse with them, an angry boy who sometimes lets his anger take a hold of him to cover the fear, a gentle boy who is generous with hugs and affirmations to those he loves, a capable boy who takes on more than should ever be expected of a teenager, a good boy who just wants to be a hero and slowly comes to realize the cost of that duty, a good boy who has no reservations about putting himself in the way of harm coming to his family, a good boy who’s a great brother and son and person and deserves only the best the world has to offer.

[hurtspideyparker]

Thinking about restless spirit Tony Stark who just can't move on to the after life.

The first thing he does once he realizes he's an apparition is check on Pepper and Morgan. True to their word, they're okay. He watches them for a bit but feels this deep unrest pulling him away from the quaint home he yearns for.

There's a deep wrongness within him, some unfinished business that draws him back to New York.

He fears for a moment that it's Peter- but no, it can't be him. He'll be in Massachusetts right now, attending MIT as a freshman. There isn't a doubt in Tony's mind that his little genius is already making his mark.

Still, he follows the pull of his spirit to some dingy Queens' apartment he's never been to before.

It's deep in the night yet the apartment is empty. He looks around a bit, his body phasing through anything he attempts to touch.

It's small and dirty. There's old coffee cups on the desk, alongside a couple GED manuals. Great, the universe thinks he has unfinished business with some broke high school dropout.

He's pondering how he must have screwed up this kid's life; was it the Avengers, Stark Industries? Maybe his old playboy lifestyle is finally coming to bite him in the ass.

His contemplation is cut short by the sound of the window cracking open.

It strikes Tony for a moment that maybe he's stuck on Earth to be a guardian angel, Iron Man living on as some invisible protector against whatever creep is sneaking into people's windows. It doesn't make much sense considering the whole non-corporeal thing, but he still stiffens like he's ready for a fight.

He sees a man- no, a thing? A creature maybe, or an alien. Even in death Tony can't escape being one of Earth's mightiest heroes.

The creature is shrouded in darkness, something slick and bald crawling inside the room with terrifying grace and silence. It shuts the window with a soft kssssh as the seal is formed.

And then it pulls off its mask.

There, with the click of a table lamp, glows the face of Peter Parker.

He's definitely older now; sturdier shoulders, a rugged set of his jaw, hair tamed to something semi-professional. Still present, though, are those gentle brown eyes.

Nothing makes sense right now. Why is his kid here, in this apartment? Surely May wouldn't allow this. How many tenant laws does this place break? Where are his little sidekick friends? And on what planet would Peter Parker ever need a GED?

Tony's getting angry now, watching Peter move around the tiny space. He changes out of his costume and into pajamas. That spider suit isn't Tony's suit, it looks like cheap craft store fabric.

The kid opens a small freezer and pulls out the singular bag of peas that reside in there, pressing it against his ribs while he goes to pop some bread into a toaster.

Tony takes note of every glimpse he gains into Peter's life. Empty cabinets when he reaches for a jar of peanut butter. A fridge housing nothing but condiments and energy drinks when he goes to grab jam. A drawer with two spoons, no forks, and a paring knife which he pulls out and sticks into the strawberry jam jar just as the toast pops.

This is all so wrong.

Tony's outrage is coming to a rolling boil. Peter deserves the world- he was gonna give him the world. He couldn't wait to send Peter to MIT and show him off as his protégé. Tony was gonna fund his projects, tease him about pretty girls, maybe even see him step back from Spider-Man and act like a normal college kid. He wanted to see him flourish and grow up. It was all he could think about when Peter turned to dust between his fingers; he should be goofing off with his friends at a mathletes meeting, or building Legos, not fighting an intergalactic war.

Tony couldn't even conceive how much went wrong to end up here.

Alone. Broke. No school. He didn't even have his Stark suit to protect him. Everything that made him him has been stripped, leaving him in this shallow box with scuffed paint and hollow cabinets.

Tony can feel the violent rage burn deep in his spirit as he thinks about it.

This is why he's here. He can't let his boy live like this, wasting his potential to be some villain's punching bag. Where is everyone? Does no one care enough to stop this? The fury that builds in Tony is dangerous, wondering why a dead man is the only one who cares about the teen's life right now.

Without thinking Tony's hand reaches for the GED textbook, a mocking piece of work that laughs in his face, and throws it at the stupid little kitchenette that's mere feet from the bed.

It sails across the room with surprising speed before it's met with a thunk against Peter's palm, hand reaching out to catch it from the air before it collided with the toaster.

Oh.

Peter sets the book down and immediately picks up his web shooters, eyes darting furiously to every corner of the tiny apartment.

"Who's there?"

Tony steps a little closer but Peter's eyes just look right past him.

"C'mon Pete, c'mon. I'm here, I'm right here."

Tony looks for something else to grab. He swats at a hopefully empty coffee cup on the wooden desk, but his hand just passes right through it.

"Shit," the hope Tony felt waivers slightly and he tries again.

Nothing.

Peter is searching his apartment now, making sure the window is secure and feeling around every crevice, bookshelves, under the bed, in the top corners of the room. Searching for something nefarious, tech maybe.

Tony hits the cup, again and again, frustration building up and up and up till-

The cup flies across the room, Tony and Peter's eyes track its movements as it bounces against the ground and rolls to a stop.

"Shit," Peter breathes out.

Tony walks up to Peter now, standing before him.

"Figure it out. Think kid, you've met aliens, gods, magicians, surely ghosts aren't too far fetched."

Peter closes his eyes. His posture straightens, Tony watches him take a deep breath in as the hairs on his bare arms stand on end.

Peter's eyes blink open, and they're looking directly at Tony.

Tony smirks, "that's it."

Peter turns around and picks the cup off the ground, running to his desk with it and ripping a piece of lined paper out of a notebook and scribbling furiously on it.

Tony walks over as Peter places the cup in the center of the paper.

On the left is the word YES in bold print, NO on the right.

"Okay, okay okay. So, move the cup if, if you wanna talk. Um, is there someone in the room right now?"

Tony reaches for the cup, an intense glare as his fingertips graze it gently. It shifts minutely towards the YES.

"Shit! Shit. Sorry, whew. Okay. Are you friendly?"

Tony moves it to YES again.

"Are you a, um. Person? Like not an alien?"

YES.

"Are you wearing tech, invisibility suit or your molecules are uncalibrated or maybe it's a portal thing like, multiverse shit is happening again, a mirror universe! Oh, maybe a..."

Tony let's a frustrated sign. The kid is too practical, logical. He needs to think like a non-genius.

"... could be. Or, or maybe you're just a ghost-"

Tony perks up and immediately swats the cup, causing it to fly off the desk towards the YES.

"Oh. Oh that's... kinda normal. Or maybe really weird? I mean... I certainly have some ghosts in my past."

Peter picks the cup up and puts it back on the desk.

"Do I know you?"

YES.

"You said you were friendly, and I'm not getting any danger tingles from you. I'm gonna start with people I know are dead, cuz I just really hope you're not a... new ghost. Um. M-May?"

The boy's voice cracks on the word and Tony freezes. May is dead? Tony starts to fear that things are a lot more wrong than he previously thought.

Peter's breath catches and Tony realizes he's waiting, dying for an answer, and quickly pokes the cup towards NO.

Peter's shoulders sag.

"Uncle Ben?"

NO.

"T- Mr. Stark?"

Tony grins, "now we're getting somewhere!"

YES.

Tony is going to have his work cut out for him, but being here with Peter just feels right.

Peter breaks out into a matching smile.

"Wow, okay. I think I'm gonna need more paper," he says as the boy gets to work making a more complex system than YES and NO.

Tony watches on proudly, reminiscing about all the great Peter was and all the great he still is, despite his situation. Whatever this is, they'll figure it out.

Together.

[love-bitesx]

: ̗̀➛ PROTECTOR. hobie brown x reader

summary: spider-man makes a point of walking y/n home every night, but after befriending them as hobie brown as well, his feelings get complicated. words: 3.5k REQUESTS OPEN ! warnings: non-explicit sexual harassment (a man is very creepy to reader), reader isn't gendered! but be aware, author is female, so possible afab bias, i tried my hardest i swear. all characters are adults :) author is british so this is my interpretation of his silly little slang from what ive experienced hehe also divider credit: cafekitsune a/n: may feel a little ooc, but in my headcanon, when he's pining the way he is for reader, he's so soft. also, spider-man and hobie r completely different personalities u cant tell me otherwise. first time writing hobie so pls give me opinions ty. enjoy!!!!!

“is it home-time already, darlin’?”

there he was. the familiarity of routine washing over you, turning your head to see him propped up against the brick, spikes on display and guitar pick flipping in between his clothed fingers.

“spider-man, my hero,” you sighed and clutched your non-existent pearls, a smirk on your lips.

“you know i hate that,” kicking off from the wall of the pub you just clocked out of, he stuffed his hands into his patched up jacket, his bouncy stride meeting yours on the pavement.

“i know,” you smiled, allowing your bag to fall from your shoulders and into his outstretched hand, as always.

it had become a routine, over the course of a few months, that the one-and-only spider-man would escort you home from work in the late hours. at first, it didn’t seem real. why would he decide to spend valuable time most days walking you home, when he could be out fighting whatever darkness lurks in the shadows? you’ve asked him, almost every time, but he always gives the same, vague answer;

“who else is gonna keep you safe, love?”

his legs were longer than yours, by a mile. so he had to slow his usual pace for you. naturally bouncy, his booted feet tapped against the pavement like a kick drum, and you wondered whether that was the radioactive blood in his veins, or his natural energy.

laughter flittered through the dark streets as you caught up, it had only been a day since you last saw him, but being a crime-fighting, fascist-killing superhero, there was quite a lot to pack into a 24 hour day.

he bounced off the walls of passing buildings, recreating his fights with the air that hung between you both, throwing in some exaggerated punches here and there, to elicit an extra giggle or two from you. you almost got lost following his animated recreations, but he kept an eye out for the roads ahead. he’d memorised all the paths leading to your apartment.

it had all started a few months prior, after a particularly long shift at work. constantly over the span of a few hours, this guy would not leave you alone. no matter how many times you refused his advances, a smile on your face, masking the unsettling pit in your stomach at the sight of his grin. drink, after drink, after drink, he ordered just to stare at you the whole night, crude gestures and words thrown your way.

you’d gotten used to it, working at a pub in the depths of london, it wasn’t ever unusual to get unwanted advances. but something about this guy, you couldn’t shake it. ~

“what time do you finish, ay?” his accent was thick, you placed him somewhere up north.

“i’m not sure,” you muttered back, forcing a smile.

“oi, come on! ‘course you know what time you finish,” his words were slurred, and his eyes hadn’t left yours once, “was thinking we could ‘ave some drinks together, tha’s’all.”

“sorry, i can’t tonight, i have to be up early tomorrow,” you giggled, and if he wasn’t so drunk, he’d definitely have picked up on the nerves lacing your words.

“come on,” vowels drawn out, he made an attempt to stand up to meet your height, the proximity of him sending a shock of fear to your heart, until a strong hand clapped against his chest, the force almost sending him backwards.

“pack it in, dickhead, they said ‘no’,” a deep, almost calming voice spoke, contrasted completely with the stern, threatening tone of his words.

you looked to meet your protectors gaze, and it almost stunned you. he was tall, taller than you, for sure. dark, smooth skin with an aura of pure mayhem, silver piercings protruding from his face. adorned with a ripped, skin-tight plain top and denim vest, littered with badges, patches and just about any accessory known to man.

his eyes were what really held you. a heavy look, dark brown with the most unique feeling of strength and power that you’d ever seen. you could’ve easily gotten lost.

deciding you’d stared at him long enough, though, you broke the eye contact, diverting it back to the man who looked a humorous combination of terrified and offended at the same time.

“‘s alright mate, we were just talking, back off, yeah?” his liquid courage built up, ignorant of the taller man’s hand still pushing against his chest, ring-clad hands seeming to leave an imprint.

“think it’s time for you to leave, mate,” he spat back, mimicking his slang.

a moment of silence followed. you’d fully expected the drunken creep to swing a punch, or at least bite back, but under the weight of the taller man’s stare, he seemed to lose all fight he had in him. with a final murmer of something you couldn’t quite hear, and unsure you really wanted to, he stumbled backwards, slipping into the crowd.

“thank you,” you broke the silence, to which the man shrugged.

“he was a pig,” he brushed it off like nothing, and you couldn’t help but smile at his attitude. raising his newly free hand, he stretched it towards you, tight in a fist.

“hobie, hobie brown,” he greeted, and his accent completely erased the ‘h’ from his name.

“y/n l/n,” you smiled, accepting his offer and spudding him, the cold metal of his rings against your knuckles. you couldn’t help but grin at the oddity of his presence.

hobie kept you company for the rest of the night, ranting about his thoughts and opinions of various important subjects, ranging widely from drinks of choice to the existence of capitalist propaganda in modern media, all of which you hung onto every word of.

it wasn’t long until he’d managed to book him and his band into a few slots on the pub’s makeshift stage that stood empty on the other side of the room, smiling to himself at how authentically excited you seemed to hear his music.

when he left, his vacancy was immediately obvious. the booming pub feeling oddly silent without him.

after closing up for the night, you grabbed your bag and slung it over your shoulder, switching the lights off with one hand and fiddling with the keys in the other, shaking the door to double check you locked it well enough. body aching from being on your feet all day, you yawned, stepping autopilot into the darkness. the night air was chilling, causing you to wrap your jacket tight around your body. cursing at yourself for not bringing another layer, or pre-ordering a taxi home.

“oi,” you heard from your right, turning quickly to the familiar call.

stumbling on the pavement, the drunken creep from earlier pointed towards you.

shit.

you hadn’t expected him to actually wait for you. it’d been hours since he left, he was insane. what was he thinking?

grabbing the keys from your pocket, you gripped them in your freezing hands in defense.

“where’s your little friend, huh?” he spat, clearly enraged by hobie’s interruption earlier. he stepped closer, and you stepped back, trembling as you tripped slightly on the pavement.

“ay, is this twat bothering you?” a voice called from above.

wait, above?

craning your neck up, you made eye contact with possibly the last person you expected.

“spider-man?”

and from that night, he’d met you every time. waiting outside the pub doors, no exception, to walk you home.

“hey!” spider-man’s upbeat calling snapped you instantly back to him, jumping slightly as you finally noticed he was directly in front of your face, white eyes narrowed on your demeanor, “where’d you go, huh?”

“sorry,” paying him an apologetic smile, “just thinking.”

“wanna clue me in, darlin’?” his tone was playful, but the soften of his masks expression felt genuine.

“just thinking about the day i’ve had,” you lied, unsure whether his spidey senses could tell. not that it was rare for you to think about how you met, but you didn’t want to bring it up again. if he could tell, he didn’t let on.

“whataboutit?” he sped up, slipping back to your pace and slinging his lanky arm over your shoulders, basically hanging onto you as you walked. he liked walking with you like this. it made him feel powerful, like he was keeping you extra safe.

“hobie’s band played again!” you exclaimed, and if he’d been paying attention, he would’ve seen the way your face lit up at the memory. unfortunately for him, his eyes were trained on webbing a chocolate bar from a passing vendor. god knows why it was still open, but he was glad it was.

“hobie, again, huh?” taunted spider-man, punching your arm playfully with the fist that gripped the newly stolen snickers bar, “starting to think you’re replacing me, love.”

“never,” you teased back, elbowing his side, hearing the jingle of his badged vest, “hobie’s just…”

ears pricking, he clung onto the words you were speaking, anticipating possibly hearing something he didn’t want to.

“he’s just so cool,” you breathed with a smile, and he almost verbally sighed in relief, stopping himself in order not to rouse suspicion. he smirked under his mask, “just got this feel about him, so easy to talk to, and he’s so talented! you know, i’ve almost learnt all the lyrics to his songs.”

his heart just about exploded. in fact, he thinks he could pinpoint the exact moment it did.

he played off his burning cheeks, clearing his throat and incredibly glad his mask hid his flustered expression.

“you should come see him, you know,” you looked up at him, and though you knew his answer was ‘no’, it was worth a try, “i can hide you in the back if you don’t wanna be seen.”

“come off it, love,” he dismissed, avoiding your gaze, but his back was tingling like pins and needles under the warmth of it, “i’m not keen to meet the man stealing you from me.”

“fuck sake,” you laughed and pushed his arm off you, brushing off his playful flirting.

his confidence was excelling. the friendship you had formed over the prior months had stemmed from his childish charm, and it hadn’t faltered once.

“well, here i am,” you brought your pace to a halt, hovering in front of the door to your apartment building.

“i’ll miss you tonight,” he fell against the wall, eyes stuck on you. you couldn’t see it, but you could feel his smirk.

“i’ll see you tomorrow, i finish at 11,” you stepped towards him.

“i’ll be waiting,” he kicked off from the bricks, raising his hand to ruffle your hair, much to your protest, before practically disappearing in front of your eyes.

you were left grinning to yourself, much like every night.

“what’s up, bruv?” hobie’s friend elbowed him harshly in the ribs, causing him to rip his eyes from you.

“nothing,” he huffed, but by the lack of sustenance and playfulness in his reply, his friend was less than satisfied. hobie was a carefree, reckless guy with a constant spurt of irony, and seeing him with a sullen expression and no bite back, was worrying.

“come off it, hobie,” another one piped up, sitting across from him with an empty pint in one hand and cigarette in the other, pointing the latter in his face. he huffed, “you’ve been slumping for like 3 months now, and you’ve only been writing sappy love songs.”

the table snickered, and even hobie’s lips curled into a smirk. his friend was right, he wasn’t even nearly like his usual self. he blames you for that.

“who is it then, huh?” his friend pushed, cigarette still hanging in front of hobie’s face, ash crumbling off the end, “has our ol’ hobie brown got himself a partner?”

“oi, you know i hate labels,” he smirked again, knowing he was lying. not that he didn’t usually hate them, but he couldn’t avoid the fact that every time you made your way to the front of his mind, he was urged to call you his. his partner. his person. his love. just his.

he always did hate consistency, anyway.

“another round, guys?” your voice ripped him from his thoughts, your scent somehow drifting above the sticky smell of beer and cigarettes, he pinned that down to his spider abilities, but he’d be a fool to ignore that he had simply just memorised the aroma.

“please, darlin’,” hobie’s friends chirped up, grinning at you thankfully. he cursed the burning feeling in his chest.

“i could do you guys a deal,” you smirked playfully, and he looked up to meet your eyes. you looked beautiful tonight, like usual. he was fucked.

“if you lot give us a song, it’ll be on the house,” you smiled hopefully, taking note of their usual orders just incase they agree.

“sounds like a plan,” hobie reached his hand out to you, open for a handshake, to which you took. soft hands falling into his calloused ones, he couldn’t help but notice how nice it felt.

turning away, you left to get their usual set up sorted, feeling him still watching you, to which you threw him a smile over your shoulder.

it wasn’t unusual at all. his eyes would always find you. at the table with his mates, his gaze would swim through the crowd to yours. even on stage, lost in the moment with himself and his guitar, it was you he always found his eyes trailing back to. it wasn’t like the other men in the bar, it wasn’t predatory desire or lust, but it was warm. it was safe.

he had three options, really; confess himself to you as hobie brown, coming clean about the way he felt about you, the warmth in his heart that spread across his spine whenever you smiled at him, eventually having to come clean about his alter-ego. he could confess as spider-man, to which he’d have to come clean about his actual identity. or option three. stay silent and suffer in his own pity. bite his lip and pretend his heart wasn’t yearning for you.

but, he prided himself in being able to speak his mind without hesitation. confident in his word, suffocated in his silence. he would always say: if he ever bit his tongue, to kill him there and then. well, here he is; begging for mercy at the barrel, his tongue bleeding from keeping his heart locked in his chest.

he was fucked. well and truly.

“anything special happen today?” spider-man nudged you, taking a worried note of your unusual quietness recently. it was the same night, he’d picked you up like normal, and hopped along beside you.

“the band played again,” a swelling smile bloomed on your lips, “other than that, not really.”

your voice was hollow tonight. easily mistakable with your naturally soft tone, but to his trained ears, it didn’t feel right.

stopping immediately in his path, his bouncy steps ceasing, you quickly copied him. confusion slipping behind your eyes.

“what’s up?” you questioned.

“you know you wanna tell me,” he stepped around you, arms falling over your shoulders from behind, heavy with his full weight. something about the mask, it gave him a confidence with you that he’d quenched as hobie.

you sighed and rested your head back against his chest, taking him by surprise. there was something intimate about the way your eyes were closed, body resting against him. your brain was hectic, he didn’t need his spidey senses to see that.

“there’s just…” you spoke, eyelids feeling heavy as you opened them, looking up to see him. head split in two, you were unsure if you even wanted to say it out loud, “there’s this guy.”

it was almost cruel how fast his heart dropped, plummeting like a boulder into the pit of his stomach. body stiffening, his head was spinning so fast he didn’t even have the conscience to mask it.

“i just can’t get him out of my head, it’s so stupid,” if your wistful look wasn’t answer enough, the outpour of dissonance he could feel from your body told him it was serious.

“not another fella tryna steal you from me,” he chuckled, but his voice was weak, vulnerable. you hadn’t heard it like that before.

untangling yourself from his weighted grip, you leant against the wall of the building you were stood in front of, staring up into the night sky. there was something so embarrassing about admitting a silly little crush.

“not another one, technically,” you spoke softly, a hint of a smile tickling your lips at the thought of him, he stepped closer, “i’ve already told you about him.”

and he stopped dead in his tracks. mind racing a million miles an hour, picking apart every word you said. was he stupid? was he reaching? seeing something that wasn’t there? he was the only one you’d spoken about, but surely not, right?

shifting closer again, his body begun to feel the heat radiating off you, barely an inch between you both. he towered you, as always, the spikes on his jacket and mask hitting the streetlights perfectly, giving him an orange glow. you bought yourself to look at him, and though you couldn’t see the eyes beneath, you felt his gaze.

insufferably close, closer than you’ve ever been, you could feel your heart in your chest. a tension that you hadn’t quite felt before, bubbling in the air between you.

“say his name, love,” his voice was low, lower than normal, and a twinge of familiarity hit your chest hearing the deeper tone, one you couldn’t quite pinpoint. chills dripped down your spine at the new found feeling.

gulping, you could feel his name in your throat, struggling it’s way out.

“hobie.” your voice was barely above a whisper, but considering he almost had you pressed against the brick, he heard every syllable. and god, did it sound good.

“again?” he croaked, just wanting to confirm, needing to hear it again, needing to hear you say it, relish in every beat.

“hobie,” you repeated, louder this time, more conviction in your chest, “i like him, like a lot.”

he went silent. dead silent, barely moving. heat radiated from him, and you could’ve sworn in the vacancy of sound that you could hear his heart pounding against his chest. reaching up, your hand trembling slightly, you placed it there. on his chest, feeling the material of his suit, the humanity of his heartbeat. he melted into it.

“are you o—“

“i need to tell you something.” he interrupted you.

it was your turn to be silent, eyes heavy with intrigue, begging him to continue.

without a word, his ring-clad hand ghosted your skin, drifting past the air between you and to the base of his mask, sliding along his neckline for the seam, and dragging it up over his face, revealing the man within.

your heart stopped, a thousand things flashing through your head, through your heart, surging in your bloodstream. you didn’t even know what to say, what to think, how to comprehend it.

“hobie?” your voice was small again, shrunk beneath the look in his eyes, the desire.

embarrassment waved through you for a moment, a sudden panic of the earlier confession, your chest pounding at the possible rejection.

he didn’t even leave the thoughts enough time to fester, however, because his hand that was holding his mask was suddenly flush against your jaw, the material falling softly onto your neck. thumb trailing the comfort of your cheek, revelling in the feel of your skin, warm against his hands, he leaned forward.

his lips were on yours, without a word. gentle, but rough. the tension escaping through the feeling of him pressed into you, desire leaping out of every shared breath. his other hand fell to your waist, and yours stayed firm on his chest, bunching the fabric in your hand to bring him closer. he obliged, of course, and the kiss deepened. his head spun.

pulling away for breath, you kept your eyes on his lips, disbelief swimming around your brain, colliding with the need to kiss him again.

“y/n,” his hand brought your eyeline to his, “i like you, too.”

you couldn’t help but smile, relief washing your body out.

“like, a lot.”

he kissed you again. and again.

a/n: hope u enjoyed!! pls let me kno if ur did, this is my first time writing for him <3 thanku!!!

[suashii]

꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ 𝒮𝒜𝐹𝐸𝒯𝒴 𝒩𝐸𝒯

info ⭑ suna rintaro x reader. 1.3k wc. sfw ﾉ fluff ﾉ spider-man!suna 

note ⭑ i cannot stop thinking about spider!suna !! possibly expect a few more drabbles in this au :3 

you’re toeing the line between wakefulness and slumber; about to slip into dreamland but lucid enough to hear the tick… tick… tick… of the alarm clock situated on your beside table. the rhythmic sound begins to grow distant the deeper into the sleep you fall.

and before you actually drift off, you’re jolted awake by a noisy bang! at your window. the sound rips a startled scream from your throat as you scramble to sit up. the comforter bunched up in your fists is held up to your face to shield you from whatever just slammed into your window. you peer over the top of your flimsy safeguard, hoping that the source of the jarring noise is long gone.

unfortunately for you, it isn’t. although, there’s no reason for you to be so nervous anymore.

you recognize the glimpse of black and white haphazardly swinging at the corner of your window. rubbing your tired eyes with a sigh, you toss your blanket aside and leave the warm comfort of your bed to approach the glass. 

you’re met with a groan of pain and some muffled swears when you reach your destination. your lips wobble, threatening to break out into a grin upon hearing the familiar voice.

the clicks of your window unlocking sound throughout the quiet of your room before you lift up the pane. a chilly draft enters the space and goosebumps raise on your arms almost immediately. you ignore the unpleasant sensation in favor of greeting your clumsy, untimely visitor. “did you seriously just swing straight into my window?”

regaining his balance, suna perches himself on the concrete lip of your window. with one hand by his feet to keep steady, he uses the other to snatch the black mask off his head. strands of dark hair stick up in different directions and it takes a moment for his grayish-yellow eyes to adjust to his normal vision outside the mask. when it finally does, he’s met your face, the corner of your lips twitching with a smile. somehow it makes him feel less embarrassed—but only a little. “i meant to land on the ledge but i came in too fast.”

“if you’re all this city has to rely on as a hero, we’re doomed.” you only mean it as a joke, you know that and so does suna, but he still feigns hurt at your comment, poking out his lip in a pout. he’s mastered the kicked puppy expression but you only offer him a sickeningly sweet smile in response. you jerk your thumb behind you as you take a few steps back to allow him some space. “come in, you’re making my room cold.”

he does as you say, climbing into your window much more gracefully than he had arrived. he closes it behind him as you scurry back to the warmth of your bed. you’re busy getting comfortable under your blanket when suna plops down beside you. you’d chastise him for lying on your bedding in his suit that’s been who knows where, but there’s something more pressing at the forefront of your mind.  “what brings you here so late? you’re not hurt or anything, are you?”

“would you kiss it better if i was?” he asks, his eyes flitting over to meet yours. his tone is entirely serious but it’s accompanied by a grin that tells you he’s trying to get a reaction out of you.

you’re tempted to shut him down, just so he isn’t allowed the satisfaction he’s so desperately seeking, but the more you consider his question, the more you think about his circumstances.

this role of superhero, protector, defender, was thrust on him without his say—against his will. the once normal college student who played volleyball and video games in his free time now risks his life every day so the people around him stay safe. he downplays the danger he faces and you try not to show that you worry for him but you do.

you don’t know what you’d do with yourself if he ended up hurt.

so, even if he came to you with some minor injury like a bruised cheek or a split lip or a sprained ankle, you’d do anything in your power to make him feel better—even if that remedy was a kiss.

rolling onto your side so you’re facing him, you prop your chin in the palm of your hand. suna’s gaze is still glued to you and you challenge it with a stare of your own. “you know what? i would.”

the curl of the corners of his lips falls upon hearing your unforeseen reply. a weird feeling overcomes him, too. he can feel his heart rate pick up and can hear the ba-bump, ba-bump, ba-bump of the organ in his ears. the closest he’s felt to this sensation before is when he’s soaring through the air evading villains and crooks. but those are real threats and you’re the farthest thing from it. you’re his safety net, there to catch him whenever he feels himself falling.

why is he falling now?

he blinks and clears his throat. “what?”

“i said i would kiss it better if you were hurt.” you proudly tell him, sporting the smile of someone who beat the master at their own game. it isn’t often you render suna speechless and a sense of satisfaction washes over you knowing that you were able to do so by simply saying something you meant.

it’s difficult to see him in the dark of your room but you do pick up on the way his fingers nervously tap at his stomach and how he’s mindlessly chewing on the inside of his cheek. he isn’t looking at you anymore, either. you wonder what’s going on in his head, what thoughts are swimming in his skull. outside of his joking, he tends to keep a lot to himself.

you suspect he’s doing that much now. between his uncharacteristic silence and the fact that he never told you why he dropped in, you think it might be something he isn’t quite ready to share yet. it’s not something you’ll ever hold against him and if you’re the comfort he seeks after a long day, you don’t want to ruin that by pushing him. so, instead of waiting for suna to speak up, you ask, “wanna stay the night?”

he turns his head to face you. “can i?”

“mhm,” you hum, nodding your head. “you left a bag here last time, there might be something you can wear to sleep in it.”

you point to the bag propped up in the corner of your room. his gaze follows your finger and lands on the drawstring pouch he’s been looking for since last week. he internally chuckles at himself—he should have known he could find it here, where else would it be?

suna pulls himself up from his reclined position to make his way across the room. though, partway through the process, a sharp pain shoots up his side. his hand shoots out to hold his aching ribs as he bites back a groan of complaint.

you quickly sit up with him. there’s concern painted all over your face. “what’s wrong?”

“nothing, it’s where i—” he stops in the middle of his explanation, remembering the humiliation that blanketed him earlier.

“hit the window?” you finish his sentence with a quiet laugh that you fail to hold back.

he nods in confirmation, dragging the palms of his hands over his face in a show of bashfulness. it’s cute and so unlike suna. you can’t help but want to tease him just a little more.

“aw, don’t be embarrassed. want me to kiss it better?”

hiya, it's manon! thank you for giving this a read! if you enjoyed, please consider reblogging and/or leaving a comment! much love from me to you ❤︎

[suzukiblu]

WIP guessing game: "Robin"

Superboy has existed for about six months at best (five months, two weeks, and six days, but who's creepily spying on their fellow heroes and vigilantes? not Tim, for sure) and was created in a lab full of extremely niche genetic experiments whose creators very rarely bothered making look human, which is probably why he has some weird ideas about certain social norms.

Tim assumes that's why the guy just decided to drop a very annoyed Catwoman on him out of nowhere, anyway.

"The fuck?" he says, though through his vocoder it comes out more like the incoherent screeching of the damned. That being, well, the whole purpose of the vocoder and all. Superboy grins down at him from the nighttime sky all bright and sunny and weirdly adorable, for being a lab-grown weapon and a guy who is technically capable of disassembling Tim down to his individual atoms with, like, a touch and about two seconds' worth of thought.

Not that Tim has been creepily spying on anyone or said anyone's Cadmus files, again.

Also Superboy might not even know he can do that yet, so it's really not a smart thing to mention right now.

"Hey, man!" Superboy greets cheerfully. "She was breaking into that big museum a couple blocks over, figured you'd care about that. As opposed to, like, breaking into some rich asshole with insurance's penthouse. Figured you would not have cared about that."

"The museum also has insurance, for the record," Selina informs him sourly as she makes an art of getting off her unceremoniously roof-dumped ass while looking like being on this roof was her idea to begin with. Because, like: Selina. "And has not properly sourced the artifacts in their new Bast exhibit."

I know, that's why I was on my way to the museum to keep an eye out for you, is what Tim does not say, since Robin is supposed to be a splintered aspect of a mysterious all-knowing city spirit given human form and not just, like, a really dedicated teenager surviving on semi-legal energy drinks and conspiracy-board detective work and the occasional occult ritual to summon the Batman.

What he does do is jerkily cock his head and say, "Preyyyyy?", and let his vocoder horribly mangle the word into a sound usually best described as "unholy avian screeching". Superboy beams, which is not a normal reaction to hearing Robin's voice. Selina just rolls her eyes, but Selina of course knows about the whole "really dedicated teenager surviving on semi-legal energy drinks and conspiracy-board detective work and the occasional occult ritual to summon the Batman" thing.

Like she's never summoned the Batman for anything, geez. Or "Bruce", as an eight year-old Dick Grayson had once upon a time decided to randomly dub him. Tim still can't call the eternal and unsleeping eldritch protector of their city that without feeling like he's going to spontaneously combust, but it is in fact a thing that the Batman will answer to.

Might as well call Pennyworth "Alfie", though.

Jason was even worse at names than Dick, Tim is pretty sure.

"Yeah!" Superboy says, sounding still more cheerful and floating down the rest of the way to the roof to land lightly in front of Tim. Selina eyes him in a way that would end very badly for anyone who was not functionally invulnerable. "I mean, she seems cool and all but I dunno, figured the Bat wasn't big on Cats in his territory. And also the criming. Definitely also the criming."

"How . . . find Robin?" Tim asks. Superboy doesn't have enhanced senses, as far as he knows, so . . .

"Oh, I've been stalking you," Superboy explains. Tim blinks behind his unblinking mask and feels several ways about that statement. "That's what you Bats all do when you're interested in somebody, right? So I figured you'd like it if I did it back."

. . . Tim feels several ways about that statement.

[avatartophblindbanditbeifong]

Bloody Knuckles and Palm Kisses

Miles Morales x Reader

1.4k words

Warnings: blood, bodily harm, crying, angst, Miles being stubborn, & reader being a patient Saint.

“Ow.”

Miles hissed again as you swiped the alcohol-soaked cotton ball across his bloody knuckles.

Miles was seated on your windowsill. A dozen cotton balls, once white but now turned red, scattered next to him while you stood in between his parted legs. You would have him sit on a more comfortable surface like your bed, but there was a strict ‘no outside clothes on the bed’ rule that your parents implemented, and it was one you instilled in Miles, especially when he came over in his beat up Spider-Man suit.

“Sorry.” you said quietly. You looked up from Miles’s hands, and for a second, you saw his sorrow.

It was a quarter to 1 a.m. when Miles abruptly landed on the fire escape outside to your window. Bang! The sound of his body colliding with the rustic metal sounded through your room.

Your body reacted to the sudden sound by jolting upward, prompting you to drop your phone onto your face. “Shit.” you thought. You hoped with everything you loved that your parents weren’t woken up by the noise coming from your room.

It wouldn’t be the first time they’ve checked in due to Miles’ inability to be stealthy.

You got out of your bed when you noticed Miles’ state. You swiftly padded over to the window, tucked your fingers under the metal and pushed it up quickly. Something about his body, he looked tangled in the position he landed in, the slight red smears across his skin glistened; the sounds he emitted were those of a wounded animal.

When you stepped outside, you were looking at Spider-Man, but all you could truly see was a beat-up teenager looking for solace in something familiar.

And that was you.

“Here,” You cupped your hands together, “give me the cotton balls.” Miles then picked up one scarlet ball and placed it in your palm.

Then another.

One. By. One.

He did this for each cotton ball.

Into the palms of your hands.

Until they were full.

Miles let out a deep sigh when you turned your back to him, throwing away the blood shed he wore on his body just moments ago into the trash bin. When you looked over your shoulder, Miles was slouched over, leaning on his knees with his head in his hands. His mask was abandoned on the windowsill next to him.

You made your way beside him. “You did good today, y’know.”

He scoffed.

You let out a deep breath. You knew no amount of assurance would help ease Miles’ disappointment.

“You did the best you could, baby.” He lifted his head, staring into your eyes.

“You weren’t there Y/n,” His eyes were half lidded and his eyebrows frowned; he looked tired. The slight downturn of his mouth made him look like the most grief-stricken boy in the world. “I was there, and I-” he swallowed. “I could’ve done more,” he picked up his mask and held it firmly, “I could’ve saved them all.” His voice was hoarse and tears formed in the waterline of his eyes.

“People lost their family; their friends tonight because of me, because I couldn’t get the job done.” Miles whispered that last part. He didn’t want to let you in on the habit of self deprecation he’d grown into.

“Miles, you can’t blame yourself for every mishap that happens in Brooklyn.” You caught the way he shook his head. “You can only go so far with what you can do. You're fourteen. You can’t protect everyone-”

“I can be both!” He interjected exasperatedly. “I’m Spider-Man,” he croaked. You shushed him as his voice grew louder.

Miles pushed himself off of the windowsill, standing up tall. You looked up at him; he really had grown a lot taller these past few months, you thought.

“You are both. But not saving every single person in need doesn’t make you any less of a hero.” You replied, but he wasn’t listening. Trying to talk to Miles when he was upset was like talking to a brick wall; nothing was going to get through.

“I’m supposed to be the protector of the city,” he continued. “A-and I just let two people die!”

You shushed him again. “Miles, please.”

He paused before saying, “Peter could’ve done it.” flatly; devoid of any emotion.

The atmosphere in your room was muted then. The lack of noise was so deafening you could hear the faint sound of ringing that introduced itself into your ears every once in a while.

Miles sighed, breaking the silence. He leaned against the wall, slowly descending until he came in contact with the floor. You looked down at him and positioned yourself down the wall next to him, sitting on your heels.

“Maybe.” his eyes snapped toward yours like magnets. “But you’re not Peter Parker, Miles. You can’t compare the success of one Spider-Man to the other because you both serve a different purpose. Sure, Peter could do things you can’t, but he wouldn’t be able to do the things you can. And that’s okay,” he wasn't looking at you anymore, you slid your palm slowly up the back of his shoulder. “Look at me Miles — you don’t have to be Peter Parker to be Spider-Man.”

That’s when the dam broke. Miles's shoulders dropped in ruin, and his bottom lip quivered. He took in a sharp inhale before letting out a breathless sob. Seeing Miles break down like this was a rare occurrence. Sure, you’d seen him cry many times, but this…

He wasn’t just sad, you knew this. He was angry. He was ashamed. He was crushed.

Even though Miles had been Brooklyn’s one and only Spider-Man for the past eleven months, he still felt inadequate about being “Spider-Man #2.” It pained you to see Miles, an otherwise upbeat boy, feel so dejected and helpless.

You smoothed the hand on his shoulder across the length of his back and pulled him into you. Right then, he melted like a puddle in your arms. You rested your chin on top of his curls and a thin line of tears welled up in the corner of your eyes.

You and Miles both sat there on your bedroom floor in each other’s embraces, crying silently for two completely different reasons.

“I should go.” He breathed, sitting up right and detaching himself from your hold. The weight of his body left you feeling a lot lighter. When you opened your eyes, they slowly adjusted to the clock on your nightstand; 1:30 a.m. it read.

Had forty-five minutes gone by that fast?

“Stay.” is all you said, and it was all that needed to be said for Miles to do so.

When you let go of him and made way to your closet. You walked back to Miles with an oversized hoodie that you secretly stole from him and a pair of your pajama pants in hand to give him. He thanked you and wandered toward your door. A chuckle bounced in your chest when you noticed the way he peeked out of the crack of your door to check for your parents before he slipped out to the bathroom.

When Miles entered your room, a lot more silent than he did nearly an hour ago, you giggled at the sight before you. Miles was engulfed in your shared clothes. The arms of the hoodie made his already long arms look like those of Slenderman and the pants dragged on the floor before him. Miles stood there with a tight-lipped smile before moving toward your bed where you had already taken place under your blankets.

Miles laid on his side, in the space you had given him. This moment was one of the few times that you and Miles lay in the same bed together. You wanted to lay your head on his chest, but that would be too awkward. So, you reached out and put your hand on top of Miles's. Then, he did something that shocked you; Miles took your hand into his and kissed the back of your palm. It was soft and sentimental, you thought. Miles held your hand in his and set it back down gently between the two of you.

“Thank you.” he whispered.

You felt the soothing gesture of his thumb rubbing against yours and before no time you were asleep and so was Miles. You knew he’d be gone before the sun rose to get back home before his parents woke up, but that didn’t matter. What did matter was that he was there with you.

Safe with your hand in his.

Him tenderly holding you throughout the night.

Although he’d be up and out of your window soon, Miles thought he had never slept so well than at that moment with you.

[yandereunsolved]

Imagine what yandere Chain would be like with a yiga darling that comes from Wilds Hyrule. Legend learns that Ravio tried to steal from the yiga in Wilds Hyrule and obviously got caught. The Chain travels through the perilous Geurdo Desert to save him. After disarming every yiga in the base, they find that they missed one. Ravio is flirting with this Yiga Clan member—wait, Ravio is flirting with them? 

Ravio calls dibs on yiga darling. He is the one who found them first, after all. Sure, he snuck in to steal all of the precious gems, weapons, and other things the clan had hoarded over the years. He was blessed to find something much more valuable. You wouldn't be able to understand that he is a darling. Years of training under Sooga have sharpened your mind and hardened your heart. You just don't have the emotional intelligence to understand how devoted he truly is to you. He didn't realize it at first. It's just your dominance. You know how to put him in his place if he starts being too touchy or perverted around you. Does it stop him? No. It entices him. Like a rabbit to its treasured carrot. He just wants to eat you up.

Time is the one that convinces the group to take you in for interrogation. Which evolves into you being held hostage by a bunch of love-sick heroes that were chosen by the goddesses you swore against. Time treats you like a child, and it infuriates you. He is always giving you advice and besting you in sparring. That's his way of courting you and showing you that you need him. He'd be the perfect husband for you. He could protect you if any yiga from any version of Hyrule tried to come after you. He could make you feel good and be your protector. He's tired of having to protect everyone and lead them. He only wants to do that with you. How beautiful you would look between him and Malon. She already adores you as well, based on what Time has told her of you. He also has the Fierce Deity mask in his arsenal. He isn't afraid of getting the deity involved if it keeps you with him.

Twilight almost mimics Times yandere ways. He is also the only one Twilight will listen to when it comes to you. If Time wants time with you, then he gets it. Even if it is at the cost of him spending time with you. Which does make sense considering Time is his ancestor. He treats you like you are his younger sibling. He is always quick to lend a hand to you. He is always second to scold you after Time for your yiga ways. He always protects you when in his wolf form. Those platonic yandere brother tendencies develop into romantic partner feelings after you save his life. It was more of an accidental thing.

They were traveling through a version of Gerudo Desert when a Molduga appeared out from under them. They were all quick to fight back against the beast while trying to get you away from the battle.

They always do that, every time. They have contemplated crippling you just so you lose your soldier persona faster, as well as you being more dependent on them.

The Moldulga had thrown Twilight deep into the sands, and some stray Lizafolos had been attracted. He was injured and was about to be impaled when you saved him. That was the hottest thing he had ever seen. Your determination and reflexes made the wolf part of him howl. He could just feel himself falling that fast for you. After all, you can't hate the heroes that much if you saved one of them, right?

That means you must be madly in love with him.

Sky barely interacts with you. You just get a lot of stares and awkward moments with him. Something about you just makes his mind go blank and his heart begin to pound. It confuses him even more when he learns what a yiga is. He pours his obsessive feelings out when Fi is around. He constantly talks about you to them and fantasizes. Fi becomes interested and eventually approves of Sky's infatuation. They know it isn't healthy, but it just makes him so happy. They have to admit that they don't know a lot about relationships in the first place. So they'll help Sky by giving him things to talk about with you. The mastersword may just always accidentally end up in your care, so Fi can help Sky stalk you. Some of the others panic with the fact that Sky is fine with leaving the mastersword in your hands. What if you use it as a bargaining tool against them? Of course, Fi is there, but they side with Sky on all matters. So Fi could keep you from them. Good for Sky, bad for the rest of The Chain.

Legend hates how passive and strong you are. You just have this wall that he wants to break down so badly. You have done awful things, at least from what he has learned about the yiga. So what gives you the right to act so perfect all the time? He does his best to humiliate you in any way possible. He knows you hide your face behind that stupid mask all the time, so he either hides it or breaks it. If you get another one, he does the same thing again. This does present a bit of a problem when Four offers to make you new armor, one without yiga symbols. He inadvertently allowed the two of you to get closer. Goddesses, damn it all!

He just needs to break you down so he is able to find his way into your heart. What was once a passive interest in your lack of emotion became a convoluted infatuation with you. He will do anything to make you show any emotion on your features. Your expressions are like ambrosia from the Golden Three. He'll pick out your worst insecurities if he has to, put you in the most compromising positions, give you love potions, anything—he'll slaughter the entirety of the Yiga Clan if only to see the absolute myriad of emotions wildly strewn across your face.

It was Shadow who first introduced Fours obsession into the world. The Colors hadn't seen Shadow in forever. Yet, now he was here, playing mischievous pranks on you. The others never seemed to notice Shadow except for you and Four. He made himself only noticeable to the two or five of you, depending on how you look at it. The others could sense him, but they just shook off the odd feeling. You began to grow closer with him, and Four couldn't have that. All of The Colors were arguing about what to do about him. Vio was especially upset, and Four was teetering on the edge of constantly splitting. The only thing that calmed them down was when they shooed Shadow away and were near you. It's like the darker version of himself understood the feelings that were just beneath the surface. Shadow made sure they grew so that not only could he be infatuated with you, but Four as well. It was something so sick and twisted that all four of them couldn't fight it. They protected you from Shadow's influence when they should've been protecting you from themselves all along.

It turns into a game of The Colors looking to mark you in different ways. Sure, they work together, but one is more dominant than the others in Fours mind and body most days. With your Yiga training, you were able to understand what was happening pretty quickly—well, part of it. You knew Four and Shadow were somehow connected. You knew that he must have a disorder or a strange genetic mutation because of how his eye colors kept changing on the daily—sometimes hourly. It was not a perfect blend with you around. They were all so needy for some part of you. They craved just an ounce of your affection and love.

Legend and his dumb fuckery gave them the perfect opportunity. All of a sudden, every chance Four could, he would whisk you away. He says that it's just because he is making you a special set of armor and weapons. The others will be irked and grumble about it, but they know it's four the best. Even Time approves of the armor and weapons being made for you. Of course, there is a catch to this. There always is.

They're essentially baby-proofed with a magical enchantment made by Legend and Hyrule. If you try to use your weapons without one of their permissions, they'll be too heavy to use and rendered useless. If you refuse to take your armor off or use it in whatever way one of the Links deems inappropriate, it'll basically turn from armor into something that demobilizes and swaddles you. Don't try to argue against it. You're blessed by Hylia herself that they even let you have armor or weapons, period. That's only because they are incredibly paranoid about you being harmed in way hylianly possible.

Four will reveal his secrets to you one day. He just has to make sure that you can't run first.

Hyrule sees you as above him in many ways. He doesn't really see himself as the hero, but you seem to be confident in your yiga position. You are so competent and level-headed. Hyrule falls in love with yiga darling almost as fast as Ravio does. You are just so perfect in his eyes. Your rough edges seem to round when he heals you with his magic. Not to mention that your body is so plush and soft. He feels himself growing red from pointed ear to pointed ear anytime he has to get near your body. It's just so perfect. It's nothing like this. He's lanky, and because of his fairy genes, he just seems to be unable to put on a lot of muscle. You though? You look like you were crafted by Din herself.

You are closest to Wild, much to the others chargin. You are from his Hyrule, and you met the hero while he was on his quest to save it. He didn't kill you after he had disarmed you only a couple of years ago. He may have defeated Master Kohga, but you didn't have the heart to hate him after that. You go to him whenever you need a break from the others. You always choose him to watch you if the others are arguing over who gets to watch you during nightwatch. You always compliment his food, and you interact with him the most. Wild even had the gall to teach you Hylian sign!

So many of the other Links hold such great resentment towards him for that. That was such an intimate thing for you to learn. Wild isn't the smartest of the bunch. A different Link should have taught you that! Cal is the most envious of the fact that Wild got to teach it to you. He is only semi-verbal and uses a lot of sign to communicate with the others. Not as much as Wild, but still! That's why the others use his trauma against him a lot. They'll tell you all the negative things about Wild in an effort to put a wedge in your relationship with him. Hyrule will go as far as to poison your food, so you no longer trust him to cook your meals.

Sages yandere tendencies evolve from simple indifference in you traveling with them to aggressive in nature. Whenever he sees you, it's like a switch is flipped in his brain, and he suddenly becomes paranoid and fidgety. He has dealt with the Yiga Clan far too much. He wants to suppress these feelings. He wants to make them go away. So instead of just acting passive toward you, he acts aggressive. He's very much a more extreme version of a tsundere. He acts like he wants to murder you, which a part of him does just so he doesn't have to feel vulnerable ever again. The other part of him just wants to strip you of anything yiga, so you can be this defenseless little thing that he has to protect. He wants to make you feel as vulnerable as he feels around you.

Aged-up Wind is naturally smitten with you from the first time he lays eyes on you. You remind him of a pirate. You like to steal and battle, just like him. He's often butting into whatever conversation you are having with another Link. He is shameless about it as well. He'll take up all of your time and try to convince you to come back to his Hyrule. They're holding you here against your will. Having only one yandere Link to deal with is better than a dozen. You both could be rulers over the Great Sea. That's his secret fantasy; the rest of his brothers envying him for having you while you both get married and have a bunch of awe-inspiring offspring. That's how he'd stake his claim on you against the others.

Warriors sees you as a threat at first. He is always on edge and ready for you to attack. Eventually, his apprehension turns to curiosity, which evolves into being enamored with you. He agrees with the rest about you needing to be protected and to never be in battle again, but at the same time he is tempted. He is the one that allows you to train, as long as it's with him or under his supervision. He loves testing your abilities while training. He admires your physique and has to restrain himself from touching you. He just wants his hands to explore your body. You could do the same to him. You wouldn't mind; he's pretty sure you wouldn't mind. The fact that you are from the Yiga Clan only interests him more. There's so much knowledge about their battle tactics and customs that you are keeping from them. Wars mimics Legend in the way that he will break you down emotionally to learn more about you. Wars needs to know about where you came from because, in a way, he understands. He's dealt with the training, having to deal with royalty, and saving the world. You're a soldier, just like him. You must understand that on some level. He just feels this automatic connection. It's like he's found the one he's been looking for all his life. A lover in the guise of an enemy. 

Cal is the last one to fall for you. He can't believe that yiga scum would cause so many versions of himself to fall in love. Until he sees the softer side of you, just for a moment. Then, you have him hooked. He starts to see you as a victim of them. You are just someone who needs to be reformed and protected. He devotes every second of his free time to teaching you how to be an individual, not just another yiga soldier. Perhaps his teaching includes having to get up close and personal with you. He has never kissed anyone before, but he'd be more than willing to practice with you. You know—to help you reform yourself. 

[nkogneatho]

i feel like satoru has a hard time accepting he is allowed to cry. he has lived a life of lavishness, yet those eyes don't sparkle at the luxury. it is because he was constantly pressured by the fact that he is the strongest and quiet unique. that man had a huge weight on his shoulders right from his childhood and still carried it to his death.

he doesn't think of all that "crying makes you weak" bullshit. the reason he has a hard time showing that emotion more often is because he has been a mentor and a protector. he keeps thinking what happens when the protector loses composure? the one that he has been protecting lose their faith. they lose their courage. and a dent appears in that"he will protect us" as "what if he can't?" his students look upto him no matter how annoying he potrays himself as. there are people who want to become as strong as him. who also want to be a hero. from gojo's pov, his cockiness, strength and behaviour is what keeps people motivated and become strong enough to be self dependent in fights and protect themselves. he wouldn't want to change that. satoru either cries alone, or conceals his tears behind that black mask.

he managed to lose his composure in front of geto many times because he considered geto to be as strong as him. geto didn't need his help. he thought. ironic, isn't it? the one he thought didn't need a savior, needed him the most.

[lakesbian]

okay so first thing i like about interlude 3. in the part of the arc prior to it, we see taylor being severely mistreated by an adult PRT member--which pushes her to rob the bank with Great Gusto, wherein she contributes to beating up a lot of largely faceless wards. the sole exception to the lack of characterization the kid cops heroes receive in the pre-interlude chapters is glory girl, who spends a decent portion of the bank robbery trying to lord herodom's perceived wealth and prestige over the undersiders:

“I helped Aegis out of a jam on my way in, so he’s keeping your little friends busy. You should also know that the Protectorate is on their way from a wine and dine with Brockton Bay’s finest at the Augustus Country Club. Can’t speak for them, but I know I’d be royally pissed if some little snots dragged me away from a chance to have the club’s chocolate mousse.”

& tattletale simultaneously reaffirms & puts down this image she wants to present by mockingly calling her "prom queen" &c. and then in interlude 3, when we finally see the personalities behind the masks for the wards, miss militia comes in and says it outright:

“She was kind enough to volunteer to come here and patch you guys up,” Miss Militia told the young heroes, “Can’t send you home with horrible injuries and hundreds of bug bites, can we? That would give away the show.”

the prestige, the purported invincibility and success of being a young hero--it's all a show covering for the fact that they're fundamentally overworked, systematically manipulated child soldiers, being regularly thrown into life-threatening situations & used as weapons to beat down on other systematically abused children (like the undersiders). which goes So well with how a critical turning point in the prior chapter is victoria presenting herself as invincible, only to be deeply wounded by tattletale correctly observing that she isn't.

and letting people see past the facade is something the PRT/herodom at large considers to be worth a chewing out--piggot is mad that glory girl was called because she caused property damage, and property damage is bad for PR. she's less concerned with aegis standing there with a punctured lung than she is the bad PR of kid win not filling out paperwork properly before using a new weapon. and yes, obviously, aegis can't die from a punctured lung or having his retina detached or his ribs snapped--but the image of a teenage boy standing there half torn to shreds while the director reams them all for not being the perfect child soldiers is viscerally grim. miss militia doesn't say "we can't send you home with horrible injuries because that would suck and be unhealthy for you," she says "we can't send you home with horrible injuries because that would give away the show." bleak!

[turbofanatic]

Got some questions on what the rest of Fierce Deity Link looks like in this AU (Yes I have another AU after Lunk, I'm indulging myself as I try to finish Aphelion sorry not sorry) so here you go! One cranky deity.

This is just my own thoughts feel free to disagree. I've forgotten a lot from the games!

I think the fierce deity is something akin to the Windfish in Link's Awakening. Both Termina and Koholint are sort of weird echoes of other worlds with questionable reality (unlike say, Lorule where multiple people can travel back and forth). In Link's Awakening, this is because it's all a dream of the Windfish and you have to wake it up/let it hatch. Despite being attacked by nightmares, Koholint is a beautiful place, leading to the horrible truth that you're going to maybe kill all those nice people you met as you awaken the Windfish.

Termina on the other hand, is entirely nightmarish. Everyone watches their death arrive over and over again. Something terrible happened in Ikana. Whatever the hell is dreaming or hatching here, it is screaming in pain.

The only way to get the fierce deity mask is to become part of this dying world. You have to help everyone and get each mask, becoming part of Termina. It's all futile in three days but some parts of it carry over, even if only in the masks you carry. How do you get the other transformation masks? You sooth the dead and dying and they give you their power. Link has soothed the broken down world of Termina and become part of it. Then he gets its mask.

Add in that fierce deities/wrathful deities in Buddhism are terrifying but compassionate protectors that destroy obstacles to enlightenment, and that there seems to be a theme of growing up (your enemy is an evil child and the fierce deity is literally a reskin of "adult" link) and I think this is Termina growing up and dispelling the illusions it was making for itself, much like the Windfish was waking up. But unlike Link in Link's awakening, Link in Majora's Mask became part of that world, and maybe it was so broken it needed him, so when he eventually leaves he carries it with him.

So in keeping with that theme, and the themes of the Hero of Time starting off as a green plant child that becomes sort of this ancient deathly monster, growth and death, living and dying, here's my AU version.

I tried to maintain the spirit of this interpretation while adding some of my own flair. Not sure if it worked, but I do love characters with absurd swords so it was fun.

It starts off as the gawky teen version because that’s how link saw himself as an adult, but it would mature with him, as he actually reaches adulthood. Its relationship with the hero’s shade being the subject of another post.

[thevoidstaredback]

Batman: Vigilante; Hero; Dark Knight; Protector of Gotham City; A Legend; A Cryptid by all rights

Brucie Wayne: Playboy; Ditz; Generous and Greedy all at once; Rules by his Emotions; An Easy Victim; A front; A mask; What the World Sees because no one would ever believe the conspiracy of Brucie Wayne being Batman

Bruce Wayne: The Man Behind the Mask; Calculating; A Scientist; An Idealist

B: A Father

[supercap2319]

Being the son of the Aggressor and being in love with Jake Madden and Max Thunderman.

You were the son of Supervillain, The Aggressor. The only one to take on the Protectors aka the Charmed Ones, and live. Your father was well known in the villain community, and in the superhero one as well. He also fought against powerful heroes like Captain Man and Thunder Man.

He's also teamed up with villains like Surge and Kraniac in attempts to take over the world. You had no idea that you would meet the children of heroes and villains alike as you met Jake Madden and Max Thunderman.

You felt attracted to the two boys and the three of you would hangout together and do lots of things together. Until one night, you found out they had superpowers like you.

Jake, as his alter ego, Chaos tried to steal the same thing that you were trying to steal. The two of you fought back and forth, trading blows of super strength. That's when Max came onto the scene with his twin sister, Phoebe as you realized Max was a superhero as you and Chaos fought against the two of them.

During the fight, Jake's mask came off and you realized that Jake Madden was Chaos. The two of you escaped, but the next day at school you confronted the two of them. "I know you're a superhero and you're Chaos." You told them.

They looked shocked to hear that you knew their secret, and they were shocked to learn that you were the Aggressor's son.

[lewmagoo]

the ferris wheel | rhett abbott

description: in which a fearless cowboy isn't so fearless anymore

pairing: rhett abbott x gn!reader

warnings: angst, fear of heights, toxic masculinity (aka rhett trying to unlearn all the harmful things his father taught him about masculinity), mention of a broken arm, slight panic attack, vomiting, working through familial trauma, rhett learning how to communicate, therapy, i think that's it

*inspired by a convo with @damrlova :)

Rhett Abbott hated being perceived as weak. 

More specifically, he hated being perceived as weak by you. His light, his love, his darling. You were so sweet, so loving, and you looked at him as if he’d set the very stars in the sky. 

You always told him how strong he was. You’d squeeze his big arms and marvel at his strength after he’d just finished hauling bales of hay or wrangling a stubborn horse. You’d cheer the loudest in the stands when he managed to have a good ride, and you’d come running to him and exclaim what a wonderful job he did, how proud you were of him. 

In your eyes, he was your hero, your protector, your knight in shining armor. And he was terrified of tainting that view. He didn’t want you to think of him as a failure. Yes, it was irrational. He knew that. But he was terrified of losing what you shared. The healthiest, most loving relationship he had ever taken part in. So he fought to keep on that mask of strength for as long as he could. 

Until it all came crashing down one night on the tippy top of a Ferris wheel at the Amelia County Fair. 

You were teeming with excitement over going to the fair. It was always your favorite event of the summer. You loved the energy, the atmosphere, and the nostalgia of it all. 

You also loved being able to watch your man ride. This year, however, was his first year attending the fair as just a spectator. The year prior, he’d finally hung up the reins, so to speak, and decided to step away from bull riding. It was not a decision he took lightly, but ultimately, he did it for himself, and for you. 

His father had always dreamed of Rhett following in his footsteps as a bull rider. Riding was the only thing that earned Rhett a hearty “good job” or “proud of ya, son.” The only time Royal ever seemed to be truly proud of him. And Rhett chased that feeling, the elation, the satisfaction, the warmth that bloomed in his chest when his father said those words. 

But it was never enough. No matter how many good rides he had. How many dislocated shoulders or fucked up wrists. He would never get his father to look at him the way he looked at Perry. The golden son. The boy who could do no wrong. 

Rhett loved his brother, he really did. But his entire life, he’d been endlessly compared to Perry. Held up to an impossible standard. And Rhett knew he would never measure up. 

Even so, he still tried in vain to make his rodeo career work. But why was he so determined to do so? Was it because he was truly passionate about the sport? Or was it only because he craved validation from his dad?

You posed these questions to him well into your relationship, after you’d seen him fall too many times. After you’d watched in horror as a 1,500-pound animal’s hooves nearly clipped him in the head. After you’d come home together at night after a ride and listened to his pained groans in the shower as he tried to wash his hair, but couldn’t, because he was in too much agony to even do so. 

It weighed heavily on you. You didn’t want to tell him to walk away from his dream, but there was a part of you that knew this wasn’t his dream. It was Royal’s. And you wanted Rhett to come to that conclusion on his own. 

It took a little tough love, but eventually, he did come to that conclusion. Unfortunately, it took shattering the radius and ulna of his riding arm under a bull’s hoof to bring him to that point. 

He realized, finally, that the blood, sweat, and tears were not worth it. None of it was, not compared to the excruciating pain he was in. Rhett had always considered himself to have a high pain tolerance, and he did. But even the highest pain threshold was no match for this sheer misery. 

He was out for the rest of the season. And in his heart, he knew he’d never ride again. His arm wouldn’t be the same after this. It would be too weak to hold onto the back of an angry, thundering bull. It was suicide to climb onto the back of another one of those beasts again. And Rhett didn’t only have himself to think of anymore. He had you. And he would never forget the frightened look on your face as he was being placed into the back of an ambulance. He never wanted to be the cause of that look again. 

So he walked away from the rodeo circuit. He stopped using it as a crutch to receive his father’s praise. Instead, he put his focus on you, and your relationship. He worked to build a good life for you both. 

His injury had begun to heal after many months of recovery and physical therapy, and after he was given the go-ahead to get back to normal, he set about making arrangements to build a home for the two of you. 

And through that process, he watched you stare at him in awe. You were deeply moved by the way he cared for you. You admired him for his strength and resilience, and he wanted to show you that he was a man of his word, that he was going to give you the house you deserved, the life you deserved. 

He was your guy. The one who always took care of everything. The one who made sure you had gas in your car. The one who wasn’t afraid to go check out a mysterious bump in the night just to give you peace of mind. The one who was brave. That was why he struggled so much with being perceived as anything less than that in your eyes. 

He never would’ve thought a damn Ferris wheel at the county fair would be his undoing. But he should’ve known it from the second he walked through the gates. 

He admired the way your eyes lit up as you took in the sights and sounds around you. You were on cloud nine, and he was glad he was able to fully experience it with you this year and be a spectator, rather than being a spectacle. 

He was perfectly fine at the beginning. You dragged him into the barn area to see the horses and other livestock. You insisted on stopping by a lemonade stand to grab one to share. You visited each vendor and made sure to say hello to friends that were working the fair that day. 

And then there was the Ferris wheel. The second you saw it, a grin broke across your face, and you grabbed Rhett’s hand. “Oh, babe! Let’s go on the Ferris wheel!” You exclaimed, bouncing on the balls of your feet in excitement. 

It would’ve been fine, except for one very small issue: Rhett was terrified of heights. For an adrenaline junky, it was an interesting predicament to be in. He could handle sitting on the back of a raging bull. He could wrangle spooked horses. He could go up against his own brother when he went off on one of his fits of rage.

But he couldn’t handle being high off the ground. It made his heart race, his head spin, and his palms sweat. But when you tugged on his hand and gave him your pretty doe-eyed glance, he tried to swallow that nauseating fear and follow after you. If it made you happy, it was worth it.

However, as you stepped into the line for the ride, Rhett found himself looking up at the wheel, and his knees went weak. It was so much bigger up close. It loomed imposingly overhead, and he forced himself to look back down at the ground so he couldn’t get dizzy. 

His heart had begun to race in his chest, and he focused on his footsteps carrying him forward. Right, left, right, left, right, left. Then you were at the entrance to the wheel and he climbed into the seat, trying desperately not to react when the seat began to rock a little. 

The entire time, you were talking animatedly about what you wanted to do after the ride, but he hardly registered a word you were saying. He sat there and stared ahead and willed himself not to throw up. 

The chill of anxiety bubbled to life within his chest, and he bit the inside of his cheek. He knew anxiety, he felt it every time he climbed onto a bull, just before he shot out into the ring. But that anxiety always melted away the second the gates opened and he was thrust out into the ring. During those few seconds he felt high off of adrenaline, he felt invincible. 

But here, sitting on a simple Ferris wheel seat, he didn’t feel invincible. He felt like a scared child. Suddenly he was small again, crying over a crushed bouquet of wildflowers he’d just picked, only for his father to tell him picking flowers was for girls, and that he needed to man up. 

And that’s what he tried to tell himself as you settled in beside him. Told himself to ‘man up’. Even though the term was ridiculous and incredibly harmful. It was difficult for Rhett to unlearn this ideology because it was all that had been drilled into his head. 

Men don’t cry. Men don’t show fear. Men are strong and steady. But Rhett didn’t feel like any of those things, especially not when the seat suddenly jerked forward and made him jump out of his skin. 

You noticed it, and you looked at him. “Are you alright?”

He nodded. “Y-yeah, ‘m fine. Just wasn’t expectin’ that, is all.” He thought it must’ve been convincing enough, because soon, you settled beside him, your shoulder touching his. 

The ride ascended higher and higher, and Rhett was already white-knuckling the bar in front of you. You noticed he was tense, and this time, when you looked at him, his eyes were squeezed shut. 

That’s when you realized he was trembling. 

“Rhett, baby, look at me,” you gently coaxed. 

He let out a soft sound, a whimper of fear, and he mentally cursed himself for it. But he couldn’t help it. “No,” he whispered. 

“It’s okay. Just turn your head and keep your eyes on me.”

Slowly, he turned his head, and you lifted your hand, gently cupping his cheeks in your hands, moving them high enough so that your fingers blocked his peripheral. 

Slowly, he opened his eyes. “You’re safe. Just keep your eyes on my face. Don’t look anywhere else but at me, alright?”

There were tears glimmering in his cerulean eyes. His bottom lip quivered. And all at once, you felt terrible for even suggesting this ride in the first place. You didn’t realize he was frightened until it was too late. 

But instead of asking him about the fear, you made an effort to distract him. You could have a discussion when you were back on solid ground. For now, you kept his focus on you. 

“That’s it. Doing so good, baby. I’m right here. I want you to keep your eyes on me and tell me five things you see, okay?”

“O-okay,” he breathed. His eyes flickered about your face. “U-um…I see your…your eyes. I see your nose. I, uh, I see your mouth. I see your cheeks.”

“Good job. That’s four, I need one more.”

“And I see your chin.”

“There you go, that’s it.” You gave him an encouraging smile. For the next part of the grounding technique, you weren’t sure if you’d be able to get him to take his hands off the bar to find four things he could touch. So, instead, you skipped to the next step. “How about three things you can hear?”

He took in a deep gulp of oxygen. “The…the music from the merry-go-round across the way. I can kinda hear people talking. An’ I can hear machines movin’.”

You kept your voice steady as you replied. “You’re doing so great, Rhett,” you encouraged. However, at that very moment, your seat reached the tippy top of the Ferris wheel, and it stopped. 

That jerked Rhett entirely out of the calm headspace you’d been guiding him into. “Oh, God,” he breathed. “Fuck, why did it stop?” Panic started to heighten his tone. 

“Baby, look at me. It’s part of the ride, they stop it at the top for a little bit before you go back down.”

“No, no, no. Why the fuck would they do that?! I can’t…I can’t do this.”

You kept your hands where they were, cradling his face. “Yes, you can. I’m right here with you, I promise. We’re doing this together.”

Tears had begun to well in his eyes again. Your heart ached for him, and you longed to wrap your arms around him, but you knew it would cause your seat to rock, and you didn’t want to send him further into panic. 

“I-I’m so fuckin’ scared,” he whimpered. 

“It’s okay to be scared. But it’s almost over, I promise. Just keep your focus on me. I’m gonna ask you another question, okay?” 

He gave you the go-ahead. “Okay.”

“What are two things you can smell?”

His brow furrowed as he breathed in deeply. “Your, uh, your perfume. And your shampoo.”

You beamed at him. “Great job baby.”

You continued to gently speak to him, keeping him distracted as best as you could. You had him focus on breathing, placing your hand on his broad chest as you told him to breathe in and out slowly. 

And little by little, the ride began to descend back to the ground. “We’re almost there, just a little more,” you assured him. Now that you were lower to the ground, Rhett was able to look away from you, his eyes flickering about to take in his surroundings. His shoulders began to visibly relax.

It was all going to be okay. Just a few more moments and his feet would be back on the ground. He found himself counting down in his head, until finally, the seat stopped at the bottom. Without hesitation, Rhett bolted from the ride, nearly tripping over his own feet as he did so. 

As you trailed after him, you passed Trevor Tillerson and his new Flavor of the Week, waiting next in line for the Ferris wheel. You should have known the eldest Tillerson would run his mouth, because that was what he was prone to do. Especially after he’d had a few drinks, and judging by the fact that he smelled like a bottle of Jack Daniels, he’d had more than a few. 

He snickered as Rhett bolted past him. “Ain’t no way the big bad bull rider gets sick on kiddie rides!” He jeered, eyes wide in disbelief. 

The comment sent fire through you, enraged that he would pick on Rhett after what he’d just endured. A surge of protectiveness drove you forward, and without a second thought, you whirled around. “Shut the fuck up, Trevor!” And then you sharply slapped him across the face. 

You didn’t stick around to see his reaction. Instead, you promptly turned back around on your feet and rushed after your man, driven by your need to make sure he was okay. Just ahead, Rhett skidded to a halt beside a trash can, and promptly lurched forward, letting nausea overcome him, releasing the contents of his stomach into the trash can. Your heart ached as you trailed behind him, placing a comforting hand on his back and rubbing slow circles with your palm. 

“I’ve got you, honey,” you assured him. You hated the sound of his pained heaves, and you felt terrible knowing that they were all because you had insisted that he go on the Ferris wheel. 

Groaning lowly, he rose, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Shit,” he grumbled under his breath. 

“Are you done? Or do you think you’ll throw up again?” You asked.

He nodded, grimacing slightly. “I-I think ‘m done,” he replied.

“Okay. How about you sit down here for a minute? I’ll go get you some water,” you softly coaxed, taking his arm and gently guiding him to a nearby picnic table. “I’ll be right back.” Then you slipped away to request a cup of water from one of the nearby food vendors.

Meanwhile, Rhett lowered his head to his hands, groaning to himself. “Fuck,” he cursed. He was so embarrassed for the way he’d reacted on that stupid Ferris wheel. Surely you thought he was a complete idiot.

But that couldn’t be further from the truth. And when you returned holding two cups of water, and saw that his head was in his hands, your heart broke. “I’m back,” you quietly announced, placing the water in front of him. He grabbed the cup, his large hand engulfing the plastic container, and eagerly gulped down the cool liquid.

As he did so, you sat across from him, slowly sipping your own water. He wouldn’t look at you, and you could see shame burning brightly on his cheeks. “Fuckin’ embarrassin’,” he grumbled. 

“It’s nothing to be embarrassed about, Rhett,” you soothed.

“Yes it is. What grown-ass man goes up in a Ferris wheel and fuckin’ cries?”

You shook your head, your eyes filling with tears. “Baby, stop. That has nothing to do with you being a man or not. It’s okay to be scared of things.” Then you leaned forward. “You should have told me you were scared. I never would’ve had you go on it with me.”

He shrugged sheepishly, still refusing to meet your gaze. “Didn’t want you t’ think I was weak.” And there it was. 

“Look at me.”

He did.

You reached out and placed your hands over his own ever-fidgeting ones. “I could never, ever think you were weak. Nothing you have ever done says “weak” to me. You are the strongest man I know, and being emotional or scared is not a sign of weakness. It’s a sign of strength. To be that vulnerable in front of someone? That takes courage.”

Rhett’s bottom lip quivered. “I…I know it’s stupid to think that way, but it’s just so fuckin’ drilled into my head. I can’t get rid of the mindset.”

A hot flash of anger flared in your chest, because you knew who was responsible for instilling that mindset in him. But you couldn’t let your anger come to the surface, so you kept it at bay. “I know it’s hard to shake it. But those are lies, you hear me? It’s okay to cry. It’s okay to be scared.”

“It’s just…I’ve been on the backs of some of the meanest bulls in the rodeo. I stared down the barrel of a shotgun when I was a teenager when I got caught trespassin’ on someone else’s land. I’ve had m’ own fuckin’ brother throw punches at me. You’d think I’d be able to handle a measly little fair ride.”

“We all have our limits. And I want you to know something. You don’t ever have to do something you don’t want to, just because of me, okay? I don’t want you to feel like you have no other choice, or like you have to make me happy. Because your own well-being is more important than making me happy. You hear me?”

He nodded slowly. “The thing is, I know all that. But…how do I get myself to start believin’ it?”

You squeezed his hands. “Well, for starters, you don’t have to do it alone. I don’t want you to shut me out. You aren’t supposed to carry your burdens by yourself. I wanna carry them with you.”

That was so difficult for Rhett to wrap his mind around. He was so used to being alone, to navigating his warring emotions all by himself. It had been a point of contention in your relationship. You were always telling him you didn’t want him to shut you out. That you wanted him to communicate and tell you how he was feeling. But that fear of vulnerability was crushing. Even so, he knew he needed to be better about expressing how he was feeling. He just wasn’t sure how to go about it.

“Will…will y’ help me figure out how to share ‘em with you?” He asked earnestly.

“Of course, baby. I’ll help you navigate it all, I promise.”

He nodded, his eyes glittering with emotion. Then he looked down at your intertwined hands. “Y’know how you kinda…hinted at seein’ a therapist?”

You nodded, because you had. You didn’t want Rhett to feel pressured into it, but in passing, you had mentioned to him that seeing a therapist was helpful to you. He hated to admit it, but he knew he needed to start seeing someone to help him navigate the muddled mess that was his brain. There were years of unchecked trauma and repressed emotions that needed to be dealt with. 

Before you, he wouldn’t have been caught dead admitting that he needed help. But you had made him see that it was okay to ask for help. And after the moment on the Ferris wheel, and how terrified he’d been to show you “weakness”, it hit him like a ton of bricks that, in order for your relationship to thrive, he needed to get a handle on those feelings.

“I think it’s time I started seein’ one,” he continued, his voice soft, as if he was afraid of admitting such a thing.

You reached out and gently tipped his chin up so he was looking at you again. “Oh, baby, you have no idea how happy that makes me. I know that couldn’t have been easy for you to say. I’m so proud of you, Rhett.” You lifted his hands to your mouth to press your lips to his knuckles. “I’ll help you find the perfect therapist just for you. I won’t let you do this by yourself, alright? I’ll be with you every step of the way.”

He managed a small smile. “Alright. I trust you.”

Those three words were music to your ears. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” he answered with conviction.

“We can talk more about this at home if you want. But I’m sure you’re exhausted after that awful ride. Do you wanna head home? Or stay here a little longer?”

He hesitated. “I…know you had your heart set on comin’ to the fair, but…I think maybe I need t’ go home and rest after that ordeal.”

You offered a warm smile. “That’s okay, we can go right home. Whatever is best for you, I don’t want you to force yourself to stay just to please me.”

You rose to your feet and held your hand out to him, which he gratefully accepted, allowing you to pull him to his feet. You leaned in to kiss him gently, and he melted into you. “Let’s get you home, cowboy.”

“Wait,” he said, as you began to lead him away. 

You stopped to look back at him.

“D’ya think we could, uh…get some funnel cake before we go?”

Your face broke into a grin. “Of course we can.”

Happily, you led him to a funnel cake stand, where you purchased the sugary treat to share. Then, you walked out of the fairground, with you nestled against Rhett’s side as you ate bites of the fried cake while you walked. It was a lighthearted end to a rather difficult night, but both of you were at peace, because the difficulty had lead to some revelations that would soon improve your relationship and deepen your bond. 

Rhett had a long journey of healing ahead of him, and the thought was rather frightening. But with your unwavering love and support, he knew he could do it. And you knew he could, too.

-

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[clanwarrior-tumbly]

I had a dumb idea that I wanted to ask, how would Ken and Barbie react to a new Ken who's supposed to be a superhero (K man or something) thing is there's no criminals or supervillains in barbie land to fight so for most of the time their either crouching over buildings overdramatically monologuing their thoughts/past or hiding in their not so secret base

The "overdramatic monologue" is giving ATSV!Ben Riley hsahggs

.........

Ken

You're a new Ken doll who was meant to be a superhero (and you were an instant hit with the kids back in the Real World).

But Beach!Ken thought you were just another rival trying to compete for Stereo!Barbie's attention, especially when you have such a cool costume and look badass 24/7.

So he's got his eye on you.

Yet you don't really have a Barbie and you're certainly not trying to get anybody else's Barbie.

You're just Ken-Man (or Super Ken, K-Man, or whatever Mattel decided to call your alias), the lone savior, protector, and guardian of Barbieland.

Except..there's not really much for you to save, protect, or guard in the first place.

Barbieland's more or less a utopia. There's no supervillains or an archnemesis for you to fight, nor is there any crime.

So when Ken's standing alone on the beach one night, he spots you crouching on the ledge of one of the buildings, and he can see you looking around.

He goes closer for curiosity's sake (and to distract himself bc he's bummed out he couldn't stay at Barbie's dreamhouse), and hears you monologuing.

"Just another windy night in Barbieland..it's cool, refreshing, and calming. It's like my conscience in a way. It's at peace knowing that I've kept this city safe once again. I hope every Barbie, Ken, and everydoll in-between sleeps soundly-"

"What are you doing up there, Ken?"

When you see Beach!Ken staring up at you, you jump down and land (to which he jumps back, surprised you didn't break a leg), thrilled that some doll finally approached you.

"Ah! You caught me monologuing."

"Mono...what?" He blinks, dumbfounded.

"Just spilling my thoughts, dear citizen. Nothing to worry about." You smile brightly behind your mask, although you see that he looks annoyed. "What troubles you on this quiet night, Ken?"

"Oh nothing. I'm just mad that Ken kept trying to show off and dance with Barbie at her party tonight. He did backflips in front of her! It's not fair, why can't I do that??"

"Ohhh you mean this?" You perform a single backflip, but he glares at you, ready to snap.

"I wanna know how to do that. Teach me."

"Wait...didn't you injure yourself when you tried to go surfing earlier today?"

"...you saw that?"

"Of course. I see everything from my not-so-secret base."

"....AND you have a house?!!!" He screams, causing you to take a step back.

But you quickly realize he's just insecure and thinks he pales in comparison to the other Kens when trying to impress his Barbie.

And you having a cooler job than "Beach" certainly doesn't help matters...

You're a compassionate hero, though, looking to see past his initial hostility and offer to train him on doing backflips, front flips, etc.

He gets cocky and it...doesn't go so well as he slips on a rock and faceplants onto the pavement (luckily he doesn't break anything this time).

Instead you take him to your not-so-secret base to train in a safe environment, and he gets better with practice.

He's very jealous of all the cool tech you have (including a security robot who's similar to Closet from Life in the Dreamhouse, except not hostile at all) and you gotta refrain him from touching anything.

Once he realizes you're not trying to impress his Barbie, he becomes buddies with you--though you treat him more like a sidekick.

Barbie

"Hello, Barbie!"

"Oh hi, Ken!"

She's seen you around Barbieland a lot, especially in the late hours of the night.

You're one of the coolest Kens she's seen, although she's surprised there wasn't some superheroine Barbie already around (or maybe there was...she doesn't know for sure, but it doesn't matter).

While she doesn't fully understand your monologues regarding your past (whether it's about being responsible with your "powers" or whatever origin story Mattel decided to cook up for your character), she finds your words admirable, your deeds heroic, and your personality charming.

When she's on the beach or taking an evening drive, she'll often look for you on the rooftops and wave.

You always wave back, of course.

But immediately lose your train of thought if you were monologuing at the time.

That's okay though, bc you had an oath to keep Barbieland crime-free (and not waving back to a Barbie was something only a criminal scumbag would do).

Even though this place lacks criminal activity and supervillains, you do often help citizens with mundane troubles.

Some call upon your aid and you're there instantly.

Plus, you have a "super sense" that alerts you to imminent danger, allowing you to arrive just in time.

For instance, when Barbie falls from her dreamhouse instead of floating down, you suddenly swooped in to save her before she could hit the ground.

"Are you okay, Barbie??" You worry, having never seen her fall before.

It's not the first time you've ever seen a doll fall, however.

"I-I....yeah, Ken! I'm fine! I'm great!!" She's embarrassed that you saw her at such an "imperfect" moment, stumbling out of your arms. "Thanks for saving me."

"Of course, it's my job to protect all of you." You smile.

Although after she leaves in her car, you frown a bit, worried that she's in more trouble than she's willing to admit..

Maybe you oughta report to Weird Barbie.

[worlds-oldest-teenager]

I’m interested. How do Apollo and Artemis’s desire to protect each other drive a wedge between them?

I'm glad you askeddd. Thank you for being my first anon ever btw. (@crowmakeska-boom idk if you are the anon but anon, whoever you are, sorry for the wait). This is probably not a very good meta cause it's mostly vibes, gut feelings and filling in the blanks with below the bare minimum of textual evidence but oh well. 

First I'd like to talk about why I think Artemis and Apollo's relationship is kind of distant. They're a confusing duo. When you first meet them in the titan's curse it may seem they don't like each other much or atleast Artemis seems to not be paticularly fond of her brother. Calling him “irresponsible”, “lazy”, “big headed”. But reading between the lines reveals how much the two of them care for each other, especially on Apollo's part from all the illegal help he was dishing out to the questers.

But then when you read some more, their relationship just feels a tad too distant to completely take what they say as just banter. When we see them on Delos in Blood of Olympus the distance is literal. They're recycling banter that's getting old and you can tell that even if it had been lighthearted before, it’s definitely getting on both their nerves now (stolen from fsinger lmao). They’ve both been playing the part for a long time but it feels like they don’t have the closeness anymore to recognize they’re both just playing parts. 

So what happened?

I think it's their need to protect each other that's causing this rift between them. From my point of view Artemis & Apollo are protecting each other from different things but Olympus is at the core of it for the both of them.

The twins have a very different experience of Olympus. Since her introduction Artemis seems pretty critical of Olympus. According to the hunters she's the only one who can get the ball rolling during solstice meetings and she's shown to not really act the Olympian way. Taking the sky off the shoulders of a mortal girl. Shrinking herself down to make the human heroes feel more comfortable and demanding they get rewarded.

It wouldn't be far fetched to assume that she's never fit in with Olympus and doesn't agree with most of the views of her family.

Then there's Apollo.

Who fits in so perfectly with the messed up inner workings of Olympus or so people think. He's perfected his mask over the years and no one is the wiser about the abuse he's gone through or even the fact that this isn't actually who he is.

To me, Artemis wants to protect Apollo from Olympus' true nature. In her head she's got every part of Olympus figured out and for the most part she has. Even if it's not something that works for her I think she would want to protect her younger brother from knowing what the kind of people he surrounds himself with are truly like.

I feel like Artemis would be conflicted on it for other reasons too because if Apollo is aware of the kind of people the Olympians are and he's alright with that, what kind of god is Apollo?

So she'd much rather think of him as stupid and irresponsible cause those atleast mean that it isn't he isn't a bad person. But I feel deep down she doesn't really believe completely that what she knows of her brother is correct.

But then she sees the way Zeus loves Apollo and cares for him and in her mind it's the right decision to let him live this way. He is safer now than they ever were as children.

Apollo on the other hand wants to conceal their father's true nature from Artemis. We know that he cares deeply about appearing fine on the surface because of how others would worry and who would worry more than his older sister.

Artemis and Apollo may be the protectors of youth but the first ever youth they protected were each other. It's the foundation of their relationship and caries on into the present day. Both of them feel a desperate need to protect each other.

I would go so far as to say that this is THE relationship they have with each other. The both of them never find comfort in each other, only protection. You can tell that comfort is not something they usually derive from each other from the way they're both completely blindsided by simple things like an "I love you" , a hug and just concern in general.

Comfort from each other is not a priority for them no matter how much they crave it. The twins purpose to each other is to protect.

So of course Apollo would never tell Artemis about the way Zeus hurts him.

I also think there's a little bit of denial on Artemis' part on just how abusive Zeus is. Cause Apollo is dropping hints. Even the way Artemis talks during Blood of Olympus makes it clear that she understands Zeus is gonna massacre the guy. She just doesn't want to believe it will be permanent.

And it's got a lot to do with the fact that she wants to protect him. Because if she acknowledges this isn't a situation Apollo is gonna come out from unscathed that means that she's incapable of protecting him. That means that she's failed to protect him before and cannot protect him again.

So she'd much rather pretend that Zeus is persuadable and not that bad. That it's Apollo's fault Zeus comes down so hard on him and if he were a little better and a bit more like her he could be safe.

And this would hurt Apollo because Artemis can pinpoint exactly what Zeus is like. But instead of comforting him she confirms for him that this is his fault. That if he could be better none of this would happen. Artemis helps prevent but never helps heal because helping her brother heal means he was in a position to be hurt in the first place.

All this mess and miscommunication and disbelief stemming from the fact that they love each other and never want to see each other hurt creates an impossible distance between them.

But there is light at the end of the tunnel. Slowly but surely they're trying to comfort/ seek comfort instead of just protect each other.

I wept on my sister’s shoulder. I felt like if I let go of Artemis, I would fall back into Chaos. Huge parts of my identity would shake loose, and I would never be able to find all the puzzle pieces. “Whoa, there.” She patted my back awkwardly. “Okay, little fella. You’re all right now. You made it.”

Apollo's trials sucked. But I'm glad it's given the twins the opportunity to bridge the gap between their relationship again.

[gingerjunhan]

boyfriend headcannons - oh seungmin

☆彡 Grab your delulu pills. It’s Seungmin time.

word count: 710 | pronouns used: none | genre: fluff, established relationship | cws: all caps, struggles with confidence (mentioned), secret relationship (mentioned), not proofread, lmk if I missed anything!

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it’s time for my delusional king

I have a lot to say so let’s be straight into it

starting off strong with the FLIRTING and the TEASING

this man is ridiculous

he would never stop

yes he can be serious with you but if there’s ever a dull moment or if he gets bored, he suddenly starts playing the “Let’s Make (Y/N) Blush™️” game

he’s the king of nicknames

I’ve talked about this before but let’s run it back

“baby”/ “babe” (obviously)

“my love”

“angel”

“POOKIE” LMAO IMAGINE

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again… “princess” I’m so sorry

he also probably calls you something weird that you hate but he loves

like “pumpkin” or “sweetums” or something idk

it’s cringey but he thinks it’s soooo funny

I think out of the rest of the Heroes he’s the most stereotypical romantic

like, I bet Valentines Day with seungmin goes CRAAAZY

but it bleeds into every other day of the year as well!

flowers

he brings you your favorite sweet little drink

MATCHING OUTFITS OOOOHHH—

I think he would looooove matching jewelry!

gym dates!

if that’s not your thing he just sends you gym selfies with a little “miss you 💜”

late night walks 🥹

stargazing

trying new restaurants

there’s never a dull day with him

even if you’re both lounging around on a day off it can be fun!

he pampers you always

the Princess Treatment™️ for sure

he’s always down to do face masks

feel free to tell me I'm wrong or call me crazy but I think your family might be a little iffy about him at first!

I think that he gives the most “bad boy” vibe out of all of the Heroes, but once you get him around your family enough they see that he’s just a huge nerd LMAO

I think he would make a huge effort to try and please your dad, brothers, or any of the men in your family

“What are your intentions with my child?”

“All good ones, sir.” 🫡

okay back to the romantics

I literally wrote about this one time and then never touched on it again but I think Seungmin would be big on skin-to-skin contact

I wrote this that one time months ago and haven’t stopped thinking about it so let me cook

your warmth makes him feel comforted so

you’re cuddling? his shirt is coming off

I’m blushing

sleeping next to each other? no shirt

lazing around the house? no shirt

he just wants to be close to you!

if you’re comfortable with it, he might ask you to be shirtless as well

if you’re not, he totally gets it, and he’ll opt to rest his hands on the small of your back under your shirt

if you’re not cool with that either, his hands find their way to your arms, hair, or wherever else you feel comfortable with

he makes sure to shower you in praise constantly

he wants you to feel as hot as he thinks you are!

if anybody tries to tell you otherwise he will throw hands

he’s the #1 (Y/N) protector

if you’re struggling with confidence he’s right there to give you the reassurance and support you need

he thinks you’re sooo gorgeous 🥹

when he’s away he’s constantly checking up on you

the texts, the selfies, the voice messages, the long phone calls

he’s truly in your pocket whenever you need him

he's probably clingy in secret (please don’t tell the others they’ll make fun of him)

sometimes he has you sit on his lap while he practices because “it helps him focus” mhmm okay sure

he brags about you all the tiiiiime

keeping your relationship a secret from villains literally kills him because they don’t know how cool you are :(

if he takes a selfie to send on bubble he gives you permission to say no because you want to keep it for yourself lol

he’s also your cameraman

“Oooo lookin’ good, baby.”

UGH I fear that I need him

moral of the story, he’s very flirtatious but also a simp so please hold his hand and tell him how much you love him before I do it for you EEEEE I 🩷 Oh Seungmin

taglist: @dazzlingligth , @mini-mews , @mxlly143 , @somethingaboutcheese , comment to be added!⁎⁺˳✧༚