#'not feeling lonely i just like being alone' but it's less true than i like to think it is

[phyrestartr]

Nemesis (The Man I Miss) | Miguel O'hara x M!BlackCat!Reader (TEASER)

CW: jealousy, violence, brutality, self-loathing, implied depression, possessive relationship #NSFW, Top!Miguel, Bottom!Reader, hurt/comfort, anti-hero reader, complicated relationships, lonely reader, crook turned hero, reader is a tired guy, mutual pining - Note: Posting some WIPs I've had laying around for a while while I try to finish up the next HOUND update! Needed a bit of a break from it since it's pretty long, but I hope some teasers make up for the wait. Tysm for reading!

Taking care of Nueva York was exhausting. You were far too used to being the problem rather than the problem-solver. That job reserved itself for the one and only Spiderman–your Spiderman. 

At least, you liked to think he was yours. 

Knowing my luck, the prick’s run off with his shocking wife or something. The thought plagued your mind too often. And it was true: Spiderman disappeared. He no longer served Nueva York and kept it safe, he no longer caught you with your hand in the cookie jar, he no longer gave chase throughout the city before pinning you down on some rooftop and taking his prize by force. And you liked it–no, you loved it. Fucking with the man who’d always get to fuck you back came to be a part of life you relished. 

But now you were alone. Left by yourself to deal with lumbering lizards and giggling goblins while wondering how the fuck you’d ended up as a hero when you were anything but. Even the police couldn’t believe the switch, which caused some problems, and led to less-sexy chases that ended with you getting away no problem. 

I wish I had problems. Just one problem, though: Spiderman. 

You tossed aside your shiny leathers and collapsed into your bed. He’d never been there, no, but you fantasized about it. You thought about his impossibly wide back and the ripple of taut muscle greeting you in the morning, or maybe his built chest and strong neck–or maybe his handsome face–well, you’d never seen his face, but you had your guesses. 

Your chest twinged the slightest bit, somewhere between where your greed and feelings intertwined.

Ugh. You missed him. 

–

“Who's that?” Peter remarked as he walked up on Miguel. The lab was dark and dreary, spilling with shades of orange and amber where the blues couldn't reach. And Miguel, the source of the cold, stood in front of the firelight, gazing upon your image in the newscycle. 

Miguel frowned. “No one.” But he didn't tuck your image nor the article away. 

“Huh, looks like Black Cat. A 2099 Black Cat? Never thought I'd see the day.” Peter hummed and bounced a sleepy Mayday in his arms. “He up to no good?” 

“He's up to good,” Miguel bit out. “That's the problem. He doesn't do good.” 

“He's sort of an anti-hero these days,” Lyla cut in, blinking into existence on Peter's shoulder like the devil she was. “All thanks to Spiderman's influence–” 

“Lyla,” Miguel warned (begged?). 

“--aaand their sweet, cute budding romance,” she finished with a dreamy sigh. “Doesn't it just melt your heart?” 

–

You pinned him against the wall and let your hands trace through the hard lines of his muscles on your way down to your ultimate prize. Spiderman shuddered and stayed still, much to your surprise, letting you feel him, letting you acknowledge the hardness bulging under your criminal touch. Because he dreamt of this too. Dreamt of you touching him, of you falling down to your knees, your eyes never leaving his masked face even when you pressed a hot, open-mouthed kiss to stretched fabric holding back his filled cock. 

“So strong,” you cooed, “but not strong enough to resist, hm?” You sighed and worked him through the fabric with one hand. “Shouldn’t you be stopping the big bad from manhandling you like this, Spidey?”

“Hardly consider you the big bad,” he scoffed back. Spiderman tilted his head back with a choked groan whent hose diamond-tipped clawed gloves dug into his thighs. “Mierda, you–”

“Oh?” You grinned, so cheshire, so in-theme with your persona. “You can stop me any time, no?” 

He could’ve. But he didn’t. 

–

“A daughter,” you murmured. The flickering images–memories, maybe?–were there, waiting quietly for you, preserved and kept precious in shades of amber. But the scene was so alive; you could feel the stretch of the sun against your gloved touch, you basked in the crisp Spring air of that soccer game, you drowned in the warmth of that father's smile–

Spidey's smile. That was beyond obvious. The mountainous shoulders, the tawny skin, those hands– they belonged to him. Your beast. Your nemesis and lover, the man you hadn’t seen for far too long–

“Because you've been off taking care of a kid?” Your fingers, gentle, feather-light, ghosted across that foreign memory. “Why wouldn’t you tell me?” Who’s your baby mama?

The lab lights stilted and jittered. You snapped from your trance and made for the window you’d come in through, not bothering to see what was happening with your system jammers–you knew Lyla, she knew you, and that made the whole breaking-into-Spiderman’s-base thing more tricky and risky. Your jammer wasn’t fool-proof. It was quite easy to override, actually, but the interference was the difficult thing to detect in the first place. You only thought you’d need a handful of minutes to see your spider, anyway.

But he wasn’t there. Maybe he was off with his little girl. 

Something cacophonous and nerve-wracking churned to the sound of warping electricity behind you as you dove from the window and slid down the side of the skyscraper, claws shrieking against metal and glass alike until you could launch off and latch onto a passing hover car. The periphery of your mind swore it saw flashes of orange and yellow, more violent and heavy than the screens you stared at in that dower room, and maybe you might have heard a familiar voice too. 

The broad, tiny silhouette standing in that abandoned window gave you much more to think about.  -- Feel free to comment on this post if you want to be tagged for the full version!

@kamote-kuneho @tr4nnie @silvern1006

[dan-whoell]

i keep thinking about a phandom book club, but i have no idea how to go about organizing it or if anyone would be interested or even where to host it

alternatively is there already a phandom book club i could join? because i would love that

[the-yearning-astronaut]

Oh hello 3am existential crisis. Haven't seen you around in a while...can't say I missed you.

[pepprs]

i wish i’d kept pushing the point (<- vagueposting). im so tired i’m hitting a wall. but why is the answer to feeling bottomlessly lonely just to love myself and be loved by myself? isn’t that only more loneliness?

[dreamsteddie]

Wowza. Part one blew up way more than I thought it would so here! Part two! I do have more thoughts about this so there might be a couple more parts to come. We'll see ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

------

Eddie takes half a second to consider just not answering. Maybe throwing his phone away and never going back to the restaurant they went to last night so he never has to confront whatever it is that's about to happen. Maybe even fleeing the country and living alone on a sheep farm with no friends and go relationships ever again so something like this never happens again.

But then he thinks of Steve. Kind, funny Steve with the bright eyes and soft skin who looked at Eddie like he could fall in love with him and he knows that whatever comes next, Steve deserves for Eddie to see it through with him.

New Message: Steve H.

Hey

Just that one word sends Eddie's heart into his throat. He can see that Steve is still typing, those little ellipses of doom popping on and off the screen. Realistically, Steve probably doesn't know what happened, right? Eddie's pretty sure Steve wasn't in on it and it's been less than an hour since Eddie himself found out, so probably not.

Steve H: Gareth called me

Fuck.

Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck.

If Eddie's heart was in his throat at the first text, the second one has it dropping through his body and out of his goddamned ass. It's not that he doesn't want Steve to know. He was always planning to tell him, he was just hoping he could be the one to do it. Gareth being a little shit and calling Steve first was not part of the plan.

Steve H: He told be about the prank. I'm sorry if I wasn't what you expected and you were just being nice. We can pretend it never happened. No hard feelings.

Eddie slams his head into his pillow. This is such a cluster fuck he can hardly bring himself to look at the text but he needs to come up with some kind of response, like, yesterday if he wants any chance of keeping the man of his dreams from running for the hills because apparently, Eddie's friends are trying to destroy his life. He takes a deep breath and starts typing.

Eddie: Hey, I'm so sorry about that. I just found out about what they did an hour ago at practice. I didn't think they would just call you out of the blue like that, I was just about to text you.

Not completely true, but Eddie was going to text him about it, just after screaming into his pillow and making a couple Vudu dolls first.

Eddie: For what it's worth I really do like you and I would love to still take you out on that second date, but I understand if my friends scared you off and you want nothing to do with me. I know it's fucked up.

It takes a minute for Steve to respond, the typing bubbles ebbing and flowing as Steve types and retypes whatever it is he wants to say. Eddie is about ready to call it a wash and start googling sheep farms for sale in Ireland when a new text comes in, dispelling all thoughts of learning to sheer wool.

Steve H: Are you sure?

And fuck if that doesn't hurt his heart. Eddie has spent all of two and a half hours with Steve, he's a virtual stranger, but Eddie can swear he can feel all of Steve's secondhand insecurity through that one lonely sentence. Before he even registers what he's asking, he send a quick reply.

Eddie: Can I Facetime you?

Before Eddie can try to rethink his decision, his screen lights up with a notification. Steve is calling him.

Eddie scrambles to answer, fumbling his phone a little in his haste and almost missing the call completely. He manages to get it on the last ring, breathing heavily in a way he knows can't be flattering.

All thoughts about his lack of dexterity fly out the window when he looks into his screen. On their date, Steve was perfectly put together. Hair meticulously done, clothes freshly pressed, and a light sheen of lipgloss accentuating the perfect curve of his mouth. While Steve is still beautiful through the lens of his camera, it's clear that he's been crying. His eyes are red and a little puffy, hair out of order in a way Eddie thinks is probably unusual for him, and Eddie can see that he's wearing a well-loved beige hoodie.

"Hi," Steve says, waving a shy hand almost the same way he had last night.

"Hey sweetheart," Eddie says, keeping his voice low and gentle, desperate to soothe Steve however he can through the distance of their phones.

For a minute they just look at each other, neither one knowing what to say in a situation like this. Eddie sees Steve gearing up to say something, but he cuts in before he starts. There's something he needs to say while Steve can see him face to face.

"I'm really sorry about what happened!" He says, much lounder than he intended. "My friends were being dicks. I haven't dated in a while and instead of being normal fucking people they set up this whole stupid prank but I swear I wasn't in on it!"

Something about what he says draws a small smile from the corner of Steve's mouth, so Eddie keeps talking. "Besides, if they wanted to prank me they should have picked someone that isn't a literal fucking model in disguise. There wasn't a chance in hell I wasn't going to beg you for that second date."

At that, Steve gives a little chuckle and it lifts Eddie's heart from where it'd fallen onto the floor and puts in back in his chest 10 times lighter than before.

"Jesus, are you always such a flirt Munson?" he says.

"Only when the boys are especially pretty," Eddie responds.

Steve gives another little laugh at that before sobering up. He gives Eddie a long look through the phone, and Eddie lets him.

"Are you sure you don't want to just call it quits here man? Gareth was pretty adamant that I'm not the kind of guy you usually go for. I don't want you to feel like you have to humor me out of kindness." There's a forced flippancy to Steve's words that Eddie knows well from his own Munson Coping Strategies Handbook. Steve is trying to give him an out, but Eddie can tell that he doesn't want to.

For the first time since this all started, Eddie is well and truly mad. Gareth and Jeff had absolutely no business poking around in his love life in the first place, but now they've reached out to the guy Eddie already told them he liked to what? Tell him never mind actually, we don't think you're the right guy for our friend even though he told us very explicitly how into you he is.

Eddie lets all the frustration, anger, and tenuous hope building up in his chest fuel his reply. This one has to count, he can feel it. It's a charisma saving throw with the whole campaign on the line. He can't miss this one.

"Honestly Steve, if you asked me two days ago what I was looking for in a partner, I probably would have said I wanted to date another alternative metalhead or punk who likes playing DnD and getting high on the weekend." Eddie can see Steve's shoulders slump as his eyes dart away, but he pushes on, determined to make his point.

"But, I haven't had as good a time as we had last night in a really long time." Steve looks back up, eyes alight with the same tentative hope Eddie himself is channeling. "I think you're funny and interesting, and you have the absolute worst takes on ice cream flavors, and you're hot as hell. Like, seriously the hottest guy I've ever seen in real life."

Steve smiles, the edges of his eyes crinkling.

Critical success.

"So, about that second date."

-------

Tag List

@wheneverfeasible @the-dark-hearts @sofadofax @wrenisfangirling @whatfinestandsfor @lilpomelito @raisedbylibrarians @ollyxar @mugloversonly @xxbottlecapx @hezaaxdexangelous @kimsnooks @that-one-gay-crow

[biceratops7]

I’m gonna SCREAM-

We’ve already established as a fandom that Metatron could teach a masterclass on gas lighting, but I wanna talk about how he specifically validates the things Aziraphale cares for while simultaneously devaluing them under the surface.

First off, this moment?

Tells us everything we need to know. It sets the scene for exactly the games Metatron is playing. He makes Muriel feel important while openly insulting them (flat out calling them stupid), aka seamlessly reinforcing the idea that they’re less than to both them and anyone else in the room. He knows he can get away with this easily, he knows that Muriel, lonely, overlooked little Muriel, will be completely distracted by the fact that someone so important is taking an interest in them.

This is already horribly clever, but then later on you realize it’s doing even MORE heavy lifting when he appoints Muriel to run the bookshop. “See? What’s important to you is what’s important to me! I’ve graciously taken the time to ensure your beloved shop is looked after by Muriel. You know, the dim one!” …let’s suffice it to say he’s ensnared too birds with one net for this one, and that a pattern is already starting to arise.

So when Metatron says Gabriel came to Aziraphale because he’s a “natural leader” and “doesn’t just tell people what they wanna hear”? Yah he’s full of shit. Aziraphale struggles with his sense of purpose when he doesn’t have someone or something guiding him, and for thousands of years he’s been terrified of sharing his true feelings and opinions to 90% of people he’s known. Completely just trying to butter him up. Wanna know the real reason Gabriel seeks asylum with Aziraphale?

Exactly this. Gabriel just says so point blank. It’s not because Aziraphale is this person for him, it’s because despite knowing nothing, he has this instinct that Aziraphale is the only one who can possibly understand why Gabriel did what he did. He is, I mean as far as we know, the only other angel who has fallen in love. (In general, let alone with a demon.)

But nope, can’t have that. We can throw the promise of restoring Crowley in the mix to sweeten the pot, but we can’t acknowledge why he’d want that so badly in the first place. So now it’s cause they work so well together. We can praise the angel for the fallen archangel Gabriel himself coming to him protection and guidance, give him a gold star. But we couldn’t DARE imply that it was by virtue of Aziraphale’s courage to choose earthly love over heavenly. How Gabriel didn’t need a leader, but a friend who’s truly known the joys of adoring that “particular person” and the pain of needing to hide it.

Cause then Aziraphale would start getting crazy ideas, like that his silly little human feelings have a great deal of worth. That they have the power to inspire, form cracks in the institution, fundamentally weaken what has controlled and harmed him. We wouldn’t want him to know the true value of the cards he holds when he has the ace in a match against you, now would we? After all…

Metatron uses this ingeniously sinister tactic of taking away Aziraphale’s choice while giving the illusion that he’s actually opening up doors. Notice how he tells Aziraphale he would have the authority to do something as extraordinary as turn a demon into an angel, yet he never once puts the much simpler alternative of just working with a demon on the table? The sleight of hand here is that he’s being offered the opportunity to freely be with Crowley… but he’s already freely with him as is, no bargain to be made. In fact he fought to be. Metatron disappears this accomplishment right before our eyes, while seamlessly maintaining the illusion to Aziraphale that he (Zira) is in control.

He sets Aziraphale up for failure by only providing the option he knows Crowley will not only decline but be deeply hurt by. It’s all so cleverly planned. Once this plays out exactly how he wants, he delivers the finishing blow by diminishing Crowley and his “damned fool questions”. Suddenly doing a complete 180 and emphasizing how foolish and troublesome he is. Metatron was offering Crowley by Aziraphale’s side as The Carrot. Now he’s telling Aziraphale it was stupid of him to want The Carrot, un-heavenly.

Aziraphale’s life, love, happiness, it’s all not only a massive inconvenience for Metatron but a liability. He has successfully taken a weapon from Aziraphale’s hands he didn’t even know he had. Metatron sees the writing on the wall, and he wants it contained.

[myjealouseyes]

Request from an anon: Hello! I would like to request a Harry x Reader who’s from Hufflepuff. She’s very sweet and often finds herself surrounded by many magical creatures (even dangerous ones like dragons, etc..) I want to know how Harry would react and feel by this type of reader.

A/N— sunshine!reader has my heart!! ☺️

Content warnings: none. (Shirtless Harry but it’s not suggestive and it’s not a major point of importance.)

Send a request here.

“Is it true you’re friends with the Giant Squid?”

Harry asks casually, as he juggles all the bundles of yarn you’ve handed him on your quest for the red one you need. You practically stripped him of his Gryffindor sweater when you noticed the hole in it. It was small. He hadn’t even noticed it, and even if he had he would’ve just left it alone or gotten a new sweater. You weren’t having that though, insisting that you’d patch it for him. He asks this question with hopes that the answer will distract him from the fact that his extremely lovely girlfriend who he’s in her dorm with alone, is seeing him Shirtless for the first time.

You don’t seem to be affected by this moment of significance as you continue your search for yarn, only pausing to give him a slight smile and a head tilt. “You mean squidy? ‘Course I am! He saved me from drowning in first year.” And if Harry needed another reason to be head-over-heels, just like that, he had it. Not only were you friends with it, you’d even given it a nickname. Just being around you is enough to make his heart ache with fondness. It’s quite sickening really.

“The Giant Squid saved you?” Despite the underlying wonder in his tone, he believes you a thousand percent. It’s so on-brand for you; having an aura so bright that a squid that seems to torment the rest of the student body somehow likes you enough to save you, and become your friend. “Yep!” You respond enthusiastically. “He’s very lovely, but because of how big he is and his…less than ideal way of trying to make friends, everyone’s always afraid or at least annoyed with him all the time. It’s a very lonely existence.”

Harry has to purse his lips to keep himself to audibly cooing. He’s not sure he’ll meet ever someone else even half as caring as you are. The way you believe every single being, including the ones known for trying to grab people and drag them under, is just worthy of having friends makes him worry you might be a little too sweet for this world. You huff in disappointment as you see that you’ve run completely out red yarn. You hold up a dark pink one instead, closest to red you have. “I guess I forgot to grab some. Would the pink be too noticeable for you?” The slight guilt In your voice and pout on your face makes him want to smother you in a hundred kisses and buy you a new sweater, but he just brings your hand up to his lips for just one on palm instead.

“Pink sounds wonderful.”

[reidmotif]

Regret on the Rocks

Summary: Spencer finds himself at a bar being served by the girl who once broke his heart. Turns out she feels a lot more than just regret for letting him go.

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader

Category: Light Angst/Smut

Content Warning: drinking, Spencer is a little depressed, mentions of heavy bullying (specifically 3x16), car sex, female masturbation, Spencer POV, heavy kissing, unprotected penetrative sex

Word Count: 4.3k

Masterlist

Regret is an emotion I’m well accustomed to. It’s not to mean that I’m unhappy with my life by any means, but I’m aware of the space between my current situation and the ‘beyond’ that could’ve been if things had just been different. 

If I’d never joined the BAU.

If I’d had a more conventional life in the first place.

If connection came to me as easy as it seemed to other people my age. 

But none of those things seemed to ring true, so I carried regret in me like a bruise of honor. Despite the regret, I faced it every day and lived to do it all over again in the morning. It didn’t mean it was easy, and today proved that. Today, it was hard going to sleep knowing I’d wake up to do it all over again. 

In light of this, I’d found myself in a bar, alone. The case we’d been working on saw little to no fruition despite our efforts, and it’d resulted in another body we couldn’t save. Another person I was responsible for. It weighed down on me more than I cared to admit. 

I found myself continually lost in my thoughts, navigating through the carefully weaved web of guilt and self-doubt, spiraling, until a much softer, surprised voice pulled me out. 

“Spencer Reid? Is that you?” She asks. I hear her voice before I see her, and I know that it’s the bartender stood behind the bar, and there’s confusion as I wonder who could’ve possibly recognized me in a rundown small-town bar.

I look up and meet her eyes, and it’s as if a flood of memories ensues. A flash of recognition crosses my face, and seeing the images playing in my head, almost akin to a film reel, slowly walking me through one of my earliest regrets. 

I was 15, navigating my senior year while being the youngest one there. Despite the oddness of my situation, it never crossed my mind that I shouldn’t have tried so hard to participate in the same social events as my peers. With the hindsight of adulthood, I now imagine that if I had withdrawn, spent more of my time alone than trying to not be,  the hurt of never being accepted would sting less, because I’d never had tried in the first place.

But I had tried, and she was the only one who got me. She was older, yes, and beautiful and popular,  but those didn’t matter half as much as the conversations we’d manage to have. She never seemed to take offense to any ramble of mine, and I’d feel my heart soar when she’d ask questions after my monologues, sending me the clearest signals of interest in what I had to say.

And as a lonely 15 year old? It meant the absolute world to have that. To have her as my friend.

And so, when it came time for senior prom, in the interest of at least trying to fit in, I asked her to go with me. As friends of course, but even then she shook her head, and ruefully told me someone else had asked her. I vaguely recalled the name she’d given me off of a football roster I’d once read while attending the school, and nodded. I understood. I was prepared for the rejection, in fact I’d already taken it the moment she said no. I was prepared to live with it.

Then came the week before prom. Being lured away from the safety of the campus, and onto a football field. Being tied to a flagpole, while everyone watched- and laughed. I remember seeing a face, his face, knowing he was the one who was taking her. Taking (Y/N) to the prom. 

I rarely dwell on the events of that day, but I do remember the regret. I remember wondering that if I’d just never spoken to her, I’d maybe have been less of a target. I wondered if maybe I’d never asked her in the first place, maybe our friendship could’ve survived the whole ordeal, but it hadn’t. She never spoke to me after that, her head hanging low as she continued to hang off of his arm, never sparing me another glance again. 

But here she was, glancing- no, staring at me, her eyes wide. 

“What are you doing here? Are you.. Did you always live here all along?” She asks, her voice uncharacteristically soft and mellow. She was loud back in high school, I remember. She had the best laugh I’d ever known. 

It takes me a second, but I give her a flat smile, setting my glass down. “I’m here for a case, actually.” 

“A case..?” She says, her head tilting a bit in confusion. 

Clearing my throat, I nod. “Yeah, a case. I’m an FBI agent. I’m here for a recent string of murders being committed in the area.” 

“Wow, FBI, huh? I never thought of you as law enforcement.” She says, her eyebrows raising. “Always thought you were going to change the world with that brain of yours.” She adds, a small smile on her face. My eyes narrow in distrust at the sudden compliment, unsure of her intentions. 

“I’d say I’m changing the world.” I respond, a little defensively. “I like my job. I like that I change lives by not letting them end.”

She immediately retracts her statement, vehemently shaking her head. “No, no! That’s not what I meant at all. I mean, of course you’re changing the world- I just thought you’d be doing more. Okay- not more. I just- Gah. I swear, don’t take it the wrong way.” She pauses, before gesturing to herself.  “I mean, I have no room to talk.” She says, the words a little rushed and frantic. 

“What do you mean, no room to talk?” I ask, squinting in genuine confusion. 

“I mean, I work as a bartender. I don’t know what I want from life, but it’s certainly not this.” She says, motioning to the shelves of drinks behind her, a little defeated. 

She’s so different from when I knew her. Self-assured. Confident. She seemed almost meek in this environment, and the only recognition of the girl I knew came from the small, embarrassed smile she gave me.

“Well. We’re a lot more alike than you think, then. Titles mean nothing.” I say, voice a bit quieter. “I don’t think it’s anything to be ashamed of, though. We’re just getting through life the best we can, right?” 

She nods a little, seeming to take comfort in my statement. “Look at you. You’ve still got the same sweetness in you from high school.” 

Stiffening at the mention of high school, I just nod and taking another sip from the glass in front of me, which was starting to empty out. “Not trying to be sweet, I think. Just honest.” I say, bluntly.

It’s mean, I’m aware. I can feel her trying, but I don’t want to offer her the same. I want her to feel awkward. I want her to know what she did was wrong. 

There’s a silence that passes through the two of us, before she breaks it with a continued gesture of kindness, turning around to fill another glass with my drink of choice and setting it down in front of me, a small smile playing on her lips. 

“For being honest then. Thank you.” She says, and her eyes meet with mine. I almost hear the unspoken apology in her voice, in the way her fingers slowly push the chilled glass towards my empty hand, in the way she bites her lip softly, waiting to see what I’d say.

“To being honest.” I say, raising the glass slightly and downing the drink a little faster than I intended, not wanting to think too much about the implications of the gesture. To know that she possibly had regrets too. That she might still have the goodness I once knew in her. 

“I have about half an hour left in my shift, but if it’s alright, I’d love to catch up properly.” She says, keeping her gaze trained on mine. “I’ve.. missed you.” She says, her voice soft. 

I don’t respond to her last statement, but I can’t deny the magnetic pull begging me to say yes to her request, to at least see where our lives had gone after our separation. So I nod, silently.

“I’ll be here.” 

I try to lay off the drinks for the next thirty minutes, opting to sip some water instead to clear my mind in preparation for the time I’d be spending with her. Part of me wondered if I shouldn’t have accepted the invite at all. It wasn’t that I forgave her per say,  but the curiosity to know her all over again was overwhelming, regardless of the pain she’d caused me. I’m once again reminded why “curiosity killed the cat” is such an overused aphorism.

She comes up to me thirty-six minutes later, and I hate myself for keeping track. She flashes me a small smile. 

“You waited.” She says, softly. 

“I said I would, right?” I respond, unsure why that would mean anything to her. I agreed to this. I wanted this, even if I could physically feel the inner turmoil brewing throughout my body. I suppose it didn’t show though, because she continued on, smiling. 

“There’s an ice cream place I like around here. Would you like to go?” She asks, and I see her teeth catch onto her bottom lip, the plumpness of the feature being exacerbated by the action, causing me to momentarily lose my train of thought. 

“Uh. Yeah, ice cream. Sounds good.” I say, placing my hands in my pockets. 

“Did you drive here? I mean- I hope not. You drank quite a bit.” She says, starting to walk to the exit of the bar. 

“No, no. My hotel is actually right here. I walked. Needed to get my mind off some things and I ended up here since it was convenient.” I say, and I feel myself falling back into that comfortable rhythm of just being able to speak freely around her. 

It’s like no time has passed at all, and yet I’m acutely aware that nothing is the same. That we’re avoiding a bigger issue at hand. 

“Yeah.” She murmurs. “The murders around here have been grisly, haven’t they?” She says, starting to lead me to her car. “I get nervous when I hear about that stuff, so I find myself looking away from the news more often than not.” She continues, quirking her mouth to the other side, as if she’s aware this isn’t the best course of action, but does it anyway.

“It’s cute.” I think.

I push the thought away. 

“Understandable.” I reply, nodding. “I don’t watch the news either. I mean- I do read the news. But I don’t watch it.” 

She starts the car, and I observe a hint of a grin on her face, her eyes crinkling at the edges in a way that makes my heart jump. “So you still like to read then?” She says, seeming genuinely happy I’d kept up the habit even after my youth. 

“Oh yeah. I mean, reading isn’t something I really ever let go of. It’s a good activity when you’re out on the road so much.” I say, feeling solace in talking about something I truly loved. “Sometimes I feel like books provide me with better stimuli than social interaction.” I continue, unaware of the implications of my words, and I only realize once I’ve seen her raise an eyebrow. 

“Yeah, but I mean. Friends are good too, right?” She says, a hint of concern making her way into her voice. 

I chuckle a little bitterly. “Probably. I mean, don’t get me wrong. I have my team, and I’m grateful but-” I pause, taking a deep breath. “I don’t know. It doesn’t come to me like that, you know? And I’m not bothered by it, but I don’t like to think about it.” I say. There’s a faint feeling of heat on my face from the honesty, but I continue to stare straight ahead, not wanting to see her reaction to my words. 

“You were a good friend to me, Spencer. Better than a lot of the friends I had in high school, and I’m not just saying that.” She says, softly. 

I respond without thinking, shaking my head with an embittered motion and a click of my tongue.

“Yeah, and look where that got me.” 

She’s a little silent then, and I refuse to say anything else. She’s the one who invited me here. I don’t know what she wanted out of this, but I wasn’t going to forego my own feelings just to spare hers. I was here. That was enough. I was allowed to say that. 

We pull into an empty parking lot, where I see the neon lights advertising an ice cream parlor, but we don’t get out. She turns off the headlights and blows a bit of air between her lips, placing her hands in her lap and turning towards me. 

“Spencer.” She murmurs, swallowing a bit. “I am so, so sorry for what I did in high school. I know I wasn’t there when.. You know when. And I know I didn’t speak to you afterwards, and I am so sorry.” She repeats. “I hope you believe me when I say I really did miss you. I was such an idiot back in high school, and nothing can repair that, but I missed you so much.” She says. 

I turn to her and can see the tears welling up in her eyes and feel my heart soften. It’s insane, the effect she can have on me, even years later. 

“Hey, don’t cry.” I say, immediately reaching over to wipe a tear from her cheek, my thumb swiping over the expanse of her smooth skin. “It’s just high school. It’s a long time ago.” 

“No.” She says, emphatically, shaking her head. “Don’t lie to me. What I did was awful. It doesn’t matter if it was long ago. You can call me a bitch. You can- scream or hell! I don’t know. You can be angry at me. You should be angry at me. I could never say sorry enough.” She says. 

I shake my head, all the previous resentment and bitterness dissipating instantly. It was a bit odd, feeling the emotions I’d long held onto even years after our fracture go away so quickly, but she was my friend. For what it had been worth, she had been good to me.  And right now, she was my friend, crying in a car, and the guilt and shame couldn’t be more obvious. 

I move to hold her hand, wanting to comfort her, rubbing small circles into the skin near her thumb, her fingers grasping over mine, almost afraid to let me go now.

“You’re right, in a way. What you did confused me and left me feeling really.. lonely. But now that I’m older I think I better understand it, but it doesn’t change the fact you hurt me.” I reply, and I see her jaw tighten, nodding and taking my words to heart. 

“But I don’t think I resent you anymore for what happened.” I continue, the words tumbling out. “Seeing you guilty and ashamed so many years later is just making me wish we’d talked earlier, so we wouldn’t have had to feel this way for so long. Maybe we could’ve.. I don’t know. Picked up where we left off.” 

She gives me a flat smile, tears still in her eyes. “Yeah? I’d have liked that.” She murmurs. 

“I mean it.” I say, flashing her a soft smile. I decided to lighten the conversation for her comfort. 

“Doesn’t mean I won’t call you an idiot for dating that prick though.” I respond, a little teasingly, hoping to get a bigger smile out of her. 

“Oh god.” She says, leaning back, laughing a bit. “Please do. God, he was so .. awful.” She says. “He wasn’t half as funny as you. Just.. boring honestly.” 

I smirk a little at the words, feeling a bit of pride but brushing it off with a shrug. “I mean, it's a cliche right? Beautiful, smart girl with the boring jock?” I say. “You and like, 6 out of 10 high school girls probably fall directly into that category.” 

She gives me a laugh at that one, a real one, and my heart soars upon the sound alone. I hadn’t realized just how much I’d missed her.

 “6 out of 10? Where’s that statistic from? High School Girls Anonymous?” She responds, matching my energy and continuing the banter.

“Just trust me. I know these things very well.” I say, trying my best to sound as faux academic as possible, hoping to make her feel at ease, to fully let go of the tension from before.

“Well, then.” She says, softly, turning the conversation to be a bit more sincere. “I’m glad I don’t fall into that cliche anymore. I’m glad my taste changed.” 

I nod, surprisingly relaxing into the vulnerability of the words. “Yeah, it happens. Tastes do change throughout life, especially post-adolescence. One could denote it to the development of the prefrontal cortex, but I like to say it’s out of knowing what you want out of life.” 

“Have yours? I mean, your tastes. Have they changed?” She asks, her eyes boring into mine, and I realize that my hand is still holding hers.

I lick my lips and shrug. “Here and there. For the most part, yes, but I find myself clinging to certain aspects of my teenage self.” I respond, vaguely. 

She continues to look at me, nodding. “Mine have. For sure.” “How so?” I ask, my heart speedingbup. 

“I think I learned to like sweeter guys.” She says, softly. “Ones that don’t bore me entirely, and ones I actually want to spend time with. Maybe that’s a cliche in itself but..” She shrugs, ending off her sentence there. 

I nod, wondering where this was leading. Her eyes were trained on mine and I could feel my pulse quickening. Was she going to kiss me? Was I going to kiss her? Was I crazy for thinking that at all? What was happening here? 

“You said you still have certain aspects of your teenage self in your tastes.” She says suddenly, her face moving a bit closer to mine. “What did you mean by that?” 

I sigh, taking in the features of her face, and how they seem to be illuminated by the moonlight streaming through the windows of her car. She was so stunning, even now. Even after all these years, I couldn’t deny she’d only grown to be more beautiful.

 I lick my lips and nod. “I guess I just meant.. I still find you just as beautiful as I did back when I first knew you. Even moreso now, honestly.” I say, quietly. 

I can feel her breath hitch, and her own tongue darting out to wet her lips, mirroring my actions. Her gaze shifts from my eyes to my lips, and back to my lips again, and I’m extremely aware of what I want at this moment. 

“Can I kiss you?” I ask, my hand still in hers, studying her with a careful gaze. 

She nods almost immediately, and at the same time, we surge forward to meet the other’s lips, her hands immediately cupping my cheek and my hands moving to her waist. I hear the click of her seatbelt being unfastened, and suddenly she’s in the passenger seat with me, straddling my waist and continuing to keep her lips locked firmly on mine. 

It’s like I can’t get enough of her, my hands exploring her back, eventually lowering them to squeeze her ass, which elicits a low moan from her. I pull back a little, panting and see her eyes blown out with lust, causing me to groan from just how deep my desire for her ran in this moment. I let one of my hands to run over her bottom lip, pulling it down and letting it bounce back up, enamored by just how close she was. 

“Fuck.” I murmur, unable to contain my awe at her and without wasting a moment, she’s grabbing my hair roughly to pull me back in again to meet her mouth with mine. When given the opportunity from another soft moan from her, I immediately slip my tongue into her mouth, relishing in the way she grabs my collar and presses her body against mine, matching my enthusiasm one for one. 

It felt so good to be wanted by her.

She starts to whimper at the intensity of our prolonged contact, and the sound activates something primal in me. It was almost as if once I heard it, I couldn’t go back. Pulling myself back from the kiss, I start to trail my lips up and down her neck, leaving hot, wet kisses in my wake while she writhed in my lap, her fingers tugging on my hair in desperation. I played with the motion for a bit, testing out certain points on her, before finding that she’d moan loudest at a pulse point at the junction in which her jawline met her neck. I sucked on the spot, being sure to leave a large, dark mark.

I didn’t care what would happen after this night, but for right now, she was mine, and I intended to treat her as such. 

“You said your hotel room was nearby, right?” She pants, starting to move her thighs off mine. “We can go and-” 

I immediately wrap my arms around her waist, pulling her back against me with a force that surprised even me, before gripping her hair and placing my mouth near the shell of her ear. I can hear her squeak at the motion, but her legs relax back into straddling mine. 

“I want you now.” I whisper, my voice hoarse and low. “We can go, if you’d like but- I need you now. I can’t stress that enough.” 

She melts in my arms as I say that, and a grin comes upon my face from the desire she was displaying as well. She nods quickly, before moving her fingers to my belt, and just upon hearing the sounds of the hardware moving, my head involuntarily falls back because- holy fuck. Feeling her so close to where my pants were now currently constricted nearly had me finishing right there. I could barely look at her without feeling overwhelmed. I feel my cock being pulled from my briefs, and I let out a moan. 

I look at her again, and she’s the picture of lust. Her pupils are dilated and her hair is messy, and her mouth slightly agape. She’s everything I want right now. All I want. 

“You’re so big.” She mumbles, leaning back, her hand wrapped around me, beginning to stroke me in a gentle, rhythmic motion. 

“Yeah?” I murmur back, breathing in sharply when her thumb runs over my slit, feeling the precum already dripping down my shaft. Even her hand is making me question if I’ll finish right here before ever getting to be inside her.

“Yeah.” She whispers, almost breathlessly. 

“You can take it.” I say, looking at her, and the girl looks like she’s about to moan off of my words alone. She licks her lips before responding, her voice a bit higher than before. 

“I don’t have a condom- but I’m clean and-” 

“Yes.” I respond immediately and she moves quickly. My fingers, as if possessed, move to unbutton her dress a bit, letting her breasts spill out (to my delight). The urge to strip her bare for me crosses my mind, but then I’m acutely aware that we were in her car, and the risk of being caught was far too high for the pleasantries I wished to indulge her and myself in, and I find myself slightly wishing we had gone to the hotel room. Next time.

Before I get too caught up in the fantasy of possibly ever fucking her again, I see her reach under her dress, presumably to move her panties aside and groan at the thought. My hands roam over her body to find her hips, slowly guiding her onto my cock, her walls squeezing around me tightly as her hips met mine. 

Her moans were sweet, but I found my hand covering her mouth quickly, watching as her eyes shone with pleasure with just the slightest movement from either of us. 

“Need you to stay quiet, pretty girl.” I murmur. “You can do that for me, right?”

She nods, eager to please, and I keep my hand on her mouth for a moment too long as I watch her eyes flutter shut, then open, her hands wrapping around my neck to stabilize herself. She starts moving then, lifting off until my tip is the only thing inside of her, before slamming against me, creating the best type of friction for both of us, causing there to be desperation for more. My hands rush down to grip her waist, and I can barely stifle my own noises from how fucking good she feels.

It’s a frenzy after that, and I match her movements with thrusts from below. I know it’s enjoyable for her, based on how hard she’s trying to not make a single sound, but still lets out the tiniest little whimpers and gasps when my cock grinds against her spot, and from the way her thighs shake every single time I disappear deep into her, a small bulge forming in her lower stomach every time I pushed into her. Every clench and squeeze of her cunt drives me insane, and I can’t help the low groan slipping out of me. 

Her movements get erratic, signaling her end, and I grin at how quickly I managed to get her there. My fingers move to stroke her clit in circular motions, savoring the way I could hear her whisper my name, grinding down on my dick and chasing the feeling of my fingers on her. 

“Close?” I mumble, biting down on her shoulder lightly, which causes a louder moan to slip out of her. 

“Yes. Yes.” She whispers, breathlessly. “Please, Spencer. Oh god. Please.” 

I jut into her more rapidly, continuing the motions against her, before her walls tighten and squeeze around me, and her cunt flooding the base of my cock. I continue to move like a man possessed, swallowing the moans of her orgasm with a messy kiss, before finally, I reach my release as well, coating her walls from the inside out. 

She pants for a second, collapsing against my shoulder as she tries to catch her breath, and I stroke her hair, attempting to do the same. She moans softly, her hands wrapped around me as her eyes flutter open and shut. 

“I was wrong.” She mumbles, nuzzling into my shoulder, kissing it softly. I’m unsure about the meaning of the words, so I quietly ask her. 

“What about?” 

“You’re incredibly different from when we were in high school.” She says, softly. 

“Good or bad different? I ask, a little self consciously, which is amusing considering I’m still inside her. 

“Good. Really, really fucking good.” She clarifies, quickly, with a dazed smile. I lean in, kissing her a bit more softly now, letting my lips languidly trace over hers. 

“You too.” I murmur, and I can feel her smile against my lips.

No regrets about this one. 

WOAHHH. oh em gee. a fic! so so so deeply sorry i didn't live upto posting more fics this december and january, but i swear i'm gonna keep trying to at least get two out a month. valentines day is coming up, so you already know i'm gonna try and write something fluffy and cute for that, so look out for that. as usual, thank you so so much for any and all continued support. it seriously means the world to me and i cannot say that enough <3 i hope this fic was enjoyable. like, reblog, comment, whatever <3 just ty for reading!! <3

[andrastepls]

A/SMR.

synop: reader lost her hearing after an explosion, simon has an idea to help her ‘hear’ him again

warnings: none i think ? canon typical violence & loss of hearing maybe knda spicy

not proofread we die like men

Adjusting to life without sound had been a trial on its own. It was something no-one really prepared for — silly as it seemed, now. Bombs and guns going off right next to a person for any amount of time was bound to cause damage at one point or another. Or, maybe, she just had shit luck.

The blast had come and gone so quickly, she had no time to react. No one did. It missed anything vital, but it had sent her rocketing into a wall; promptly breaking her arm, a few ribs, and rupturing her eardrums all in one fell swoop. If nothing else, recovery went relatively smoothly. As smoothly as it could have, at any rate, what with Soap and Gaz being absolutely glued to the chairs in the infirmary. Even getting kicked out a few times — luckily, Price and the Lt. were a little less chaotic. Be it because the medic on-site had a soft spot, or because Simon had intimidated the poor guy, he had been allowed to spend the first two nights in the infirm with her.

Being tucked away in his arms did wonders for her anxiety, but the cot was a bit small for him alone, let alone the pair of them. Blessedly, she had been given the okay to return to her own quarters after that.

A few months later, and her bones were good and well healed, but her ears were another story. The specialist kind. The off-duty kind. The waitlist was long, and going home, alone, in the quiet, sounded like her own personal hell. So, she stayed on base to wait it out.

The silence was her enemy, deafening in its lack of any and everything. She swore she could forget the music the world made in a moment without it. It was cold, void and lonely. Missing out on jokes, not ever hearing the booming shouts and laughter of the boys. Sounds she never thought she’d miss.

It didn’t go unnoticed. For all his grumbling and brooding, Ghost was terribly good at being good company. She was thankful for him, at least. Perhaps now more than ever. He was . . . oddly tentative of her. Making a point to brush a hand against her when he was near, what was previously a hovering palm near her back was now an open-handed reminder someone was there.

He made learning to sign feel so much easier. Subbing out some signs for military signals. A natural transition, when the other person knew how to speak it — even when he didn’t need to.

It was a kindness done solely for her benefit; a fact in which he would never admit, but she knew it to be true nevertheless.

• • •

She felt out of practice. Clumsy and uncertain of herself when he touched her, nothing like herself, and he noticed. He pulls back from her, hands curving through the space between their chests to say, “You okay?”

She swallows, looking away. Embarrassment flushes her cheeks a shade of maroon, the heat of it crawling up her neck.

“It’s not you.” she signs back after a beat, eyes finding his with nothing short of pleading in her irises, “I miss you. But the sound - ”

Lithe hands flop into her lap. She feels . . . inadequate. Incomplete. Hateful, to herself, knowing that she can’t be who he loved first anymore, “I miss hearing you.” it was a cruel thing for the universe to do to her; give her a man to fall in love with, a voice that lulled her to sleep, filled her heart, tightened her legs — and then take it away from her. Leaving her in this muffled prison.

He makes a face at that - not one of ill intent or anything of the sort - rather, one of confusion. She missed hearing him?

He never thought his voice to be something worth missing; though, he quickly understands when his mind wonders what never hearing her again would be like. His girl is quieter now, to be sure. But he can still hear her - the little noises she makes, when she hums to herself without noticing . . . among other noises . . .

There’s a moment where he stays still, only his eyes moving between the two. She’s about to lift her hands so say something else, but he promptly cuts her off by taking one of her wrists between his fingers. Encouraging her to open her hand and bringing her palm up to rest around his throat.

She pauses, wide eyes blinking between their hands and his face — that frustrating little smirk of his curling his lips upward at the corners. She can’t make sense of what he’s doing at first, canting her head to the side like a confused dog, and then, he hums. The sound vibrating against her fingers. Her jaws drops open slightly in shock, eyes locked between her hand and his mouth, wanting to say ‘again’.

Alas, he was a step ahead of her, and mumbles out her name in a breath. Feeling her name in his throat before reading it on his lips.

Hm.

A/N: i dont know its 1am !!

[piratefishmama]

Fake it 'till you make it | Prompt

When Steve Harrington came out to his parents, he expected a few things to happen. Jumping back a little, he hadn’t even meant to come out. His parents meant well, they did. He couldn’t deny that they meant well.

They knew he was lonely when they were gone, they knew he was the type of person who kind of… needed someone around. He wasn’t a lone wolf, he wasn’t someone who could just go it alone, while they were away for months, and while Robin was lovely, Robin was also a lesbian.

So Robin was out of the question.

So it fell to the women they knew. Through their connections. And unfortunately those women tended to be, for lack of a better phrase, ‘Daddies money is how I intend to live for the rest of my life’, and completely comfortable in switching out who Daddy was.

Steve… didn’t have a daddy kink, thanks.

Okay maybe he did a little but not in the call him daddy kind of way. More the other way around.

After the fifth attempt to throw some business partners daughter at him, a woman who’d actually kind of impressively deep throated a hot dog at the office barbeque while looking directly at him before he’d even gotten her name. Impressive, kind of terrifying.

An image of his life consisting of an unhappy marriage where his wife used sex as some kind of transaction rather than the big family full of love that he wanted flashed before his eyes.

He'd had enough. So when the sixth one came up, Vivian, he hadn’t even been able to wait for them to explain who she was, which business associate she was related too, it just. Came out.

Or rather he came out. Spectacularly.

“I’M GAY!” Okay less spectacular initially, more manic desperation. He expected a few things to happen after he realised what he’d blurted out.

He expected anger, he expected disappointment, he half expected disownment, not fully expected, his mother would probably be on his side. He expected violence, judgement, demands of him to tell them it wasn’t true, or demands that he hide it, keep pretending for appearances sake. He’d heard the coming out horror stories.

He did not expect—

“Oh oh! What about Jonathan!! From Tennis club, honey you remember Jonathan right? Peter’s son?” His mother turning to look at his father, who’d turned a little pale. That was it, his father would be the one to blow up, his mother was in his corner that was sort of expected but his fa—

“Lynda he is not dating someone with the same name as me, that—no. No, I don’t think I’d recover if those thin walls at the chalet struck again.” Goddammit. “What about Timothy, Dorothy’s nephew? Didn’t she say she’d caught him with some punk boy on that family holiday to London?”

“Yes but she was trying to get points around the water cooler for being hip and homophobic, did you not hear what she called the poor boy? I’m not associating with Dorothy, good heavens.”

“I hadn’t heard, why have I not heard? Lynda we’re trying to create an inclusive work environment, I can’t have homophobic people working in HR!” And John was up, newspaper down, and off to his study to deal with Dorothy muttering about how he was sure the monthly office newsletter, which included the updated company values, would have weeded the bigots out by now.

“…Did my coming out just get someone fired?” Steve finally broke his shocked silence, his mothers attention turning back to him, her eyes wide, mouth puckered in a little, silent, oh.

“……Maybe.” His shoulders slumped, expression dropping to deadpan, she moved quick to reassure him “Don’t worry about it, Steven, she really wasn’t well liked.” It didn’t make him feel better… okay maybe it did, one less homophobe in the workplace. “Oooh, what about—”

It didn’t stop the matchmaking. The potential suitor pool just got bigger. Especially when he quietly, defeatedly corrected himself, revealing it was bisexual, not just gay, accepting his fate.

So it was no longer Vivian, Jessica, Bethany, Barbara, Carol, etc.

It was Vivian, Thomas, Jessica, Peter, Bethany, Robert blah blah blah

“Okay but you know some people would kill for that kind of support right?” Robin spoke the truth while rewinding the latest batch of returns. And maybe he was whining, maybe he was being overdramatic, his parents were supportive and were trying to make sure he’d be happy while they were gone on their long business trips.

Honestly they could have probably just let him get a dog. It’d have been easier. Less expensive than any of the people they were suggesting.

“I know… it’s just… they could at least try and find out what my type is. Instead it’s like they’re trying to throw a whole Indy gay bar at me in hopes that one person just kinda sticks. And now I’ve got a whole week with them coming up in some remote chalet, what if they bring someone, Robs? What if they bring someone and try an set us up an—”

“Can your parents just… adopt me?” She wasn’t listening “I’d kill to have the dating thing simplified for me, I can’t even talk to girls, you’ve got your mother doing all the work for you. I’d appreciate them, tell them I’d appreciate them.”

The door chimed, neither of them looked up, too engrossed in what they were doing. If a customer needed their help, they’d make it known.

They’d just adjust language used to not out themselves to strangers.

“You tell them! Pretty sure they’d find you someone.” Apparently his parents would be thrilled to help. He wanted to be happy about that, he really did, it was just exhausting having to fend off people who were interested in him but only for the last name, the business connection, the money. He wanted someone who wanted him for him, and none of those ‘potential suitors’ fit that bill. “Robbie I’m serious here, what if— what if they try when I can’t escape. I can’t spend a whole week in the woods with some stranger they’ve thrown at me, I think I might actually perish.”

“Then take a date.” Both young adults turned to look at the culprit behind the door chime.

“Henderson!” Steve’s favourite of the brat pack. Having met him while ferrying the kids home when Jonathan couldn’t pick Will up from Mike’s on a night when Steve had been hanging out with his at the time girlfriend Nancy. The kid was hilarious, a little bit of a know it all, but when you actually know it all, you’ve kind of earned the right to be obnoxious about it. “What did you hear?”

“That someone’s setting you up with people? Which is that a bad thing?” He directed the second question to Robin who shrugged and rolled her eyes.

“Not in my book lil man, not in my book.”

“Okay It’s not the attempt that’s the problem, it’s the quantity of attempts, and the quality of people they’re throwing at me! Quantity and quality are the issues here, people, it’s not that they’re doing it,”

“It’s that they’re doing it badly.” Dustin finished, Steve pointing at him with clicked finger guns.

“Exactly… and I don’t want my parents at my future wedding claiming they were responsible for getting us together cause that’d be weird! And pathetic. I want a fun first date story, a meet cute, or a ridiculous ‘yeah we were trapped in an elevator for like, three hours and bonded’ kind of story, I want an ‘I met them on a train’ or ‘they hit on me at the bar, and it just worked’ not an ‘my parents set us up in a remote cabin in the woods’, do you get me?”

“I can see your dilemma, but remote cabins in the woods can be really roman—"

“Nobody wants to hear about you and Suzie again! We get it, she’s your soulmate and future nerd wife you lucky little shithead.” Long distance and tricky as it may be, they were kind of perfect for each other. “Now what were you saying about taking a date?”

“Exactly that, take a date with you. Tell them you’re bringing someone and just… bring someone.” Dustin let his eyes flick to robin purposefully, quirking his head a little to subtly nod at her “you could take Robin” as if to say now’s your chance, dickhead, take it.

“Somehow I doubt Robin would be able to convince them that we were dating.”

“Cause we’re not.”

“And will not be.”

“At all.”

“Eh—"

“—ver”

“You guys make no sense.”

“We make perfect sense, my strange little child friend. You just don’t have all the information to make it make sense.” Robin wiggled her fingers at him as if it was some kind of mystery, it was to Dustin but that wasn’t important. “He does have a point though, you could take a date, there’s plenty of people in Hawkins who’d kill for a rich person get away, just gotta let them know that it’s a pretend date situation. Or… actually find a date. If you can.”

The "you suck" board flashed into his mind momentarily. He couldn’t. Not within the time frame he had. He was so far off his game his parents were matchmaking for him.

Dustin’s voice broke through his thoughts once more, offering salvation. “I know someone you could hire for that…” hallelujah, Dustin Henderson everybody.

Part 2

[dokidokitsuna]

“Some of us…will always be alone”

Skipping forward a bit in this re-concept, just because I can~ (loooong post ahead)

So one of the many things I found underwhelming about Return of the Mammalians is the lack of villainous impact Mr. Grizz has on his own story.

For starters, he’s straight up absent from 80% of it. =/ Just a vaguely threatening disembodied voice that does weak comedy bits with Cap’n Cuttlefish from time to time…and that’s basically it until we face him in the final battle.

The worst thing he’s responsible for in the story (as in, a successful act we have to contend with, rather than a work-in-progress that we interrupt) is dehydrating Cuttlefish…which is very temporary and played for laughs immediately afterwards. We don’t even get the opportunity to engage with this “tragedy” by actively rescuing the Cap’n in gameplay, we just suddenly find his body during a cutscene.

Compare this to Commander Tartar manipulating the player and lying directly to their face throughout the game, attempting to kill the player during the reveal of its treachery in one of the most memorable scenes of the entire series, brainwashing a former protagonist into fighting the player, and then attempting to destroy an entire city while quietly confessing that it murdered thousands of victims just to get to this point.

I’ll let you guess which one of these antagonists feels like a genuine threat, and which one just feels like a disappointment. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Now, I don’t mind Mr. Grizz being less violent and deranged than Commander Tartar…the two have different personalities and slightly different goals, and anyway a body count isn’t really necessary to be a convincing villain. But I DO mind him being so totally uninvolved, despite being a character that we already knew and interacted with beforehand. Like, at the very least…talk to the player. o_O Care about the player. Do something to interfere with the player sometime before the last minute! The fact that Grizz just doesn’t give a damn about our existence for most of the campaign is baffling from a writer’s standpoint, and heartbreaking from a Grizz-fan’s standpoint. ;_; Notice me, Kuma-san!!

…Anyway, there’s a million ways to remedy this, because it’s such a simple and obvious problem that really shouldn’t exist. ^^; And the one I chose for #re_rise (besides having Grizz haunt the game like an ever-present specter, as explained here) is one of my old tried-and-true favorites: using the villain to parallel the protagonist.

Basically, both characters are lonely at heart. Agent 3 left home for the Splatlands in search of a “fresh beginning”, after spending most of their life feeling like they never fit in anywhere. Throughout the story, we get subtle clues that what they want most is belonging and friendship…which they’re clearly discovering through their interactions with Deep Cut and Smallfry, although it’s not until the climax of the final battle that they can truly believe in it and accept it.

And of course, Mr. Grizz lost his home and entire civilization, and even in the midst of a thriving new one (that he actively engages with through his corporation…!) he’s apparently such a massive bigot that he doesn’t consider it worthy of his company. ^^; Fish-people do not count to him, thus his loneliness is self-inflicted and intensified. He believes his only recourse is to transform the world back into something he can accept.

These parallels, plus the desire-manifesting powers of Alterna’s crystals (discussed in this post) eventually brings the two characters to an understanding of sorts. Without having to exchange words, they can see and consider the similarities of their innermost feelings.

This doesn’t have much of an effect on Grizz, outside of something he might muse about while Agent 3 ascends the launchpad (and maybe quietly internalize as proof that fish-people have feelings too, just to give his last-second change of heart at least one leg to stand on). But it weighs heavily on Agent 3, especially since they’re being physically changed by their adventure in a way that makes these parallels even more relevant…yes, I’m finally gonna talk about what I actually drew. ^^

My idea was that spending too much time around Fuzzy Ooze will affect you even if you don’t touch it (i.e. through splashes/aerosols), just to a lesser degree. And since Agent 3 was the first to actually enter the underground lab spaces and spends more time fighting there than anyone else, they’ve had an unprecedented amount of secondhand exposure to it.

Through O.R.C.A.’s files, they can understand why this mild fuzzification is happening to them, and that it may not be reversible, although they press on anyway (I’d like to imply that they’re willing to ignore it to impress Deep Cut~). But Grizz’s offhand comments make them realize that they may be unintentionally setting themselves up to be cast aside again, slowly turning into a repulsive mutant monster that no one will want to be around. The only one of their kind in the world, just like a certain Ursine Anomaly…and if they succeed in stopping Grizz’s plan, that’s all they’ll ever be. 

…On the other hand, if they were to sit back and let him fuzzify the world, then…no, they couldn’t do that. They…wouldn’t…

[fakescenariosbeforesleepblog]

By fire and heart.

Daemma Targaryen. Second daughter of King Viserys and queen Aemma, you're the living portrait of your mother with the character of a true dragon, as a second daughter you don't have right to the throne but certainly, you will protect your sister's succession by heart.

(You are one year younger than Rhaenyra.)

Warning ⚠️: Credits of this images goes to whoever they belong to! Grammatical and spelling errors, maybe this won't be good enough but In my head the story was a good one.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

Pt.2 is here

You're smart, brave and pretty, agile with swords and archery, you have interests in medicine and history, you feel proud of who you are, the confidence and self-esteem are one of many attributes. You always thought you didn't need no one else but yourself, you're good with it, for you that's more than enough.

You never complained about being the second child or about the preference of your father for Rhaenyra, for you it was fine, after all she was the first born, and your father's desire to have a boy helped to not feel this favoritism.

Your mother didn't have favorites, she loved her daughters, your relationship with your sister wasn't the best but it worked, you always thought Alicent was like her father, your uncle Daemon said it a thousand times «he's an arsehole» and you agreed, you never understood why your father couldn't see it in that way.

Daemon is a great uncle, your favorite person in the world but he always looks more interested in your sister, with you he was like the kind of father you wanted, fierce and protective, teaching you to fight and follow your own ambitions, you were good with the sword thanks to him, you were a good Dragon rider thanks to him, much of the things you like is because of him, your father is not really there for you, your poor mother was always in bed with her pregnancies, and Rhaenyra always with Alicent, you even take your classes with the septa alone, not with them.

After your mother's dead you for the first time felt weak, fragile and alone, the anger started to burn your inside, you were angry with your father, his wishes to have a son took your mother's life away, the poor newborn was alive for less than a day. Poor little thing, his little nose would never inhale the fresh air of the morning, his little mouth would never suspire and his eyes would never admire the majesty of the world or a dragon. Then your uncle making those comments about your baby brother hurt you, but you still admired your uncle more than to your father, in fact you were sure all this situation could be avoided if your father simply named your uncle as his heir.

- DAEMMA! You have to understand! I'm the king, it is my duty to bring heirs to secure the Targaryen bloodline on the throne.

- You already have an heir! Now leave, I don't want to see you, for me... You murdered my mother!

Were lonely nights and days, you rarely left your room, you were sad, angry, depressed. Your uncle was sent to go back with his wife, Rhaenyra was living her own duel, you didn't have a shoulder to cry in.

One night your father requested your presence with urgency. You arrived just in time, Rhaenyra was already there talking with your father.

- What's the meaning of this familiar reunion?

- Daemma, come here. I... I thought about what you said to me a few nights ago.

Your father looked tired and unsure of what he was saying but you were also tired, Rhaenyra is not understanding yet, but you, you have a presentiment.

-You were right, I want to apologize to you, my girls, all this time I wasted trying to have a son and named him as my heir... But, Rhaenyra, you're my first child, all this time you were the answer to my pleadings. I'll name you my heir.

Rhaenyra and you looked at each other in shock, what did he say?, without wasting time both spoke.

- But Daemon!

- Daemon was not made for the crown, but I think you are, Rhaenyra, I believe you would be a good queen, your mother would agree with me.

Rhaenyra is in silence, you're too since you're thinking about Rhaenyra as the first woman who will sit on the throne. Would the council accept this?. You were lost in thoughts that you didn't feel your father taking your hand in his, you realized it until he spoke.

- Daemma, you're my second child and I know you and I have our differences but... Promise me, you will support your sister, swear over your mother and brother ashes that you will always be at your sister's side.

For the first time in years, you and Rhaenyra had a connection, none of you say something, but both understood each other. Both nodded in silence, accepting what the destiny was putting on your shoulders. The three of you held hands while your father explained about the secret passed from the king to the heir, you went back to your chambers, that night you couldn't sleep you had nightmares about fire, blood and wars.

The next day, while your sister was getting ready for the ceremony, you were just there, observing her and Alicent, both were in silence, when your guard knocked on the door.

- Princess Daemma? I have the information you require this morning.

You stood up from your seat and left them, your guard told you about your uncle leaving the castle, so both are running to the dragon pit, he won't leave without saying goodbye, at least not without saying bye to you.

He's with a woman you never saw before, he's allowing her to touch Caraxes.

- Daemon... Leaving without saying goodbye is not what I was expecting from my uncle.

- Daemma...

He approaches you and gives you a hug, caressing your hair.

- The King sends me away, Otto Hightower, that poisonous snake convinced him.

- I thought it was the fact you celebrated while my family was suffering the loss of my mom and brother.

He steps back and simply looks at you and smiles, then takes your hand in his.

- Take care of them and take care of yourself, get stronger Daemma.

You nod in silence while he walks back at his dragon, in a blink of an eye Caraxes Roars and disappears with your uncle. You went back just in time to the ceremony, you were the first one to bend your knee and swear your loyalty to your sister, the future heir.

[oimitocat]

HEARTBEAT | OS

yeonjun, kai (seperately) x gn!reader

angst + subtle fluff + crying + insecurity + breakups + idol au! + unhealthy mechanisms + 6thmember!reader + implied depression

a/n: can be read as M!READER. i’m sorry if this is trash, i feel like i this isn’t very good ;(

from his earlier training years, yeonjun knew who he was. he was talented. other trainees feared being paired up with him- they would never fully shine next to him. it’s not something he boasts about, he is proud about it, of course, but… he remembers how lonely it was.

remembers how hard he had to keep exceeding if he did everything flawlessly. he couldn’t give anything less than what he has so easily done up until then. yet…. you managed to be on his level. easily. naturally.

you enamored him from the moment he saw your name at the top of the weekly evaluation scores. second. you were second.

“wanna go eat something?” yeonjun asks with a smile, appearing before your view.

you were looking at the schedule your manager sent. once more, you’re more prone to being in the dorms or your studio than going out the city for anything. yeonjun has a busy month after tomorrow.

you’re always second.

“i’m good.” you say flatly.

unsure if you’re joking, yeonjun prods. “n/n, let’s go eat! i’m craving something from the corner store. oh! how about that phò you like? let’s go! i also heard we can take a car-“

“yeonjun go by yourself.” you groan.

“eh?” yeonjun pouts, sitting on your bed and shaking you. “n/n are you okay? you mad? you upset?” he asks, but he’s joking. he’s not actually concerned.

he always has other things to worry about.

“i wanna be by myself today, yeonjun.”

“well i don’t care! i want to be with you before my promotions start up-“

“well i don’t.”

yeonjun pauses, realizing you’re actually not in a good mood. he stares at your figure, back facing him. he hesitates before shaking you gently, “y/n-“

“ugh do you have to be so annoying? no one wants to be around your twenty four seven!” you huff as you sit up to glare at him.

he stares at you, surprised. “what are you talking about-“

“you’re always so full of yourself! always wanting the attention on you! you just want to go out so that someone spots you and they post about how you’re roaming around! you always do this!”

yeonjun fidgets with the bedsheet that fell over his lap, his heart sinking. “that’s not true. what are you saying? i want to spend time with you! we’re dating!”

“out of what? pity?” you grit.

“huh? no-“

“get out.”

and he obeys. there’s no fight in him. he’s never fought with you. this is completely new and unexpected. he’s never seen you so angry and hurt. where did this come from?

he’s seen the light die in your eyes. debut was hard. the career path is brutal. fans can be just as brutal as they are loving. he’s seen how your eyes lose that brilliancy he had loved. that loving passion dimming to a bitter craving for success you probably don’t even want now. yet you always smile. you always make the most of it. you try to.

how long have you been trying for? had he not been careful with you?

“good morning,” he says when he walks inside your room the next day.

you’re awake. he knows you are.

“i brought breakfast from that place you like.” he says, sitting on your bed. “y/n we need to talk about this.”

“there’s literally nothing to talk about. i’m sorry for lashing out. i know i’m the worst.” you say.

yeonjun shakes his head, taken aback. “i didn’t say or imply that. i just want to know what’s going on-“

“nothing. it’s literally nothing, i have nothing going on, you clearly do. don’t you have to fly out later?” you say bitterly.

what’s this about? he frowns, “well yeah but i know something’s wrong. you’re upset-“

“i just want to be alone! can’t you respect that?” you groan.

yeonjun pauses. he doesn’t want to comply but he thinks it’s best. he just stands and goes out. you don’t come out all morning. he doesn’t know anything more until later that evening. his flight is at 8 pm. you haven’t touched what he brought for you. it gives him an unpleasant feeling.

his heart is heavy again. where are you? why aren’t you answering his calls or messages? why aren’t you in your room?

“y/n? i saw him go to the studio,” beomgyu says when he’s called by yeonjun.

you’re hardworking, he knows that. but he’s learned that you push yourself on days you want nothing to do with anything or anyone. you were supposed to kiss him farewell for his flight. you were supposed to hug him and say you missed him already.

‘ i have nothing going on, you clearly do. ‘ what did that mean?

you said he was full of himself… why did you say that? what made you say it?

and when he peeks inside the studio and sees you furiously writing in your notebook- he realizes. you have the headphones on and you only do that when you want no one to disturb you. yet, yeonjun doesn’t like letting things go too far. he needs to clear this up. he doesn’t want to leave knowing you’re like this with him.

“y/n…” he calls out gently, putting a hand on your shoulder.

you jump and stare at him. your expression of surprise turns dark fast. “what? aren’t you supposed to be packing?”

“i can’t see my love before leaving?” yeonjun frowns. “y/n why are you upset with me?”

“i’m not.”

“you said a bunch of hurtful things.”

“i did not. if you can’t handle the truth then maybe you can’t handle life at all.” you grit.

yeonjun finally feels something click. he has never realized what was happening until now. he should have pieced it together before. he should have seen how you started distancing yourself. mentally. emotionally.

physically you’re here.

“i’m tired of being the only one who loves you.” he says, eyes glimmering with tears. he swallows the lump in his throat, “i need you to love yourself too.”

you pause. he’s… right. “yeonjun.”

“i’ve done everything i can. i love you, i treat you good. i’ve been by your side since trainees and i’ve fallen in love with you. yet, i’ve never seen you appreciate me what i appreciate.”

“just get out-“

“why do you push me away? i’m not you,” he begs, “you can’t push yourself out of your body, but why do you push me away?”

“STOP BEING RIGHT. DAMN IT!” you slam your fist down on the desk, your notebook and pencil jumping.

yeonjun swallows, looking away. “then stop being your biggest hater… i’ve been your biggest supporter… don’t hate me too…”

you bury your face into your hands. you sob. “i’m sorry… i don’t know why i do it. i hate that the most.” you say after a long silence, yeonjun never leaves.

he’s never dared to.

why do you hate it do much?

“y/n… you need help…” yeonjun says softly, kneeling before you. his hands rub your knee. “i know you’ve felt like a less important person ever since our career has grown… but we’ve always appreciated you more than anyone and anything.”

“i know,” you sniffle, “i just… feel so alone. seeing how you even the company leaves me in the shadow sometimes.”

yeonjun quickly pulls you to the floor and with him. he hugs you and rubs your back. you sob, finally letting it out.

“i love you… i’ll do whatever i can to make this better,” he whispers.

and you can only cling to that taboo truth.

there are multiple things that have made kai decide that if he ever goes back in time he’ll never be an idol again. yes, there are a lot of things he’s grateful for experiencing and having the opportunity to do but the reality is that this is a harsh path.

the negative remarks. being overworked. the only true reasons he stands firmer are the members.

and you.

yet, it’s felt lately as if neither of you are in a relationship. all of you were exhausted from the concert tours. the company is pulling too many strings and neither of you are strung together.

“huh?” you take out your headphones, looking at him.

“can we talk?” he asks, fidgeting.

you drop everything, hoping off the game without a say. you’ll explain later, kai is always your priority.

“what is it? come here,” you move away from your desk and stand.

the two of you wander to your bed. you’re sitting opposite of him, criss cross. he sits on the edge. you don’t question it, thinking he’s just having a moment where feeling on edge makes him be just that. he’s not looking at you.

“i just feel like we haven’t actually been… lovers.”

you blink. “you want… sex right now?”

“no,” he looks up at you with wide eyes. “n-not in that way! it’s just… we’re literally so busy…. we just came back from our tour and starting tomorrow we have to start meetings and stuff to work on our next album…”

you nod, blushing. you feel a little embarrassed for assuming he wanted sex but you couldn’t help it with how he worded it. “is this about not spending much time together?”

he nods, “yeah… it feels like we’re not dating… i can’t remember the last time we were like this…”

“well it’s kind of always like this, isn’t it? we’ll have our moments soon.” you assure, placing a hand on his knee.

“we could’ve had a moment but you chose to be with your friends and your game.”

you pause, “ah- i mean yeah, okay but we’ve been stressed from all our past schedules. you know i destress through video games or being in the studio. you could’ve been in my room!”

he looks at you. you can’t decipher that look.

you’re everything he’s needed to keep afloat when he’s drowning. yet….

“do… still want this?”

you blink, “want what?”

kai swallows, “us. a relationship.”

you look around, unsure what’s happening. “of course, kai why would you ask that?”

kai shrugs, looking down at the bedsheets, “i just feel like we’re too busy sometimes to even take care of ourselves…”

“that’s the whole point of us being together,” you scoot closer and take his hands in yours, “baby, remember when you just dropped during practice and cried from how tired and exhausted you were?”

kai bites the inside of his cheek and nods. he doesn’t look up at you.

“but it’s always you taking care of me,” he tries, almost in a begging tone. “aren’t you tired? i can’t even take care of myself and i feel bad with not just everything that’s happening but knowing we have a relationship. it’s so many things i need to care for but i can’t even care for myself. everything is just too much sometimes.”

“i get that,” you rub your thumbs over his skin, “kai i get that… but you know i’m here for you-“

“and who’s there for you?” he asks accusingly.

you gently pull your hands away from him. you analyze him. you heart races. “kai… are you… tired of me?”

kai’s eyes suddenly dart towards you. “i… i’m tired of everything y/n. i just want to go to sleep and never wake up.”

you take in the glassy look of his eyes and your heart goes heavy. “do you… not want to keep our relationship going? is that what this is? i know we have a lot going on but-“

“but what’s the point?” he asks, “y/n you deserve more than this. i genuinely cannot find myself spending energy into a relationship when i’m putting more than everything i have into my career.”

you grow baffled, “kai this is our career. we’re a group-“

“exactly! we all have so much to do and so much is expected of us. i fought with myself to get out of bed and come here. the thought of spending time with you a-bored me. it felt like a chore.”

“i’m a burden to you?” you ask.

he falls silent. not daring to look at you.

“when did this start?” you ask, looking down at the bed sheets. you sit back and cross your arms in a form of hugging yourself. “when did loving me become a chore for you? did i do something wrong?”

you’re not enough. that’s all you’re hearing. you’re not enough for kai to feel like he’s enjoying his life. instead, you’re something… someone he feels like is dragging him.

“no, no,” he groans, “you’ve always been my anchor y/n,” he tries, “on my worst days you’ve been more than enough but i just. i can’t be the same for you. i receive and receive but never give back. you don’t deserve that.”

you swallow, “i-i don’t care. you deserve everything i have to offer-“

“i don’t want it.” he says soft, looking at you, “not anymore.”

“but… why?”

“because i’ll burn you out…”

“no you wouldn’t-“

“i will and i’m doing this for the both of us-“

you huff, “don’t you love me?”

with a long, sadden stare, he looks at you. you slump. you watch as his mouth moves— saying exactly what you hoped wasn’t real. you watch as he stands. you watch as he pauses.

a friendship is all you could have. are you better off being coworkers… friends… than lovers. he knew this would happen too. he just wanted to see how far you two could go.

still, you always try. “this was never going to work, was it?”

“no.”

[m-musings]

Dating requests of bunnymund and pitch black (separately) where they’re dating the guardian of love?

A/N: i feel this is utter garbo, but i hope it's still good enough to post 😭😭😭

NOTICE (7/10/24) : NO LONGER WRITING FOR ROTG

Word Count:430 Warnings: none i think

Headcanons E. Aster Bunnymund and Pitch Black with a Guardian of Love! S/O

Bunny:

Bunnymund is fantastic to date!

As the Guardians of Hope and Love, you compliment each other very well. You take care of and respect each other more than anyone else on earth.

He's still tough and agile on the outside but when the two of you are able to get some peace and quiet, he's a gentle giant who just wants to cuddle.

He'd definitely be the one to call you cheesy but sweet nicknames (i.e. lovebug, cutie, muffin and of course, the ever so classic darling.)

He adores you and would do almost anything you asked if it would make you him happy, and the same applies for you.

You would both be fiercely protective of each other too. If either of you has any little inkling that the other maybe in trouble, you're rushing off to find each other.

There are times when he thinks that you may have used your powers on him to make him love you, but when he sees the look of true affection your eyes, he knows what you have together is real.

Bunny would joke that you're his own personal Cupid sent straight from the Man in the Moon and tells you he wouldn't trade you for anything.

Pitch:

Pitch is a rather reserved man. All dark corners and silent contemplation but that changes once you enter the picture.

You bring the perfect amount of color and liveliness into his monotone world.

He doesn't understand how someone could be so different from him yet be the perfect match for him. Pitch loves you more than he thought possible for someone like himself.

And while he's still bitter about his place in the world, he's less so truly angry about it with you by his side.

He will still get mad at the way humans and the other guardians have treated him, but he could never find it in himself to be angry at you.

He really tries to be a better person but if anything bad were to ever happen to you, he'd burn the entire world to the ground to take revenge.

Pitch may not always verbally express it, but its clear that he loves you just by the way he behaves around you.

Around others, he's stiff and stoic but when he's alone with you, his entire demeanor visibly softens and relaxes.

Whenever you're alone, he will secretly relish in any bit of physical affection you might give him. He was so lonely for such a long time but you changed his life simply by being there for him.

[aprill-99]

I was mulling it over today, and I think we haven’t talked enough about how the kindest Gods in the PJO show are the lonely outcast ones.

Think about it, the gods we see on screen are Poseidon, Zeus, Hades, Ares, Dionysus and Hephaestus.

We spend the most time with Dionysus and he’s arguably the most well socialized, but he isn’t shown to actually care about the campers. Ares is at best manipulative and capable of being manipulated and at worst short cited, violent, and cruel. He sends children into a known trap and dresses it up as helping them, then tries to start a war (whether or not it was his idea).

Zeus, king of the gods and always surrounded by them, is portrayed as controlling with a childish need to win no matter who else suffers or how stupid the game. He won’t agree to stop a war that would tear the world apart until Poseidon will admit he’s won, even after hearing that Kronos has returned.

Poseidon is portrayed as being more alone and separate from the other gods. He has his own realm, and while that makes him more powerful, he’s also more isolated. He shows care for both Sally and Percy. Particularly with Sally, she feels alone and like she has no one to talk to, and he comes as soon as she calls. Percy is in danger and he directly intervenes against Zeus and lets his pride take a hit to save him (in direct contrast to Zeus).

But Hades? Hated and feared god of the dead. Even more isolated than Poseidon and only allowed to be with the rest of his family once a year with a wife gone half the year and his children far away. The moment he hears what is actually happening, what does he say to Percy? “Ask me for sanctuary.” Then he follows it up by offering to keep his best friend and only family safe too. The last person Hades offered that too was probably Bianca, Nico, and Maria. Hades’ default move when the world is fraying is to put the innocent kids somewhere safe. Batten down the hatches, get any advantage you can for sure, but for the love of Hestia hide the kids until they’re old enough, until that’s not an option anymore. He doesn’t doubt Percy for a second. He just gives him a way out and offers Perseus -fatal-flaw-is-loyalty- Jackson, a way to keep his only true family safe. I think if Percy cared less about the rest of the world (remember he has other Camp friends and Annabeth is already gone) he’d have seriously considered it.

Hephaestus, (coup de gras) a god cast out of Olympus, married to a wife who hates him, crippled by his parents, and kept around for being useful. What does he end up telling Annabeth? “You’re a good kid, Annabeth.” Said to the girl whose own mother gave her a hat that makes her invisible - the girl who’s greatest wish is to build something that last forever - who wants acknowledgment and feels like she has to prove herself.

And he tells her she’s a good kid. Good already for being who she is now, not for whatever she might be later. Guy is really out here breaking cycles of abuse all over the damn place and he had like, 4 minutes of screen time!

Anyway I’m supposed to be studying for the Bar, but this was haunting me…..

[leggerefiore]

cw: loneliness, post ingo disappearance Emmet, comfort, Silver Fox Emmet

pairing: Emmet/Reader

Busy… Everyone felt so busy.

Busy schedules, no spare time, endless things to do…

You hated to complain. You hated to say a word. You bit your tongue. It was easier that way – Better than way. Everything always felt so fragile and ready to burst. Like the moment you vocalised your feels, a bubble would burst and leave you to true isolation. A social attack that would make someone finally officially drop you instead of slowly and subtly doing so.

Or, maybe, it was just you. A bitter form of jealousy that haunted your mind. Someone having what you did not. A friend with more friends and no time for you. It was childish. You swallowed your feelings. Bring an adult meant burying such thoughts and feelings to keep a status quo. A peaceful existence. Painful things would have to go ignored and unaddressed lest you unravel the whole fragile tie and undo everything. This was a foolish endeavour that lead you to feeling less like a person and more like an annoyance. A barrier of sorts. Maybe they all kept you around out of pity. You hated the self-doubt and loathing that would continue to plague you.

It was on a late-night train ride to head back to your apartment that you found someone like yourself. Another lonely soul who fought back the urge to ask for any attention. Someone who lurked within the obscurity of just being acknowledged yet scarcely sought out. An employee, you could tell, a senior one at that. He was definitely aged. A black hat sat heavy on his head, mismatched with the rest of his white uniform. Eyes has heavy bags under them and his lips were frozen in a neutral expression. His words were quick and impolite with most of those he spoke with. You did not know why you listened at first. Nothing about him would have otherwise piqued your interest. Something did, however.

When your gazes met, you felt strangely small. He basically ordered you to move the bag from the seat beside you, but almost phrased it like a question. His intention was clearly not to be rude, somehow. You nodded, but before he could go off, you called out to him. A quiet request to know who he was. The darkness of the subway tunnel shined with a monetary brightness. A Subway Boss… Emmet… It was unfamiliar, yet you clung onto it, repeating the name and title carefully. A small smile broke out across his face after you did so. You returned the expression back to him.

You did not think that you would ever see him again.

Yet, you did.

At a café, you spied the familiar man sitting alone with a black cup of coffee steaming across from him. An emptied plate of what may have previously been a dessert sat in front of him. You wondered if his conversation partner had slipped away for a few moments, but they never returned if they had. The coffee remained completely undisturbed. Why? You could only ponder the answer to that question. The man's gaze drifted to you as you sat nearby in your single seat table. He gave a polite smile again. A tip was left on the table as he got up to leave. The coffee left to cool down and be forgotten and not drunk.

The barista scoffed at the sight, but before she complained, an older employee shook her head to scoop up the drink. “… I know it seems a waste,” she explained, “But… But he said he's waiting on someone. They never show up. I doubt he likes wasting money on a drink like that. It seems awfully cruel to keep standing him up, doesn't it? You'd think he'd just give up.” The barista seemed less upset after hearing that, more empathetic. Your gaze stared out of the window into the busy Nimbasa streets.

Who was he waiting on? You agreed with the older woman's thoughts. Why did he keep trying?

You tried to pretend that you had not faced your own many similar situations. Desperation was the answer. Desperation for anyone.

The first time you properly spoke was when he encountered you. A friend had promised to meet you at the amusement park in Nimbasa yet they never showed. You sat on the bench, staring out in the crowd with empty eyes. Again. It happened again. They insisted they had tried to tell you earlier, but… You lowered your head. The laughs and happy conversations around you felt mocking. Was this some kind of cruel punishment for an action that you could not recall committing? Tears burned your eyes.

Yet, they did not have a chance to fall.

“Are you okay?” a voice called out. You assumed it was not to you. Then, someone sat beside you. You nearly jumped back. It was him, albeit in casual clothing. His eerie eyes stared into your own. “I am sorry,” he apologised, “I did not want to startle you.” The question was repeated. You felt lost. There was no way that you could dump that on a complete stranger. A hand came to rest on your shoulder. A genuine smile was on his face. “Ah! You rode the night train,” he realised, “I hope I did not come across as mean. My job is verrrry stressful, and I have to do it alone. My mood gets low towards the end of a shift.”

You nodded. He went silent. You wondered what this was.

Suddenly, you were not alone.

Not at all.

Emmet became an odd fixture in your life. He was a bad conversationalist, but he seemed to simply just enjoy being in your presence. Words were not needed – you both found peace in having consistent company. He was someone you easily scheduled things to do with whenever he was free. You felt that he was working hard to make even more time for you. It was nice. No more wishy-washy replies and schedules. There was someone you could rely on. Even if he was a bit older.

Your closeness with him slowly began to blossom into something more. Polite touches shifted into affectionate gestures until an outright declaration of feelings were made. A simple “we should date” from Emmet started a new page in your life. The desolate state that you had lingered in before was almost wholly gone. Moving in with him made everything even better. Sure, he might have sometimes had to work late, but he always tried to make it home if he could or send a message to let you know if he could not. You did not think that you had felt such contentment in a while.

You had even opened up about your situation, which had made Emmet huff. He chided you for not standing up for yourself and demanded that you spoke to your friends openly about the issue. Many felt mortified that they had done such a thing to you, apologising for how they had acted, but a few had behaved in a less than understanding manner. Needless to say, you did find who truly cared and who did not. Yet, you found yourself wondering about Emmet. Why had he been so lonely? He never seemed too eager to tall about his past. You barely knew much other than his hometown and that he had a brother.

It had not been until you encountered a certain model that you had been learnt more. Emmet was a twin… And that twin had suddenly gone missing. It all had been as messy affair. She claimed that she worried that Emmet may not ever recover from it, yet that he had seemed happier lately. Many thanks were lavished onto you for helping that. You had gently confronted Emmet about that later. He was mortified by your words. His bright smile fell into a fixed frown. There was a distance in his gaze. He shook his head and took off his black cap.

“My older brother was my other half,” he said simply, “We were two pieces of a whole. I am not whole without him. Yep.” The hat was clenched in his hands. You saw tears brimming in his eyes. Your arms came around him tightly as he began to cry. He shook pitifully, almost like a small child. You understood what Elesa had meant now. He almost did not seem like himself. His sobs were quiet, almost unnoticeable. “I miss him…” he mumbled, “I have done everything that I can to search for him! Oh, darling, what could have happened to him!?”

He hugged you tightly to himself, burying his face into your shoulder. You wished that you had an answer to his question. Your mind flashed back to how he and comforted you when you nearly began to cry. Your hand rubbed his back. His name left your lips a few times. Emmet only cried more. “... You are too nice,” his words startled you, “You should not waste your time on me. I am verrry old and gross.” You fought back the laugh that almost left you. Old and gross? You could not agree. Your thoughts were vocalised. He flinched.

“… Why?” he asked simply, “… Is it because I help get rid of your loneliness?” Was it? Maybe at first… But now, well, it was much more. His age was irrelevant, and so was his mental state. You pecked a kiss on his temple. Your love was proclaimed proudly. Emmet froze. “Oh, darling,” he mumbled again, “Darling… You could have anyone.” You wanted him. He closed his eyes. “… I… I love you, too,” he spoke truthfully as he stood up straight. His gaze met yours. He leaned down to nuzzle his nose against yours before giving you a kiss on your lips.

“Let's keep helping each other's loneliness,” a weak smile came across his lips, “… Ingo would have liked you. Yep, Ingo would be verrrry jealous that I have you all too myself.” He squeezed you tighter to himself.

Ingo… You hoped to meet him one day.

You were definitely going to scold him for leaving Emmet in such a state first, though.