#using she pronouns for her because i could

[sincerelyneo]

could i request a mark smut 😣😣 where reader and mark just had an intense argument but in the end, they cant be mad at each other for long so they just fck it out of each other 🤐🤐🤐🤐

mad at you | l.mk

“then i try to leave, but baby i just can’t stay mad at you”

💿now playing: mad at you by why don’t we

❯ summary: Mark learns that you’ve made a ‘selfish’ decision that’s bound to put a strain on your relationship. Next thing you know, you're knee-deep in an argument that somehow ends with you sprawled out beneath him; because, let’s be honest, he’s never really been any good at staying mad at you.

❯ pairings: idol!mark x fem!reader

❯ genre: angst, smut, established relationship, make up sex

❯ words: 4.3k

❯ tags: 18+ minors dni!, lots of arguing, swearing, reader is lowkey dramatic, makeup sex, unprotected sex (don't do this!), nipple play, dry humping, brief clit play, slight needy mark bc i can't help myself, creampie, reader uses she/her pronouns, reader and mark argue and resolve it by fucking.

an: i love writing angsty arguments (testament to my real relationships lol) so thank you so much for this request. it lowkey brought me out of writer’s block.

The honeymoon stage lasts approximately thirty months or two and a half years – which would make sense considering you and Mark were approaching your third year together and have argued more recently than you ever had. 

But this time it’s different. You’ve never seen Mark like this, so angry that his face is bordering red and his jaw ticks so hard it might crack as the both of you drive in complete silence from your work dinner. He doesn’t even bother sneaking his usual glances at you when he pulls up at stoplights, the hand he likes to place on your thigh is gripping the wheel instead, and the only noise in the car is his rugged and frustrated exhales. 

You could feign ignorance about why he's upset, but you know the reason all too well. And while a part of you acknowledges his right to be angry, another, more prideful part, resists the idea of apologising, especially when you think his reaction seems so disproportionate to your mistake.

So you sit in the passenger seat, arms crossed and body frozen, contributing to the cold silence settling between the two of you. You prepare yourself for the earful of a lecture you’re about to get when he pulls up outside your shared apartment. 

He parks the car, slams the door shut, and strides towards your building without a backward glance. You scoff at his pettiness; he's never been so angry that he wouldn't at least wait for you to get out of the car with him. He doesn't even slow down when you trail behind. And when he nearly lets the elevator doors close without you, any chance he has of receiving an apology from you flies out the window, you think. 

He does, however, show some decency by leaving the front door open for you as you both step out of the elevator and head towards your apartment – how chivalrous. 

The chivalry doesn’t last long because the minute he hears you clasp the door shut, he’s glaring at you, arms crossed tightly over his chest, and you can't help but notice that he's rolled up the sleeves of his dress shirt in frustration. If he weren't on the brink of yelling at you, you'd be tempted to make him do more than just roll up those sleeves — you'd want the fabric torn off and thrown on the floor in an instant.

“Paris, Y/N?!” Mark seethes, voice deep and uneven. “You signed a fucking contract to work in Paris?!?”

You pause, attempting to gather your thoughts, but the momentary silence doesn't offer much clarity. Eventually, you settle on, "It's just a six-month gig..." – a statement that seems to send him into a frenzy. 

“Just six months?” He rubs his jaw repeatedly in disbelief, “That’s six months that we won’t get to see each other, did you even think about that huh?”

You scoff, “You’re one to talk, need I remind you that your job takes you away from me for months at a time.”

"That's not fair," he protests. "You knew exactly what you were getting into when you agreed to date me. I didn’t agree to not seeing my girlfriend for months because she’s gallivanting away in Paris without me."

Your eyes narrow and your nostrils flare, “So what? If you would have known, you wouldn’t have wanted to be my boyfriend?”

His eyes widen and he shakes his head. His hands fly to his hair and he tugs at the strands as he huffs out a breath. 

“How the fuck did you get that conclusion from what I said?” He asks, voice sounding baffled. “The reason I’m so mad is because I like being your boyfriend, but I’m not going to see you for the next six months.”

“You’re being a hypocrite right now.”

He rolls his eyes and scoffs, “Right, because I’m always the one being unreasonable.”

“Yes, you are,” you scorn, “This job is my dream, don’t you see how selfish you're being?”

“I’m selfish?” He gasps, “That’s rich considering you didn’t even consult me when making this decision, I had to find out from your smug little co-worker in front of everyone. You were thinking solely about yourself, Y/N.”

You're on the verge of screaming. How is he not seeing things from your perspective? He's usually so understanding, so open to hearing your side. But the razor-sharp look in his eyes tells you that there's no getting through to him. He's convinced you're wrong, and nothing will change his mind.

“It’s for my job, Mark,” you cross your arms and shrug. 

“And how many times have I told you that you don’t need to work? How many times do I need to tell you I can look after the both of us?”

“And how many times have I told you that I don’t want that? I don’t want to have to always rely on you!” You snap. 

Your teeth grit as the words spit out of your mouth. They seem to hit Mark, deep, his eyes softening for a fleeting moment before sharpening again. He swallows thickly and blinks before running a hand through his hair. 

“Then what are we doing, Y/N?” He asks deflated, “What are we if you don’t want to rely on me?”

You're not sure what compels you to say it – whether it's the way you're all worked up, the entire context of the argument, or some inner recognition that you're the one who's fucked up this time despite you both having stuff to apologise for. Still, you escalate the situation from zero to one hundred without a second thought. 

“Oh, so you want to break up?”

He shakes his head and tongues the inside of his cheek, “When did I say that?!”

The fight only gets worse after that, the two of you blowing up after every sentence. You run around in circles, throwing accusations and insults at each other to the point the original premise of the argument is lost along the way of a thousand new arguments. It’s like every little thing you’ve both done to irk each other over the last month is brought up; and by the end of it, the two of you swear you’re done with each other. 

Sure, you've had your fair share of arguments, but the biting finality of the word "done" as it leaves his lips sends a sharp pang through your stomach – it hurts like hell. You've reached your limit with this endless cycle of back-and-forth; you've had enough of him. Storming past him, you head towards your shared bedroom.

Mark sighs and reaches out for your arm, but you pull away. He doesn't like this, doesn't like the chilliness he feels from you. He doesn't want to end the argument like this; it's never gone this far without a resolution before.

“You can’t just storm away when we argue Y/N, it’s childish.”

“If you don’t like it then leave!” You slam the door shut after you and lock it. 

Mark hates this more, not being able to talk this out because you’ve put a wall between the two of you. Then your words register in his mind and he’s the most hurt he’s ever felt. You want him to leave. Fuck that, he thinks. He’s not going to watch his relationship go down the drain over a petty argument. 

He knocks on the door a few times, then jiggles the doorknob, calling out your name and pleading for you to let him in. But you remain unmoved, denying him even the satisfaction of hearing your voice telling him to go away. This only adds to his frustration. He's the one you've upset, and yet here he is, begging for you to open up so he can fix things.

After a few more tries he scoffs, your words echoing in his mind once more. Leave. It crosses his mind as he makes his way to the front door of the apartment. He swings it open, ready to clear his head and crash at Johnny's for the night. But just as he's about to step out, he catches sight of a picture of the two of you on the coffee table where he keeps his keys. 

It’s from your honeymoon phase when it was easier for the two of you to say you’d never let anything come between you – when love seemed to blind you both. Mark picks up the photo, memories flooding back to the day it was taken. It was the day you met his parents and shared your aspirations of becoming a fashion designer. You reassured them that you had your own dreams and weren't just with their son for his wealth – though his parents wouldn't have minded either way; they would have been content with any girl that made their son happy. And you made Mark happy – you make Mark so fucking happy. 

Which is why he can’t believe he’s even considering leaving you in this apartment on your own after a fight. He shuts the front door and makes his way to the couch. He's eager to resolve things with you now, but both of you are too caught up in emotions, spouting shit you'll likely regret in the morning. So he opts to grab a few sofa pillows and a blanket from the storage closet instead. He strips down from his dress shirt and pants, throwing them to the floor before lying back and resting his eyes with a heavy mind.

Regret doesn't hit you until 2:00 am the following morning, when you're met with the chill of an empty space beside you as you reach out to cuddle your boyfriend, only to find him absent. Sure you thought he was overreacting to the news, but you're also painfully aware that your own words were uncalled for. You shouldn’t have asked him to leave – you didn’t want him to. 

As you heard the front door open and then close with a clink, a thick lump formed in your throat. The realisation that you had driven him away hit you hard, and you lost all motivation. You lay on your bed, makeup still intact, as you sniffled and sobbed quietly into your pillow. And even now, after tossing and turning from your mind running laps, you’d only managed to sleep for a few minutes. 

You stretch your stiff legs and reluctantly leave your bed, unlocking your bedroom door with sleepy eyes. You're taken aback when you see Mark sleeping soundly on the sofa, his breath steady with his eyes closed. You thought he had left, but there he is, covered only by the blanket from the storage closet. It breaks your heart to see him like this; he's likely cold, and he'll probably have a stiff neck in the morning for practice. And you know it's all your fault.

The guilt eats away at you, and without hesitation, you rush to the bedroom to grab his pillows and an extra blanket. Realistically, you should wake him up and insist he sleeps in bed, but the fear of his lingering anger keeps you from doing so. Instead, you kneel in front of him, attempting to swap the sofa pillows for his own bed pillows.

However, your efforts prove futile because Mark is a light sleeper – a detail you foolishly overlooked in your worried state of mind. He blinks as he wakes up once, then twice, appearing confused to find you in front of him in the living room instead of beside him in bed.

“Baby?” He whispers, his eyes hazy as he tries to make sense of what you're doing. It doesn’t take him long once he spots the sofa cushion in your hand to put the pieces together.  

You bite your lip and sigh, “I know you're mad at me, but I didn’t want you to wake up stiff in the morning.”

Mark's chest constricts. How could he possibly stay mad at you when you're so cute, fussing over him like this? He notices the smudge of black makeup beneath your eye, and his heart tightens once more – this time with sadness rather than affection.

His hand reaches out to touch your cheek, and you’re shocked at the touch. “You’ve been crying?” He asks and you bow your head. 

"I thought you left..."

Mark wants to laugh at the irony. You asked him to leave, and yet here you are, upset at the idea of his departure. He swears if he weren't so in love with you, he'd rant about how much you mess with his head, pushing him to the edge only to pull him back again.

“Would never leave you, baby, you know that,” his voice is soft and comforting as the rough edge of his fingertips finds your jaw. 

You can't control it; tears fall freely from your eyes. He's being incredibly considerate and gentle with you, even after you acted like a bitch. Honestly, you almost wish he'd just yell at you instead. But he doesn’t, his eyes widen and he immediately sits up straight letting the blanket fall to the floor as he pulls you up to sit on his lap. 

He shushes you, his hands finding your waist where he rubs soothing soft circles into the fabric of your tank top, “Hey, why are you crying? I’m here…please don’t get upset, Y/N.”

His kindness only amplifies your guilt. 

"I'm so sorry," you stifle in short sobs, your voice almost cracking. "I should've talked to you about the job offer before signing the contract... I-I didn't mean to act so selfishly. I just... I wasn't thinking."

Mark gives you a half-smile as he runs a hand through your hair. "It's okay, baby... You got caught up in your dream. I'm sorry for not realising that. I'm the one being selfish by always expecting you to put me first."

"No—"

He interrupts you to continue his apology. "You were right, you know. I always expect you to wait for me while I'm on tour. I never considered it from the other side, with me waiting for you... But I will. I'll wait because I know how much this job means to you."

Your face buries itself in the crook of his neck as you cry even harder, and he tuts gently while rubbing your back.

"Please don’t cry, Y/N," he murmurs softly. "I hate seeing you upset."

"Can’t help it," you muffle. "I hate that I upset you…"

Mark pulls you away from his neck, needing to look into your eyes as he speaks. "It's normal for couples to argue, baby. We just need to promise to communicate better, okay?"

His fingers stroke your cheeks again, and you lean into his touch. The warmth of his hand feels so comforting as if he was made to soothe your skin, the only person capable of bringing you relief. You bite your lip and nod against his palm, because you're more than willing to work on your communication if it means never feeling like this again.

"Now, give me a smile. You know, the pretty one I like," he says with a laugh. "If I'm not going to see you for the next six months, I don’t want one of our last moments together to be so... sad."

You smile at him and press your forehead against his with a whisper. "Me neither.”

You’re so close to each other that you’re practically sharing the same breath, if you had said that two hours ago you wouldn’t have believed yourself. But here you are, lips so close that your heavy breathing practically begs him to kiss you.

Mark feels it too, so when he does, it's like the softness of his lips is a bandage, mending the angry tension between the two of you. It patches up the last few hours that have transpired, and when he pulls away, it feels as if nothing even happened.

His hands grip your hips firmly, his fingers pressing down as he guides your body to grind against his clothed crotch. His lips find yours again, accompanied by a groan that escapes into your mouth. It's only when you feel him harden beneath you that you remember he was half-naked on the sofa – clearly after you locked him out of the bedroom.

Suddenly feeling suffocated by your own clothes, you pull away from him to strip off your tank top, tossing it over your head before discarding it somewhere in the living room. You yearn to meet his lips again – the only place you truly feel safe – but Mark wants to savour the way you look. Your clothed cunt eagerly grinding against his hard-on, hips chasing a high so eagerly that your bra strap has slid loosely down your arm.

You're a vision, Mark thinks, one that has him salivating and desperate to fuck you. He almost curses at himself for nearly ruining it all, for nearly walking out on the most beautiful person on the planet, the best sex he's ever had – and not only that but also the funniest, sweetest person he knows he'll ever meet.

He leans into your neck, his nose nuzzling into you as he whispers softly, "I'm sorry... so sorry, Y/N." His hand leaves your hips to cup your breast over your bra, massaging the mound with just enough pressure to elicit soft moans from your lips.

“‘s okay,” you whimper. 

Your head falls back as his hand snakes around to unclasp it. He wastes no time brushing his intrusive fingers down your chest, wearing a filthy smirk because he knows just how sensitive you are there. The tip of his finger circles around your nipple until he’s right in the centre, feeling it harden under his touch. He pinches it, and you jolt forward on his cock, making his boxers tighten, and he groans.

He loves how responsive you were to him, watching you writhe over him as he touched you in torturous pleasure. Just the way you arch your back into his touch has pre-cum leaking out of his cock. 

He leans in this time, sucking on your nipple and opening wide to get as much of the tender tissue of your breast in his mouth as possible. He holds your waist in place to keep you grinding on him to entice enough friction for him to feel good too. 

And when he looks down to see where the two of you meet, he moans when he sees the wet patch leaking through your shorts onto his boxers. 

“Fuck, so wet for me, baby. Just for me.”

You whimper, and his hand slips into the hem of your shorts. You’re glad you never wear panties to bed because his fingers find your clit immediately, relieving you of some of the neediness you’ve been feeling from grinding down on him. He rubs small circles as his mouth licks and sucks and nips at your bud. 

“Mark…” 

“Shhh baby,” he coos, “wanna make it up to you. Please let me make it up to you, let me make you feel good.” 

You whimper with a nod of your head, humping into his hand, legs opening wider to give him easier access to the place you’re most sensitive. You let out mild pants, hips bucking more aggressively from the stimulation on both your nipple and clit.

And when Mark notices you getting close, he pulls off your tit to look up at your face. It’s his favourite part — watching your features contort when the bliss is at its highest. It makes his chest swell with pride knowing he’s the one making you cum, knowing his touch is enough to make you shake and moan. And if he wasn’t such a selfish lover, he’d think the sight is something everyone should see at least once.

As you come down from your orgasm, your eyes flutter open to meet him. Mark doesn’t know whether it’s from seeing your orgasm paired with the argument from earlier but he’s the hardest he’s ever been. 

You notice it too, looking down and giggling. “Now it’s my turn to make it up to you.” 

He lets out a soft huff, and a muscle in his jaw twitches with his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat before he nods. You free his cock from his boxers and shimmy yourself out of your shorts. You let out identical gasps when your bare cunt brushes against the tip of his cock. 

Slowly, you sink onto him, fully feeling him inside of you. Your head falls forward, your forehead resting against his shoulder as you take in the size of him, the way he fills you just right — the way he always does. 

The stretch as you take him in never gets old, eliciting the same whimpers and whines. You can feel his hands resting on your hips, then slipping to the bend of your waist, silently urging you to move as he presses you downwards.

You lift your hips, slow and steady as you let the sensations wash over you, drawing a low groan from deep in his chest. His grip on your body tightens as you sink back down, blunt nails digging into your skin. The sounds he makes only drive you further into finding a teasing rhythm because his voice is just so pretty. The sounds are soon muffled to your disappointment when his mouth presses into your skin, so his tongue can slide along the top of your breast — making the disappointment fade away real quick. 

You let out a breathy cry, hands rising from where they’ve been resting, flattening against his chest, to wrap around his shoulders. The slow pace you’d adopted was becoming not enough. And you could tell from the way Mark is rutting his hips up to meet you, he shares the same sentiment. 

Your mouths collide as you pick up the pace, using his shoulders to leverage yourself as you bounce up and down on his cock. When he breaks from the kiss, an unrestrained groan slips past his lips, low and rough, followed by another, and you have to bite back a whimper of your own.

Mark can’t help the noises, he just loves the way you swivel your hips in a way that makes him see stars. He loves watching you work yourself on him for pleasure – he loves when you ride him.

And right when you squeeze around him, he rewards you with a loud, obscene groan, a sound that makes you dizzy and limp. Everything about Mark is intoxicating and downright addicting, and you were in no hurry to kick that addiction. In fact, you craved more of it – needed more. 

You grab his hands and guide them across your body. He squeezes them at your hips, smoothing across your thighs, your stomach. His hands were everywhere, eyes dark and desperate, wordlessly begging for you to give him what he needed, the same thing he’d been kind enough to already give you. 

So you rock yourself forward, providing a new type of friction that makes you whine helplessly into his skin. Blunt nails mark into the plush of your thighs, a futile attempt at grounding himself. The upward thrust of his hips and the strained catch of his breath tells you that he's growing impatient. You know the pace was slow, but damn it, it felt so fucking good to feel him like this, every inch of him sliding into you, hitting all the spots that makes your brain stop working. It also felt like a sick little way to get revenge...

“Faster,” you hear him say. “Please baby, need it faster.”

You could feel his hips bucking up to meet you. Then his thumb finds your clit, working in circles and making you squeeze around him with a shrill, gasping cry. It was his attempt at bargaining with you, doing anything to make you speed up and shamelessly fuck yourself on his cock. Maybe if he pleases you, you’ll let him cum.

“Please fuck me properly baby, need it,” he rasps, “You want me to forgive you right?”

And then you remember what led you here in the first place. You’d upset him and now you’re teasing him – you suppose it’s only fair if you pick up the pace a little more, fuck him messily and desperately enough to have him dizzying towards his climax. 

And once you do, his thrusts grow sloppier, and your thighs start aching. It feels too fucking good so all that you can do is cling to him and let him take the lead, strong hands guiding you as he sucks against your neck. And even though you’re supposed to be the one making him cum, you find yourself buried in the crook of his neck, gasping as your walls clench and nails dig into the skin of his strong back. 

The slight stinging sensation is enough to work Mark over the edge, and you feel him twitch inside of you, sending shock waves up your spine as he fucks his cum inside of you with a final powerful thrust. You roll your hips to help him along, taking all you can get from him and he moans his appreciation as you do. 

You remain tangled up in one another as you come down from your respective highs with foreheads pressed close. You wrestle to find his hand, lacing your fingers with his as he rubs his thumb over your knuckles. He kisses your nose, then your lips, with a tenderness that makes your heart feel like it’s being squeezed. 

You don’t want to move just yet, so you release your hands and wrap them around his neck, nuzzling your nose against his before you speak.

"Mark?" You mumble, your voice tired and hazy. He hums in response.

"I’m sorry," you say softly.

You feel his smile against your mouth before he kisses your lips. "It’s okay, baby. I don’t even remember what we were fighting for."

[gglitch1dd]

I have a few problems with you.

First of all, your deku work is nice and everything, but honestly you seem like some anti-feminist in sheep's clothing. Why can't reader ever be strong? Why can't they be a hero or fight back or stand at the same pedestal as Deku? It's always reader being this weak little submissive wife that makes him food and gives him babies.

Also I hate that you constantly shit on Katsuki and Ochaco. It's weird. Just say you don't like her because she's the main female protagonist of the show.

And also, maybe you're just some conservative weirdo, but why don't you ever use he/him reader or use trans readers? Or be a bit more inclusive?

Wow. Okay. That's quite something. I've been avoiding answering this but let me try.

Hey Anon, first of all, I pray that God gives you peace in your heart. I don't know who hurt you because it wasn't me, but I hope you know that you don't have to be so offended with the things I write. You don't like it? Swipe left. If it isn't your tea? Go back. If you aren't seeing what you want to be seeing, find another author.

Let me comment on what you said first. Bold of you to say that because reader (that is married to Izuku) isn't a hero and is a housewife, that she is weak. She's not. She's strong. What's wrong with being feminine or being a housewife and being happy that way? I personally like reading stories with such a more domestic reader (as I myself don't like the idea of working for the rest of my life and actually prefer being at home), and I filled in the gap where other people weren't writing for that.

Reader doesn't just keep quiet and pop out babies. She's a strong woman with a good husband that's willing to be good for her and she's a strong mother too. If you think all a stay at home mom does is pop out babies and praise her husband, you're mistaken.

I've already explained my deal with Katsuki and Ochaco, I'm not going to explain it again.

Finally, if you're offended by my writing, don't read it. Simple. Ignore it. Not everyone has to cater for everything the else I'd be here for a long time. I don't hate other types of readers, and I wish I could write for them. I can't. I include them in other ways through characters close to the reader in the story. I'm being inclusive. Katsuki being AFAB but using he/him pronouns in 'A Wishful Time' is me being inclusive. Mina being black in non-quirk aus and Sero being Latino is me being inclusive.

It's a shame you don't like my work but that's okay👍🏿 I hope you find an author that caters to your tastes more.

-Glitch1d

[amica-aenigmata-naboo]

Savior

Mizu x Y/N - drabble - 1.1K WC

Masterlist

Warnings: prostitution, attempted SA (not too detailed just implied), Mizu being sexy, he/him pronouns for Mizu

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

You had never met someone with eyes like yours. You wore glasses every day, the world appearing dark and dim because of them. You worked for Madame Kaji; being left on a brothel's doorstep as an infant. She saved you from the cold and raised you. She couldn’t stand to watch you be a prostitute, you were practically her own. So she made you useful in other ways. Fetching things for her, cooking, cleaning, always making sure the girls had whatever they needed. You also managed to learn quite a bit of judo. A necessity as you got older, mens wandering eyes and rough hands attempting to take you more often than you would like to admit. Today was no different, you had gathered all the groceries you had been sent to get. You prepared soup for you and Madame Kaji before she had to go and tend to the clients. You only really got to see her in brief moments like these. 

“Good evening mama.” you smiled sweetly at her as you set her bowl in front of her before giving her cheek a delicate kiss. 

She smiled at you before she started eating, “I want you to be careful today.” she said.

“I’m always careful.” you shrugged.

“No, I mean it.” she said as she forcefully set her spoon down. “We have dangerous company.”

You nodded, not wanting to further vex her. You both ate in silence, content with the atmosphere. You both stood, you going to clean.  Madame Kaji’s hand grabbed your wrist before you could make your swift exit. She pulled you back to her before she tucked your hair behind your ears. She slipped your glasses off, you squinted as you adjusted to the light. 

“Rain child,” she said as she kissed your cheek, “how beautiful you are.” 

You smiled and leaned into her touch. Nobody but her and the other prostitutes knew of your eyes. Everyone in the village assumed you were blind, not caring much in general about some whore mongers bastard child. Even Boss Hamata didn’t want you. You preferred it that way; better to be simple and plain than to attract every twisted glance that held nothing but malcontent. She left the small room. As you cleaned you couldn’t help but wonder what company she spoke of. To be fair, most of the usuals were harmless. But there will always be those who enjoy the pain of others. 

You made your way down the hall; watching Ise shrug her Kimono back on as she walked out of one of the many rooms. She gave you a small smile before walking into the parlor to fetch her next client. You shuffled into the room, starting to clean it before one of the girls needed it. Straightening the table, refilling the sake, wiping the sweat and regret off the floor mats. You knew none of the girls liked this work. But you looked at all of them like sisters, you felt their pain and sorrow. You often snuck them sweets Madame Kaji bought for you two to share. Life could always be a little sweeter, even in a small regard. You were almost finished cleaning when you heard what sounded like someone stumbling into the room. You turned and saw a man. Not a regular, tall and stocky. He swayed slightly, alcohol reeking from him. You bowed as you stepped back, putting space between you.

“You’re a… pretty one.” he hiccuped out as he shut the door behind him.

Your heart started racing, nothing good happens behind closed doors here. He stomped over to you harshly dragging you to the ground. He tried to pin you but you kicked him in the shoulder, sending him back. You scrambled up, almost reaching the door when he pulled you by the edge of your kimono. You fell to the ground, stomach against the floor. He held you down with one hand while the other pulled up your skirts. You sobbed and let out one shriek before he shoved your face into the floor, breaking your glasses in half. Your muffled sobs were all that remained. You heard the door fly open and saw a flash of red splatter the walls, a few drops dotting your face. You froze, shock finally settling in as you realize what almost happened to you. Foreign hands rolled you over deftly, you heard their distant voice and saw them through your tunnel vision. 

“Are you ok?” he asked, blue eyes meeting yours. 

He leaned over top of you, arms on either side of your head. You both gawked at each other until you heard running down the hallway. Madame Kaji and a few other prostitutes rushed in. The scowl on your mothers face horrified you. She shoved the blue eyed stranger off you before raising her hand to strike him.

“How dare you touch them!” she shouted. 

You caught her wrist right before she could make impact, “No mama! It wasn’t him.” you rushed out. 

You looked towards the corpse in the opposite corner which was cut in half. You felt the mystery man's hands gently close your kimono which you hadn’t realized fell open. You blushed at his kindness, his respect. Madame Kaji helped you up, a slight shake in your legs from the fear of it all. She walked you to your room but not before you saw which room the blue eyed man entered. As you waited you couldn’t help but think of his eyes, his gentle yet rough hands. Your mind wandered, wanting to know how his lips felt. You shook your head as you made your way to his room, slipping inside silently. 

The samurai’s eyes immediately found yours, yet he remained silent.

“May I sit?” you asked softly.

He nodded. 

“I wanted to thank you…” you said, “I also wanted… to see…” your thoughts tapered out, embarrassed of what you truly wanted to ask. “Your eyes.”

He held a look you couldn’t place an emotion to, “Sit.” is all he said.

You sat closer than he expected, faces inches apart. You knew this position was unbecoming but you didn’t seem to care. You had only ever seen one other person with different eyes, Yuko the prostitute with green eyes and golden hair. But these were blue, just like yours. You admired them looking at the beautiful samurai overall after a while and not just his eyes. 

Your hand came up to gently cradle his face. You moved on instinct, giving him a chaste kiss before leaning back, “Thank you…”

“Mizu.” he answered after a moment, lips buzzing from the brief yet sweet kiss. 

“Thank you Mizu.” you said before bowing and swiftly exiting the room. 

Your heart raced, and little did you know, so did Mizu’s.

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

Naboo's Note:

Hello! My first Blue Eyed Samurai post! YAYYYYYY! It's been a long time coming given my obsession with the show but better late than never! Thank you for all the likes and comments, super motivating! XOXOXOXOXOXOX

[theroundbartable]

(sending hugs)

what are your thoughts about aithusa? personally i love her way to much, but she rarely comes up in fandom discourse

HEY :D Thoughts about AIthusa, huh? I have many of those. Thoughts, I mean. In my brain. They like to swim around and create a whole mess of things sometimes.

I think the reason why Aithusa doesn't come up in fandom discourse often is because there isn't very much to say. Aithusa was born, then color coded as a sign for the golden future of Camelot and was then abandoned by Merlin. Tortured by a crazy guy. Then raised by Morgana and used to create the sword that later killed Arthur. Whenever they come up in fandom discouse, it's mostly about Merlin doing his job as Dragon Lord right or wrong. But you wanted my thoughts, so I'm gonna allow my head to spin weird shit around the ungendered Dragon. (That is why I will use they/them pronouns for Aithusa.) When it comes to Aithusa's name, not the canon translation, I mean what it literally means, it's hard to find, since they used old English for the language of magic, and I think Greek for the language of the Dragon Lords (which doesn't necessarily have to apply to the Dragon names) and I haven't seen anyone make a post about it. All I get from Google translate is "Hey you" in Gaelic and that's a bit useless. Or well, this:

The automatic language recognition in Google would let me interpret Aithusa as a gift to the world. Or Arthur, depending on your shipping interests. Or, you know, if I could make up the Old English maybe pseudo-parts of the word (the writers were very lazy in BBC Merlin, they are literally quoting Beowulf when Merlin magics the blue ball in the poisoned chalice.). Something fitting I found in my old English dictionary is agan, meaning to possess, and to own, and thus (spelled with a thorn which my keyboard doesn't have) meaning as follows. So, in my absolutely amateurish and interpretational, and way too far reaching ways, I would say Aithusa could mean: A(gan) thus (a): To own the future.

(Again, you asked for my thoughts, this is not canon and probably pointless, I just needed to go down this route first.)

In the fandom wiki, we find THESE informations on Aithusa.

So, things we do know are very few

Aithusa is a baby

Aithusa was tortured and is therefore crippled

Aithusa cannot talk

Aithusa probably has Stockholm Syndrom because of Morgana

But you know, I think it's very interesting to know that Aithusa is the Light of the Sun, the literal sign for a Golden Future and that very sign can be hurt by a mere human. Not only does this mean that humans can kill Dragons (the Dragon lore doesn't make any sense, I swear to god) but it's also meant to be symbolism. Merlin, just like Arthur, is shown to be his own doom through Aithusa. They are hidden, tortured, kept from living their truth, abandoned by everyone who should be leading and protecting them.

With Aithusa being born it means that at that point, Merlin had already fulfilled his destiny. At this point in time, the golden age is already there and it should have been a sign for Merlin to speak up about his magic. He never did, that's why Aithusa remains mute. And just like magic itself, when harmed or in danger, Aithusa can easily be used for evil.

Apart from the symbolism and their part in Arthur's death, Aithusa doesn't contribute much to the story, I think. Yes, they console Morgana and they are like the continuation of the Dragon lineage, but that's ultimately pointless. Aithusa will be, inevitably, be the last Dragon. Which is honestly really cruel, but again, parallel to Merlin himself. That's where Aithusa's arc ends, unfortuntaley. Personally, knowing all that, I find Aithusa hard to use as the character they are in canon. With what little defines their character, you have to ultimately change everything about them to use them in fun fics and comics and stuff. That's why they end up as a little dog creature so often.

Don't get me wrong, I love Aithusa. But I love FANON Aithusa, just like I prefer fanon Sir Leon over canon Sir Leon. Because fanon Aithusa is like a domesticated chicken that Merlin keeps in his rooms or fights custody over with Morgana while Arthur is either oblivious, supportive, or being gaslit. But maybe I am overlooking a lot of things. So, if any of you like to disagree or add anything to my points, feel free to engage ^^

[ghostflowerhotpotch]

How do you think the spider gang would react to Gwen coming out as trans? I think they'd all be supportive, but I'm curious if you have details

I am going to be honest with you anon, I had been looking at this question for weeks, thinking about it, and...I am not coming up with much.

I am trans, I don't have that much experience with people reacting to that- and I am not making any more comments about that.

Going back to the original question- I think all of them would be supportive; regardless of background or history, I feel doing anything else would be a disservice to the characters, and also, a type of story I really don't have interest entertaining, (Would Noir, being from 40s, be reasonable to have his apprehensions and need to overcome it? Yes, I am interested in seeing something like that? Personally, fuck no.)

Now, it doesn't mean there cannot be hiccups- all well intending, of course.

(Specific characters under the cut because, as always with me, it got long.)

Peter B I see going over the top; talking how brave Gwen is, and that he supports her no matter what, he also reads a book on trans people and tell hims about the people in his universe who are trans. Gwen appreciates it, but it can be uncomfortable at times.

Noir, regardless of time period, would be supportive, but mixes up terminology. The poor guy already struggles with the pop culture lingo, so throwing queer lingo into the mix can make things awkward; specially since, as a spider-man, he has defended the marginalized people of his dimension and is aware of the community, but- that community had its own terminology that may not be appreciated to day. Is a growing curve.

In my opinion, Ham is a much of a man as Bugs Bunny, meaning gender isn't as important as commitment to the bit; so I can see him busting a dress all of the sudden and saying "I get you sis." Accordingly, if asked about his own gender, he is pretty much "normally a guy, but in general whatever fits better with the scene."

Peni I headcanon as nonbinary, so I think she would be happy to meet another person who isn't cis. Definitely would have lots of talk about presentation, tricks for clothes a make up, the works.

Margo is cool about it, there isn't much to say there; she just tells Gwen that it doesn't change anything between them, and she is still invited to come for the slumber parties (Margo has thrown a bunch in the Spider-Society, because anything to spend as little time mentally at home as possible.)

Pavitr: "Oh so you are like a hijra? That's so cool!" (This is a term from a place I am not from, so I can't talk in length about it, feel free to look it up because it is indeed, very cool.) While not the same, he ends up telling more about how people in his dimension see transgender people, Gwen finds it overall really interesting.

Hobie is, of course, cool about it. He is a punk, noncomformist, and "hates labels," he could probably tell Gwen a stupid amount of things about queer history, intersectionally, so far and so forth. Despite using he/him pronouns, I believe with all my heart Hobie would not give a shit about gender roles and dress how he likes, and be okay with any pronouns. This has nothing to do with your question, but I headcanon that Hobie has been the queer awakening of many other teens of the Spider-Society as he strolls down in whatever outfit he feels like it.

Now Miles, is obviously supportive. I think he may be oblivious to many things (I headcanon him as bi for a long awhile, but I am not sure if that's something he knows already or has yet to discover,) so he asks questions, but is always respectful and has no trouble answering. Overall, Gwen thinks is cute how much Miles dotes on her, and reminding her that she will always be the prettiest girl alive to him.

Huh, I guess I had more to say that I expected, this was fun! Thanks for the question and sorry for the delay.

[riri-twix]

Can We Become We?

Chapter 2: Just an Arrangement

Summary: Satoru, Suguru, and you are forced into a marriage by your families for economic reasons. Satoru who doesn’t know what it’s like to love or be loved. Suguru who believes he is undeserving of anyone’s love. And you who didn’t want to love in the first place.

The three of you agree to stay out of each other’s business, and save the relationship acts only for the elders who imposed this on you. But what happens when feelings for each other start to develop?

She/her pronouns for reader | use of y/n | no smut in in this chapter

You can also read it on ao3 here

Satoru was leaning back onto the couch, a foot over his knee, and an arm slung around the back. He looked relaxed on the outside, but on the inside, there was a knot in his stomach, only growing tighter by the second.

His expression is blank, turning his head left, then right, then left again, as he follows his father. The man has been pacing back and forth in the living room with quick, determined steps for the past five minutes. It was almost like being caught up in a tennis match, Satoru thought.

“Twenty minutes!” His father grits out, his voice rising in pitch as he struggles to keep his anger under control. “They said they’d arrive in twenty minutes!”

And it’s only been twenty-one. Satoru rolls his eyes and sinks further into the couch. His dad was always on a rush in every situation, always trying to control everything and everyone in his life.

This is just a dinner, for crying out loud. Satoru throws his head back on the couch and closed his eyes, trying to ignore his father's bitching about everything. He needs learn how to relax.

“You should stop stressing, baby.” Came the voice of his mother. He was almost certain that she didn’t even look up from her phone as she said that. “It’s not a good look on you.”

“Oh?” There was a smirk to his father’s tone. “Then what is?”

“Hmm?” Okay, now his mother definitely put down her phone. “I have a few ideas. Maybe… I can try them out…”

Eww. If Satoru could roll his eyes while they were closed, he would’ve done it a million times. Instead, he takes a deep breath and lets it out in a loud gag, taking the liberty to even stick his tongue out for better efficiency. An opportunity to piss off his parents? He’ll take it.

“Satoru.” He could almost feel the glare his father sent his way.

“Yes?” A smirk plays on his lips, satisfied that he was able to get on his father’s nerves. “You know, you could just get a room. Then you won’t have to worry about me bothering you.”

Before his father could throw a shoe or the closest object at Satoru’s head, a number of footsteps walks into the room.

“Sir.” Satoru’s eyes peel open when he hears the smooth, even voice of their butler addressing his father. “The Geto family is here.”

Satoru feels his body freeze, a wave of uneasiness washes over him, churning over and over in his stomach as the retreating footsteps of the butler fade away. The steady beating of his heart grows louder in his ears.

The whole point of this gathering was for him and his… fiancés? To meet before tomorrow’s public wedding. He knew that. So why was he feeling so nervous? He takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself down, but the more he tries to focus on his breathing, the more he feels the tension rising inside of him.

“You must be Suguru.” The words come out of his father's mouth like clockwork, a well-rehearsed tone that Satoru has heard so many times before. Used for formalities, always accompanied with a jarring, toothy smile. Fake as shit.

“The pleasure is mine, sir.”

Satoru can’t, and for the most part, doesn’t, stop himself from lifting his head the moment that soft voice fills his ears. His eyes automatically land on Suguru, who had his head bowed politely at his father, before straightening up again, a friendly smile on his face.

His face immediately contorts in distaste. Because what the hell’s up with those bangs? And also because he doesn’t know what else to do. He exhales a scoff through his nose and throws his head back again, silently hoping that no one noticed the way his face grew hot.

He didn’t want to look at him anyway. And he definitely did not, in any way, want to look at the way Suguru’s shoulders and chest complimented him so perfectly in that light button up, tucked in neatly under those deep blue pants-

ThE pLeASurE iS mine, SiR. He mocks in his head, interrupting those unwarranted thoughts. Pathetic. He was probably just like every other person who meets his father. None of them give a shit about how stingy or ruthless he is, just interested in the money and power that came from being connected to him.

Suguru didn’t know what to expect when he walked through the automatic sliding gate of the big, no, ginormous Gojo estate. He’s only ever seen places like these from the outside. The air inside was heavy with the smell of leather and rich mahogany, a far cry from the familiar scent of his own home.

It didn’t fit with him. He didn’t belong here.

He hadn't spoken a word to his parents since they told him the news, stuck in a state of shock and disbelief. His appetite had faded so much that he could hardly bring himself to eat. He spent the last two nights tossing and turning, his mind plagued by his own thoughts of what was going to happen.

Still, he thought, none of that was a good enough reason not to make himself look presentable. If there was one thing that Suguru couldn’t do, it was being rude enough to show up as a guest without attempting to look decent.

And now, Suguru's heart raced as he stood before Satoru's father, feeling as if the older man was staring directly into his soul. He tried to keep his emotions in check, leaving the smile on his face as he fought the urge to flee.

His eyes flicker briefly over the older man’s shoulder, falling onto the exposed throat of the man he was to marry, his head flopped back over the couch.

His gaze quickly returns back onto Satoru’s father when he realises that its rude not to focus his attention. He takes a deep breath, hoping that he doesn't seem too nervous as he clears his throat and tries to steady his voice.

“I apologise for being late.” He offers, stepping to the side to introduce his parents. “This is my father, and my mother.”

His parents step up, both giving a small, polite bow, introducing themselves as they did. 

But Suguru can’t focus on the words, his curiosity distracting him from the conversation taking place in front of him. He leans slightly to the side, trying to get another peek at Satoru. He wonders what’s going on through his mind, but the sight of his expressionless face makes it hard to tell. But one thing was clear. Satoru wasn’t happy.

Suguru opted to furrow his eyebrows instead of rolling his eyes. Because of course the prodigal son wouldn’t be happy about marrying some no body whose family owns nothing but a farm. Suguru almost scoffed out loud. Used to own nothing but a farm. Now they had nothing.

Suguru was nothing. And compared to Satoru, he might as well cease to exist. No doubt, Satoru hated his guts, all because his parents were petty enough to sell him off.

If he were Satoru, he would’ve hated himself too.

“Please, don’t wait for an invitation.” Suguru looks back to Satoru’s father, who now had an arm wrapped around his wife’s waist beside him. When did she get there? The older man gestures towards the cream-coloured velvet couch. “Please take a seat.”

His parents don’t need to be told twice, quickly scampering towards the seat with small ‘thank you’.

“Satoru, you’re an adult, for Christ’s sake. Sit properly in front of our guests.”

Suguru watches in silence as Satoru's father scolds him, before his feet finally start moving. He makes his way to the opposite end of the couch Satoru was on. The white-haired man sighed, long and loud, before straightening his posture. He doesn’t even glance once in Suguru’s direction.

Suguru suddenly feels insulted. Sure, he gets it in a way, that this wasn’t Satoru’s choice and all, but he didn’t get much of a choice either. Did he think himself all high and mighty that much? And why the hell was he wearing sunglasses indoors?

Suguru swallows his pride. Breath in. Smile.

He doesn’t know why he was taking Satoru’s bullshit personally. It’s not like they were in this whole thing for love. The least he could do is tolerate. Maybe, he thinks, hopefully, he silently prays, you’re not going to be an asshole as much as Satoru. Then at least it will be easier for him.

“This way, please.” The voice of the butler who had just recently escorted him and his family, catches Suguru’s attention.

“Ah finally.” Satoru’s father sighs, clapping once and rubbing his palms together. “Our bride is here.”

You and your parents were the last to arrive at the Gojo estate. You didn’t want to be here, didn’t want to meet your ‘soon-to-be husbands’ or their parents. It doesn’t matter what your parents say, or how childish it is, you’re going to frown through this entire gathering.

Unfortunately, that was easier said than done. Because your jaw dropped open in awe the moment you were let in through the gates.

The house, if you could even call it that, was big, huge in fact. So large that you imagine you could fit your entire home five times over, and still have room to spare. It wasn’t surprising, considering that the Gojo family was well known for their wealth.

By the double front doors, you were greeted by an old, but not that old looking man. Your eyes trail from his face down to his clothes, taking in the formal black suit and small bow, and you realise he must be the butler – they even had a butler.

He guides you in, leading you down the hall into a large room that looked a bit too formal to be called a living room, where you find yourself standing before a six-person audience. All heads turned to you.

After a quick scan of everyone’s faces, your eyes fall onto Satoru. He looks at you with hard, judging eyes, his expression impenetrable behind the sunglasses that cover them.

You can't help but notice the uncanny resemblance to his father - the imposing figure seated on the opposite couch - with his white hair and angular jawline. His full lips and sharp nose, on the other hand, seem to be a hallmark of his mother's features.

Your gaze then shifts to Suguru, who looks at you with a curious gaze. His striking beauty is almost otherworldly, with peaceful, cat-like eyes and a delicate jawline. A gentle masculinity softened so slightly by feminine features.

He's the type of gorgeous that you can't look away from, and you feel yourself drawn to him, almost instinctively.

Both of them, Satoru and Suguru weren’t the creepy old men you were dreading they’d be - thank God. And although they seemed like complete opposites, were equally handsome.

And just like that, the frown that has long since left your face, decides to make a re-entrance. Because what the hell? You were against this whole thing. You were forced into it, expected to go along with it like it's some kind of game. You can’t be thinking like that about the men who didn’t even choose you.

“Well? What are you waiting for, dear?” Satoru’s mother smiles too tightly, her tone way too sweet. “Come and have a seat. Make yourself at home.”

No introduction where needed, because apparently your parents had already met the Gojo’s before during business. Like this is any different.

While there was plenty of free space, it almost seemed like she was being overly obvious for you to take the seat between Satoru and Suguru. So you do. But you make sure to leave a comfortable distance on either side. You suppress the urge to run your fingers over the velvet.

“Aren’t you all just so cute?” Satoru’s mother coos, pulling out her phone. A flash of white momentarily blinds you. “This is going to be perfect for my page.” She beams at her screen.

“Why don’t we all head over to the dining room?” Satoru’s father suddenly suggests. “Let’s give the kids some alone time to get to know each other.”

Your parents all voice their agreements, following Satoru’s mother as she leads them out of the main hall. But Satoru’s father stays behind. Something feels off. He doesn’t say anything. The silence stretches on for what feels like an eternity, and you start to wonder if he is ever going to speak.

Satoru wanted nothing more than to throw his head into his hands. He knew that this was just the way his father was before starting one of his ‘I am too important for this world’ speeches.

“Listen closely.” Satoru’s father starts, his tone low and calm, yet there’s a hint of warning in it. It reminds you of how Vito Corleone talks in the Godfather, just without the Italian accent. “My family’s reputation,” Satoru lets out a groan at that, rolling his eyes dramatically as his father continued to talk. “And my reputation. They are very important to me.”

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel a little bit intimidated.

“I’m pretty sure they know that, dad.” Satoru grits out, huffing and turning his cheek to the side. “Who doesn’t?”

“Precisely.” His father arches one of his snow-white eyebrows. “Tomorrow is your wedding-”

“Pretty sure they know that too-” Satoru cuts in, earning himself a pointed glare, but he doesn’t give two shits. It kind of makes you feel a bit better, the way Satoru was being so nonchalant.

“And many important people will attend, including the Gojo family elders.” His father goes on. “You three, and I mean you two in particular,” He uses two fingers to points at you and Satoru, “would do well to know what you’re dealing with now. Fix those attitudes.”

A pang of irritation spikes up. Is he the one to talk about attitudes? Because you could list down a number of things he needs to fix. The first one being to find himself a therapist.

“I don’t want the elders talking badly about us. They are in charge of all our affairs and if they sense any problems, it won’t be good.” Satoru’s father huffs, throwing his hands in the air. “You look like you’re going to be attending a funeral rather than your own wedding!”

And just like that, Satoru snaps.

“Why do they care?!” His voice was loud and filled with venom. “Why the fuck, do they give so much shits about our lives?!”

“Because our family name is one of the most influential throughout all of Japan!” His father spits right back. “And I will NOT have you taint it!”

Your muscles were tense the entire time, heart caught up in your throat at the rising tension. Satoru doesn’t respond, and his father suddenly turns around, taking a deep breath as if to compose himself.

“I don’t care how much you hate it.” He says, calmly. It was as if the yelling that happened seconds ago never existed. He flashes a smile over his shoulder, that almost made you believe it was real. “Act like you want this. You understand?”

And with that, he leaves.

Your eyes dart over to Satoru. His hands were clenched so tight that his knuckles turned white. He was gritting his teeth, the gaze of his sunglasses planted firmly on a spot on the floor. You instantly felt a pang of sympathy at the unfair treatment he got. Did this happen to him all the time?

A part of you wanted to reach out and comfort him. But you also know that getting involved might only make the situation worse.

Satoru finally speaks, his voice sneering. "Listen, I'm telling you from now.” He says, “I don't care why you're here or what you want from my father and this family, but this” He gestures sharply towards the three of you. "Will never be anything more than an act. You won't stick your noses into my life, and I won't stick mine into yours. I don't care what you do, just leave me out of it."

Despite the harsh tone in those words, you felt a wave of relief wash over you for some reason. That didn’t sound all that bad. It hits you that maybe, just maybe you could do that. You can go through the motions without having to actually share any part of your life with them. Shoko and the girls might not need to crash the wedding after all…

“I don’t have any disagreements.” Suguru voiced out, lifting the remaining weight off your chest. No one was opposed to this.

“Me either.”

The person staring back at you in the mirror was… beautiful. You didn’t know you could even look like this.

The light grey wedding dress had a beautiful flowing skirt, draping down to the floor and swirling around your legs as you move. The delicate fabric is a perfect silhouette that falls on you, hugging your body at the waist where a white, silk obi belt is tied in a lovely bow. Several silver outlines of betta fish were adorned the belt, each one catching the light in just the right way.

“You look gorgeous, sweetie.” Came the hushed whisper of the maid doing the finishing touches.

I know, you wanted to say. But the words catch in your throat. It would probably sound rude, even though you could see yourself as clear as day. “Thank you.” You replied instead.

A light knock came from the door. And with it, the beating of your heart only grew louder.

It was time.

A young lady guided you down a wide hallway, fixing and adjusting the back of your dress as you walked, until you reached the opening of a large, opulent lobby, where your father was waiting for you.

He linked arms with you, smiling warmly at you. There was a look of affection filled in his gaze. “I remember the way I used to carry you on my shoulders like it was yesterday.” He whispered, stroking your cheek. “I can’t even carry you anymore.” Words that did nothing to suppress the loathing for him that started days ago.

You don’t say anything, just nodding and turning your head slightly to the side. You didn’t want to start crying, and you didn’t want to forgive him for this either. And with that, he walks you through the double doors.

The buzzing chatter that had filled every corner in the room, suddenly went silent, and all heads turned to you. The whole lobby was filled with large, round tables, every single chair occupied. You silently questioned if the Gojo family had invited the entire population of Japan here.

Your eyes finally settle directly ahead, and there, standing at the end of the aisle, you see them. Satoru and Suguru.

Satoru was wearing a pure, white kimono underneath a white haori jacket. His hakama pants were a baby blue. As for Suguru, he was dressing in the exact same outfit, except it was darker. His kimono and haori jacket were both black, while his pants were a dark grey.

As if their hair wasn’t already enough of a difference.

You’ve been to a couple of weddings before, you’ve seen the way the groom would look at the bride with a love only told from fairytales, or the way the bride can’t stop the smile from forming on her face. Both of them showing nothing but pure happiness.

Chin up. Smile. You felt the corners of your mouth lifting upwards, grinning as best as you could.

But, even with the way Satoru’s face was lit up with a grin that made his face look even more boyish than before, and even with Suguru’s eyes closed into upside down crescents. Anyone could believe it was real, but you knew. There wasn’t a single trace of real happiness on their faces.

You heart started to beat heavily in your ears. Focus on getting one foot in front of the other. Each time you took a step, it was in sync with the pounding in your chest.

Step.

Step.

Step.

All eyes were on you, wide and unblinking, you could see their mouths moving, sharing whispers. But you couldn’t hear anything. Only the inhale and exhale through your teeth, your eyes set on both the white fluffy hair, flowing freely, and the dark strands that were tied into a perfect bun.

You swallow thickly as a wave of nausea washes over you. Your stomach churned over itself, then over again like a tidal wave washing onto the beach. Sick. You were going to be sick.

You don’t even remember when your father had left your side, waving you in the middle of the two men. You keep your head straight ahead at the priest, unwilling to look at neither Satoru nor Suguru.

Something catches your eye. A small detail you couldn’t have noticed from afar. Satoru’s haori. It was embroidered with light blue outlines of betta fish. And Suguru’s too. All over it, outlined in a magnificent purple. Just like his eyes.

You wonder who chose this specific fish-

“Y/n?” The priest snapped you out of your thoughts.

You blink. Was it your turn already?

“Opps, sorry.” You let out a nervous chuckle, and straightened yourself. “With this ring and binding, I promise to be there for you both, day or night, in richer or poorer, in sickness and in health.” You recited your practiced vow with a beaming smile, looking up at Suguru, then to Satoru.

You watch as Satoru reaches for the ring, a small smirk on his face as he takes your hand and slides the band onto your finger in a smooth and effortless motion. You felt a tingle at his touch, but you pushed it away as he released you.

Suguru follows, grabbing the ring and sliding it onto Satoru's finger, his smile bright and warm as he turns to you with a sense of excitement. He almost makes you feel like this whole exchange was natural.

You were next. You breathe in, your hand trembling ever so slightly as you reach out for the ring. Taking Suguru’s hand, you place the golden band on his finger, marking the official completion of the ceremony.

The audience bursts into a round of cheers and applause, filling your ears like distant echoes.

That’s it. It was done. You were now tied to them, and they to you.

chapter1, chapter2, chapter3, chapter4 (coming soon)

taglist: @keira80808

[seb-reads31]

That Hazbin women confessing feeling fluff was very wholesome and I loved to read it. Could you do a similar idea but for a first date and first kiss? still with a shy reader. Feel free to add the angels if you'd like.

Cautions - SPOILERS FOR SEASON 1, cursing duh, niffty biting you (you'll see lmao), a cringy song reference 🤪,

Genre - fluff

Type - head canons

Comments - Ooooo, this sounds so sweet 🥹🥹 I'm so happy to hear you loved the confessions! Like with the confessions, I'm going to separate the demons and angels into two different parts, I hope you don't mind! (Again, Charlie and Vaggie are best friends in this. Implied fem!reader for Vaggie, and male!reader for Niffty. They may or may not have pronouns mentioned in them, cause I mostly use you/your pronouns for readers) I just now realized I forgot ROSIEEEE which makes me sad 😭 (I'll add her into another part I swear just ask 🙏🙏)

Is this the part where we kiss?

Charlie

- Your first date is gonna be a little rough, but it will be worth it

- However, you might be thinking that Charlie chooses to go to a nice restaurant, or a picnic in the park nearby with the least amount of sinners causing bloodshed and such, but no

- She takes you to LULU WORLDDD (I believe that's the original, and not the Mammon knockoff in greed. Let's also assume it's in the pride ring just in case you imagine yourself as a sinner <33) because she enjoys the rides and games there, and wants your first date together to be full of fun and laughter

- You two are a little awkward at first, like on all first dates, but you both very quickly become comfortable in each other's presence again after 1 ride, Charlie very quickly dragging you away to the next ride

- Several roller coasters, a few carnival games, and some over priced carnival food later and you both reach the haunted house!

- A carnival classic, the tunnel of love 💕

- You both looked at it, and silently agreed to go together, hand in hand, eating parts of your cotton candy

- You both climbed into the swan boat, the ride operator saying "Don't have too much fun, love birds~" then sending you both off into the tunnel, your faces burning from the tease

- You both recovered, just to see all sorts of beautiful art that depicted the classic baby Cupid shooting arrows at humans, making them fall in love

- You both awed at the sites, slowly and subconsciously intertwining your hands together again

- The ride was quite long, so you both chatted, about how much fun you're having, what ride you want to go on next, and how cute this ride is

- Suddenly, your eyes catch Charlie's, her giving you a sweet smile, your conversation forgotten, the both of you too lost in the others eyes to keep it going

- Almost as if you both were thinking the same thing, your eyes darted down to her curled lips, wondering how they would feel against yours

- You both looked back up at each other, and slowly leaned in. Just before you kissed, your lips brush against each other, you hesitating to lean fully in.

- Charlie notices, knowing that she wanted your first kiss to be memorable. She gently squeezed your hand, bringing her other to cup your burning cheek, stroking it softly and giving you the most love filled look you had originally thought you would only see in your dreams.

- When you smiled too, she leaned in again, you following suit, leaned in too, kissing her gently. She smiles into the kiss, so happy you kissed her, that you loved her so much to give her your first kiss, and that she belonged to you, and you belonged to her, heart, body, and soul.

Vaggie

- The extermination was coming up, and you were struggling a little with the actual fighting but refused to just stay inside the hotel during it, wanting to fight alongside your girlfriend

- And she appreciated it, and seeing the determination to learn how to fight the angels burn in your eyes made her feel nostalgic in a way

- And so, your training began! She took you to a quieter part of the land outside of the hotel, away from the cannibals that were still training

- She gave you a small selection of blades to choose from, all of which were made of angelic steel, supplied by Carmilla Carmine (Carbine?). As you looked through the weapons, you decided on [y/w] (your weapon) and raised it up to Vaggie. She nodded, then put the rest of the weapons away, then started explaining the best ways to use your weapon

- As she explained, she did a few examples, and answered any questions you had as you went. Eventually, she handed you the weapon, then asked you to do a simple attack. And you did pretty good! Vaggie gave you a small clap, very proud of her girlfriend. She asked you to do a more difficult attack, but not much harder than the first one. You did okay, just needed to adjust some of your posture

- She walked over to you and started adjusting your posture, nudging your foot to the side, adjusting your hold, then her hands went to your waist

- Vaggie didn't even realize where her hands were until you went stiff, then she looked up at your tinted cheeks and realized what happened

- She almost removed her hands from your waist until you muttered a small "w-wait.." and she also went stiff

- You gently drop the angelic weapon on the ground, then put your hands on her shoulders. A blush creeped on her face as well, realizing how close you both were.

- Vaggie's eyes dart down to your lips, then back up to your eyes, when she realized that your eyes were also looking at her lips

- She smirked slightly, then brought a hand up to brush your hair away from your eyes, her other hand going to the small of your back to pull you in closer to her.

- As she tucked your hair behind your ear, she leaned in slightly, tilting her head. As you got on, your blush became deeper, but you still tilted your head to the side, then your lips finally meet

- As soon as it begins, it ends. A small peck, but it spoke a thousand words from Vaggie. "I will protect you, because I'll be your armor." <3

Niffty (nifty?)

- Again, doesn't do shy guys 😭

- If you were to try and kiss her, this crazy bitch would BITE YOU

- So, in other words, remain 6 feet from her at all times if you value your.. undead life

- Like, I love how crazy she is but she literally KILLED THE ADAM

- You do not wanna test her 😭

Carmilla

- You both had been working hard recently, more shipments are being made, gathering the angelic steel from around the pentagram, and lots of paperwork that needed to be done

- You both could feel your backs dying as they hunched over those mounds of paperwork, however your saving graces showed up from a weapons delivery. Clara and Odette (Carmilla's daughters if you didn't know, I sure didn't) opened the doors to Carmilla's office, and tisking at the tiredness in both yours and their mother's eyes.

- That's how you both got kicked out of your own home and forced into a reservation at a nice restaurant lmao

- You both enjoyed your time there, finally relaxing, letting your hair down (OUT FOR LOVEEE) and joking around. Now, on the way home you held each other's hands, talking about how you needed to pay back Clara and Odette for their kindness in getting you out of the house and taking care of the paper work

- As you both returned, you were giggling happily after a story you told from when you were alive. You entered the front door holding onto each other as you hunched over, holding your stomachs from how much you were laughing.

- You both felt so relaxed, especially you, who had some wine at the restaurant and was feeling less shy about showing Camilla affection, and it showed.

- Your giggles died down as you both looked at each other, slowly leaning, and sharing your first kiss.

- As you part, a blush crosses both of your faces and you look away shyly

- Around the corner, Clara and Odette were silently cheering and giving each pats on the back for their perfect set up

[cameronspecial]

Dad!drew and readers kid wants a sibling, so drew and reader have THE conversation

Can We Really Do It?

Pairing: Dad!Drew Starkey x Reader

Warnings: Suggestion of Sex at The End

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 0.6K

Masterlist

Anything Megan wants, she gets. There are boundaries, of course; however, if it is within his power and she is being good, Drew makes it his mission to buy it for her. Today, the little girl comes home from daycare wanting something that her parents can’t just pick up on a run to the store. “Mommy, I want a baby brother,” Megan announces nonchalantly, focusing her attention on eating her snack. The hand drying off a glass freezes, “Why do you ask, Baby?” Megan shrugs and stares at the carrot in her hand. “Stephanie has one and she gets to play with him at home all the time, so I want one too. Can we go to the store tomorrow to get one? I have been a good girl,” she suggests. Y/N sighs and sets the glass on the drying rack, “Unfortunately, Baby, Mommy and Daddy can’t just go to the store and get one. I will have to talk about it with Daddy and if we decide to get one, then it could be a while until we get one.” When her daughter doesn’t reply right away, she knows that Megan has already moved on from the conversation. “Okay, can we play outside after snack?” Megan innocently asks, kicking her legs while she eats the vegetable. 

———

As Y/N returns to her bedroom from the adjoining bathroom, Drew starts taking off the decorative pillows his wife insists on keeping. She joins him at the head of the bed and fluffs their pillows. “So…” she begins, eyes remaining on her task. “Meg asked me about getting a baby brother.” He pauses his actions, getting into bed beside her. “And do we know why she is asking for one?” he pries. She snuggles into his side, “Because Stephanie has one and Meg wants someone to play with.” Drew nods along with her explanation. “I see. I mean… We always talked about wanting more kids. The question was always when,” he reminds her. She leans her head back to rest against the headboard, “We did, but is two years too early? I mean, we always said we would wait until she starts school to start trying.” “That is true. You and your sister have a two-year age gap and you guys turned out fine,” he says. 

“We aren’t my parents though, so it is more so what we are ready for. I love Megan. But sometimes she can be a lot and if we have another kid, we would need to deal with both.”

“Yeah, we would. I’ll be honest. I think that we can do it. We are great parents and we have so much love to give. Maybe another kid would be good for us. However, having a baby affects you physically, so if you aren’t ready to go through that again, then I am perfectly happy to wait.”

Her heart squeezes at his consideration of her needs. Being pregnant was hard, yet the reward of getting to be a parent made it worth it so the pregnancy wasn’t her issue. “I’m fine with the pregnancy. It’s just… Can we really do it?” she thinks out loud, tracing the skin on his forearm. His lips find her temple, “I mean… Can we physically have sex to have a baby? I’m going to say yes considering we did it last night without the baby-making part.” She gives him a shove at his joke. “Be serious. Do you think we can do it?” she chuckles. His smile turns to a straight line, “I do. And in the instant that we think that we can’t, we will have each other to rely on.” She takes a second to process what he is saying and makes her decision. “Okay, let’s do this.”

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming @magicalyoura

[titleknown]

Silly idea I had related to Superman: Terrifying alien monster that shows up in Metropolis at disasters, except... she's not hurting anyone and appears to be helping.

Superman looks into it to see what the deal is, and finds out they were a crashed alien raised by two scientists in secret, who was inspired by Superman's example to help people.

Basically another paralell hero to Superman ala Steel based on the twist of "What if Superman was a far more alien kind of alien but with the same exact sort of personality?"

[mayathescientist]

hello hello I would love to hear about your skye sisters headcanons if you wish to indulge me 👀

OH, WELL. HERE WE GO!

- lana's entire personality is actually sort of shaped by the fact she had to raise a person by herself since she was herself pretty young. she missed out on core parts of socialization, so she's not exactly the best with people, she has a caretaker mode and an interacting with strangers mode, and it hasn't exactly worked the best for making friends; she did learn how to sort of open up and talk about herself and her interests and views on the world in college, but she never really.. demands attention or focuses on herself? it doesn't actually really cross her mind at all. she's well-spoken, thoughtful, has her own set views on the world and is anything but boring, but she only ever drops it Sometimes, like untalkative fathers casually having half a conversation that is so good you start wishing for more but then they just go quiet again, sort of slipping-through-your-fingers sort of person, because she's always sort of been a means to an end. not that she didn't get to show her personality with ema at all, but the conversations they had were mostly her teaching her something, or her making sure she's okay, or her listening and giving ema space to learn conversational skills, talk about her interests, etc - it was all about ema. and I should empathize lana was fine with it. lana was giving large parts of herself up long before rfta began - she ways always living for ema. she sort of just had to. even her fight against crime and pursuit of justice and the maintenance of peace and etcetera were probably Partially rooted in a desire to give ema (everyone else too, but especially ema) a better world to live in. she's ultimately defined by how deeply self-sacrificially she loves. she's a lot like nahyuta in that regard.

- ema hates how self-sacrificial lana is. lana never flaunted it in her face or demanded any gratitude - that's not why. I think it's rather about something that peaked in rfta and probably showed in small moments here and there before that. lana closes off to suffer in silence. she probably tried to never let ema see that she was struggling in any way, and it could have manifested in her sort of getting lost in herself and just being cold and quiet and not showing as much attention to ema as usual, and until ema was old enough, that surface level of the problem Was the problem, but later ema inevitably starting to understand lana was just running away not to let her help. later ema inevitably starting to understand the things that were being done for her were not easy and they were being done in noble suffering For Her Sake. and, being a teenager that she was, ema would yell at lana to stop giving her all of these things, then, and lana would just shake her head and tell ema she knows nothing about how anything works. you know how parents start being more honest with you about how much money they spent on you and tell you more about themselves as you grow up? lana did the opposite. after sl-9, pretty much the only thing lana talked to ema about was ema's grades, mental state and whether she was sure she didn't need therapy or not. when lana would manage to tell ema she was proud of her or something like that, she sounded so tired ema would just cry and tell her to stop. they barely spent time together, but ema liked it better that way when she didn't have to put to with lana's exhausted awkward attempts to connect.

- actually, though, ema did still want attention. she was a teenager, she was human and had emotional needs and, to put it bluntly and perhaps rudely, she was lucky enough to be used to getting more. she would find multiple reasons to hate lana - calling her care control, calling her cold and unfeeling, claiming she didn't care about her or know her, complaining to her friends at school lana only cared about her grades and would be disappointed in her for failing. all of that might have been Partially true, but it was never the core issue, and later ema always felt guilty for talking about her sister like that. she knew lana cared, she knew lana would talk to her more if she could, she knew lana wouldn't actually be just completely disappointed if ema started failing class - more likely concerned, - she knew lana wasn't bad, she was just suffering. but she had no way to help. she didn't even know what lana what suffering From. and there was no way lana was ever telling her. in a way, ema would feel she ruined lana's life.

- and again, I'm not just talking about the aftermath of the sl-9 here, although that probably drove these issues up to eleven - rfta is representative of the problems they had for years, this particular story is just something that made it to court and had some outside involvement for it's resolution. I'm not sure they would even be able to completely resolve it after rfta? but they would definitely Attempt it.

- I don't actually think lanamia would have had worked out for long. they could definitely both bring something good out of knowing each other, but ultimately, their paths only crossed for a short moment - they met each other, they found something to respect and admire in each other, they helped each other grow and perhaps, hoped to be each other's emotional solace and salvation, but ultimately never were, because they inevitably got pulled in the opposite directions by their respective priorities. mia never kept in contact with anyone she met in college, even if she actually sort of wanted to - she had a goal to work towards, and she couldn't afford to keep anyone close enough so they could potentially get hurt by the obstacles She would face. she knew where she was going and never wanted to drag anyone down with her, that's why she never even told anyone. she moved on past lana right around the time she started working for grossberg, not because she never cared, but because the truth was always more important than herself. the same way she let go of lana, she eventually had to let go of diego - she didn't stop visiting him in the hospital in his coma, from time to time she still did, but she couldn't let what happened to him keep affecting her. she never let maya know, she never let phoenix know, she appeared all fine and well held together in aa1 despite her loved one being in a coma and her not even knowing if he's going to survive. mia is just this type of person - she leaves and moves on despite not wanting to, and feeling guilty for it, and kind of being an asshole for it - she left her sister in the village alone and then called her on the phone to check up on her and congratulate her on coping so well with living alone knowing full well she's part of the reason maya has to grow up so fast. mia couldn't have stayed with lana even if she really wanted to, mia always leaves. and another side of that coin, lana never let ema meet mia? ema heard about mia as a lawyer recommendation and knew vaguely how they met, but the "intellectually attracted" phrase makes me think ema didn't actually know they were in a relationship? lana wouldn't let her personal life get in the way of her raising her daughter sister. lana wouldn't talk to ema about her personal life the way it's kind of normal for sisters to do. lana was a parent and made sure her image in ema's eyes stayed untainted with any silly romantic stuff ema would giggle about. (I think it would be part of the reason ema would be so uncomfortable with lana dating umaru later down the line- nevermind let's not touch on that right now.)

- I also don't want to go into huge detail about it here, because it's.. not something really based in canon and might be perceived by some people as silly, but I headcanon marshalls and angel starr as being lana's buddies from college, and jake was unexpectedly good at helping babysit ema and ended up becoming sort of a weird uncle for her who would give her shoulder rides and tell her cool gun facts, ignoring concerned looks from his more well-adjusted brother. (my headcanons about marshalls are their own wild beast, but they're just that, headcanons, they're not actually based on literally anything.) and I think it would really really hurt ema that after sl-9 jake would close off completely from everyone, and whenever he would meet ema again he would just act like they're strangers because he was just that entrenched in his grief. jake would actually fix his relationship with ema even before lana did, though - he would break out of prison to do it, show up tight as she was leaving for college and tell her they're anything but strangers and he'll always be ready to help, should she just call. (he would constantly have to change numbers, though, because from this moment moving forward he'd be on the run from the police.^^)

[oozeandgoo-art]

old drawing I never posted. i like these two freaks, I should draw them more

[queer-reader-07]

something about finding the people who sit through your info dumps with joy on their face and enthusiasm for your passions. something about finding the people who info dump right back at you because they know you love hearing about their passions. something about finding the people who manage to sum up your being in one niche, oddly specific sentence that lives in your mind rent free for the rest of time. something about finding the people who not only accept you for who you are but embrace you for who you are. who not only tolerate your quirks and differences but love and cherish them.

[pinkcarabiner]

x

[uraandri]

today is 21 years since Merlinka, one of the first completely out in the open trans woman in Yugoslavia, was murdered in Belgrade. the two men accused of killing her were never charged due to the supposed lack of evidence and a monument dedicated to her last year was quickly vandalized after it's reveal. she was an icon of 90s pop media and starred in three movies: Beograde, dobro jutro, Lijepe žene prolaze kroz grad and Marble ass. she also wrote an autobiography Terezin sin shortly before her untimely death at 44 years of age

[the-eldritch-it-gay]

assigned he/him at work now 😔

[squishosaur]

eclipse - a group of misunderstood people trying to express themselves and reach others through song. they have a soft, orchestral, impressionistic sound to their music.

MISSION!! worldwide smile ☆☆☆ - a fun-loving band dedicated to making people happy with their pop songs! composed of earnest, loving people who want to help others while proving their worth to themselves and everyone else.

MAYONAKA BLACK - a group of misfits who, despite their diverse backgrounds, have been connected through the internet. their very hype, synthesized instrumentals are juxtaposed with dark, poetic lyrics.

Starlight Express - a theatrical trio who puts liveliness into everything they do in an attempt to put a smile on the faces of their friends and families.

decrowned - after a rather embarrassing fall from grace, a former star recruits two upcoming talents to perform with her again. with heartfelt lyrics and resonant vocals, they're taking every stage by storm.

TIGER EYE - a punk rock group, sick of the people in power and the systems in place in society. they have a unique blend of strong percussions, rocking guitars, powerful vocals, and stunning dance moves.

hyperdrive!!! - a boy struggling to find his identity is guided solely by two people who couldn't care less about theirs. they have a certain level improvization and new personality in every performance.