#angst drabble

[angelltheninth]

Mark Grayson Sees You Get Hurt

Pairing: Mark Grayson x Reader

Tags: fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, soothing kisses, teammates, injury, superheroes

Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters | Commissions

A/N: Mark has more than enough angst, but there could always be more!

"Hang on, we're almost there! Hey! Don't... don't close your eyes! Keep looking at me!" Mark's voice was drowned out by the constant pressure and ringing in your ears. The sound was all around you, together with the fading sounds of a fight dying down.

There was a flash of white, more voices all around you, Mark yelling, screaming your name, his worried, masked face before your eyes. You hoped that you gave him a smile as you touched his cheek. Mark's hand pressed against yours. It was bloody. Both your hands were. It was your blood, you knew it was, you could feel it running from your mouth, and somewhere around your stomach area.

A second later after realizing that you passed out, Mark's voice staying in your head, calling out to you.

You felt the warmth of his hand next, holding yours, but you were a little cold too. Groggy and disoriented you opened your eyes, seeing Mark pressing a worried hand against his head, the other was holding your hand. "Mark?"

Mark's eyes snapped up, red with tears, blame written all over his face. "You're awake." His voice sounded so small, so fragile, like it might break if more pressure was applied. "You had a fever after they finished patching you up but your healing factor seems to have kicked in. But... they told me... they told me if you lost anymore blood... that if I was too late bringing you here..."

"But you weren't late. You got me here in time, I knew you would." You smiled at him.

"No you didn't!" He banged his fist against the wall, cracking the surface. "You didn't know! I didn't know! I can't know! I can't- I can't-!" With both hands Mark hid his face from you as drop after drop of tears fell down despite it. "I almost lost you, and it was all my fault."

"It wasn't! We're heroes, Mark, we risk our lives so others can live safely, we knew what we were signing up for." You couldn't exactly yell over him, you were still too weak to. But you didn't want to fight either. Not over something like this. Slowly you took one of Mark's shaking hands in yours, feeling the cracked, rough skin.

Mark finally met your eyes again. "I never signed up for losing you."

"And you won't." You pulled Mark in for a slow, chaste kiss. He moved along, taking a seat next to you on the bed, careful not to interfere with the medical tubes or put any pressure on your injured body.

[ruusawa]

⊹ ࣪ ˖ 𝒫𝒶𝓇𝓉𝓎 4 𝓎ℴ𝓊⊹ ࣪ ˖

✶⋆.˚ᶠⁱʳˢᵗ ᵉᵛᵉʳ ᵖᵒˢᵗᵉᵈ ʷᵒʳᵏ 

✶⋆.˚ᴹᵃʳᵏ ᴳʳᵃʸˢᵒⁿ ᵃⁿᵍˢᵗ

Mark Grayson was pretty. That was a fact. Another fact was that he had a girlfriend. So when you heard Mark had split with said girlfriend, Amber, you’d learnt her name was, this was your chance. Mark’s birthday was the perfect excuse to throw a party for him. You didn’t care about your fellow heroes you had invited who were halfway to completely slaughtered (Cecil can go fuck himself, you all deserved a night off), or about the fact that Rex had just split a bright blue vodka on your cream carpet (you were never getting that deposit back anyway), you only cared that Mark wasn’t here yet. 

You wait by your window, hoping to catch a glimpse of him soaring through the sky to get to your shitty one bed. Would it be too much to fly out of the window to greet him when he showed up? Probably, you had to play this cool. You tap nervously against the solo cup in your hand, the sweet mixture of pop and alcohol already half downed. 

Your eyes scan the dark sky and– there. There, Mark was. He flies up to the window with ease, the wind shifts his clothes, causing his sweater to ride up, revealing just a tease of hard muscle under soft skin. 

Mark smiles as you open the window for him, “Thought you weren’t gonna make it to your own party.”

Mark smiles, that stupidly pretty smile that causes the corners of his eyes to crinkle, giving you such a soft look, like you mean something. Mark lets out a slightly awkward laugh. “Yeah, sorry, dinner with my mom, you know how it is.”

Your stomach does a weird flip-flop. Fuck, he’s so pretty. Too pretty. It takes you a moment to realise you’ve been silent for too long, just staring at Mark’s stupidly perfect face. “Oh, yeah, no, I know how it is.” Smooth, real smooth. 

You lead Mark into the kitchen, which is exactly four steps from the window, and to where all the alcohol is set up. Set up is probably a strong word; there’s a mess of bottles containing mixers, drink, and who knows what else littering your kitchen counter.  “What can I get ya?” you ask, ever the host. You pour Mark a drink of something, honestly, you don’t even know what’s in that bottle.

Mark thanks you, but then he sees her.

It's like time slows down, and you can see every detail of his expression morph. Mark’s cheeks flush, just that barely noticeable amount of colour. His eyes widen, just a fraction, pupils dilating to drink more of her in. His smile gets bigger, softer, prettier. 

Mark Grayson looks at Eve Wilkins like she’d personally hung every star in the sky for him (it doesn’t help that Eve probably could make stars for Mark if she really wanted). 

Ouch. Just… ouch. 

You can’t help but watch as Mark orbits around Eve, like she’s the gravity keeping him tethered to Earth. 

It doesn’t matter that you threw this party for him, Mark Grayson adores Eve Wilkins, not you. And isn’t that just the shittiest thing. 

⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀:¨ ·.· ¨: ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ `· . 𐙚

this is my first work so if anyone has any criticism and tips on how to improve i'd love to hear it.

might write a happy ending to this i don't know

yes , this was was inspired by charli xcx party 4 you and the tiktok trend it’s had me in a ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ chokehold ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

[miyamor]

❝ HALF A HEART; ❞

۶ৎ ft. d. kaminari navigation mha masterlist

۶ৎ there are times even cupid runs out of arrows, and so he only shoots one person instead of a pair.

denki always was the yearner. that's why when you texted that you wanted to meet him at your usual cafe this afternoon, he wasted no time getting in the shower to freshen up. he made sure to wear his newest t-shirt, courtesy of mina forcing him out of his apartment the other day for a shopping spree.

he now sits at the table farthest from the busiest area of the cafe. usually he likes being surrounded by large crowds. the mixed conversations that surrounded him calmed his nerves, usually caused by the caffeine he drank anyway. but the way you messaged him tells him that it would be better if the two of you sat away from the crowd.

the clock strikes 3:14 and he looks up from his now cold coffee to look at the cafe's entrance with hope. a second passes and he looks back down at his cup with a sigh. you asked to meet him here at 3, what's taking you so long? and as if on cue, the bell hanging from the door frame rings.

"denki!" he looks up again, his eyes now filled with more hope than ever before. you were as beautiful as he last saw you. and oh, you were wearing the dress he absolutely adored on you. he absolutely adored you.

"hey there." it took him a while but he was able to get his act together and greet you like a decent human being. "come, sit."

he hasn't stopped smiling ever since you walked in. how could he? you kept smiling at him too. the worst part is that your eyes never left his either. his cheeks were starting to hurt.

"sooo" he missed your voice.

"so?" from the moment he saw your text, he's been eager to know what you were so excited to tell him about. you haven't asked him to meet up in so long, after all. the possibilities of what you were going to tell him were endless. you were talking about something that happened during your hangout with sero the day before. unfortunately, denki was drowning in his own thoughts to pay mind to anything you were saying.

were you finally going to come with him to that convention he's been telling you so long about? did you get him that figurine you've been promising him for weeks now? did you finally like him back?

"we're going on another date tomorrow!" huh? denki was pulled out of his now overwhelming thoughts. he forced a smile back on his lips and made sure to look you in the eyes.

"another date? with who?" he tried to stay optimistic, convincing himself that you were talking about him. maybe you considered this a date? that's why you were saying you were going on another one tomorrow, yeah.

"I just told you, denks. hanta and I just had the best time yesterday! he promised to win me more plushies at the arcade tomorrow." you took a sip out of his coffee, a smile still evident on your lips. the smile he tried so hard to keep on his face finally fell. hanta?

"oh."

"oh? come on now denks, aren't you happy I'm going out with your best friend?" but you were his best friend. and it would actually be better if he was the one going out with you. he can win you all those plushies just as much as sero can.

"I absolutely am happy for you, I always am, darling." the difference between his smile now and the one he had earlier was that it made his cheeks hurt even more. who knew faking a smile could hurt so much?

he should've chosen a table closer to all those people. that way, maybe the way his heart cracked won't be as loud.

a/n: rustyrustyrusty

© miyamor 2025 please do not edit, translate, or repost onto any other platform

[tmntxthings]

一∑Moth to a Flame・゜・。

author’s notes: this is my entry for @dancingdonatello ‘s competition :D this has been sm fun and I can’t wait to read everyone else’s stories!!!

prompt: "You like them...more? Is that it? Am I the second choice?" "That's not true..." "Then choose me. Choose us."

warnings: angst, situation-ship, aged-up characters, college au, alcohol consumption, jealousy, yandere tendencies? cliffhanger

—————————————————————————

Donnie didn’t know how much more he could take. His mind was simultaneously all over the place and singularly focused on one thing. You.

~

Mutants and yokai kind alike have been out for years. So in the ‘town’ he and his brothers grew up in, they finally came to be free from the shadows. As free as heroes can be at least. They still needed to be a bit secretive on where they lived, in case of revenge-seeking villains.

But with mutants out on the surface, New York had grown accustom to them. Well, as accustom as they can be…

Donnie has met many people. He’s been able to attend college. Mostly online. But he finds the time to attend some evening classes in person. He met you. A floundering classmate in need of assistance.

Usually Donnie can find an excuse to get out of helping every poor soul that crosses his path. That’s what the professors are for. The librarians. Hell the student mentors! But with you… he just couldn’t resist.

The study sessions were long. But in the end you were able to pass, “All thanks to you Dee!!” You had cheered shoving your research paper into his face for him to appraise your passing grade. Barely passing, but it showed your improvement nonetheless.

He had been about to tease you of this. Three months of his help and you hardly grazed by?! But the thought was cut short as you pulled the papers away from his face and up you jumped.

Arms going around his neck and squealing your joy. He was frozen for a millisecond before his arms twitched into motion. His hands going around your back, holding you. That was the first time you had initiated such skin-ship.

Sure there had been the occasional touching of hands, passing laptops, books and the like back and forth. There had even been moments of playful touch, nudging his arm with your elbow for his odd choice in coffee. A tap above his glasses when he got too focused on his own work to answer your sporadic questions.

The hug didn’t last very long in terms of time. Seconds merely. But it made a lasting impression on Donnie. With the class over, you had no other reason to see him again. The prospect had Donnie fumbling to invite you out, to do anything to prolong such an ending to this blooming relationship.

“What classes are you taking next semester?” He had asked. You promised to text him the list, already having to dash off for one last exam.

He worried that would be the end.

Thankfully it wasn’t. You texted him later that evening, telling him all about the rest of your day as well as the list per his request. Unfortunately the two of you didn’t share any other classes. And it seemed unlikely for the future as well, the two of you were on diverging paths. Donnie despaired.

But you found reasons to message him. By the time the next semester rolled around the two of you were study partners, no matter the subject. Donnie would help if he could, and usually he was able. But there was a shift in the relationship. Outings to the library and other study areas changed to coffee shops. Then to your place. It only felt natural to invite you over to his.

Preparations were put in place. As were warnings “Yes, I do live in a sewer with my brothers and dad.” And “No it doesn’t reek of waste or garbage.” And “Yes there is one rat actually, my dear Papa.”

You took it all in stride. The introductions to his family went as well as they ever did. Friends. The two of you were officially friends. Donnie couldn’t be happier. With such a title he took more initiative with online contact. His messages would ramble on, sprinkled with pictures and videos.

Semesters continued to pass by and the bond between the two of you only grew. In turn, with more trips to his home, you became friends with his brothers. With April. It was just natural.

And then there was graduation. A celebration was in order. Four years, you had been in his life for four years and he couldn’t imagine it without you. The plan was to dress to the nines, and go out on the ‘town’! Drinking and dancing.

Of course, his brothers were invited as well as a few of your other friends. Donnie was no stranger to clubbing. The bar scene had become somewhat of a regular occurrence once his friendship with you was solidified.

You liked to go out. You liked music. He obliged on a few occasions to be your dancing partner and thus every time after it was his official label. Donnie was adverse to the huge crowds. It didn’t offer much room for dancing, but he’d endure it for you. With you in his arms it all seemed bearable. The music that was so loud it thumped in his plastron. The heat in the room percolating from the sheer number of bodies. Even the taste of alcohol, on the very, very rare occasion you got him to drink.

It always tasted horrible. No matter the different shots or mixed cocktails. God forbid a beer. You had pushed all sorts of these beverages on him, eyes crinkling up at him with amusement as his beak wrinkled from disgust.

Those nights with alcohol involved always ended strangely. Your touch would light him up from the inside. He’d want to hold you closer, lean in as far as you’d let him. Pull at your waist, dig his fingers into your hips during the last dance before the two of you had to part for the night. Those nights ended with kisses.

And by the next day you would never talk about them. So he didn’t either. Even as his murky memory of all other events seemed to part with clarity for how you had panted heat into his mouth. He’d flush dark green at just the thought and have to swallow the spit that pooled in his mouth.

This had happened a handful of times. The kissing. And with no communication whatsoever afterwards it put Donnie on edge. He wondered why it happened at all if you didn’t want to acknowledge the deed once it was done. He wondered about what it said on account of his own self worth for him to continue to let it happen.

To look forward to nights out. To nights you pushed a shot glass his way. To want your lips on his by the end of it all.

So with this big celebration, Donnie was expecting the same routine if only highlighted by the fact that both of you were now graduates. He’d be your dance partner. The two of you would spin for an hour or two, or however long you wanted. And he’d order himself a drink this time. One that he found slightly bearable than the rest.

Only, that wasn’t what was happening. Drink in hand? Sure. Your hand in his other? No. He was grumbling over at the bar shooting hateful daggers where you resided on the dance floor. You were dancing with Leo.

Donnie grimaced as he took a long hard sip. It was like acid in his mouth. Donnie didn’t know how much more he could take. His mind was simultaneously all over the place and singularly focused on one thing. You.

You laughing as Leo twirled you around. How wrong it felt to watch your arms go up and around his brother’s neck. Donnie was a better dancer. He knew in his soul that he could beat Leo in any category. Waltz, disco, salsa, you name it, Donnie could dance it. But his prowess didn’t seem to matter. Which only further incensed him. Why were you doing this? How could you possibly allow Nardo to take his place? His rightful role. Donnie was supposed to be your dance partner. And the only time you were allowed to dance with another was whenever he deigned to skip such an outing.

He was here. Dressed in an aubergine suit. Jacket button undone. And his black dress shirt was unbuttoned as well. Three buttons plucked, showing off too much skin in his opinion for such a crowd. But he had been feeling flirty. Flirty for someone who wasn’t even glancing his way.

Donnie fumed once more. Cursing in his mind as he lifted his drink and threw his head back. Maybe the taste would kill him. His eyes squeezed shut as the liquid poured down his throat and he tried not to gag. Bad decision.

When his eyes reopened it couldn’t have been at a worse moment. Leo was dipping you, his face leaning dangerously close to yours, his hand snug on your waist. Leo said something in your ear.

Maybe it was the lighting. Maybe it was the heat. But when Donnie saw your darkened cheeks, he couldn’t hold himself back any longer. He stormed to the dance floor. Yanking Leo’s hand away from your body once you were upright.

“What’s up hermano?” Leo’s smile was grating. Donnie had to force himself not to snarl. He took your hand and pulled you after him. Leaving Leo. Leaving this place. He had to get out of here now.

“Donnie?!” You called out over the music. But you didn’t pull away. You let him lead you out of the club. Out on the sidewalk, then off to the alleyway.

“Is everything okay?” You asked once he finally stopped. When he turned to look down at you, your eyebrows were creased with worry. Lips pulled into a line. Donnie was cracking. He couldn’t do this any longer. Did you like Leo? Did you want a ‘face man’? Was he not enough anymore? Was he being replaced? The thoughts were suffocating him and he pulled you to his plastron, backing you into the building wall simultaneously.

“I’m here, but Dee you’ve gotta say something, I’m getting worried..” You mumbled into his clothes. Your arms going around Donnie’s shell, petting over his jacket. Offering him comfort. It wasn’t enough. He huffed his frustration.

“Should I go get your brother?”

It was the wrong thing to say. And this time he did snarl.

“No.”

Your hands froze. Falling back down to your sides. You’d never heard him so angry before. He couldn’t find it within himself to care at the moment. His displeasure written all over his face as you looked up at him.

“What’s going on?”

And Donnie remembered himself thinking that so many times with you. As you had took his breath away. And then again when you pretended like you couldn’t recall ever doing so.

“Don-“

He leaned down. Capturing your lips. Kissing you like you did to him. Only where you had made him breathless, this seemed to have the opposite effect. You puffed up. Bristling in his arms as you tried shoving him away.

It hurt.

He was much stronger than you. He could overpower you easily. But your push was like a blow to the plastron. He staggered back, all anger leaving him. A husk as he squeezed his fists shut, head hanging down as you berated him.

“What the hell was that?! Are you drunk?? Donnie what is going on? If you don’t fucking say something right now, I swear to god,”

“I don’t know!” He shouted back and it was enough to quiet you.

From there it was as if his mouth couldn’t be stopped. “I don’t know! I thought this was what we did. I didn’t hallucinate those three times you kissed me. Don’t deny it any longer!” He was heaving, face coming up to stare accusingly at you.

Your lips pressed together in a thin line once more.

“You kissed me! Drunkenly, but it was still there. And I can’t forget. I can’t pretend they never happened. I don’t know how you can.” His hands were in motion as he ranted. Throwing them out with the building of emotion.

“So I thought tonight would be no different. We’d get drunk. We’d dance. And we’d kiss! I want all of that. Even though I’d do it without the alcohol.” His voice cracked towards the end. But he continued to push on.

“But you danced with him. So I went and got drunk enough for the both of us.” He felt pathetic admitting this out loud. He staggered forward, unable to remain so far apart. Despite you having pushed him away. He was just a moth to your flame. He’d let himself be burnt.

“You like him more?” He asked in a voice so low it practically went unheard. His hand came up, a finger tracing down the side of your cheek.

“Is that it? Am I the second choice?” His lids lowered in time as he ran out of skin to skim. His hand fell away from your face but he had crowded you close to the wall again. Nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide.

“That’s not true.” You exasperated. But that hardly cleared up anything for him. If that was the case then what were you doing dancing with his brother and not him? Why couldn’t he kiss you? Why were the both of you still pretending to be friends?

“Then pick me. Choose me.” Donnie pleaded. He didn’t care how needy it sounded. He’d do whatever it took. Get down on his knees if he had to. Because you had become a part of his life four years ago. Four years of a presence he didn’t know he needed. Up until it was far too late. And now there was no turning back. He’d be damned if he let you get away.

[localcanadiancreature62]

My Thoughts on Fiddlestan

Okay you people are literally all or nothing with these mfs,like it's either all gut wretching angst or all tooth rotting fluff. So i raise you,"what if it was both?" aka i made them have a good time but they also have Issues ✨. @misteria247 you might wanna see this one cuz i know you love Fiddlestan lol.

So first things first,their first meeting. They would meet soon after the portal incident when Fidds' sanity is slowly starting to slip from the first several usages of the memory gun and he ends up going to Ford's house after having a vague familiarity with the place as well as a desire to make amends with his friend while he still remembers him,only for him to see Stan at the door. A man wearing his best friend's face. Stan lets the guy in while still keeping the ruse of pretending to be his brother after he just faked his death,trying his hardest to pretend that he knows what Fidds is talking about regarding the portal and Ford's time in college.

A few weeks pass,and Fidds get the slight suspicion that he's not actually talking to Ford as "Ford" brushes off his science-y ramblings with "I don't understand" or "I'm too tired to hear about it maybe later",when he knew that the real Ford would know exactly what he's talking about regarding his ideas for modern computers or Schrodinger's cat as well as gladly ramble along with him even if it's 2am at the time instead of ignoring it. He also realizes that "Ford" surprisingly knows nothing about anomalies and either tries to shoo creatures away or just beats the hell out of them rather than studying them whenever they have an encounter with gnomes or something,plus the fact that he gets jumpy whenever an eye-bat appears. Fidds is still sane enough to notice these "tells" and so he confronts the man about it despite Stan already being nervous about not being able to keep up the act. Stan decides to come clean after the southern man literally backed him into a corner while interrogating him about who he is and where the real Stanford is,he explains the truth about Ford's disappearance and that he's trying to fix the portal while having no idea about how his brother's science mumbo jumbo works. Fidds' expression of anger and fear changes into guilt sympathy and even intrigue as he regrets trying to aggressively gouge the man for answers,when the grifter turned out to care about Ford all along instead of selfishly stealing his life for success. He wondered about Stan's relation to Ford and the man explains that he's Ford's twin brother and that they had a rough patch in their brotherly relationship which lead to this whole mess. Fidds then offers to help fix the portal since he's the one who co built it and Stan couldn't be more than happy,although with the condition of no more lies as that impersonation fiasco genuinely scared him which Stan agrees to. They didn't get along at first with Stan's stubborn personality and tendency to tease others at random while Fidds was just really tired and he wanted to get Ford back so that he can get out of this whole mess,but they managed.

Throughout the building of the portal,the two begin to bond regarding their history with Ford and how the man inadvertently screwed them over with his ego. Then talking about how they always felt inferior in comparison to everyone else (Stan with Ford,Fidds with his rough and tumble ranch family who roughhoused constantly while he was a scrawny nerd),discovering that they weren't so different as they thought. Stan ends up taking his partnership with Fiddleford more seriously as he soon realizes that they only have each other,while Fidds starts to humor Stan's teasing and occasional goofing off since he doesn't have anyone else to turn to with Emma may and Tate still refusing contact from him ever since the divorce (just so that Fidds wouldn't yknow. cheat on his wife). They soon become friends who often look out for each other with Stan trying to stop Fidds from overworking himself while Fidds teaches Stan about quantum physics as he tries really hard to understand despite being the "dumb" twin.

Fidds' use of the memory gun becomes less frequent as he didn't have a reason to blast himself with it anymore due to finally having someone that understands his troubles with Ford and the darn triangle feller,no longer feeling as though he had to forget everything as he had someone to talk to about all of this (i mean in canon he wouldn't never went insane if Ford fucking talked to him and explained why he's still going through with the portal with his desperate desire for approval). Stan sees his steadfast love and support be appreciated by someone besides his ungrateful brother,while Fidds sees his unwavering loyalty and handmade gifts be cherished by someone who cares rather than ignored by his egotistical friend.

The fact that the two found someone who cared even when they have their own troubles means a lot to them,this steadfast love and concern was what made Fidds and Stan slowly fall for each other. Stan finally found someone who appreciates him and sees him as worthy even with his many mistakes or occasional stupidity while Fidds finally found someone who won't waste his loyalty and kindness in favor of their own selfish wishes (*cough* Ford *cough*). They're finally happy,after dealing with so much pain. They had their happy ending,or did they? 😏.

While they WERE in a healthy and loving relationship,things weren't all sunshine and rainbows. Stan outright refuses to talk about his problems in fear of being a burden to his nerd plus the emotional walls he put up were too strong even when he tries to be open toward the southern man which always ends in him not wanting to talk about it,meanwhile Fidds opts to metaphorically run away from his issues by using the memory gun to forget every argument and misunderstanding he had with the drifter (which were mostly caused by the memory gun in the first place). Whenever they have a problem with something that the other does that isn't related to the portal,they don't set boundaries they don't talk about it they don't confront the other about it,they do NOTHING.

Fidds slowly starts to go insane again as he starts forgetting about Stan at times with his use of the memory gun whenever they have an argument which is a LOT of arguments as every couple doesn't always agree with each other,he lashes out and has a paranoia episode over either imagining Stan being a stranger that wants to hurt him or him being Ford that wants to take revenge on him for quitting the project which obviously upsets the drifter but he doesn't do anything about it as he cannot afford to lose the one thing he has left because of his dumb problems (little does he know,is that he's already doing it. he's already losing Fidds cuz of his issues). Stan on the other hand,starts treating Fiddleford with the same codependency that he gave Ford with him expecting the hillbilly to always be there for him and always put HIS interests at heart despite the man having his own wants and needs with his Mcgucket Labs project. Thus Fidds is being taken for granted again while Stan is confused and angry over why this hick is ignoring him and trying to abandon him like Ford did (Stanley your brother issues are showing).

It only gets worse in the moments culminating to Fidds' insanity,where Stan doesn't even know who his hillbilly partner anymore while Fidds is completely unaware of the torment he's putting Stan through with his erratic behavior and amnesiac ramblings. Stan was there for the tapes,he was behind the camera with every transition as the southern man told him it was a little experiment regarding the memory gun and he believed that at first only to soon realize that Fidds was literally frying his own brain with that gun after reading his notes about the electricity that erases the memories plus the side effects of prolonged use. By the time Fidds had that car crash,he quit the project again and stopped seeing Stan as he left the drifter alone to fix the portal by himself albeit with more knowledge of how it works due to the various quantum mechanics lessons the man drilled into him. He just needed to figure out the elaborate codes to actually activate it. Stan missed Fidds as he was guilty about their last interaction being an argument about the memory gun and even encountered him but with a new red robe while the man went on and on about some memory cult,but he knew that the man is too far gone for him to make amends with.

Stan then ended up using Fidds' Mcgucket Labs money to support himself but then he realized that it won't be enough as that business was just a start up gig that didn't had the chance to become successful due to the portal and the memory gun,so he had to come up with another way to survive all alone. Then he went to the Dusk 2 Dawn convenience store and saw that everyone was interested in Ford's weird mad scientist house,taking everyone there as he saw that people's interest in the freaky things in that house would make great revenue for him. The Mystery Shack (originally the Murder Hut) was born,and Stan had finally left his life of being a miserable grifter behind. However.. he still saw his Fiddleford rummage in the trash or make killer robots in the news sometimes. He yearns for what could've been yet he shakes his head as he knew what he had with the nerd was currently unsalvageable in his current insane state.

[sunarinzz]

imagining a toxic relationship with Kenma

timeskip kenma x gn!reader

genres: angst

warnings: toxic relationship, cheating

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Toxic Kenma who only dated you to find out your weaknesses

“Who is that?”

“Them? That’s (Name)”

“They seem… interesting.”

“Yeah? Well don’t get your hopes up, they don’t warm up to people very easily.

“Is that so…”

Toxic Kenma who started to ignore you

“Kenma, want to go to the café after your stream?”

“…”

“Kenma?”

“…”

“Kenma did you hear me-“

“Can you just leave me alone? can’t you see im busy?”

Toxic Kenma who at first treat you like his priority, choosing you over his games. but slowly over time, he began to prioritize his streaming and games over you.

“Kenma want to go out? I heard theres this—“

“No, a new game came out today. I promised my viewers I’d play it.”

“O-oh… okay…”

Toxic Kenma who gaslights you into thinking it’s your fault. he lost a game and you so happened to have walked into the room? It’s your fault. he broke his controller? It’s your fault. he didn’t like the dinner so he threw it away? your fault again. he lost interest and cheated on you? its your fault. don’t you get it? It’ll always be your fault.

“(Name) can you just stay out when I’m gaming? I always lose when you come in”

“R-right… Sorry Kenma, I won’t do it again.”

“Yeah sure.”

Toxic Kenma who cheats on you cause he got bored of you

“Why…?”

“I got bored.”

“That’s it..?”

“I told you, if you ever got boring, I’d drop you.”

Toxic Kenma who made you think it’s you’re the problem

“It’s not my fault you never paid attention for me”

“What..? What are you saying? I always—“

“Always what? Just walked right past me while I was gaming?”

Toxic Kenma who realized he never got bored of you

“Maybe I didn’t get bored…” He thought as he scrolled through your instagram, watching you be happy with your new boyfriend while he’s here, alone. but then again… whose fault was that?

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

yo this lowkey sucks 💀 i wrote it in 10 minutes

[ladybyakuya]

| INTO MY KALIEDISCOPES ( part three ) + SUGISHITA KYOTARO !

+cw. — fem!reader, fluff, comfort, domesticity,pinning.

+wc. — 1k 

+syn.—  Sugishita Kyotaro was always the first target for every impromptu plan that Umemiya made while you were Kotoha's. Naturally, when they both made plans you and Sugishita had to face each other again.

+notes. — this is for the flufftober ‘fond moments’ collab event for prompt: date night hosted by @spookuna. m\dni cuz me iz eighteen plus blog. this is part of a mini drabble series that can be read as stand alone. |  redirect to blog navigation. 

The shop that was suggested by both Haji-kun and Koto-chan is the same shop that popped up in Google Maps when you searched for “grocery stores near me.” but now that you are finally here you can tell why it was so hard to locate the shop, even for google. The town guide, Sugishita, who is accompanying you was not much of a help. Besides, talking with him is still a boat you had yet to set foot on let alone sail on it. Never in the worst nightmares you had expected to run into him, again, after that embarrassing date night. 

The shop is almost empty except for the staff at the cash counter who is practically dozing off. It is already quite late at night so you do not see a reason to blame him especially because Makochi is a forlorn town. No shop is ever too crowded to come back home empty-handed. Haji-kun wanted to have a barbeque night; naturally, Hiragi was busy helping him, more like cleaning the mess he left behind after he was done with something, as always. Kotoha, Sakura, Nirei, and Suo are helping with the setup while Kaji and Tsubaki have gone to invite others, especially the members of Shishitoren and the people at show pub Ougi bar. As a result of these patiently concocted coincidences You and Sugishita were the only two people left with nothing to do but one of the most important responsibilities: “grocery shopping.”

A heavy sigh escapes from your chest as you lay your eyes on the entire display of products while standing in front of the fridge. Vibrant in color compared to the other parts of this dull silent shop, it piqued your interest first even though it is the utmost corner. The ground shelf of the fridge, which extends from one end of the shop to the nook of the staircase which would possibly lead to the second floor, is filled with dairy products. The shelf above it is filled with frozen foods and various types of treats with different tastes like salty, spicy, sweets, and alcoholic; the last, the uppermost shelf is filled with a wide variety of chocolates. Your concern is the middle section but the level above it is the most tempting. You pick a bunch of packets from the frozen foods section and look by your right side. 

Oh god! Where did this boy run off to now? He was following you like a stray puppy just a while ago. With the shopping cart in between the two of you, it felt like he was light years apart every time you turned back to keep anything inside it. You look around unable to spot him, slowly sinking into a rabbit hole of distraught since without him you would be lost in Makochi. You would not be able to go back without him. Relying on the phone? That’s pretty useless here. The network is bad besides you do not have anyone’s number except Kotoha and even if you did make a call she would be busy in the preparations of barbeque mostly probably unable to take the call . . . Oh God! Why did Haji-kun have to send you in the middle of nowhere. . . ?

A metallic screech sucks you out of your puddle of thoughts. You look in the direction of the source and a nonchalant Sugishita appears emerging from another section of the rack that has a lot of mangas, magazines, and books, by standing on the bar of the shopping cart while hunching his upper body to balance his weight, skidding it till he comes to a halt in front of you. His head turns up towards you, eyes blinking: one, twice, thrice before he straightens himself up to stand properly. He stands looking at the fridge, the cart in between you two as you inspect him for a few seconds. He is not hunching like he usually does around Umme! The inner flesh of your bottom lip faces a rough distortion against your teeth while you empty your hands into the cart. It already had drinks, soda cans, and different types of sauces neatly kept. It felt illegal to dump those packets messily into that apple pie setup but when there was a slow appearance of a visible crease along his eyebrows the pit guilt was now filled with surprise and  . . . joy perhaps.

“Alright fine,” You chime with an ear-to-ear smile jocking down to keep those packets of frozen foods in a well-ordered manner. The dull buzz of the air conditioner, the sharp ‘clicks’ when the rotating fans switch its direction, the crinkle of plastic packets inside the cart as you organize it, the low even syncing breaths of you two; then a gruff unfiltered voice turns up in a weak whisper, “This almost feels like a date night, wouldn’t you agree? ” and then, his hand on yours.  Don’t panic. Don’t panic. Don’t panic. You knew this was coming. You were . . . supposed to be prepared for this. It was you who avoided him at first. It was you who created an awkward situation like this. The fact that you saw him under those dim yellow lights in such an intimate manner does not help either. Those moments so unadulterated keep coming back to you in situations like this in flashes. It makes you close your eyes, and blink rashly to be back in all sorts of coherence. 

You look up slowly. His face is close, too close not to do anything—kiss or touch— your forehead against his, rub your cheeks against his. By now your fingers have found a home in between his fingers. He shoves his right hand into his pocket pulling out a half-eaten chocolate out of it and keeping it inside the cart. You feel a strong urge to smile but instead, wet your bottom lip rubbing the back of his palm with your lonely thumb that was not interlaced with his yet.

“Would you like to start over?”

[trixy812]

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4.

🅼🅰🆂🆃🅴🆁🅻🅸🆂🆃

Imagine just as quickly as both of you leaned in for that kiss, you both pulled away at the same time. No words were exchanged, just the sudden awareness of what had happened. But while you stood frozen, your thoughts spiraling, Satoru Gojo had already begun to unravel.

Imagine a young Gojo, always known as the ambassador's son. Never Satoru. Never just a boy, flawed and human. It left a mark, a deep insecurity hidden under his charming smile and perfect hair. But then came high school, and with it, the discovery that his looks, his charm, could make him more than just a title. He learned that the more he flirted, the more women desired him. He liked that. No—he craved that.

And then, one day, he met you.

If he was honest, he thought you were insufferable at first. A little too aloof, maybe even stuck-up. But the moment he spoke to you and saw how your cheeks flushed, how your voice caught in your throat, he was hooked. He hadn’t even tried, and yet you were affected. You didn’t just fall for the act—you fell for him. And for someone like Satoru, whose ego demanded constant validation, you were intoxicating.

The flirting began as a game. He wanted to know if you could like him enough—want him enough—to leave Nanami for him. Not because he loved you. Not even because he wanted to be with you. But because he needed to know he was better. It was selfish, it was cruel, and he knew it.

But somewhere along the way, things changed. You became his best friend. You laughed at his dumb jokes, gave him honest advice, and genuinely cared about him. He realized how selfish he’d been, and he hated himself for it. That’s why he started bringing Nanami into conversations whenever the flirting went too far—to remind both of you of the line you shouldn’t cross. He knew Nanami was a good man, an excellent boyfriend. Someone who deserved you more than he ever could.

And when he went to Germany, he thought he was doing the right thing. He thought he was protecting you by staying away. But then that night came.

Imagine him staring at his phone, your message lighting up the screen:

"Ah, Satoru, if only we had met sooner… if I were single, I would have asked you out already."

His heart skipped a beat. For a second, he felt victorious—validated. But then fear crept in. Fear of what that could mean. Fear of commitment. Fear of losing the endless parade of women who adored him, who fed his ego. Fear of being vulnerable. He responded the only way he knew how:

"Y/N, I’m sorry 😞 but I could never see you as more than a friend, even if you were single."

A lie. One that tore apart the fragile friendship you had left.

When he kissed you in the embassy that night, everything hit him like a kaleidoscope of memories. Every laugh, every touch, every unspoken word. He saw the way you looked at him, the way you lingered, the way you wanted. He saw every moment you chose him over Nanami in your heart, even if you wouldn’t admit it. And he realized something horrifying: you might actually leave Nanami for him.

That thought broke him. Not because he didn’t want you—but because he didn’t deserve you.

Imagine then Gojo stood up abruptly, tossing the blanket to the side. He didn’t say a word, didn’t look back. He left the embassy without a second glance, his heart pounding as he stepped into the cold night air. Pulling out his phone, he called his father.

“Can I finish my internship with you in Berlin?” he asked, his voice steady despite the chaos in his head.

Of course, his father agreed. Gojo could do as he pleased—he was the ambassador’s son, after all.

“You booked the night train for a reason,” he muttered under his breath, the lyrics echoing in his mind as he checked the train schedule. He decided then and there: he’d take the next train to Narita, maybe the one at 4 AM, and fly straight to Berlin. No goodbyes, no explanations. He blocked your number, erased you from his social media.

You didn’t need him. You had the real thing instead.

Gojo knew you too well. He knew you’d feel consumed by guilt. He knew you’d sit down with Nanami and confess everything. He also knew that Nanami, calm and composed as always, wouldn’t let you go. He could already imagine the conversation:

"If you believe you don’t love me anymore, tell me, and I’ll leave. But if you’re confused, let’s not make any rash decisions. Let’s work through this together."

Gojo knew Nanami would forgive you. Nanami would hold onto you, rebuild what was broken, he'll patch up your tapestry that he schred. Because unlike him, Nanami was capable of being the man you deserved.

Imagine that Gojo could have been that man. He could have loved you the way you deserved. He could have been everything you wanted. Gojo was never ready, so you watch him go.

But his insecurities, his selfishness, his fear of being ordinary—of being just Satoru��ruined him. Ruined you.

“What a shame she’s fucked in the head,” he thought bitterly, the words twisting like a knife in his chest.

No. That wasn’t true.

What a shame he’s fucked in the head.

Imagine again that Gojo could have been that man for you. He could have loved you, could have built a life with you. But he knew deep down—knew it in the way his chest felt hollow, in the way his hands fidgeted restlessly—that he wasn’t enough.

As he boarded the train, he allowed himself one last thought of you. Your laugh. Your smile. The way your eyes lit up when you talked about the things you loved.

And then he let you go.

Because you didn’t need him. You had the real thing. You had Nanami. And Gojo?

Gojo would just have to live with the fact that he had shredded the only connection that had ever truly mattered to him.

-

A/N: Done! This is the last part of this short story! I really enjoyed writing this. I really thought it was only going to have one part but @haruhatake was so excited that she gave me the push to keep writing thank you for that!!! I made this with extra angst for you ♡ that's why there's a sort of repetition at then end. AND KUDOS for you if you noticed that this part of the story goes hand to hand with "Champagne Problems - Taylor Swift" !!!! I love you guys, thank you for your comments, likes & reblogs ♡

-

@haruhatake this three's for you ☆

-

🅼🅰🆂🆃🅴🆁🅻🅸🆂🆃

[creepz-art]

ANGST BUT NOT IN THE SILLY GOOFY WAY 😰

Ik I already warned for angst but here are the TWs! Unintentional s/h (if that even makes sense), mirrors, punching mirrors, derealization, panic attack/anxiety attack, blood, mention of murder

Tag list 😋 : @mis-fortunate @thatonecatinatophat @ieatpeninklols @ikeaalien123 @xena-lilac-winters

He knows.

Brian didn’t remember how he got there. That was how it always went.

A blink, a skip in time, a sudden lurch in his chest like a dropped elevator—and then he was somewhere else. This time, the air felt cold but still, heavy like it was trying to press him into the floor.

He opened his eyes to a silence that screamed.

Mirrors. Floor to ceiling, wall to wall. A maze of perfect reflections. At first, all he could see were endless copies of himself—Brian and Hoodie and the strange, flickering half-states in between. Some wore his mask. Some didn’t. Some bled. Some smiled. None looked safe.

He spun around too fast and staggered, losing balance as his own face multiplied into thousands. Every movement made him sick—there was no depth, no orientation. Just copy after copy, fragments of himself he didn’t recognize.

And then he felt it—that presence.

The Operator wasn’t visible, but he was here. Watching. Always watching. This wasn’t a trap. It was a punishment.

Because Brian hadn’t obeyed.

He had hesitated—couldn’t bring himself to kill the last one. A kid, practically. Just another scared runaway with more dirt than skin and a sobbing plea that had sounded too familiar.

He had walked away.

Now he was here.

The first time he punched a mirror, it was instinct. He saw a version of himself with blackened eye sockets and a slit throat and panicked—lashed out. The glass exploded under his fist, slicing deep into the skin of his knuckles and wrist.

Blood hit the floor.

He panted, trembling, staring down at the shards.

Then he looked up—and the mirror was whole again. Unbroken. As if nothing had happened.

But the reflection was different now.

This one wore the mask, but it was smiling. Wide. Too wide. The mouth stretching underneath it in ways no real mouth could. Brian backed away, blood dripping from his fingers, eyes wide.He hit another. Harder this time. It shattered with a sound like screaming metal. The pain was worse. The glass bit in deeper. His breath came in ragged gasps, but for a moment, there was a thrill—something he could affect.

The mirror reformed.

Brian gagged.

He hit another.

And another.

Every punch came with pain. Every cut ached deeper. He didn’t care. His hands were a ruin of red and trembling skin, but it was the only thing he could do.

Each time, the reflection changed—worse, more warped, more cruel.One showed Hoodie killing Tim. One showed Brian smiling as he stabbed someone. One just showed static. One looked exactly like real life—but blinked out of sync.

He started to cry without realizing.

Hoodie fronted briefly, tried to take control—but even he couldn’t stomach it for long. Not this. Not them. Not all the selves staring back, accusing, leering, pleading.

They took turns fronting out of desperation, out of instinct, but it didn’t matter. There was no escape. No forward. No way out.

Just mirror after mirror after mirror. Maze with no end. Blood on their hands. Fractured reflections and a silence so total it made their own breathing unbearable.

And somewhere, far beyond the glass—He was watching.

[angelltheninth]

How about a Kenji Sato and #2 on the angsty list you reblogged?

Angst time, hell yeah (brother)! Sorry been watching Aia Amare again.

Pairing: Kenji "Ken" Sato x Fem!Reader

Tags: fluff, angst, troubles sleeping, self-doubt, kisses, established relationship, cuddles

Prompt: "Who am I without you?"

Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters

A/N: I really hope this movie gets a sequel. It was so damn good and I really didn't expect it.

Nights that you woke up alone in the bed you shared with your boyfriend weren't that unusual. Well now they were getting fewer and fewer in between but they still happened. Ever since Emi left things have been harder again. Not like they were before, they were better but there was still a kind of loneliness there that you weren't sure what to do about.

Kenji knew that he did the right thing, he was the best father he could have been, and to you the best boyfriend he could have been at the time. But even now when he saved everyone, when his career was thriving once again, when his relationship was better than ever he still found himself walking back and forth in the living room late at night.

"Can't sleep?" Kenji jumped at the sudden sound of your voice and the sight of you leaning against the doorframe in your nightgown. "

"Big game tomorrow. You know me, I'm super excited." He lied through a smile and a cocky wink. Tiredness and fear rested heavy on his shoulders, making him slump a little.

You sighed and guided him back into the bedroom, hand in hand. He didn't resist, he dragged his feet along, hair falling messy across his eyes.

"You know you can tell me anything, right Ken?" You let him lay on his side and you were right next to him, your hand in his, face to face.

"I... I always thought a life like this was all I wanted. Baseball, fame, freedom... you. And then Emi happened and I became Ultraman. I think I'm still Ultraman, I know I am... I should be! I should be happy! I still have you!" He chewed his bottom lip intensely, giving it a dark pink color. "Who am I without you?"

The question came so silently, unexpectedly.

As the silence dragged on Kenji's eyes met yours, his hand gripping yours tighter. "That's a weird question coming from you. You're who've you've always been. You're Kenji Sato." You leaned in and kissed that pinkish spot on his lip. "You're the famous baseball star with fangirls that make me want to carry a bat around." You kissed him again, on the corner of his lips. "You're Ultraman, the hero who saves people without hesitation." You placed your free hand on the back of his neck and pressed your lips against his, "You were an amazing dad to Emi, and if you want, one day you can be an amazing dad to someone else."

"A-Are you..." His eyes went to your stomach.

"No, but maybe in the future. It's cute how you immediately got your hopes up." You saw him pout at that. "And that is even cuter. The point is you don't have to try to be just one thing, not for me or anyone else. To me you're Kenji. The stubborn, hotheaded man that won't my heart with that stupid charming smile of yours." And like a switch that turned on that same smile greeted you moments later.

[theesirenteller]

ANGEL TEARS | Jax Teller.

Bunny stood in the doorway, arms crossed as she watched Jax pace back and forth in the dimly lit room. His hands ran through his hair, tugging at the strands in frustration. The tension between them was palpable, a thick cloud that neither had the courage to dispel.

“I’m not over you,” Jax finally admitted, his voice raw with emotion. He stopped pacing, turning to face Bunny, his eyes pleading for some kind of understanding. “I love her, but...”

“But what?” Bunny cut in, her voice wavering between anger and hurt. “You can’t just say that to me and expect it to be okay. I’m not a consolation prize, Jax.”

Jax took a deep breath, struggling to find the words. “Daydreams of fear, just another tear,” he murmured, almost to himself. “A tear that makes it seem real, again. You don’t understand, Bunny. She flows straight through me, like wine, again.”

“Then why are you here?” Bunny demanded, stepping forward, her eyes locking onto his. “Why come back to me if she’s everything to you?”

Jax looked at her, his expression tortured. “Riding into the Sun… what can I do? You’re everything to me, everything. I can’t quite tell you enough, again. I’m going through it now, back again.”

Bunny shook her head, tears brimming in her eyes. “It’s not that easy, Jax. It’s easy but it depends. You can’t keep doing this, keep tearing me apart every time you’re unsure. I deserve more than this.”

Jax took a hesitant step toward her, his voice barely a whisper. “I know, Bunny. I’m sorry. I just... I don’t know what to do without you.”

Bunny looked at him, the pain in her heart reflected in her eyes. “Then figure it out, Jax. Because I can’t keep waiting for you to decide if I’m worth it.”

[xxladyballadxx]

Love Hurts

Hwoarang x (Fem) Reader

-ANGST-

Summary : Relationship was the least thing in his mind since he’s not fond of it. Yet, whenever he’s around you, his heart beats into flames. However, Hwoarang didn’t know that somebody had already captured your heart…

~ dividers by : @vesearartistry ~

Funny that falling in love could always go wrong if you kept your feelings all bottled up, telling that person too late and losing your chance. Hwoarang had that one special friend who would always go to the tournaments to watch him wrestle down his opponents. A girl who laughs innocently when Hwoarang shoots her a wink. 

You.

You were the ‘special’ lady that keeps him on his toes, always cheering him on. Right after the tournament, you go to his favourite Korean junk food place with him where they make those delicious spicy rice cakes. How your stomach rumbles with the smell of that tasty treat. 

Everytime you munch down on those rice cakes, Hwoarang steals glances at you. Somehow, he couldn’t help how beautiful you look. The way you smile radiantly while chewing on those spicy rice cakes has set his heart into a burst of flames, a warm spiral of feelings that he had never felt before. That was when he realised that he truly cares about you more than anything and anyone. 

He tried to deny it, it was no use. Hwoarang was falling all over you.

Hwoarang urged himself to tell her how he feels starting tomorrow. But things didn’t go as well as unexpected. He found out something that he never knew…

How this happened ; Hwoarang drove over to your house by his motorbike, hoping that he would still have his opportunity to tell you how he felt but he lost his chance when he saw through the window that you were with someone else instead of him. He didn’t know that you already have a lover. Hwoarang never knew until now. 

Watching in silence, he saw you how happy you were with him. The man he never personally met before in his life. Hwoarang growled in annoyance, his strong hands gripping the handlebars as he couldn’t bear to look anymore. 

He started the engine and drove down the road, his heart silently breaking at the thought of you being with another man who has captured your heart. 

Days passed right after the day Hwoarang spotted you with someone else. He continued to train for the next tournament. His thoughts of you distract him. Your laugh, your smile, your scent consuming him. He mentally tried so hard to put those thoughts away but how could he? 

When you’re all he thinks about? 

Hwoarang grunted in anger, he aggressively kicked the punching bag so hard it flew across the room…

He sighed in defeat, lost all hope and chances to tell you how he felt…

a/n : I am so sorry for this, I've been kinda on edge so I felt like writing depressing for Hwoarang :'')

[tmntxthings]

Can i please hsc or oneshot angst for raph (2018)

∑一Change・゜・。

author’s notes: O.o angst you say? I saw this tiktok and the sound made me so sad!! SO INSPIRATION!

warnings: hurt / no comfort, angst, short, drabble, unedited

—————————————————————————

Raph thought, that as long as he tried his best, things would work out.

It seemed simple enough. And in most cases, his best got things done. When it came to his family, he was able to keep his brothers out of trouble for the most part. He was able to provide for them. To distract them from the many problems that surrounded their home as well as stepping up when Dad couldn’t.

It got easier with time. And Dad healed, he became a parent again. Raph didn’t have the same responsibilities that he felt only he could shoulder. But still, it was hard to change those habits. Always feeling the need to carry the burdens. To be the one to fix things.

Communication is always key. Raph learned the hard way that bottling up his emotions only led to having a huge blow up later on. So he did his best when it came to his relationship with you. He didn’t want to be the reason things fell apart between the two of you.

So he did his best.

But as he watched you turn to leave, without even trying to talk to him about what was wrong. He didn’t know what to think. It had to be him. Something had to be wrong with him.

“Y/n!”

He called out to you. But you only shook your head and continued walking further away.

So he went after you. “Can’t we talk about this?” He called after you. His snaggletooth digging into his lower lip nervously as you continued to ignore him.

Slipping past your form before you could reach the ladder that led to the manhole cover. His body a blockade though it wasn’t his intentions to force you to stay. He just wanted to talk to you!

“Please,” he pleaded. “Just tell me what I have to do.” His hand went out, reaching for your own. He couldn’t help himself but try to find any sense of comfort in this moment. He liked your touch. You were warm. You had always been a safe place for him. For his feelings. Even if you were angry with him. “Tell me what I need to change, and Raph will change.”

It would be just that easy for him. He would do anything you wanted. He could be different. Whatever you didn’t like he’d change it. Whatever it was that he did to upset you, he’d make sure it wouldn’t happen again.

“…Raph” you said in a solemn tone, tugging your hand away from his hold.

His heart broke. He didn’t reach for you again. But he went down on his knees before you. Making himself smaller. He needed to be smaller.

“No no, Y/n! You make me happy, we make each other happy!” Raph said with absolute certainty. But as your face met his, it was the epitome of hopelessness. “Don’t we?” He cried out in despair. Not understanding. Needing you to spell it out for him. He wasn’t smart enough to figure it out on his own. He wasn’t like Donnie. He wasn’t like Leo.

“I thought-“ your voice broke, the back of your hand going up to cover it as you held back a sudden sob. It was all Raph could do to stay still. To not instantly scoop you into his arms and hold you close. To calm you down and tell you that everything would be okay. He’d fix it. But he stayed in his place as you recovered yourself.

“I thought this could work. When we were young and stupid, but Raph… I’m human and you’re..” the hand covering your mouth went down as it gestured towards Raph’s form. Mutant. Was the word that went unsaid. He was other. He wasn’t human. But he hadn’t thought… you hadn’t seemed to mind…

In those quiet moments where it was just you and him. When you would lean closer than friends would get. How you would constantly text him.

“I just don’t think it’ll work Raph. It was nice to pretend. It was nice to dream. But I’ve got to be realistic. I can’t spend my life down here.”

In the sewers. In the shadows. Raph didn’t want that for you either. Maybe he had been too selfish. For ever thinking that the happiness the two of you shared was something that couldn’t be broken. He had thought his bond with you was so strong.

Slowly, Raph got up from his knees. He shuffled away from the ladder. “Oh,” was all he could say in response. He felt… how did he feel? It was hard to describe. But you didn’t hesitate to linger. You started to climb.

It seemed like this wasn’t something he could fix. He looked down at his hands. Big rough maws. Green. Not to mention the claws. Nothing like a humans. Nothing like yours. His hand closed into a fist as the manhole cover closed overhead.

He was disappointed. That was what he felt. Crazily enough, it was because he couldn’t change for you. Even though he desperately wanted to.

[collisvng]

♠︎♡●WALK OF SHAME○♥︎♤

Pairing ♤ Han Jisung x Fem Reader ☆

Synopsis ♤ You and Han had become friends quite fast.  You loved his writing, he loved your voice. He and Bangchan manage to get you an audition that could potentially start your career as an artist under their company. But things go terribly wrong, resulting in the potential loss of Jisung's friendship. ☆

Warnings ♤ Mentions of: anxiety, panic attacks, brief mention of blood, yelling/screaming, crying, the feeling of being useless, a LOT of angst ☆

Word Count ♤ 1,837 + 8 sm screenshots ☆

THE BEGINNING ♠︎

"What the fuck?!" Jisung yelled after you.

You click-clacked your way ferociously through the halls of the JYP building, faltering a few steps that almost landed you on the ground.

You were running away from your only shot at getting into the company, but you didn't care. The air was leaving your lungs, your eyes became blurry from a combination of dizziness and tears, and for the first time in your life you knew you couldn't handle any sort of pressure. There was guilt and hatred in your eyes; feelings towards yourself and your actions. And worst of all, you had Jisung following after you in the most confused rage you had ever seen before.

For the last two weeks Han had been helping you with your audition. You guys had been friends for a while now ever since meeting at an anime convention that Jisung somehow managed to sneak into unnoticed. One moment you’re chatting it up with a Turnip-Head cosplay that approached you because you were dressed as Sophie Hatter, then the next thing you know you're at the dorms hanging out with Han and his friends. 

After a few failed attempts due to his anxiousness, he eventually invited you to see him work. He took you to the studio and showed you songs he wrote. Each one being passionate excerpts of romance, heartbreak, and acceptance. He was a literary magician in your eyes. And one day, when he heard you singing the chorus to a song he was working on, he never let a moment pass without speaking about it. You were full of surprises, and his brain was full of lyrics he wanted to hear you perform. Eventually, the guys learned about your hidden talent and encouraged you to try to do something with it. Chris was especially encouraging and even tried to sample some of your melodies for background vocals in his own songs.

You guys bonded over your love for anime, video game lore, and your constant praise of each other’s talents. You loved his writing and lyricism. He loved your voice. And eventually… you secretly grew to love more parts of him. He even took the time to write your audition song for you, after the company finally gave you a chance (with the help of Jisung and Chan’s constant pleading).

You became his muse, he became your best friend. And now, with your nails digging into your palms trying to keep yourself calm, you couldn’t even look at him.

He called after you again… And again… And again…

It wasn’t until around the fifth time that you finally spun around and yelled, ‘What the fuck do you want?!’ did he finally stop.

You both stood a great distance away from each other. Partially because Jisung needed space to calm down, and partially because you both knew how you can get in moments of stress. Your eyes widened, then narrowed sleepily as you stared him down. Just one word, one word, and you were ready to blow up in his face. Whether it would be with anger or with tears though, that was a mystery.

“What are you doing?” His voice came out a bit softer than the last time he spoke. “You just walked right out!”

“I couldn’t do it,” your nails were one clench away from drawing blood. “I’m not ready. I told you I wasn’t ready. Now your boss thinks I’m a dumbass.”

Han let out an angry sigh, rubbing his finger tips over his nose before bringing his palms from his chin to his eyes. He pressed inward, as if to push them through his skull.

“You’re not a dumbass,” he huffed, “and you ARE ready. Stop telling yourself you’re not.”

“LOOK AT ME!” You released your hands from their clawed prison to hold them up to show him. The imprints were deep, you were borderline hyperventilating, and your eyes widened once more. If you could see yourself in the third person, you probably would have thought you were crazy. “I look insane, Ji. I’m too anxious for this.”

His hands dropped to his sides, eyes opening slowly. A small vein began to stick out on his neck as he clenched his jaw. Jisung was always understanding and compassionate–the type to listen when people asked him to, responding in the best way he could. But right now, seeing you freak out as he stood in front of you, was setting him off. He knew you had potential. He knew you were capable. And as a person who became an idol himself despite also having anxiety issues, he knew anything was possible as long as you wanted it badly enough. 

“So that’s it?” His blunt tone caught you by surprise. 

Jisung made his way over to you in long strides, practically gliding across the floor. He made it to your side in record time, looking down at you with what little distance there was between both your heights. He looked annoyed, he was annoyed, and he wasn’t about to let you walk out of the building without knowing that he was.

“You’re just going to let this go? Everything Chan and I did to even attempt to give you this opportunity… And because you feel nervous you’re just going to walk out?” An irritated laugh left his throat as he glanced up at the ceiling. “Gosh you always do this.”

You felt your heart on the verge of cracking. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Each word that left his mouth next sent you into anguish.

“You never stick to one thing.”

Crack.

“You always need help, but never follow through.”

Crack.

“And you use your anxiety as an excuse to give up.”

And there it was, in its final form; heartbreak.

You were no longer present in your body. Arms limp, eyes glossy, a hitched breath in your throat, and no emotion shown on your face. You almost looked bitchy, but in a ‘I no longer have anything to lose’ kind of way. You wanted to fight him, but also wanted nothing more than for this end and to just hug him. You couldn’t believe someone you grew so close to in such a short time would end up being like this.

“I think you, of all people,” you took a step forward, the tip of your nose practically meeting his chin as your glass eyes searched his, “would know how messed up that last statement is.”

He leaned down to meet your gaze. Pupils to pupils, nose to nose, mouth to–fuck what kind of shit was trying to pull? You wanted to punch him, but with him being so close like that for the first time your mind was running laps. But that all ended the moment he said, “At least I’m not letting my problems get in the way of my own opportunities.”

That was the final straw. The overstimulation in your brain took over and your whole body began frantically shaking. Jisung being so close, his anger, the mix of emotions in your head, wanting to sob, feeling ashamed for walking out of your only shot at the career you’ve always wanted, knowing that your friend saw you as nothing but someone who gives up… 

It took Han a moment before he realized you were finally in full panic attack mode. Harsh breaths expelled themselves from your mouth as you vibrated from your torso upward. You were flexing and unflexing your hand as if you needed to grab something, and your eyes were no longer looking into his, but blankly staring at something in the distance to hyperfixate on something other than what was happening. He took a step back, his big boba eyes filling with concern.

He pushed you too hard. He let his emotions get the best of him. He did it; he fucked up. 

“Shit,” he mumbled a swear under his breath. “Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.”

Grabbing your hands at the right moment as they unflexed, he intertwined his fingers with yours.

“Breathe.”

The phrase was repeated over and over, followed by Han squeezing your hand with every intake of oxygen you made. Eventually you found a steady rhythm. And his words, despite you wanting to slap the living hell out of him, were actually helping you calm down.

Once your breathing became stable, you and Han stood there in silence. You came down from your panicked high and once that was done… you didn’t really know where to go from there.

With Han’s fingers still laced with yours, he tried to step forward. It caused you to flinch, almost stumbling backwards, which filled him with dread. “Listen, I–”

“Thanks for calming me down,” you released his hands instantly. “But I think I need some space from you right now.”

His lips came forward into a pout, as puppy dog eyes met your blurry vision. You could tell he was remorseful for what just happened, but it wasn’t enough for you to stay and hear him out. You needed to be as far away from this place and him as soon as possible.

As you turned to walk away, Jisung tried to stop you by reaching out for your arm to pull you back. But he was immediately stopped by the sound of Bangchan’s voice echoing across the hall.

“Don’t.” His voice was stern and blunt. It almost sent a shiver down your spine. “Let her leave. She’s been through enough.”

Han looked over his shoulder at Chris, then back to you. His hand remained floating in mid-air, while sudden realization began to set in for you. When did Chan get here? How much did he notice? Was he here the whole time? Who else–

Before you could flare yourself up again, Bangchan was already in front of you grabbing ahold of Han’s shoulder and pulling him to the side. He told you to leave, followed by saying he’d text you later. Then without letting Jisung get a word in, you left. The last thing you remember before exiting was hearing Chan ask Han what the hell he was thinking, then next thing you know you were pushing through a set of double doors and running.

That night you received several texts from a group chat that Felix randomly made that included everyone except for Han. Apparently there were already rumors being spread about your conversation with Jisung and all the guys knew. You also received many texts from Bangchan and Jisung himself.

This was it, you thought to yourself. You would never be able to show your face around the JYP building ever again. And to make matters worse… You probably lost a friend.

Notes ♤ AHHHHHHH! It’s finally done! Hope you guys enjoyed it. Figured since I am best at writing angst that I should start off my page with it lol Depending on how things go, this might turn into a two part mini series. We’ll just test out the waters for a bit and see how it goes. Thanks for reading! 🩶 — collisvng✨️

[localcanadiancreature62]

Fiddlestan au Stan and Fidds argument Post Weirdmaggedon

@mickeytk Here.

////////////////////////////////////////////////

Stan is watching the Duchess Approves in the living room as he hears the loud noises of Dipper and Mabel running around from upstairs as they do dumb kid stuff like forcing each other to gross smelling sniff scratch and sniff stickers,he sighs contentedly as he can finally have peaceful quiet moments like this again without having to worry about the portal or Bill hurting his family anymore. He then smiles as he turns up the volume of his favorite show while eating a can of meat. "Ah. This is the life. No Bill,no portal,no apocalypse,just me in my house and my family being left to their own devices. I sure hope this peace sticks forever." Stan says to himself as he enjoys his quiet afternoon,until he heard the rough knocking on the door. He decided to ignore it as he figured it was probably some dumb gnomes trying to get in and steal food again plus he was busy watching the good part where Duchess sues Count Lionel for killing her new husband. But the knocking persisted. He then groans in annoyance as he walked up to the door to answer it as neither the kids nor his brother were around to answer with them being busy having fun elsewhere. To his surprise,Fiddleford Mcgucket was at his door. He tried to not act happy about the southern man finally reaching out after those painful years of watching him lose himself. "What's your business here,Hick?. Tell me now or i'll shut the door on your freakishly long nose." Stan asks as the hillbilly looked at him with his big bright eyes and charming smile while he lightly blushed,the con man almost vomiting from the fact that the southerner STILL makes him feel this way even after how much he hurt him. "Ah just wanted to see Stanferd' so i could show him my new plans for creating a trapping device fer anomalies. And i.. want to talk to you." Fiddleford explains as he stared at the former grifter expectantly. "Ford's not here,Mcgucket. He's chasing some new moth species in the forest. Get lost." Stan says in frustration,not wanting to face his ex despite how his gut tells him that he absolutely needs to and even yearns to. Fidds isn't offended by the man's harshness in the slightest. As based on the things he recollected about the con's behavior through the kids telling him stories about him,he was always a grump who often avoided being "sappy" unless he couldn't take it anymore. "Well fine. I know how bad ya feel about our.. separation,darlin'. Stanferd' has been telling me about your guilt and how bad you took the heartbreak lately ever since he found out about our relationship. If ya really want me to leave again,i understand. Yer probably not ready to talk yet anyway-." Fiddleford remarks as he then tries to walk away,only for the swindler to grab him by the wrist. "Damnit Ford. I can't believe he told you even when i explicitly told him to NOT tell you anything about my pathetic moping over the break up. And uhhh,you can stay. I.. want to talk too." Stan replied as he opened the door a bit wider to let the hillbilly in as Fiddleford enters the building while the con guided him to the kitchen where they can discuss their relationship more comfortably. Stan sat in his chair while Fiddleford sat at the chair in front of him. "So what do you have to say for yourself?. After making me go through that dumb memory gun 'experiment',which was just an excuse to rope me into your problems." Stan says bitterly,leaving out the part where he heavily grieved the southern man after he lost his sanity in the final moments of the memory tapes before the car crash occurred. "Ah never meant to force you into anything back then. You were completely willing to help at first despite you being annoyed at having to be the camera man." Fiddleford explains as he watched the man shift uncomfortably in his seat.

"Well what about the part where you left me after that car crash and made ME fix the portal while i tried to avoid your cult mess?." Stan remarks as he balled his fists in anger while his hands are placed on the table,wanting to retaliate at the hillbilly for making him hurt for so long yet he doesn't as part of him still deeply cares about the nerd. "I- Ah wasn't in my right mind back then and i figured that the entire world was against me with my slipping sanity as well as paranoia. I had to leave,Stanley or else i wouldn't have held onto the sliver of peace i kept before i fully lost mah mind." Fiddleford says as he looked at the man in guilt,but then Stan banged his fist on the table as he couldn't take it anymore. He needed the hillbilly to know how bad he hurt him.

"YOUR peace?. What about me?,huh?. With the little sanity you had during that time,didn't you once think about how much your little memory gun fiasco affected ME?!. YOUR PARTNER?!. Don't you get it,Fiddlesticks?. You HURT me. You left me to suffer from your dwindling mental state and THEN you abandoned me last minute when your mind couldn't take it anymore,leaving ME to cover up all evidence of YOUR insane cult from the house. I spent those days of memory gun testing watching my beloved southern nerd,the person most important to me at the time,destroy himself with a damn memory erasing ray while you never even called or talked to me about what you were going through before you got into that cult." Stan exclaims as he started crying angry tears as Fiddleford gasps in disbelief at his reaction. "Stanley,hun. Ah had no choice!. Ah had no choice but to leave or else you would've been roped in deeper into my problems. I couldn't reach out because i felt like clawing mah skull with every memory erasure!. Do ya know how hard it was to keep it together while knowin' full well that the gun was ruining me?!." Fiddleford says in slight annoyance over the con not considering how he felt at the time. "No no YOU don't understand. Do you know how hard it was for ME,to see your unhinged bastard self everyday while knowing full well that i couldn't talk to you about what happend with your empty noggin?!. I spent half of my life thinking that it was my fault,Fiddleford. I kept thinking that i was the reason why you went back to using that damned gun,i hated myself for never talking about our issues which lead to you using the memory gun with our every argument. Something i didn't know was actually ruining your brilliant mind with every use." Stan explains as he kept crying,more out of sadness and hurt this time instead of rage. "I did everything for you. I protected you from monsters,i made dinner for you even when i was used to living off of granola bars and couldn't cook for shit,i comforted you every time you had nightmares about Ford coming back to hurt you for quitting the project. Yet you still subjected me to that memory gun shit,and you left me despite everything we've been through together. Heh. Every time i get attached to someone,they always leave me in the end. Whether it's Ford,my old heist buddies Jorge and Rico,or you." Stan remarks bitterly as tears fell on his chest while he kept bawling from the horrible heartbreak as Fiddleford took a guilty glance at him,as he never knew how bad his dwindling sanity affected the man until now. "I.. Stanley. I'm so sorry. I- I had no idea that what i did hurt you that much. I never meant to hurt you,i just made a lot of regrettable decisions and my past arguments with you were just the catalyst. It was never your fault,the blame is all on me. I didn't mean to make you suffer with my problems,i sincerely apologize and i feel terrible for doing all of that to you without realizing how much it hurt ya." Fiddleford explains as he expresses genuine regret for his actions,but the con turns his back on him and refuses to accept his apology. "Sorry won't reverse the unimaginable amount of heartbreak you gave me." Stan says in slight annoyance,as he has accepted the man's apology but he's still angry at him for never explaining himself until 30 years have passed.

"Will this change yer mind?." Fiddleford replied as he then kissed the con straight on the mouth as he placed a light peck on his grifter's lips,the man blushing as he pulled away while leaving the man dumbfounded as Stan laughed from being tickled by the hillbilly's trimmed beard. "Ahahahaha! Fidds,your beard made my mouth feel funny." Stan remarks as he smiled at the hillbilly slyly looked at him. "But ah thought you were still mad at me?~." Fiddleford says as he blushes while staring at the con with pure love in his eyes. "I'm not anymore. Now that you gave me that long overdue apology and that great kiss~." Stan replied as he then kisses the southern nerd again,giving him a longgg slobbery smooch as the saliva connecting their lips breaks soon after he pulls away. "Ah missed yer kisses,and that adorable laugh." Fiddleford says as he smiled at the con,with Stan smiling back as he finally got his nerd back. All he wanted was to hear the man apologize,and get his hillbilly back instead of constantly seeing that empty mindless and insane husk that he became everyday,and he got both in one fateful afternoon. "I missed ya too,Fiddlesticks. I'm so glad to have you back. And we have plenty of time to make up for lost time before the kids come over to pester us about our relationship." Stan remarks as he then looked at the nerd with adoring eyes. "I'd like that. But first,let me hold you again like i always did. C'mere." Fiddleford replied as he gestures for the con to come over,which he obliges as he let himself get tightly embraced by the taller elder as he started crying tears of joy as he hasn't had felt the warm touch of his nerd in years (someone help this touch starved man). Fiddleford then winces in guilt as he thought he messed up again. "Hey,what's wrong?. Why are ya cryin' again?." Fiddleford asks as he kept gently holding his grifter in his arms. "N-Nothing. It's just- I haven't felt your warm embrace in such a long time. I'm so happy to feel it again." Stan replied as he smiled at his nerd while Fiddleford sighs in relief. "And am' glad to hold ya again. C'mere,darlin'." Fiddleford says as he then grabbed the man by the shirt collar as he lightly made out with him,with both of them blushing deeply as Fidds gently caressed his con man's face. Stan smiled through the kiss as he realized that he'll finally get to spend the rest of his life with the southern nerd he adores as he makes up for the time that the memory gun robbed from him.

[savage-rhi]

Ada get’s hit on by a Radom strangers fanfic I’ll leave the rest to you…😉

"…You seeing anyone?"

"… I'd love to get to know you."

"…Babe, c'mon—just one drink."

"…I tend to grow on people, if they give me the chance."

"…I don't see a ring."

Somehow the voices of the men who'd hit on Ada all night congealed into an auditory hell she couldn't shake, even with liquor coursing through her bloodstream. She sighed and reminded herself that this brand of idiocy came with the territory: bars bred predators and prey, and her clients liked to hunt in places where she had no real say.

Still, it bothered Ada even with the last of her rationale hanging on by a thread. She was no prude when it came to the art of flirtation and playful gimmicks; in fact, they were go-to responses for some instances, especially if the end result meant her fee would triple. The only time it backfired was when a client or person was under the belief she was selling her body to them, and not her skills.

Over the years, her work had never been noble, but she considered herself an artist of deception and efficiency. Cunning creatures like her deserved to be regarded the way one considers a venomous snake—dangerous yet beautiful. Tonight's reception proved otherwise. The men fawned from the moment she stepped into the bar to meet Wesker; honeyed words turned sour the second she stopped humoring them, but the anger in her gut only grew no matter how much she drank to drown it.

None of them cared about her mind or her story. They wanted what lay beneath her clothes. Wesker, as always, sat back and enjoyed the show, asserting silent dominance by letting it unfold. Never once did he come to her defense. In the end, he always controlled the environment and the stage wherever they went.

It was always like this. The game would never change, and after the years, Ada believed she should've been used to it by now, but one variable had her second-guessing:

It was never like this with Leon.

"Get over yourself," Ada muttered. She pushed upright, biting the inside of her lip while vertigo—and the memory of his touch—held her still.

She could picture the back of his hand trailing down her spine, imagining how his eyes seemed to beg for every secret she kept locked away. He'd once confessed, almost absent-mindedly, that he loved her cleverness. Leon had never implied she lacked control, even when they were at each other's throats. She could leave their game whenever she pleased, and he would still esteem her as the masterpiece she was.

Ada rubbed her eyes, let out a breath, sniffled, and glanced at the bedside clock: 2:10am.

She had half a mind to call him.

She had half a mind to finally take the plunge, to leave Wesker and the Family's global game of chess.

But logic would win, and the men's voices would return, reminding her that not even a patron like Leon could pry her from the private collection where her superiors kept her caged.

She was in this for the long haul, long before she met Leon and long before Raccoon City.

This would be her hell.

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