#I DONT EVEN WATCH STRANGE NEW WORLDS-

[goofyjelly]

so youre tellin me that the internet goes wild for actor men ALL THE TIME, but when I go on wattpad I can't find ONE Ethan Peck fanfiction-

[icewindandboringhorror]

I've referenced before how I have a big google document to keep track of every media I've ever seen in my entire life (just for reference because I like to track everything possible lol… I am the Data Collector), but recently as I was updating it, I thought of actually evaluating them to find out random percentages (like for example, out of Total Shows Watched, what percentage did I finish vs. stop watching, what percentage did I like or dislike, etc.)...

Evaluating these things is made easier by the fact that I already place everything on each subsection of the list into 6 broad ranking categories, so I don't have to go back and guess to figure out how I feel about them or anything. The categories are: Ranking 5 - overall best* (despite some criticisms of course because I'm too much of an Analyzer to ever find anything Perfect lol) Ranking 4 - more positive than neutral, but not good enough to be 5 Ranking 3 - either the good + bad negate each other, OR it's just not memorable/interesting in any way enough to be ranked higher or lower (this is the Default category ALL things are placed in if no other rank applies) Ranking 2 - maybe a few redeemable elements but largely more negatives than positives Ranking 1 - So bad that it circles around to being fascinating to observe in some way (not necessarily Funny, or Good, but just interesting somehow) Ranking 0 - Bad in a genuinely frustrating or obnoxious manner

*("best" primarily defined here as most interesting, rather than most good in a technical sense, or some other measure. I tend to value more highly whether there's something novel or thoughtful about the worldbuilding, tone, writing, base premise, etc - than about whether it's actually executed perfectly.)

And here's the amount of shows that have so far been placed into each category -

TV shows ~ Rank 5 (highest) - 20 shows ~ Rank 4 (mid-high) - 28 shows ~ Rank 3 (neutral/default/meh) - 114 shows ~ Rank 2 (mid low) -33 shows ~ Rank 1 (low low but intriguingly so) - 14 shows ~ Rank 0 (iredeemably low) - 2 shows

This would make for a total of 211 TV shows overall. However, there are 57 shows within these list marked as "didn't finish" (typically meaning I quit on the very first or second episode - but log them still to keep a record that I at least had a brief view of them).

So my total of genuinely fully watched shows would be more 154. 211 Total, but a More Accurate Total of 154.

Counting them all and using the Total Number Of The List (211) -- that means roughly 9.5% of all total shows I have ever watched (or at least attempted to watch) have been Mostly Good, 13% have been Moderately Okay, 54% have been either entirely Forgettable or some mix of good + bad that lands them right in the Neutral Middle, 15.6% have been Mostly Bad, 6.6% have been Bad (but in an interesting way), and 0.9% have been Terribly Bad.

Additionally, I didn't even get past the first two episodes of about 27% of the total.

Sooo, discounting ones I didn't finish, my total TV shows ever watched in my life would be about 154 (maybe give or take a few, assuming I might have forgotten some from very long ago).

But instead of entire life, let's just say this is the total for 'About 20 Years' (so, not counting very early childhood when I likely wouldn't remember things I saw/have no detailed recollection of them (like for example, I'm sure at some point when I was like 4yrs old I must have seen an episode of Spongebob or something, but I have zero distinct memories of it, can't quote anything of it, and barely recall the premise - so I don't count it on the list, etc.)).

In that case, 154 divided by 20 would be roughly 7.7 shows a year.

Which is actually surprisingly low considering that I often have stuff on in the background for hours whilst I make sculptures and do costumes and stuff (maybe I should have also marked some distinction between 'things I fully paid attention to' and 'things I kind of half listened to whilst sculpting', but that would further split the categories too much probably lol), but I guess a lot of that is youtube videos or random documentaries, so .. eh.. maybe I get it being lower.

Now, doing the same thing for movies-

Movies ~ Rank 5 (highest) - 4 movies (3.4% of total) ~ Rank 4 (mid-high) - 12 movies (10.3% of total) ~ Rank 3 (neutral/default/meh) - 91 movies (78.4% of total) ~ Rank 2 (mid low) - 8 movies (6.8% of total) ~ Rank 1 (low but interesting) - 1 movie (0.8% of total) ~ Rank 0 (irredeemably low) - none in this category (0%)

That makes 116 for a Total (Actually Remembered) Movies Watched In Lifetime (Or At Least In 20 Years).

116 divided by 20 is roughly 5 or 6 movies a year (I feel this has probably been skewed though by adding everything since like elementary school onwards, as I remember a lot more movies from child/teen years.. Whereas, the past 3 years I feel like I've barely seen maybe even 5 movies?? lol). I also have "Didn't Finish" marked on 18 of them. Which means I quit halfway through about 15% of the total movies.

So, a for broader summary stuff..

I seem to be less forgiving to movies than tv shows, by far. Which makes sense to me, I guess, because I love elaboration and details, so "short form" things that only last an hour or two are often lost on me a bit. My biggest complaint with movies is indeed usually walking away just wishing there had been more exposition, more scenes where characters are doing nothing, more "mindless bantering" conversations, more Quiet Downtime and Lore Elaboration and so on lol, so... of course most 1-2hr films end up feeling a bit Not Enough To Draw My Interest/Nothingy to me.

If you count 5 and 4 as "like" and rankings 2 to 0 as "dislike", then for TV shows I at least somewhat liked 48 of them, and at least somewhat disliked 47 of them.. So it's almost exactly the same lol. I'm just about equally as likely to find something bad as I am to find something redeeming about it. But overall, the largest chance is that I just won't really care much for it at all and it will be tossed into the 'neutral' pile, forgotten forever. Movies have a bit better of a balance, "liking" 16 of them, and "disliking" only 9 of them. So I'm slightly more likely to enjoy a movie than to find it annoying - though still VASTLY more likely to just not find it anything in particular, possibly not even finishing it.

ANYWAY.. this is vague and literally pointless, but like I said, I just really find information fun. Like my document where I've rated every apple flavor I've ever tried (like 40 of them now?), or reviewed every oreo flavor (32?), or ranking data from my entire 10 years of Trying To Make Friends process (out of 100 people, roughly 8% chance of a moderate compatibility, 3% chance of high), or etc. etc.. I love to have random pointless things to analyze I suppose lol.

I doubt anyone tracks things in their life in this same exact way, but I'd be interested in hearing any at least somewhat similar data !!! (like, how many TV shows you watch a year on average, and what percentage of those you like vs. dislike (if you keep track of that sort of thing), etc.)). I guess it might be easier with movies, since I think some people use those websites where you curate a list of movies you've seen and you can rate them or something, so maybe the numbers are already available on those places. :0

[pkmoth]

having swap au thoughts. *slaps roof of claus* there's so much mental illness in this guy. im gonna blow up everyone in the room and then myself

[moonsidesong]

family went to see live action little mermaid and i ended up tagging along out of curiosity. better than i expected honestly! a far cry from perfect, but, yknow, i didn't leave angry, and that's more than i expected. halle bailey honestly totally knocked it out of the park as ariel (and also out of the three new songs hers was the only one i liked...)

[hoe4hotchner]

hey! i love your stuff :)! was wondering if you could maybe do a short fic with hotch where he's interrogating the reader (who is a suspect, but is actually innocent), and the reader politely informs hotch that they're about to faint (they have a fainting condition, like POTS or something). hotch doesn't panic bc he's, well, hotch, but he calls for medical help. meanwhile, reader is just casually lying down on the cold floor of the cell and being really chill waiting to faint, even making conversation. anyway, hotch finds out that the police officers who had arrested the reader had denied them their medicine, and he rips them a new one.

OBVIOUSLY DONT WRITE IT IF YOU DONT WANT TO, I THINK YOU'RE LOVELY AND I DONT WANT TO PRESSURE YOu

have a nice day!

Unexpected Interrogation | [A.H]

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x gn!reader | WC: 0.9k | CW: Hurt/comfort?, medical condition (POTS), mistreatment by law enforcement, fainting, medication.

A/N: I'm trying a new layout for when I answer requests, I don't know if I'll commit to it, but I like it for now.

Also I don't know anything about POTS or other fainting conditions, so I hope I did it justice - feedback is appriciated.

Hotch sat across from you, his expression stern and unyielding as he leaned forward in his chair, the dim lighting of the room casting sharp shadows on his face. To any observer, you would seem calm - your hands folded neatly in your lap and eyes focused - but inside, you were already feeling the telltale signs. The tightness in your chest, the lightheadedness creeping in. You’d been here for hours, and now, without your medicine, it was simply a matter of time before you would faint.

"You've been uncooperative since the moment we brought you in," Hotch said, his voice level but carrying the weight of suspicion as he couldn't quite figure out if you were guilty or not. "Tell me why you were at the scene."

You took a slow breath, trying to center yourself. "Agent Hotchner," you said politely, your voice a little too soft for the intensity of the moment. "I understand why I'm here, and I will tell you everything you want to know, but I think I should let you know… I'm about to faint."

He blinked, his gaze sharpening but not a trace of panic crossing his face. If anything, his brows furrowed, a mixture of confusion and concern settling in his expression. "You're about to faint?"

"Yeah," you nodded, shifting slightly in your seat, trying to ignore the swimming sensation behind your eyes. "I have a fainting condition - it's called POTS. Normally, I’d take medicine, but..." You gave a tired shrug. "The officers who arrested me didn’t let me have it."

The tension in the room shifted. Hotch leaned back slightly, the gears in his mind already turning. He wasn’t a man to panic, even in strange situations. He pressed a button on the desk to signal for help, keeping his eyes on you. "I’ll get a medic in here."

You offered him a small smile. "Thanks, but it’s cool. Happens all the time. I’ll just… lie down." Without waiting for a response, you eased yourself off the chair - thankful that you weren't cuffed to the table - and laid flat on the cold tiled floor, your head resting on your arms as if this was the most natural thing in the world. The coolness of the floor helped somewhat, but your vision was already narrowing at the edges.

Hotch stood, watching you for a moment before kneeling next to you, his tone softened slightly. "How long have you been without your medication?"

You glanced at him from your place on the floor, blinking slowly. "Since they arrested me… hours ago? Honestly, it could be worse. But you know, fainting isn’t great for clearing one’s name." You chuckled lightly, trying to make the best of the situation, though it quickly turned into a weary sigh. "I’m innocent, by the way."

He didn't respond to that directly, but there was a flicker in his eyes, something acknowledging the injustice of your situation. "How often does this happen?"

"Often enough that I’m pretty used to it," you said casually, your breath slowing as the dizziness increased. "But hey... it gives me an excuse to lie down on the job, right?"

A small smile tugged at the corner of Hotch’s mouth - just for a moment - but then his professional mask slipped back into place. "Don’t talk. Just focus on staying calm."

You hummed in agreement, though your vision was blurring fast. "I’ll be out soon, but when I wake up, I’d love to continue this conversation. I mean, I know I’m innocent, but it would be great to convince you of that too."

He gave a short nod. "We’ll get to that. First, let’s get you taken care of."

Moments later, the medics arrived, rushing into the room with a stretcher and medical kit. But Hotch didn’t leave your side, ensuring they knew about your condition, making sure they were doing everything right. As they checked your vitals and prepared to move you, you started to fade, your words becoming slow and drowsy. "Thanks, agent… you’re not as intimidating as I thought you’d be."

The medic smiled at that, while Hotch’s lips pressed into a thin line, the smallest hint of amusement in his eyes. But once you were being taken care of, Hotch’s focus shifted back to the situation that had led to this. The officers who had arrested you. The ones who had denied you your medication.

Minutes later, Hotch found the officers outside the room, his demeanor stone cold. “Which one of you denied the suspect their medication?”

One of the officers, a tall man with a smug expression, stepped forward. “We didn’t think it was relevant. They didn’t say it was urgent.”

Hotch’s eyes darkened, his voice dropping to a low tone. “Didn’t think it was relevant? You’re lucky they’re stable, or you’d be facing a lawsuit at the very least.” He took a step closer, towering over the man. “You do not withhold medical treatment from anyone in custody. I don’t care if they’re a suspect, a witness, or guilty. Do you understand?”

The officer faltered, clearly not expecting the sharp reprimand. “Y-yes, sir.”

“I’ll be filing a report about this. You’ve jeopardized a life today. If I ever hear of anything of the sort again, you’ll be out of a job.” Hotch didn’t wait for a response, turning on his heel and heading back toward the interrogation room. There were few things that set him off more than mistreatment, especially under his watch.

He returned just as the medics were finishing up. You were still unconscious, but stable. Hotch stood by the door for a moment, watching as they prepared to transport you, his expression unreadable.

Innocent or not, he was going to make sure you were treated right.

[urdreamydoodles]

how about scott, logan, colossus, jean, storm, hank, and wanda with a wild child reader, this is a kid who doesn’t know the meaning of structure or discipline. They are the epitome of skateboarder who live in a basement who survives on nothing but greasy new york pizza( they eat nothing but junk food and take out) . A kid who is constantly coming home bruised and bleeding from wild stunts. Its not even they’re fault they have the kind of neglectful parents that are like i dont care what you do as long as you don't bother me, so they chose to have absolute freedom

X-Men x Child!Reader

You are a wild kid due to your parents' neglect

Characters: Logan Howlett, Remy LeBeau, Kurt Wagner, Scott Summers, Jean Grey, Ororo Munroe, Colossus, Hank McCoy, Erik Lehnsherr, Wanda Maximoff

Logan Howlett aka. Wolverine

- You first meet Logan when he pulls you out of a scuffle in a dingy alley, your knuckles bloodied from throwing punches at a group of older kids who deserved it for being jerks. His gruff voice cuts through the tension, "What the hell are you doin', kid?" You shrug, brushing past him like he’s just another stranger trying to lecture you. But Logan isn’t just anyone, and the next time he catches you doing something reckless—trying to ride your skateboard off a railing—you realize you’re not shaking him off so easily.

- Logan quickly learns that you’re a wild spirit, one who doesn’t know when to stop. Your bruises and scratches only fuel his frustration. “You think you’re indestructible, huh?” he growls after dragging you to the mansion with your arm in a makeshift sling. “Guess what? You ain’t.” His tough love feels invasive at first, but there’s a strange warmth to it. Maybe because, deep down, you can tell he actually cares, unlike anyone else in your life.

- Despite his grumbling, Logan becomes your shadow. He’s there when you wipe out attempting a trick and nearly break your ankle. He’s the one hauling you to Hank for first aid when you stumble back to the mansion with a bloody nose. "One of these days, you're gonna kill yourself, and I ain’t buryin' a kid," he grumbles, but his actions betray his words. The way he watches you so intently, like he’s trying to figure you out, makes you feel… seen.

- One day, after Logan drags you out of another scrape, you snap. “Why do you even care?!” you yell, your voice cracking. “You don’t know what it’s like to not have anyone!” Logan’s face hardens, and for a moment, you think you’ve hit a nerve. “You’re wrong, kid,” he says, his tone unusually soft. Later, you overhear him talking to Charles about you. "They remind me of me. Don’t know how to stop fightin’ ‘cause they never had anyone to fight for ‘em."

- Logan starts teaching you how to channel your energy into something productive. “If you’re gonna take risks, at least do it smart,” he grunts, handing you a pair of gloves to protect your hands. He shows you how to defend yourself properly, how to pick your battles. It’s not just about fighting—it’s about self-control, something he knows all too well. And while you hate admitting it, his lessons actually stick.

- The breakthrough comes when you stumble into his room late at night, tears streaming down your face after a nightmare. You hate showing weakness, but Logan doesn’t push. He just sits with you, his presence steady and grounding. “You’re not alone, kid,” he says quietly. “Not anymore.” It’s the first time you realize that maybe, just maybe, you have someone in your corner.

- Over time, you start seeing Logan as more than the grumpy guy who keeps saving your ass. He’s your protector, your mentor, your family. When he gruffly hands you a plate of food during a mansion barbecue and tells you to “eat somethin’ that ain’t junk,” you laugh. He rolls his eyes but doesn’t hide the small smirk tugging at his lips. You’re still a wild child, but now you’ve got someone who understands—and who won’t let you face the world alone.

Remy LeBeau aka. Gambit

- You meet Remy when you’re caught sneaking onto the mansion grounds, trying to pull off some ridiculous stunt involving fireworks and a ramp. Instead of ratting you out, he smirks, intrigued by your audacity. “You got guts, kid,” he says, his Cajun accent dripping with charm. “But guts won’t save you from bein’ stupid.” He’s more amused than annoyed, but you get the feeling he’s watching you now—and not just because you nearly burned the lawn down.

- Remy quickly picks up on your chaotic energy and reckless behavior. “You remind me of a younger me,” he teases, tossing a playing card between his fingers. “All fire, no plan.” At first, you think he’s mocking you, but there’s a glint in his eye that suggests he gets it. He sees through your bravado, recognizing the pain you’re trying to bury under all your stunts and defiance.

- Unlike Logan, Remy doesn’t try to stop you outright. Instead, he plays along, meeting you where you’re at. He even joins you in some of your escapades, though he always makes sure to keep things from getting too out of hand. “If you gonna be crazy, at least do it with style,” he says, flipping his trench coat dramatically as he guides you away from trouble.

- One day, after you’ve crashed spectacularly and are nursing a busted knee, Remy sits beside you with an uncharacteristically serious expression. “You don’t gotta live like dis, y’know,” he says softly. “Runnin’ wild ain’t freedom—it’s just a way to hide.” His words hit harder than you’d like to admit, and for the first time, you let yourself wonder if he might be right.

- Remy starts teaching you his tricks—not just the flashy card stuff, but how to think ahead, how to read people, how to stay one step ahead of the chaos. “Life’s a game, cher,” he says, his voice light but his gaze sharp. “And you gotta learn how to play it.” You soak up his lessons, not realizing until later that he’s been guiding you toward something more stable all along.

- The turning point comes when you call Remy late one night, scared and unsure after a particularly bad fight with your parents. He doesn’t hesitate, showing up within minutes and whisking you away to his favorite rooftop hideout. “Ain’t no shame in needin’ help, kid,” he says, his tone uncharacteristically gentle. For the first time, you let yourself lean on someone else.

- Remy becomes your anchor, your partner in crime, and your found family all rolled into one. He still teases you endlessly, but there’s a warmth to it now, a sense of belonging you’ve never had before. And when he hands you a deck of cards and says, “You’re one of us now,” you know he means it.

Kurt Wagner aka. Nightcrawler

- You meet Kurt when he teleports into the middle of one of your stunts, startling you so badly you nearly fall off the scaffolding you’d been climbing. “Mein Gott, what are you doing up here?” he exclaims, grabbing you before you can tumble to the ground. Despite your protests, he doesn’t let go until you’re safely on solid ground. “You are going to give me a heart attack!”

- Kurt is immediately concerned by your recklessness, but his approach is softer than the others. “Why do you put yourself in such danger, mein freund?” he asks, his golden eyes full of genuine worry. You brush him off at first, but his kindness is disarming. He doesn’t scold you; he just wants to understand.

- It doesn’t take long for Kurt to realize that your behavior stems from more than just a thirst for adrenaline. When you accidentally let slip a comment about your neglectful parents, he connects the dots. “No one should feel like they have to fend for themselves,” he says quietly. His words linger, echoing in your mind long after he’s gone.

- Kurt becomes a constant presence in your life, always ready with a kind word or a helping hand. He patches you up after your latest mishap, his touch gentle as he bandages your scraped knees. “You have so much potential,” he tells you, his tone earnest. “Do not waste it on proving yourself to people who do not care.” His faith in you is both comforting and terrifying.

- He introduces you to the quiet joys of his world—stargazing from the mansion’s roof, reading old adventure novels, sharing stories from his travels. Slowly, you begin to see that life doesn’t have to be a constant whirlwind of chaos. There’s beauty in stillness, too, and Kurt shows you how to find it.

- The breakthrough comes during a particularly bad night when you show up at his door, trembling and unsure how to explain the weight you’re carrying. Kurt doesn’t push; he simply listens, his quiet empathy wrapping around you like a warm embrace. “You are not alone,” he says softly. “And you never will be, as long as I am here.”

- Over time, Kurt becomes more than just a mentor—he’s your family. His unwavering belief in you helps you believe in yourself, and his gentle guidance gives you the strength to start healing. When he tells you, “You are like a sibling to me,” you feel a warmth you’ve never known before.

Scott Summers aka. Cyclops

- You meet Scott after he catches you skateboarding through the mansion’s hallways, narrowly avoiding a collision with Jean. “What do you think you’re doing?!” he demands, his tone sharp. You roll your eyes, unimpressed by his authority, but Scott doesn’t back down. “This isn’t a playground,” he says firmly. “If you’re going to be here, you need to follow the rules.”

- Scott’s strict demeanor grates on you, and you go out of your way to push his buttons. Every time he tells you to stop doing something, you double down, your defiance fueling his frustration. “You can’t just do whatever you want,” he says one day, his voice rising. “This isn’t about control—it’s about keeping you safe!”

- Despite his exasperation, Scott can’t help but worry about you. He starts noticing the bruises, the late-night returns, the way you flinch whenever someone mentions your parents. “Is everything okay at home?” he asks gently, his concern breaking through his usual stoicism. You brush him off, but his question lingers in your mind.

- Scott eventually realizes that his strict approach isn’t working, so he tries a different tactic. He starts showing up at the skate park, watching from a distance as you pull off tricks. “You’ve got talent,” he admits grudgingly. “But talent doesn’t mean much if you don’t take care of yourself.” His rare praise catches you off guard, and you start seeing him in a new light.

- He begins mentoring you, teaching you the value of discipline and structure. “It’s not about following orders,” he explains. “It’s about having a plan, knowing what you’re fighting for.” His lessons are tough, but they resonate, and you find yourself striving to meet his expectations—not because you have to, but because you want to.

- The turning point comes when Scott finds you sitting alone in the mansion’s garden, your usual bravado stripped away. “I don’t know how to fix this,” you admit, your voice shaking. Scott sits beside you, his presence steady and reassuring. “You don’t have to do it alone,” he says quietly. “We’re here for you—I’m here for you.”

- Scott becomes a pillar in your life, someone you can rely on no matter what. His unwavering support gives you the strength to face your demons, and his belief in you helps you start believing in yourself. When he calls you “family,” it’s the first time the word feels real, and you know you’ve finally found a place where you belong.

Jean Grey aka. Marvel Girl / Phoenix

- You meet Jean when you crash into her during a particularly reckless skateboard trick, nearly sending her coffee flying. She catches it with her telekinesis, raising an eyebrow as she looks you over. “Impressive landing,” she says dryly. “But maybe next time, try not to take me out with you.” Her calm demeanor throws you off, but you can’t help noticing the faint amusement in her smile.

- Jean quickly picks up on your chaotic nature—not just from your antics, but because your mind is loud, a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions that practically scream for attention. “You don’t have to prove anything to anyone,” she tells you one day after catching you sneaking out for another dangerous stunt. Her words linger, even if you act like they don’t matter.

- She doesn’t confront you as directly as others might, but her presence is constant. She starts showing up in subtle ways—inviting you to sit with her during meals, offering to help patch you up after a bad fall, or simply listening when you’re too tired to pretend everything’s fine. Jean has a knack for making you feel seen, even when you’re trying to disappear into the noise.

- One day, after you’ve come home battered and bruised yet again, Jean corners you in the kitchen. “Why are you doing this to yourself?” she asks, her voice gentle but firm. When you try to brush her off, she places a hand on yours. “I know what it’s like to feel out of control. But there are other ways to find freedom.” Her sincerity cracks something open in you, though you’re not ready to admit it yet.

- Jean begins introducing you to meditation, something you initially laugh off as “not your thing.” But when she guides you through it, her voice soft and steady, you find a surprising sense of peace. “Chaos doesn’t define you,” she says one evening. “You can still be yourself without destroying yourself.” Her unwavering belief in you starts to shift how you see yourself.

- The turning point comes when Jean catches you breaking down after a particularly bad day. You try to push her away, but she doesn’t let you. “You’re allowed to feel this way,” she says, her arms wrapping around you in a warm embrace. “But you don’t have to face it alone.” For the first time, you let yourself cry in front of someone, and her compassion feels like a lifeline.

- Jean becomes your safe haven, the person who reminds you that strength doesn’t always mean pushing through the pain. She helps you channel your energy into healthier outlets, guiding you with patience and understanding. When she calls you “family,” it feels like coming home, and you know you’ve found someone who will always have your back.

Ororo Munroe aka. Storm

- You meet Storm during a thunderstorm, when you’re out pulling stunts despite the pouring rain. She appears seemingly out of nowhere, her white hair glowing against the dark sky. “What are you doing out here?” she asks, her voice calm but commanding. When you shrug and say something about “living life to the fullest,” she shakes her head. “This isn’t living. This is tempting fate.”

- Ororo is both fascinated and concerned by your recklessness. She sees your wild spirit but also senses the pain behind it. “The storm inside you is powerful,” she says one day, her gaze piercing. “But if you do not learn to guide it, it will consume you.” Her words stick with you, even if you pretend not to care.

- Unlike others, Ororo doesn’t try to control you. Instead, she shows you the beauty of balance. She takes you on walks through nature, pointing out how even the fiercest storms have purpose and harmony. “Freedom isn’t chaos,” she says gently. “It’s understanding your power and using it wisely.” Her wisdom challenges your worldview in ways you don’t expect.

- After one particularly dangerous stunt leaves you with a sprained ankle, Ororo carries you back to the mansion without a word. Later, as she wraps your foot with care, she looks at you with a mix of sternness and compassion. “Why do you punish yourself like this?” she asks softly. You have no answer, but the question lingers.

- Storm begins teaching you control—not through force, but through patience. She encourages you to embrace your passions without letting them rule you. She even takes you flying with her, the wind carrying you both as she shows you what true freedom feels like. “You are not a prisoner of your past,” she says one evening. “You can create your own path.”

- The breakthrough comes during a quiet moment in the mansion garden, where you admit that your recklessness comes from a place of pain and neglect. Ororo listens without judgment, her presence as steady as the earth beneath your feet. “You are stronger than you realize,” she says, her voice full of conviction. “And you are not alone in this.”

- Over time, Ororo becomes your guide and your family. Her unwavering belief in you helps you find balance in your life, and her calm strength inspires you to grow. When she calls you “child of the storm,” it’s not just a nickname—it’s a reminder that you’ve found a place where you truly belong.

Piotr Rasputin aka. Colossus

- You meet Piotr after crashing into him—literally. Your skateboard ricochets off his metal form, leaving you sprawled on the ground. “Are you alright?” he asks, his deep voice filled with concern. When you laugh it off, he frowns. “You should be more careful. Your life is not something to take lightly.”

- Piotr is immediately struck by your wild energy, but instead of chastising you, he approaches you with gentle curiosity. “Why do you live this way?” he asks one day, his steel-blue eyes sincere. When you deflect with a joke, he doesn’t press, but his quiet concern stays with you.

- Despite his towering form, Piotr is surprisingly soft-spoken and kind. He starts looking out for you in small ways—offering to carry your gear, fixing your skateboard when it breaks, even cooking meals for you when he notices you survive on junk food. “You must take care of your body,” he says with a small smile. “It is the only one you have.”

- One evening, after a particularly reckless stunt leaves you limping back to the mansion, Piotr sits you down and talks about his own struggles with responsibility and self-worth. “I know what it is like to feel lost,” he says quietly. “But pain does not have to define you.” His words are simple but powerful, and they linger in your mind.

- Piotr begins teaching you art as a way to channel your energy. At first, you scoff at the idea of painting, but his patience wins you over. “Art is not about perfection,” he says, guiding your hand. “It is about expression.” Slowly, you find yourself drawn to the calmness it brings, a stark contrast to your usual chaos.

- The turning point comes when you confide in Piotr about your neglectful parents. He listens without interruption, his steady presence grounding you. “You deserve better,” he says firmly. “And you are not alone anymore.” His unwavering support feels like a lifeline, and for the first time, you let yourself believe in the possibility of a better future.

- Piotr becomes a constant source of strength and stability in your life. His quiet kindness helps you find balance, and his belief in you gives you the courage to grow. When he calls you “family,” it feels like a promise—a reminder that you’ll never have to face the world alone again.

Hank McCoy aka. Beast

- Your first encounter with Hank is in his lab, where you crash into a shelf of equipment while trying to skateboard through the mansion hallways. He looks up from his work, unamused, as you sheepishly pick up a beaker. “Fascinating,” he says, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “An experiment in chaos.” You expect him to yell, but instead, he studies you with quiet curiosity, his sharp intellect already dissecting your motives.

- Hank is both intrigued and exasperated by your lack of structure. “Do you understand the repercussions of your actions?” he asks when you try to sneak off with a bag of chips for dinner instead of eating a proper meal. His lectures are long and full of big words, but somewhere in the middle, you catch a hint of genuine concern.

- He starts observing your behavior more closely, not as a judgment but as a puzzle to solve. “You remind me of entropy,” he says one day, his voice surprisingly gentle. “Chaotic, unpredictable, but not without purpose.” Despite his logical approach, there’s warmth in the way he speaks to you, like he’s trying to understand rather than condemn.

- After finding you late at night in the kitchen, rummaging for junk food with a fresh set of scrapes and bruises, Hank decides to intervene. “Your body is a machine, and you’re running it into the ground,” he says, handing you a plate of something surprisingly healthy. When you grumble about his nagging, he smiles. “Consider it an experiment in self-preservation.”

- Hank starts introducing structure into your life in small, unobtrusive ways—inviting you to join him in the lab, teaching you how to fix your skateboard, and even sneaking vegetables into your meals. You find yourself drawn to his calm and steady presence, even if you won’t admit it out loud.

- One day, after a particularly reckless stunt leaves you with a sprained wrist, you break down and confess the truth about your home life. Hank listens intently, his usual verbosity giving way to silence as he processes your words. “You are not a failed experiment,” he says firmly. “You are a work in progress, and I intend to see you thrive.”

- Over time, Hank becomes your anchor, the person who helps you find balance between chaos and order. His guidance isn’t just about rules—it’s about helping you see your own potential. When he calls you “family,” it feels like the culmination of every moment he spent believing in you, even when you couldn’t believe in yourself.

Erik Lehnsherr aka. Magneto

- You meet Erik when you’re caught trespassing near one of his hideouts, attempting a trick off a rail. He steps out of the shadows, his imposing figure stopping you in your tracks. “You’ve got nerve,” he says, his voice cold and calculating. You expect him to throw you out, but instead, he watches you with a strange mix of curiosity and disdain.

- Erik is fascinated by your wild energy, though he would never admit it. “You remind me of my youth,” he says one day, his tone sharp. “Defiant, reckless, and utterly unafraid of consequences.” His words sting, but there’s something in his gaze—a flicker of understanding—that makes you pause.

- He doesn’t tolerate your antics, but he doesn’t outright condemn them either. Instead, he challenges you, questioning your choices in a way that forces you to reflect. “What are you running from?” he asks bluntly after catching you sneaking out again. His directness catches you off guard, and for once, you don’t have a snarky reply.

- Erik’s approach to helping you is harsh but effective. He doesn’t coddle or comfort—instead, he teaches you the value of strength and self-reliance. “The world will not be kind to you,” he says, his voice heavy with experience. “But that does not mean you must surrender to it.” His lessons are tough, but they resonate deeply.

- Despite his stern demeanor, Erik has moments of surprising gentleness. He notices your injuries, your exhaustion, your deflections, and though he doesn’t press, he makes it clear that he sees you. “Pain is a powerful motivator,” he says one evening. “But it does not have to define you.”

- The turning point comes when you break down after a particularly bad day, your defenses finally shattering. Erik doesn’t offer empty comfort—instead, he shares his own struggles, his own pain. “You are stronger than your circumstances,” he says quietly. “And you are not as alone as you think.”

- Erik becomes an unexpected source of stability in your life. His belief in your strength pushes you to grow, while his rare moments of kindness remind you that even the toughest exteriors can hide a compassionate heart. When he finally calls you “family,” it feels like the highest honor, a testament to the bond you’ve built through fire and resilience.

Wanda Maximoff aka. The Scarlet Witch

- You meet Wanda when you accidentally skate into one of her magical runes, disrupting a spell she was casting. She turns to you, her red eyes glowing faintly. “You shouldn’t be here,” she says, her voice laced with warning. But instead of scolding you, she tilts her head, curious. “Why are you always running?”

- Wanda is both drawn to and exasperated by your chaotic nature. “You remind me of Pietro,” she says one day, her voice tinged with sadness. “Always moving, never stopping to think about the consequences.” Her words cut deeper than you expect, leaving you to wonder why her disappointment stings so much.

- Unlike others, Wanda doesn’t try to impose structure on you. Instead, she meets you where you are, offering understanding without judgment. She starts leaving little charms around the mansion—spells to protect you from injury or to heal your bruises. “You may not care about yourself,” she says softly, “but I do.”

- One night, after returning home with a fresh set of cuts and scrapes, you find Wanda waiting for you. “You don’t have to do this alone,” she says, her voice gentle but firm. When you try to brush her off, she touches your hand, and for a moment, you feel the warmth of her magic easing your pain.

- Wanda starts teaching you small spells—little enchantments to protect yourself or to calm your restless mind. At first, you’re skeptical, but her patience and quiet encouragement win you over. “Magic isn’t about control,” she tells you one day. “It’s about balance—finding harmony within chaos.”

- The breakthrough comes when you finally open up about your neglectful home life. Wanda listens intently, her empathy as deep as her power. “I know what it’s like to feel unwanted,” she says, her voice breaking slightly. “But you are wanted here. You are loved.” Her words feel like a balm, soothing wounds you didn’t know you had.

- Wanda becomes a source of unconditional support in your life. Her kindness and understanding help you start healing, and her belief in you gives you the strength to believe in yourself. When she calls you “family,” it feels like a spell—a promise that no matter what, you’ll always have a place where you belong.

[n0vazsq]

Love shot | MV1 x Reader

pairing . . . hitman!max verstappen x mega!rich!reader

summary . . . You never suspected to fall in love with your assistant, but when he tells you something groundbreaking, you don't know what to believe

request . . . no!!

word count . . . 1.4k+

warnings . . . none!

faceclaim . . . N/A

alexavia yaps . . . i feel so bad for reader omg like girl you dont deserve that?? also yes i am acting like i didnt write this shit

. . . You had never been one for grand parties or society's shallow circles. You were the heiress to a vast fortune that seemed to grow larger every day, yet it never seemed to fill the emptiness inside you.

After your father’s passing, the inheritance came with a weight you never asked for, pushing you into a world of power and danger you barely understood.

The mansion where you lived, nestled away from the prying eyes of the city, was meant to be your sanctuary, but it often felt like an extravagant cage.

You preferred the solitude of your home, away from the pressures of high society and endless obligations. That’s when you had started to notice him, the quiet figure in the background.

He wasn’t like the others. While your estate was filled with a rotating cast of servants and security, there was something different about Max, or as you had come to know him, Marcus.

He introduced himself as a personal assistant, a new hire who would help with the day to day operations of the house. His professional demeanor and neatly pressed uniform made him seem like just another cog in the machine.

But Max, Marcus, wasn't like the others. He moved with a practiced ease, slipping between tasks without drawing attention to himself, yet somehow, you found yourself drawn to him.

At first, you thought it was just the feeling of having someone new in your otherwise quiet world. But the more you saw of him, the more you began to notice things that intrigued you.

There was a quiet strength about him, an air of mystery that you couldn’t quite put your finger on. He never stayed long in any one place, his presence often fleeting, but you caught glimpses of something deeper when his eyes met yours, something more than just professionalism.

It was on a chilly evening, weeks after Max had started working for you, that the first real conversation between you two happened.

You had been sitting by the fire, absently flipping through a book when you heard footsteps approaching. Without looking up, you assumed it was just another of your staff, but the voice that interrupted the silence made you glance up.

"Is it too late to bring you something warm, Miss? Tea, perhaps?" Max’s voice was soft, almost hesitant.

You smiled, gesturing to the seat across from you. "Tea sounds perfect."

As he moved to prepare the tea, you watched him carefully. The way his hands worked with precision, the way his body language was always so controlled; it fascinated you.

He wasn't like any of the other assistants or servants you had encountered. Most of them treated you with a kind of cautious respect, but Max seemed different. His eyes, though polite, didn’t shy away from meeting yours.

They weren’t filled with the usual fear that people often had when they dealt with someone of your status. There was something in his gaze, something that made you wonder if he saw you as more than just the heiress of a fortune.

After a moment, he placed the tea down in front of you with a small, respectful nod. "I didn’t mean to intrude, Miss. But I thought you might enjoy some company."

You looked up at him, surprised by his words. He had always been so reserved, never seeking attention or conversation. It was strange, and yet it made you feel a little less alone.

"You don’t have to be formal with me, you know," you said, offering him a soft smile. "I know you're just doing your job, but I appreciate the company."

Max paused, his eyes flickering toward the fire before looking back at you. There was something about his gaze that was softer now, less guarded. "It’s… not a bother. I find it nice, talking to you."

The words hung in the air between you two, and you both fell into an easy silence, the crackle of the fire filling the space where words would’ve been.

Over the next few weeks, your interactions with Max grew more frequent, and you found yourself looking forward to his presence.

It was subtle at first; a quiet conversation over dinner, a brief exchange in the hallway, the occasional shared look across the room when you were in the same place. But it wasn’t long before you began to feel a connection with him, one that went beyond just the formality of employer and assistant.

One evening, as you both worked late into the night, you looked up from the papers spread across the table to see Max standing by the door, watching you. His gaze was focused, his expression unreadable. You couldn’t help but wonder what he was thinking, what he saw when he looked at you.

"Max," you said softly, your voice breaking the silence. "You don’t have to stay this late. I can finish up myself."

He shook his head, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "I don’t mind. You’ve been working hard. Besides, I… enjoy being here."

The words left you with a flutter in your chest. There was something so genuine in his voice that it made you rethink your previous assumptions. He wasn’t just a hired hand, he was different, and you felt it.

Days turned into weeks, and with every passing day, the space between you two seemed to shrink. He would find ways to help you with little things; bringing you coffee in the morning, offering quiet advice when you were stressed, and sometimes even staying to talk about things that weren’t about work at all.

You learned small details about him; how he liked to keep to himself, how he didn’t share much about his past, and how his eyes seemed to soften whenever you spoke to him.

In return, you found yourself opening up to him more than you had to anyone else. You shared your fears about the empire your father left behind, your loneliness, your struggles to fit into a world you never chose.

In those moments, you didn’t feel like the heiress; you felt like just a woman, speaking to someone who didn’t look at you with judgment or expectation.

And then, one day, it happened. You were sitting together, talking about your father, when he asked, almost out of nowhere, "Do you ever wish things were different? That your life wasn’t so… tangled up in all this?"

You stared at him, surprised by the vulnerability in his voice. You had never expected Max, of all people, to ask such a question. But in that moment, you saw something in him, a depth that you hadn’t noticed before.

"I wish things were different every day," you said softly, meeting his eyes. "But I don’t know how to make it stop. How to be free of all of this."

Max’s gaze lingered on you, and you could feel the weight of his unspoken thoughts. He opened his mouth to say something but then hesitated, his expression clouded with something you couldn’t quite read.

"Max, what’s going on with you?" you asked, your voice soft but firm. "You’ve been acting different lately. What’s on your mind?"

For a long moment, he said nothing, and then, almost reluctantly, he spoke. "I… I never meant to get close to you. That wasn’t part of the plan."

Your heart stopped. The words hung in the air, and you could feel a lump form in your throat. You didn’t know what to say. Was this the moment you had been dreading, the moment he would reveal the truth about why he was really there?

"I was hired to watch you," he continued, his voice barely a whisper. "To make sure you didn’t become a problem. I was supposed to kill you."

The world seemed to freeze in that moment. All the warmth, the connections, the late night talks, the quiet laughter; it all felt like a cruel lie.

"You…" you whispered, trying to process his words. "You were hired to kill me?"

Max’s eyes were filled with regret, but there was no way to undo the truth. "I didn’t expect any of this," he said, his voice tight with emotion. "I didn’t expect to care about you."

Silence settled between you two like a heavy fog. The world around you seemed to collapse, leaving you with only the bitter reality of his confession. You had trusted him, you had opened up to him, and now you didn’t know who he was anymore.

"I don’t know if I can trust you," you said, your voice shaking. "How do I know that you really care about me? Or if this is all just part of your plan?"

Max stepped closer, his expression softening. "I never meant for it to happen like this, but I do care. I swear to you, I do."

Your heart pounded in your chest, your emotions a tangled mess. You wanted to believe him, but could you? How could you be sure he wasn’t lying?

But before you could ask another question, you heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps; heavy, purposeful, coming down the hallway.

Max’s face hardened. "We don’t have time for this."

He turned to face the door, and you realized that whatever came next would change everything.

And as the sound of approaching footsteps grew louder, you knew that your life, your future, was no longer in your hands.

 taglist . . . @barcapix ,, @f1lover55 ,, @ilovebarcaaa ,, @httpsdana ,, @paucubarsisimp ,, @justaf1girl ,, @awritingtree (lmk if you want to join the taglist!)

[pretzel-box]

Hello!! I dont know if your requests are still open but if they are can you do one where sebastian realizes his feelings for reader? If your requests are close you can ignore this i love your writing

Mesmerised

words: 1k

tags: love at first sight, sebastian crushes on you

authors note: I kinda made it into a first meeting scenario, where Sebastian falls in love with reader without knowing them

if you want a friends to lovers type of thing just send another ask❤️

One thing that Sebastian had quickly figured out in the Hadal Blackside was that resources were rare and had immense value. The best source for them? His own customers—unfortunate souls who met their end at the hands of nearly every danger the abyss had to offer.

He didn't need to worry about Pandemonium or Wall Dwellers; most visitors sent by Urbanshade died to mundane things like a brightly burning door or a gas leak in a pipe. To Sebastian, they were nothing more than loot bags, ripe for the picking. He never even had to stress about them getting their hands on the silly crystal. At this rate, they’d all be dead long before they got close.

Tonight, he was out on a routine scavenging run, roaming the dark hallways after spotting an angler rush by. His eyes, perfectly attuned to the darkness, quickly picked out a lifeless corpse lying on the wet ground. Poor guy, Sebastian mused with a smirk, must be embarrassing to die to something so simple. 

He didn’t waste time, immediately crouching down to collect the scattered belongings. Among the items, he found a blacklight in good condition. That would fetch a decent price. He was so absorbed in his task, so confident and sly about securing new items for his store, that he failed to notice a pair of curious eyes watching him from the shadows.

“It’s not healthy to look at things in a dark light,” a voice said, startling him. You turned on your flashlight, aiming it just low enough so as not to blind anyone. You'd learned that lesson the hard way with your now-deceased teammate.

Sebastian’s heart skipped a beat as you stepped into the dim glow, unbothered by his monstrous appearance. You were a striking contrast to the grim surroundings—calm, almost serene, as if this hellish place had nothing left that could surprise you. You offered him the flashlight, your expression unreadable.

“No need,” Sebastian muttered in his usual grumpy tone, not expecting to be caught in the act, especially not by someone like you. He raised one of his three arms, switching on his anglerfish lure to get a better look at you.

The soft, eerie glow illuminated your face, and for the first time in a long while, Sebastian felt something strange stir in his chest. You didn’t flinch, didn’t recoil in disgust or fear as most others did. Instead, you met his gaze with steady, almost curious eyes.

In that brief moment, Sebastian found himself captivated. There was something about the way you stood there, unfazed by the corpse, by him, by everything that should have sent you running. Your calm demeanor, your willingness to hand over your flashlight without a second thought, it all left him feeling... something. Was this what they called love at first sight?

He’d always thought it was nonsense, a ridiculous human sentiment that had no place in a world as brutal as this. But now, with you standing there, looking at him with an unreadable expression, he wasn’t so sure.

He cleared his throat, trying to shake off the unfamiliar feeling. “You’re awfully brave, aren’t you?” he said, his voice gruff but lacking the usual edge. “Walking around here alone. Don’t you know this place is dangerous?”

You shrugged, your gaze never wavering from his. “Dangerous, sure, but I’ve seen worse. Besides, I’m not alone, am I?”

That simple statement caught him off guard. Not alone. Did you really mean him? The idea of someone seeing him as anything other than a monster, let alone company, was new. Unsettling, even. But it wasn’t entirely unpleasant.

Sebastian straightened up, awkwardly holding onto the blacklight he’d just looted. “Well, you should still be careful,” he grumbled, trying to mask his flustered state. “Not everyone’s as... understanding as me.”

A small, almost playful smile tugged at the corners of your lips. “Noted. But I think I can manage.”

Sebastian couldn’t help but admire your confidence. There was something magnetic about it, something that drew him in despite himself. He found himself wanting to know more about you, to understand what made you so different from the others who came through his shop.

“So, what brings you out here?” he asked, trying to keep the conversation going, though his usual gruffness couldn’t completely mask the curiosity in his voice. “You don’t exactly look like the looting type.”

You glanced down at the corpse, then back at Sebastian. “Just exploring for something. This place has a lot of... mysteries. Thought I might find something interesting.”

“Mysteries, huh?” He couldn’t help but chuckle, the sound deep and rumbling in his chest. “You’ve definitely found something. Not sure if I’d call it interesting, though.”

Your smile widened just a fraction, and Sebastian felt his heart skip again. Damn it, what was wrong with him? He was a shopkeeper, a scavenger, not some lovesick fool. But there was no denying it—he was drawn to you, and he had no idea what to do about it.

“Maybe I’ll find something even more interesting next time,” you said, your tone light, almost teasing. “Who knows?”

Sebastian found himself nodding before he could think better of it. “Yeah... maybe.”

As you turned to leave, he couldn’t stop himself from calling out, “Be careful out there. And if you ever need... supplies or anything, my shop’s just down the hall.”

You paused, glancing back at him with that same unreadable expression. “I’ll keep that in mind,” you said, your voice soft but clear.

And with that, you disappeared into the darkness, leaving Sebastian standing there, holding a looted blacklight and wondering what the hell had just happened. 

“I should have asked for the name…”

For the first time in what felt like forever, Sebastian felt a strange flutter of hope. Maybe, just maybe, there was something worth more than all the loot in the Hadal Blackside. And with such a cute prisoner in the hallways, he might feel generous enough to leave you the one or other discount. 

[afsalovescats]

Hi I heard your requests are open and I certainly think your writing is quite fascinating^^ If you don't mind, can you write yan! ranpo hcs?? (can be sfw or nsfw)

hes so scary as a yandere-

Warnings: yandere, stalking, slight nsfw...not much!

okay starting off I think ranpo's actually the scariest to me...in blackmail atleast

he is the worlds greatest detective in world! but he's a yandere imagine how he would suddenly turn the tables-

imagine you work at the ada, whether your gifted or not

and ranpo cheerfully aproaches you with some sweets in hand as he starts bragging about his newst case- so easy to solve for him!

he ends up eating all of your praise and then he offers to feed you- he's really persistant too...

you hesitantly eat the chocolate from his hand as he uses his slightly covered thumb and puts it inside your mouth for you to lick

its as if he dosent realize that co workers dont do this or even friends...but he does know- how couldnt he?hes the greatest detective in the world! you just decide to ignore it since...hey hes sweet!

what you dont know is he excuses himself to the bathroom as he start licking the place where you licked...? ew creep. and the fact he's into this? ugh. (its giving siyun baek..)

but it comes to the point where...you feel so uncomfortable...

coming home and everythings fine! no sign of anybody there! except for the slightly crumpled blanket...but you must have done that! silly you!

hey what happend? why are all your friends suddenly hanging with out you...hey why isnt ranpo leaving you..?

hey...your favorite pair of panties...? oh nevermind you found them! hey..didn't you already check there though? huh...

how come everyone freezes when he's in the room...oh it must be since he's famous! and smart! thats overwhelming!

why are you suddenly smelling a strange comforting scent of vanilla? oh must be that one time ranpo visited your house with no warning to play a new game that he somehow figured out the plot fast...but hey he beat the level! so it must be from that right?

jesus why are you feeling watched...its scary...yet comforting..? no! that's creepy!

whys ranpo comforting you when suddenly you feel all helpless? he just...knows...please he knows since hes the greatest detective right? maybe not-

You wont cuddle with him because you want space? oh! he didn't realize you wanted him to reveal all the things youve never told anybody...he said your body language told everything to him...?

now you and ranpo sort of start doing lovey dovey stuff! its as if hes all delusional- your not even dating! but hey...just for a little while right? no more...right?

kisses for every case he solved, every sweet he ate, every small task you or him completed, every kiss for...everything! he's cute as he just starts blushing afterwords!

and it gets creepier- he starts getting all pouty and whiney! typical him but the threats he just said are scaring you

suddenly one day he tells you 'i cant wait till were married, huh!'...you guys just established a relationship without even knowing? its all fine though ^^

but hey if you're a good girl for him he'll let you off the hook sometimes! you get to hang out with your friends again...a bit shorter time but its fine since its ranpo! and if you equally show him affection and praise and love- he's the best!!

if you dont....hey it dosent take super deduction skills for your cute head to process it heh ♡!

[kari-sims]

My 𝐓𝐨𝐩 24 𝐒𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐬 from 2024🎉

Thanks @theplottdump for the tag, mwah! <3

-> tagging @kissalopa @sharona-sims @limeysims @mosneakers @eurosimmer @waaneco @pixelshary @pudsim @polarmoon @butteredfrogs @simsfvr @whyeverr @buildbuymode @zorteh @philodendrontrait @kazroze @marcishaun @nervousgnome @charsimsalot @enchantsims (sorry if you've been tagged/done this already! and no pressure if you dont want/can't do it, just have fun ˙ᵕ˙ ) and anyone whose my dummy brain forgot, please feel free to do so if you want too ♡

I don't have screenshots for every month unfortunately, (i took an almost two year break and came back to the game for real around april of this year) so this will be just 24 random screenshots i love (in no particular order). Not much happens in my game because i don't interfere that much, but i hope this isn't too boring heh

The usual Realm of Magic shenanigans: distracting Simeon from his job, fangirling over L. Faba, and old man being old.

Ellie's house renovation was my favorite thing to decorate over the months. I'm always adding things to it, and by things i mean frogs. All of the frogs.

Her garden is also my favorite place to be. Sometimes i just like to watch the bunnies running around, the grass moving, the birds chirping... and then i remember the game is running. It's really nice though.

Change doesn't happen very often in my game, but something cute sparked between these two after i decided to stop constantly ignoring and re-rolling her wants. I'm not gonna say much about it cause - and i know it's not that serious - i'm still processing it two months later lol, maybe one day...

Life and Death was so much fun, Ravenwood is now my favorite world to visit! I had no plans of getting the pack anytime soon, so i still can't believe i got to play with it when it released (thanks little fairy ♡)

Some of my favorite edits i've done this year. Apart from Ellie's shot (which was taken with no reshade on a day the game had some crazy good lighting), the others were done while i was trying to learn some stuff from one of my favorite editor's (strange-townie) speed edit videos. I hope i get more time this year to practice and learn more! (before & after album)

Favorite pictures of Ellie's best friends: old goofy lvl. 1 wizard relaxing in his new home & the unbothered rebel sage.

This year i also got to play with my favorite nerdy gamer boy. He was just a sim from a cas practice thing i did. I don't usually get attached to random sims i make, but for some reason he was just very special to me ( ꈍ ᴗ ꈍ ) ♡

I wanted to end this by saying i'm very grateful for everything i have experienced this year, and the warm welcome i've received. I'm really happy some people like my silly saturated pictures :D i promise next year i'll annoyingly fangirl and obsess over other people's lovely creations even more, so thanks for making this place such an inspiring one to be ♡ Happy holidays!◝( ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ )◜₊ ⊹₊ ⊹

[romaincrisis]

Old life is strange mini comic!!

this one is from 2021 i think... really dont know but you can tell in my style is very oldie hshhs this ones is from de dump scene where chloe just goes crazy anngry i just really conncet with her in that one... i love her so much this character means de world to me since day one. I think i know life is strange since 2016, one core memory from back then is when i watched it with my bestfriend and we knew that it would be our new personality from the rest of our life hahaha. Now and then we always rewatch it, this game is so awesome and perfect in so many ways and its one of my favorites, cant even begin to explain what Chloe and Max mean to me, their hisotry, Arcadia Bay, Rachel and kate history too, everything, but really those two lesbians made me who i am today, i will always gonna come back to them <3

I GOT SO EMO ALL OF A SUDDEN SORRY GUYS but here i will let you know more of my lore...

[vashtijoy]

I wanted to ask if you could clear this up for me, if you play in third semester and you get to Maruki's Reality, we see Akechi appear to turn himself in on Christmas Eve so, Im not sure exactly why we dont see him do so when you go back to The True Reality? what was the reason for it, Im not clear on it a bits

Hi! In short, Atlus want to maintain the mystery of whether Akechi is canonically dead or alive. Thanks for your question!

... okay, okay. More seriously, Akechi arriving on Christmas Eve is the first use we see Maruki make of his enhanced power. Akechi is present in Shibuya to take the rap for Ren because Maruki puts him there. So when that is later undone, Akechi is no longer there—and Ren was arrested and detained, all along. Just as he was in the vanilla game.

but doesn't maruki's reality start on 12/31?

We-ell... kind of. As he says in his 1/1 journal entry, Maruki finally merges Mementos with reality late on 12/31, when Ren has his dream about the butterfly. But he's already using his new power before that point, to do nice things for his friends, the Phantom Thieves.

It's not just Akechi in Shibuya. The Christmas Eve party in Royal is very different from its counterpart in vanilla—well, sure. Ren's not in detention, so the whole mood is different. They talk about Akechi, but then they just move on to have fun. Well, it is Christmas.

But the New Year's party is a strange sequence of pleasant events. Futaba calls it "an actual, real-life good ending"! We hear not just that Ren's conviction is likely to be overturned, but that Shido is to be prosecuted for the crimes he confessed. In February, of course, Sae will tell us that it took months just to document his confession, and that he's being prosecuted only for breaches of electoral and funding law.

Something else to note about the Royal Christmas and New Year events: to my ear, they have a glib, superficial tone. Don't you think so? Matters of import come up, but the team move past them, to talk about trivialities, about their party and the fun they're having. It's kind of nice; this is who they might have been without the weight of responsibility, of grief. But equally, that weight should be there.

This is illustrated in the script. Both events feature a long string of sound effect emotes:

These SE lines are never translated, but what you see here is Joker, Ryuji, and Ann laughing—waraigoe, the sound of laughter, literally "a laughing voice". This laugh, on New Year's Eve, continues through the whole group, not just the Phantom Thieves but also Sojiro and even Sae.

Coincidence? There are group laughs later, after Joker is released, and at the big confidant party. But those are just attributed to 全員 zen'in ("everybody"), or 一同 ichidou ("all present"). These lists of identical laugh lines at the start of Maruki's reality are just a little bit unnerving. By the time of Maruki's bad ending, those brief lapses into reality, with all of its unpleasantness, are gone.

So yes, in small ways, Maruki is using his power even before he merges Mementos with reality late on 12/31. And here's one last thing to pay attention to on 12/24. You know how Maruki alters reality itself, by altering people—by changing everyone's cognition so that the world agrees on its new nature? Watch Sae, during this scene.

She's surprised, sure—but she never seems surprised that Akechi is alive. She's just surprised that he's turning himself in. In the vanilla scene, on the other hand, she explicitly says that Akechi is missing. Ren can bring up that Akechi is back from the dead, but Sae doesn't seem to care!

Wheels within wheels.

so where's akechi in the "real" timeline?

Can of worms. Which "real timeline"? There are two, depending on whether or not you maxed Akechi's confidant. In the vanilla timeline, you don't get him to rank 8 before the engine room, and he dies behind the door. But in the Royal timeline, you do get him to rank 8, and you keep your promise, and that gives Akechi the will to live.

(Yes, this is what I currently believe. And more than that, I think it's the true meaning of that creator interview, "the player's feelings are equivalent to the protagonist's cognition". It doesn't mean that guy on the platform can be a randomer in his school uniform or a ghost!—it means there's one route where he's dead, and one where he's alive.)

In the game as released, we don't know where Akechi is. But in his February deleted scene—where he's clearly alive—he tells us where he was, for precisely this reason.

He wasn't in Shibuya at all. He was at this refuge, wherever it is, going into hiding. He wasn't around to save Ren.

If this scene had been left in, this would have been the moment Akechi came out of safety, out of hiding, and gave up on his life—to do what's right once more, to confirm his 12/24 decision, and face justice in Ren's place. If you think Maruki altered him, and he would never have turned himself in otherwise—watch this scene again. Yeah, we were robbed.

what else does akechi say?

On 2/2, Akechi tells us how it happened:

Let's take a quick look at that line in Japanese:

Akechi けど、君たちと戦ったあと⋯{F1 82}ともう一度会うまで僕の中にハッキリした記憶はなかった。 kedo, kimi-tachi to tatakatta ato... [Ren] to mou ichido au made boku no naka ni hakkiri shita kioku wa nakatta But after I fought against you all, I had a gap in my memory that ended with meeting up with [Ren] again. [lit. But, after I fought with you and the others… until I met back up with [Ren], I had no clear memories.]

hakkiri shita—"clear; distinct; vivid; plain; explicit; well-defined; sharp; loud and clear". hakkiri to kioku shiteiru—"to remember clearly". hakkiri shinai kioku—"unclear memories". hakkiri shita kioku—"clear memories".

Note that well. Akechi is not saying that he remembers nothing. He's saying he remembers nothing clear, which is substantively different, and not conveyed well by the English "a gap in my memory".

(He also switches address mid-sentence—in the first half of the line, he's addressing Ren as kimi ("you"), but then he cuts off, and addresses him as Ren. It looks like he switches from talking directly to Ren to talking to Maruki. And if you remember him being a dick about that moment on 1/2... this might be the line that reveals that actually, yeah, their promise in the engine room really did matter to him.)

Akechi believes he's dead on 2/2; I think there can be no question of that. There isn't a big reveal that he was alive all the time. And you can't even get this scene if you didn't max his confidant, if you didn't keep the promise—if Akechi didn't survive.

But there is an afterlife in the Persona universe, from which characters have even spoken—so I'd like to hear a little more, some day, about these "unclear memories" of his.

but how can he be alive

Bear in mind that the third semester looks identical (besides that engine room flashback on 1/2), regardless of whether or not you maxed Akechi's confidant. That's to say, whether Akechi dies in the engine room or not, the third semester does not change.

That means that everyone's perceptions of it cannot change. That includes Akechi. If he was dead and Maruki revived him, then he has no memories before he awakens in Shibuya, because he was dead. But if he wasn't dead—if he was at the refuge we see him at in the deleted scene, or in Hawaii, or on the Moon—if Maruki believes that he was dead, and attempts to revive him based on that conviction—

Well, then he creates a world where Goro Akechi died behind those shutters, doesn't he? A world where Akechi remembers nothing before he awakens in Shibuya, because now he was dead for those weeks. A world where, even though you saved him, Akechi died in the engine room. Just like in the vanilla timeline.

revision history

Click here for the latest version.

v1.2 (2024/07/13)—wording.

v1.1 (2024/07/12)—added a bit about how akechi bookends 1/2 and 2/2.

v1.0 (2024/07/12)—first posted.

[catherine-sketches]

I know in the original concept the creators imagined Viktor having both of his parents

But I can’t shake the image of a single mother from my mind (perhaps because there is so many single parents over here. Vander, Silco, Singed, Ximena, Jinx and Sevika to some extent)

Have you guys ever thought about Viktor’s mom?

Who was this woman? What was she like?

Who was this woman whose response to her baby coming to her saying that he wanted to go to the academy to learn is “say less baby” and make/buy him a academy uniform and probably instructed him to “fake it until he made it”?

Did she cross the bridge with him, fixed his brand new tie and, after kissing him in his forehead, in an accent thicker than his, reassured him by saying:

“When you’re going to change the world, don’t ask for permission”

She clearly had fate in his intelligence to send him there with only his cane, an uniform, a thought and a prayer

How much of her son is her doing? He is confident about his intelligence, sure in his capabilities as an scientist and engineer.

Was it her doing? Did she look at her very tiny boy with his twisted leg and think to herself “I’m going to encourage this passion! My baby will never doubt how smart he is even if he has none of the resources of topside!”

Were those same encouragements that backfired later as Viktor’s internalized ableism? After all, even his mother only valued his intelligence, so maybe…

Did she die before she could notice? Before she could grab him by his bony shoulders so much like her own and shake sense in to him? “My idiot boy, you are as precious to me as you always where. With or without your smarts I would love you regardless with all my heart”

Would she even say that? Or was the internalized ableism that Viktor displayed also present in his mother? Perhaps a even more explicit form of it maybe.

Was their condition genetic? Did Viktor learn to walk with a cane by copying what his mother did with hers?

Did she have a mind like his but never had the resources to chase her aspirations?

Did she want to be a scientist as well? An engineer? Perhaps a doctor even

Did she craft Viktor’s very first cane with half ass knowledge, some drift wood, blood, tears and all the love she could give since she could not afford the cane much less a doctor for her baby?

Did she know about Singed?

Did he tell her about the strange man he meet at the caves?

Viktor, does your mother know that you are creating drugs with a strange man in the fissures?

Where was your mom? Why were you all alone?

Her baby was alone, playing by himself with a tiny boat he made.

Was she at work? Did Viktor had to spend long periods of time alone as his mom was out trying to make the ends meet?

Was this job, possibly the mines, that made her prioritize encouraging his intellect instead of reaffirming to him that he is already enough? Something not out of malice but out of limited time together?

If you only see your baby every morning before work and every night after it how would you know that he is starting to believe himself broken and imperfect?

Did she get to know Singed? Did she approve of her son being his apprentice for a while? If she did what is wrong with her????

Was she like “any knowledge is good knowledge! Go and make some illegal drugs honey. Just come back home in time for dinner.” ?

Were she in another timeline, in another possibility, the Herald to Ximena’s Defender?

Is there a reality were she is the one to rise as machine infused in flesh because she expected the Talis boy to help save her son only to watch his face get plastered everywhere while her baby rotted in his shadow?

Did this version of you, mother of Viktor, become infuriated when that same Talis boy came to you with condolences in his lips and a clear broken heart with the weight of “if onlys” on his large shoulders when your baby succumbed to his illness?

Did that enrage you?

“YOU DONT GET TO MOUR MY VIKTOR! YOU WERE THE ONE THAT LET HIM DIE! YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO HELP HIM, MAN OF PROGRESS, BUT INSTEAD YOU LET YOUR EGO INFLATE TO THE SIZE OF A ZEPPELIN WHILE MY BABY STRUGGLED TO BREATH ! ALL IN THE NAME OF THE PROFITS OF THE CITY THAT STOLE HIS BREATHE IN THE FIRST PLACE”

Did you rip your own heart of your ribs so you couldn’t feel this heart break no more? So you could have a clear mind as you vowed that your Glorious Evolution would make damn sure that no mother from Zaun would suffer the same fate?

Would you have loved Jayce as your son in law in any other circumstance?

Who were you mother of Heralds?

What’s your name?

[m-musings]

HIII

im actually so excited omg i dont wanna sound mean actually the opposite but you write for a couple of pretty dead fandoms and im just so happy to see new writers for them.

can i request hcs for rotg (either jack frost, or bunnymund, or pitch, whoever you like. maybe the three of them??? idk go nuts show nuts) with a grim reaper reader? thanks! :D

Headcanons: Jack Frost, Pitch Black and E. Aster Bunnymund with Grim Reaper! Reader

A/N: anon I'm dying at go nuts show nuts, that's the funniest shit i've read in a while but anyways yeah, all 3 sounds good to me lmao. also, I wasn't sure if you wanted platonic or romantic so i just kept it on the friendly side, i hope that's okay!

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

Word Count: 450 Warnings: mentions of death/ dead people

Jack:

Jack is a bit wary around you at first simply due to the nature of your job.

But once he sees just how gentle and kind you are with the souls you reap, he's back on board with getting to know you.

As he gets more comfortable with you, he'll definitely make fun of you like he does with the other guardians but he does it with love!

Jack will occasionally accompany you when you're reaping a younger soul. His presence seems to calm them down if they begin to panic, even if they sometimes can't see him.

If you ever get a break from reaping, he will invite you to participate in one of his famous snow day snowball fights as a way to forget about the sadness that sometimes comes with the responsibility of being a being of death.

He's still the excitable and reckless Jack Frost but when you're around, he's more mellowed out and - forgive the pun- chill to hang out with.

Pitch:

Pitch is intrigued by you from the start.

While he may control people's fears, it is a rare occasion for him to actually interact with one, let alone one as important as the personification of death itself.

He knows just how powerful a reaper can be so he is always sure to treat you with the respect you deserve.

The one time Pitch tried to convince you to join him against the Guardians, it ended with a scythe pointed at his neck and a stern scolding from you, so he doesn't bring that subject up around you anymore.

Pitch actually enjoys spending time with you though, he feels that your presence is much more tranquil and calm than that of the other spirits he knows.

He can be maniacal and full of himself but deep down he has a strange admiration for you and the job you do.

Bunnymund:

Bunny has known you for a long time and has come to highly regard you as an ally.

You two mesh well together, because without the deaths you take watch of, he wouldn't be able to help bring new bouts of life into the world.

He refuses to see any of the souls you may bring around The Warren though, it makes him kind of squeamish.

He will occasionally help you wrangle up a lost soul or two but it's very uncommon for him to be around during the actual reaping.

Bunnymund and you do spend the most time together just because your roles are so interconnected with one another (Guardians of Life and Death and all that).

All in all, You and Bunny are very close knit and have a great respect for one another.

[cod-thoughts]

How far must i go to prove that i love you?

Word count: 6k

Relationships: GhostPrice, PriceGhost

Tags: PricGhostweek2024, love confession, Blow job, hand job, Ghost has dick piercings hehe, they're so in love, truly whipped its great.

This is for Day 1 of GhostPrice week: confession + Kneel and the title is what i was listening to while editing: "Mx Sinister - I dont know how but they found me"

Ghost swallowed; his throat suddenly tight. He’d never seen Price so relaxed, so at ease, and yet he looked right, like he belonged here. Against a kitchen counter as Ghost made him tea, warm from a fresh shower and relaxed. A kind of longing Ghost couldn’t name settled heavy in his chest, an ache that made him want to close the space between them, to pull Price close and tell him he didn’t want this to be temporary. Price noticed his gaze, eyebrows raising as he let out a soft laugh. “What’s with you then? Never seen a man out of a shower?” OR Ghost is so enamoured by a domestic and relaxed Price he blurts out his feelings and has to convince Price he does want this This is my first time writing actual smut please be kind oop 0_0 Keep reading under the cut or on AO3

The mission went without a hitch, for once, no bad intel, no secret mercenaries waiting for them and most importantly. No injuries. Ghost couldn't be happier with how it turned out because this meant they had an extra three days in the safe house. Technically they weren’t on leave, but they might as well have been.

The safe house was a modest, worn place—a dusty sort of charm that only Price would’ve found this endearing, raving on about how cozy and homey it felt. It reminded him of his cabin in the country-side apparently. Even Ghost found himself oddly settled by the familiarity of it. Today was their last full day in the safe-house and they already managed to slip into a comfortable rhythm, both of them falling into a rare, quiet routine that felt almost… normal, domestic in a way.

Price was in the shower, water pattering softly against the old tiles, and the faint warmth of steam drifted out into the narrow hallway. Ghost could hear the occasional clink as Price moved about, no doubt scrubbing his face and muttering about the “bloody water pressure.” A hint of a smile tugged at Ghost’s mouth, something barely there, but the comfort of the moment made him less guarded, even if it was just him in the kitchen.

It was strange, the ease with which they’d fallen into this—how simple it felt to share the silence, to just be here. Price’s footsteps, his quiet huff of laughter, the way he leaned against the counter with that small smirk Ghost had memorised. These were details Ghost never let himself hold onto, and yet here they were, filling him with a warmth that was as terrifying as it was grounding.

God, what he wouldn’t give to have Price with him like this all the time, soft and comfortable, the lines in his face smoothing over in his relaxed state, his laughter more prominent and not marred by the world they live in.

He’d finished heating up a tin of beans, stirring it absently before putting the lid on it to keep it warm, and set the kettle on for tea, knowing Price would be done soon. The small tasks felt grounding, almost domestic—there’s that word again, strange but, maybe, it was what had been playing at the edges of his mind for a while now. This rare ease, this strange new rhythm. Ghost found himself watching the steam rising from the kettle, a bit lost in the warmth that filled the air.

He wasn’t quite sure when it happened—when the lines between Price as a superior, a mentor, had blurred into something… more. It was a disquieting thought, one he’d been trying to keep at bay, though not with much success. And here he was, cooking up beans and making tea, so utterly settled in Price’s presence that the prospect of leaving, of returning to the job, made him feel something uncomfortably close to hollow.

He never imagined this was even possible for him. To be alive and wanting something so fiercely. To want a life outside of being a soldier. It was all he ever knew but as the kettle clicked and he made them a cup each, exactly how Price liked it, it hit him like a blow: this was it. This was what he wanted, more than he’d ever wanted anything.

The bathroom door creaked open, and Price emerged, towelling his hair. He’d discarded his usual gear in favour of an old grey t-shirt, soft and worn, that clung to his still-damp skin. He looked… ordinary. Beautifully ordinary. Ordinary was the wrong word entirely for that man, Ghost realised, because there was something extraordinary in the way Price took up space, in how naturally he filled the room.

There was something about Price that Simon couldn’t look away from, something that drew him in every time. It wasn’t just the way his shirt clung to the strong lines of his shoulders or the way his damp hair curled slightly at the ends—it was him. The way Price moved with such unassuming ease, filling the space without even trying. The quiet strength in the way he stood, the subtle command he carried even when he wasn’t speaking.

And his face. God, Simon could stare at it forever. The crinkle at the corners of his eyes that deepened when he smiled, the way his beard softened his jawline but couldn’t hide the sharp angles beneath. The ruggedness of him—like he’d been carved out of something weathered but enduring—made Simon’s chest ache with something fierce. And then there was that scent, familiar and grounding: the faint trace of cigars, soap, and something woodsy, something unmistakably Price.

It wasn’t just the physical, though that certainly left Simon weak. It was the way Price’s presence seemed to settle the air, how his quiet confidence made even a dusty, cramped kitchen feel like the safest place in the world. How he could glance at Simon with those piercing blue eyes and, without saying a word, make him feel seen in a way no one else ever had.

Simon realised, as he stood there, that he didn’t just want Price. He adored him. Every detail, every quiet moment, every laugh that felt like it was meant just for Simon. He wanted to keep this, to keep him—the man who somehow made even the most ordinary moments feel like home.

Simon didn’t realise he’d been staring until Price’s movement snapped him back to the present. He blinked, catching himself, but Price had already noticed, his gaze flicking toward him with a faintly amused tilt of his brow.

Price spotted the tea, grunted approvingly, and leaned back against the counter. “Bit of a treat, this. Thought we’d be stuck with the stale packs from camp.” He nodded toward the kettle, that subtle glint of humour in his eyes, as if a decent brew was the most luxurious indulgence he could imagine.

Ghost swallowed; his throat suddenly tight. He’d never seen Price so relaxed, so at ease, and yet he looked right, like he belonged here. Against a kitchen counter as Ghost made him tea, warm from a fresh shower and relaxed.

A kind of longing Ghost couldn’t name settled heavy in his chest, an ache that made him want to close the space between them, to pull Price close and tell him he didn’t want this to be temporary.

Price noticed his gaze, eyebrows raising as he let out a soft laugh. “What’s with you then? Never seen a man out of a shower?” His tone was light, teasing, but Ghost could see the slight furrow in his brow, as if he were trying to decipher what he was seeing in Ghost’s eyes.

Ghost’s mouth opened, then closed. He could feel the words pressing up against his chest, aching to escape, but he didn’t know if he had the right to say them. What if this ruined everything? What if he’d read all of this wrong? What if Price didn’t want this with Simon?

But looking at Price, standing there, comfortably out of uniform, looking so impossibly good and real, Ghost felt something snap. He couldn’t keep holding this back—not when every moment with Price felt like a promise he wanted to keep.

“I’m in love with you.”

The silence that followed felt both endless and instant. He watched Price freeze, shock flickering over his face as if he couldn’t quite believe what he’d heard. For a second, Ghost’s stomach twisted, instinct screaming at him to retreat, to act like it had been a mistake, a momentary lapse he hadn’t meant. But he couldn’t move, couldn’t take it back.

Instead, he stood there, unwavering, rooted to the spot by something stronger than fear. There was a sense of calm clarity in him, as if finally saying it—finally letting it go—was exactly what he needed to feel at peace. For the first time, he wasn’t hiding from what he felt, and it was terrifying, but also… grounding. This was his truth, as clear as any mission he’d ever undertaken. It was too much a part of him to deny, and he knew now, with a certainty he couldn’t ignore, that he wouldn’t take it back even if he could.

Price’s mouth opened, closed, the faintest line of vulnerability shadowing his face. “Simon… no. You don’t—” He stopped, eyes flicking away. “Why… why would you even say that?”

A part of Ghost had expected this. He’d seen how Price held people at arm’s length, always careful, always cautious with his own heart. But Ghost had spent enough time by his side to know that Price’s doubt was more than scepticism—it was insecurity. And knowing that broke something in Ghost, making him want to close the space between them, to make Price see himself the way he did.

Without thinking, he took a step closer, each movement slow, deliberate. He needed Price to understand. There was no question, no hesitation in his heart, and he wouldn’t let his own fear stand in the way of this. “Because it’s true, John,” he said softly, his voice filled with an intensity that surprised even him. “Because I mean it.”

Price shook his head, trying to look away, a faint, pained laugh escaping him. Ghost could see it, see the struggle on his face, the disbelief that anyone could love him like this, let alone him.

Ghost’s chest ached seeing Price struggle, watching the disbelief play across his face, the doubt that someone could love him, truly love him. He reached up, taking his mask off, wanting Price to see his whole expression. He cupped Price’s face in both hands, guiding him to look back, to look him in the eye.

“John,” he said, his voice low, steady, the words carrying a weight he’d never let himself show. “You’re not just my Captain. You’re the one person who’s… who makes sense to me. Every time I think about us, about this—it feels right.” He paused, his thumb brushing over Price’s cheek, the warmth of the touch grounding them both. “I’ve thought about it more times than I can count. Tried to fight it. But I can’t, not anymore.”

Price’s eyes searched his face, looking for any flicker of doubt, anything to convince himself that this was just a passing feeling. But Ghost didn’t let him turn away; he needed Price to understand how long he’d kept this inside; how much he wanted this to be real.

Every inch of him was screaming to make Price see that this wasn’t some twisted sense of duty or loyalty or a skewed understanding of the bond of brothers-in-arms. It was something that went beyond all of that, something he’d felt in every quiet moment, every time he found himself leaning closer, craving Price’s presence even when words went unspoken. And now, with Price standing here, with that soft shirt and his damp hair, looking so human and so his, Ghost knew he’d never be able to go back to pretending this was just camaraderie.

Price’s lips parted, a faint tremor in his voice as he asked, almost pleadingly, “Why me, Simon? Why would you…”

Ghost let out a shaky breath, his thumb brushing over Price’s cheek. “Because I want this with you, all of it,” He gestured around the cabin frantically, trying to convey what he means. “I want this to be our normal.”

“Why… why now?”

Ghost swallowed, the rawness of Price’s voice piercing through him, and in that moment, any doubt he’d had about telling him vanished. “Because I want this. With you. I want the quiet moments, the domestic nights on a couch. I want to wake up to you next to me-” He paused suddenly, his thumb tracing along Price’s cheek. “I didn’t know how much until I got a taste of a life with you outside of the 141 these past few days. I thought I could live without you knowing but I can’t. I want you, John.” He took a breath, his own voice rough but steady. “And if you don’t feel the same, I understand. But I needed you to know.”

The look in Price’s eyes was one Ghost had rarely seen before—unguarded, vulnerable, and full of a quiet yearning that had been hidden for far too long. And at that moment, he knew he’d made the right choice, that he’d do it all over again if it meant being here, standing close, telling Price everything he’d kept buried.

When Price’s hands moved up to Ghost’s face, mirroring his touch, Ghost could feel it—the release of years of restraint, the weight of unspoken feelings finally lifted. “You… you really mean that?”

Ghost nodded, the relief and quiet happiness flooding through him. “More than anything.”

There was a moment of silence, and then Price’s hands tightened on his face, grounding them both. “Alright,” he whispered, voice thick. “Alright… Simon.”

Ghost leaned in, their foreheads touching, each of them grounding the other. In the quiet, Ghost could feel it—all the years of restraint, the walls they’d kept up, finally crumbling as they found each other, both feeling, for the first time, what it meant to be truly together.

They stayed close, heads tilted together, letting the newness of it settle, feeling the gentle thud of their heartbeats in tandem. Then, almost as if on impulse, Ghost—Simon, now—leaned in, pressing a light kiss to Price’s forehead, then his cheek, and then another, barely brushing the bridge of his nose. Each kiss was soft, almost giddy, like he couldn’t contain the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Price let out a soft laugh, an amused huff as he tried to dodge Simon’s unrelenting affections, but he didn’t quite succeed, and it only seemed to encourage Simon further.

“Bloody hell, Simon, give a man a moment to breathe,” Price grumbled, though his voice was edged with laughter, his own smile finally breaking free as he watched Simon beam with a kind of unabashed joy he’d never seen from him before.

Simon chuckled, his lips still grazing Price’s face as he planted another playful kiss just above his eyebrow, and then another on his jawline, lingering a moment longer as his grin grew even wider. He was thoroughly enjoying the way Price looked slightly flustered, a bit pink around the edges.

“You’re a menace, you know that?” Price muttered, shaking his head even as his hands settled comfortably on Simon’s waist, holding him close.

“Oh, I’m a menace?” Simon quirked an eyebrow, his tone teasing as he brushed his lips against Price’s nose, a sly smile lighting up his face. “This coming from the bloke who said he doesn’t need shit like this. Look at you now. Practically melting,” he teased, his laughter warm, delighted, bubbling up from a place so deep it surprised even him.

Price chuckled, shaking his head. “S’pose I am, at that,” he admitted, his voice softening, a hand coming up to cup the back of Simon’s neck. He looked at him, taking in the joy in Simon’s eyes, the warmth in his expression, and for the first time, he allowed himself to relax fully, to let the happiness settle.

Then, with a steadying breath and a smile that was soft and sure, Price looked into Simon’s eyes, holding him close. “I love you too, Simon,” he murmured, voice quiet but unmistakably certain.

Simon’s face lit up with an almost boyish grin, and he pressed another series of kisses to Price’s face, each one full of relief, of warmth, of a happiness he could barely contain. He laughed, the sound bright, full of life, as he finally allowed himself to believe in this moment, in the closeness he’d longed for.

“You’re a bloody nightmare,” Price teased, laughing softly as Simon practically smothered him with affection.

“Think you’ll survive it?” Simon whispered, his tone playful but the sincerity in his eyes clear.

“Aye,” Price replied, his own smile unguarded, hands still resting firmly on Simon. “I reckon I will.”

They stayed like that, wrapped in each other’s arms, laughter mingling with quiet promises.

As their laughter faded, Simon’s hand lingered on Price’s cheek, the warmth of his touch grounding them both. They stood there, close and quiet, the moment stretching between them, soft and unhurried. Simon’s gaze moved over Price’s face, taking in the lines he’d memorised a hundred times over in the field, but here, now, he allowed himself the luxury of just looking, of feeling.

Without a word, Simon leaned in, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to Price’s mouth this time, his hand slipping up to cradle the back of his neck. Price returned it just as slowly, the firmness in his grip telling Simon all he needed to know. There was an intensity in the way their mouths moved together—deliberate, deep, each kiss pulling them closer, as if the space between them was something they couldn’t bear.

Simon’s thumb brushed along Price’s jaw, and his other hand found Price’s waist, holding him steady as they leaned into each other. Price’s hand slipped up, fingers threading through the short hair at the back of Simon’s head, grounding them both, drawing him closer.

A low hum of contentment escaped Simon, their breaths mingling as he let himself get lost in the feeling of it—of them—no longer holding back. There was no rush, just the slow burn of realisation and a shared understanding, the unspoken promise that they were finally here, together.

When Simon finally pulled back, he stayed just a breath apart, his gaze fixed intently on Price, the weight of his affection clear in his eyes. His thumb brushed slowly along Price’s jaw, his touch confident, knowing, as he leaned in again, lips ghosting over Price’s in a way that was both teasing and familiar.

There was an unmistakable warmth in his gaze, a playful glint that Price recognised, but he wasn’t quite sure what to make of it in this situation. He felt his pulse quicken, as if somehow Simon had shifted the entire mood with just that one look.

“Y’know,” Simon murmured, voice low and steady, each word lingering in the space between them, “I could show you… just how much I mean it.”

Price’s eyebrows lifted, his mouth parting slightly as he tried to process the words, that quiet intensity in Simon’s voice leaving little room for doubt. Simon’s hands slipped down to rest at Price’s hips, steady and sure, anchoring him, but there was a spark of mischief in his expression, a challenge that was somehow both serious and playful.

Price opened his mouth to respond, to say something, but the words didn’t come, leaving him standing there, a bit off-kilter, entirely captivated by Simon’s quiet, unwavering confidence. He could barely believe that this was happening, that this was real, but the heat in Simon’s gaze left no room for uncertainty.

Simon chuckled and brought his lips firmly back onto Price’s, making him release a small gasp at how forceful Simon was being. God, that noise. It went straight to Simon’s cock, fuelling his arousal. He had to hear more, had to hear Price fall apart.

He shifted his hand on Price’s hip, moving under the thin shirt Price had on. Simon grabbed at the soft layer of fat around Price’s abdomen, groaning into the kiss. Fuck, he wanted to bite at the softness.

Using his hold on Price, he pushed Price against the counter, connecting their whole bodies together in a sinful grind. Their chests brushed against each other, and Simon could feel their hard nipples poking through their shirts, could feel Price’s arousal against the thigh he’d shoved between his legs, effectively pinning Price down.

He moved a hand into Price’s slightly damp hair and tugged on it, drawing another soft noise out of the man underneath him. It only added fuel to the fire being stoked within Simon. He shifted his hand to cup the back of Price’s neck, pushing his thumb into the junction of Price’s jaw, making Price gasp in response.

Simon licked deeper into Price’s mouth, claiming him. Pressing him harder against the counter, grinding into him and running his tongue over Price’s. The man keened, thrown slightly off balance, using his hold on Simon’s waist to hold himself upright.

Simon scraped his teeth against Price’s bottom lip, gasping before pulling away abruptly. He felt Price chase after his lips, but Simon placed his hand on his captain’s chest to slow him down. He brought their foreheads together, just breathing in each other’s air.

“Fuck, Simon. Been wanting this for so long, didn’t think it was allowed,” Price choked out, chuckling as if trying to hide his sincerity.

Simon moved his attention to Price’s jaw, laying kisses across his beard, letting the surprisingly soft hair tickle his lips. Moving to Price’s neck, he had to restrain himself from outright biting at the smooth skin in front of him. Instead, he nipped it teasingly, running the tip of his tongue over the tendon, feeling Price shiver against him.

Resigning himself to not actually marking Price, not yet at least, he started tugging at his shirt, trying to get it off. Simon knew he should separate from Price even a little bit to get the shirt off, but it was a monumental task when Price smelled so good.

He finally relented when he felt Price shaking slightly with laughter against him. Simon did not pout as he was forced to move away, and if he did, Price couldn’t see it, his vision shrouded by the shirt for a few seconds.

They’d seen each other in various stages of undress; this shouldn’t be as world-shattering as it was, but God was Simon savouring every single second he got to ogle shamelessly at a shirtless Captain John Price.

His hands roamed over Price’s chest, feeling the hair that was just as soft as he thought it would be, squeezing his chest, feeling Price jolt at the sensation.

“Didn’t think you’d be so sensitive when I pictured this.” Simon smirked as he pinched Price’s hard nipples with purpose this time.

“Ah!” Price hissed, pulling his chest away from Simon’s harsh treatment. “Didn’t know I was either, to be honest.”

“Are you really telling me no one’s paid attention to these before?” Simon breathed out against Price’s lips. “Because I can’t help myself, love. Not when I get a reaction like that.” He added with a nip to Price’s lips and another tug of his nipples.

“Fuck, Simon. That feels good,” Price muttered. “Never thought you’d touch me like this, never let myself picture it. Ah!”

“Well, that’s a shame. I’ve thought about this for years, Captain. Thought about you under me, on top of me, thought about you inside me, about tasting you.” Simon said as he pressed fervent kisses and small bites over Price’s chest before finally actually biting him and sucking right above his left nipple, fulfilling that desire to mark him.

“Ah, shit! You menace, should’ve known you’d be a biter. Can’t say I’m complaining, though.” Price threaded his fingers in Simon’s curls, pulling him away from his chest and bringing their mouths together again, like he couldn’t resist it, before pulling back, murmuring, “Please tell me this isn’t a one-time thing. Please, Simon, you have to—I can’t do this once and forget about it.”

Simon’s gaze softened, his hand coming up to brush along Price’s cheek. “This isn’t a one-time thing, Price,” he murmured, his voice steady and sure. “I’m here because I want to and because I love you. One day, you’ll truly believe me.” He held Price’s gaze, letting the words settle, feeling the faint tension ease from Price’s grip.

Price swallowed, still searching Simon’s face, the lingering doubt flickering in his eyes. But Simon only smiled, slow and sure.

He leaned in close, his lips ghosting over Price’s in a barely-there kiss. “Let me show you, yeah?” he whispered, his voice warm and earnest. “Prove to you how much I want this. How much I need this.”

Simon slowly lowered himself to his knees, trailing his hands down Price’s chest to his thighs. Settling into a comfortable stance, Simon just sat there, on his knees in front of his Captain.

Price was speechless; he didn’t think Simon had it in him to be so bold, but he couldn’t complain—not when those doe eyes were looking up at him like he held all the answers to everything Simon could ever want.

Finally on his knees, Simon pressed his face into the bulge of Price’s jeans, savouring the feel of him. He had to get his mouth on him properly, and soon.

Simon pressed his mouth to the bulge in front of him. “Fuck, John,” he muttered to himself. “Can I? Please?” he asked, looking up at Price again.

How was Price supposed to say no to that?

“Yes, fuck, yes, Simon, whatever you want, darling.”

Simon began unbuckling Price’s belt, then his jeans, he started pressing open-mouthed kisses through Price’s underwear, he wanted to tease Price; to really rile him up but his own desperation won over and he tugged them down and pulled out Price’s cock.

Simon resisted the urge to get his mouth around it instantly, wanting to get a proper look at the picture Price made. God, but he looked good

Leaning against the counter, face and chest flushed, Simon’s bite from earlier was darker too. Simons eyes traced the flush all the way to Price’s trim waist before going further. His belt and jeans were hanging open, held up by strong, thick thighs that Simon couldn’t wait to get in between of. His underwear was pushed down revealing, in Simon’s opinion, the prettiest cock he’s ever seen. He never thought he’d ever describe a cock as pretty, but John Price never ceases to surprise him.

The head was flushed and slightly wet from pre-cum and Simon’s spit, the shaft thick with prominent veins running along it with a neat bush at the base. His balls resting against the waistband of his underwear and Simon had to stop himself from actively drooling.

Pulling himself out of his reverie and silently promising to himself that he’d take his time and worship Price properly another time, he shuffles closer so he’s really at eye-level with Price’s cock.

Slowly, his tongue poked out and dragged up the underside of Price’s cock, swiping across the head with extra care. Simon wanted to make sure he tasted every centimetre. Price threw his head back and clapped a hand over his mouth to muffle the, frankly, whorish sound that feeling and visual managed to drag out of him.

Simon sat back on his heels. The position caused his trousers to stretch across his aching arousal, showing Price just how much this was affecting him.

“I want to hear you, don’t hide from me, love. There’s no one here, it’s just us.” Simon pleaded.

Price relented and removed his hand from his mouth and instead he brought it down to rub his thumb along Simon’s bottom lip, almost reverent in his touch. Simon gave his thumb a teasing nip before pulling away and repositioning himself. Too desperate to tease Price further.

He chose to wrap a hand around Price this time and squeezed gently, just feeling his arousal in his hand. He hummed at the responding groan he got before stroking up as much as he could and back down. The dry pull only heightened Price’s sensitivity, and he bucked into the unforgiving drag.

Simon brought his face down towards Price’s cock but bypassed it and instead started licking at the base before moving his tongue further down and licking around Price’s sack.

When Price looked down Simon’s eyes were glassy and looking up at him with so much adoration his cock pulsed against Simon’s cheek at the sight below him.

Simon couldn’t help himself; he gasped at the feeling of it against his face, twitching and beading with pre-cum from some light teasing.

Finally, he pulled himself together and he guided his face to the tip of Price’s cock and brought it into his mouth. Humming at the taste of his Captain on his tongue.

Price above him moaned loudly and was rewarded instantly for his efforts. Simon’s pupils widened and he started bobbing his head slowly bringing more of Price’s cock into his mouth. He made it nearly halfway to the base before softly gagging and pulling away a bit to go back to laving his tongue around the head.

Simon hadn’t done this nearly as much as he wanted to and he regrets not being able to take Price all the way down his throat the way he wants to, to savour the stretch, knowing all his senses would be surrounded by Price. Maybe he could convince Price to let him practice? Judging from the noises above him, he doesn’t think there will be much protest.

Pulling off he let a string of saliva connect his lips to the head of Price’s cock for a few seconds before it broke off, not missing how Price twitched at the sight. He brought his lips back to the base of Price’s cock, licking around it and pressing kisses to it. Simon couldn’t help how the musky smell that lingered even after Price had showered affected him. He’d always loved how Price smelt, cigars, sweat and aftershave, but here? It was a completely different experience.

“Simon, you feel so good, love. Not gonna last long with you down there.” Price warned.

Simon hummed before wrapping his lips back around the head of Price’s cock, eliciting a choked-out moan from the man above him. He tongued at his slit, wanting to get more of Price’s taste in his mouth.

He spent a few minutes just using his mouth to pleasure Price before he brought his hand to the base to jerk off the rest of what he regrettably couldn't get in his mouth. His other hand was rubbing and squeezing anywhere he could reach from this position. He slowly trailed his hand up towards Price’s chest, pinching at his nipples and squeezing his chest, thanking his towering frame for being able to reach.

He felt Price twitch in his mouth every time he scratched, pulled, pinched or squeezed his body.

He’s so lost in the sensations that when Price gasps and says, “Simon,” all ragged and breathy he realises that Price is about to come in his mouth and is trying to warn him off.

That just won’t do. He just moans and pushes as far down as he can without gagging and sucks harder, suddenly desperate to have his mouth full of what Price really tastes like.

“Simon,” Price gasps again from above him. “I can’t—fuck! Shit! Stop, love, I’m gonna—”

Then Simon feels Price’s hips twitch, can feel him pulsing in his mouth before its filled with the salty-bitter taste of Price’s orgasm. He moans and swallows as much as he can, but some still escapes around the sides of his lips. He keeps sucking and bobbing his head until Price is pulling him away by his curls, panting above him.

Price pushes off the counter and drops to the floor in front of Simon startling him slightly before using the grip he has in Simon’s hair to tug him forward and kiss him. Simon’s lungs burn as Price steals his breath away, groaning as he tastes himself on Simon, licking the stray drops from his mouth.

He pulls back resting his forehead against Simon’s. “So, fucking good,” he pants out. “Gonna take care of you now, love, gonna make you feel good too. That what you want?”

Simon nods his head furiously, knocking their foreheads together. He moves to bring Price into a deep kiss again, his hands running over every inch of his body.

Not having touched himself at all yet he felt Price reach down towards his trousers, unbuckle them and snake his hand into his underwear. He didn’t think to warn Price, but he felt him gasp against his lips, pulling away, a look of shock across his face.

“Are you fucking pierced?”

Simon couldn't help but let out a laugh at that, “Yeah, I got them a couple years after Roba, wanted my body to feel like my own again,” Simon paused to gauge Price’s reaction who was looking at him in disbelief. “They a problem? I can take them out?” he added timidly.

“You’re kidding right? Fuck, as if you could get any more perfect. Can I touch them? Do they feel good?” Simon blushed at Price’s words.

“Yeah, feels really good.”

“Hmmm can’t wait to find out how good they’re gonna feel inside me.” He whispered into Simon’s ear making him gasp and moan at the thought of Price on his back, legs around his waist, or straddling him, or bent over. Fuck, anyway he could have him, really.

Price tightened his hand back around Simon’s cock, stroking upwards before pulling his hand away, spitting on it and bringing it back around Simon, twisting his hand when he reaches the tip.

Price moves to pay attention to the five piercings across the underside of Simon’s cock. Twisting the barbell that was threaded through each one, from his frenulum to the Jacobs ladder leading all the way down. Price kept going from stroking his entire length to paying special attention to the piercings and oh, fuck, that feels really fucking good.

“Faster, please!” Simon cries out, he didn’t realise how close he already was just from sucking Price off.

Price pulls Simons cock out of his pants and spits on it directly making the man under him keen.

“God look at you. Need to feel you inside me, Simon.” He pants into Simon’s mouth.

They’re not quiet kissing anymore, just breathing into each other’s mouths, making each other dizzy from the lack of oxygen. Price pulls back to lick and nip at Simons neck, knowing that his balaclava will cover up any marks he puts there, he doesn’t have to hesitate. Biting and sucking wherever he pleases, relishing in each broken sound it draws out of the man.

Simon’s hips stuttered and he fucks his cock into Prices fist. Moaning unabashedly at how good it feels. He’s never this vocal but Price’s fist and his presence is enough to make him feel like he’s on cloud nine, he always felt like he could let go around the man with no negative consequences.

Simon kept fucking his cock into the tight and slick fist around him, running his hands all over Price’s body, feeling the hair on his chest, the solid weight of his muscle beneath. He couldn’t believe he was able to touch him so freely. The thought made him even more frantic.

“Price, fuck! John, please, please, don’t stop. I’m so close John, please. God!” He gasped out.

“You gonna make a mess all over me, Simon? Yeah? Go on, love. Let go. Let me feel you.”

Simon, like the loyal soldier he is, couldn’t deny his captain anything and with a thrust of his hips and a twist from Price’s wrist he’s gone.

Crying out John’s name, curses and “Please, don’t stop! Feels so good!” He rides the wave of his pleasure for what feels like hours before he shivers and slumps forward onto Price’s shoulder. Panting and sweating like he ran a marathon before he looked down and groaned at the sight.

Price’s fist was covered, still pumping him gently making Simon jolt with overstimulation. He grabs Price’s wrist to stop him, gently coaxing him off. Price smirked at him and brought his hand up to lick at his fingers, holding Simons shocked expression as he did so.

Price barely got a taste before he was being shoved backwards and kissed within an inch of his life. Simon pulled back and loomed over him, his dark gaze hungry despite just finishing.

“Wanna take this to an actual bed?” he murmured into Price’s neck.

“Oh? I thought you’d get it out of your system, and you’d be done.” Price smirked knowing now how much Simon meant those words he said to him earlier.

“We’re just getting started.” Price shivered at that, eagerly anticipating what comes next.

“Well then, lead the way.”

[tamaharu]

wait i just remembered i DO have unposted orv stuff that i can post for kim dokjas birthday. 2k of hot supreme king x reader fic dont like dont read!!!1!! orginal characarter do not steal!!!!!

(or, Yoo Joonghyuk takes a pit-stop in one of the world-lines. An old friend offers to pay for dinner.)

[Ah, late, so late! I can't believe I missed my alarm! And on my first day of work too... I was so worried, when I got off the train, I started running the rest of the way to the company. Hopefully nobody would notice that I was late. I had to get a new job after my boyfriend dumped me, and I couldn't afford to live on my previous salary.

As I rushed to the building, I had to push past many people to get to the doors. In my haste, however, I accidentally tripped! When I fell, I landed against something hard. "Oof!"

"Hey," a menacing voice said. "Watch where you're going next time! Don't be so quick to touch me!" Eep!

I stepped back quickly, bowing as deep as I could. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean t..." When I looked up I trailed off, becoming even more panicked. Ah, I recognized that man!

He looked down at me with a handsomely striking gaze. "You. What is your name?"

"I-It's L/N Y/N. Um, again, I'm so sorry... CEO-nim!" I bowed again. A nose and a chin shaped in perfect angles; a pair of deep eyes seemingly carved out of beautiful jewels; soft hair styled fashionably to frame his face... His suit, too, looked quite beautiful. I really messed up this time. Not only was I late, but I ran into the CEO of the company, the powerful Yoo Jo--]

I stopped there. I didn't bother to learn the name of the poor idol whose name had been stolen for this. Why was I even reading this? Reader-inserts were meant for wish fulfillment, but they always did something that took you out of the story. For the first part, I'd pay much more attention to my surroundings than that.

I pocketed my phone again, sighing. Perhaps I was the cynical one here? They were probably just written by young girls, daydreaming about getting to talk to a beloved character or idol, and was that so horrible? Actually, I believed in chance meetings, but I felt like the one here was a little too contrived...

Many thoughts went through my head as I stepped through a convenience store. Buying dinner after work was the only good thing about my job, I should just quit. Perhaps that would get me closer to the path of meeting a handsome CEO? How laughable.

I was still thinking this when I moved forwards again. But this time, when I walked, I ran directly into a hard wall.

No, wait? I had been to this store many times, and there wasn't anything blocking the entryway the other times. I stepped back, confused, to find my 'wall' staring back at me. Ah... Perhaps I should've read that story until the end.

The man in front of me had a good face. He certainly looked like he could be the menacing protagonist. But, how do I put this? Everything below the neck ruined the effect. 

He was wearing an astronaut's spacesuit, even with the helmet tucked in his arms, but he wore a black trenchcoat over that, making his form extra bulky. At the same time, strange rips were visible against it. Not a romance protagonist, then. Sci-fi? But the coat screamed chuunibyou characterization...

"Ah, sorry, I wasn't watching, excuse me..."

The man was still staring at me, and if anything his expression grew more annoyed. What did he want me to say? Should I chastise him for standing in the middle of the walkway?

Before I said anything, or even managed to go around him, a young girl peeked out from behind his back. She was dressed more normally, in casual clothes with a fuzzy jacket, but still stood out just by being around him. When she saw me, her first reaction was curiosity, but after a moment, her eyes widened in surprise and an unprecedented amount of delight.

"Oh, it's okay! I promise his bark is worse than his bite. Hey, you're from around here, yes? Do you have some money we can borrow?"

Huh?

The man turned to glare at the shameless girl instead. "We don't need money. Especially not from… them."

"Yes, yes. You're a big scary terrorist, you steal what you can't buy. Isn't that too much though? You're already beating poor authors senseless, how much crime do you need to commit before your dark heart is satisfied?"

I quickly turned on my heel and walked in the opposite direction.

"Hey, hey!" The girl's voice called out again, and I could hear her running to follow me. With a sigh, I paused and looked back at her. I didn't want someone like her friend chasing me, so it would be better to just hear her out.

"Ah, I'm sorry, you must think we're acting quite weird! But, really, we don't have any money. If you can, could you spare just a couple of dollars?"

"Mm, I don't know. If you're that desperate isn't it better to be more polite in asking? What happened, did you lose it all on a scam?" No, wait, what was I saying? I didn't want to deal with these guys longer than I had to. Just talking to them would make me stick out very badly.

Still, for some strange reason, I couldn't stop myself from taking on a familiar tone.

Her friend gave her a mean look, which she ignored, before glancing at me. After a second, he said, "We were mugged."

I blinked at him. "I see..." He gave a pained nod as if to really emphasize his plight, while the girl just smiled. When she noticed my gaze on her, her expression switched to that of grim sincerity.

I had to take a moment to step back and mentally collect myself. First off, how stupid did they think I was? Not only was their acting terrible, but who would honestly think a guy like this was attacked? And lost?

Still, there was a hint of realism in their performance. Definitely not mugged, but maybe they were actually broke?

I sighed to myself, folding my arms and looking up at the ceiling. Ah, what should I do? Most people would just ignore them, or perhaps the chosen few would spare them just enough won for a small meal.

I wasn't a kind person. No more than anyone else was, anyways. My philosophy was that it's best to go through life not making waves, and sometimes the politeness required to slip under the radar was misconstrued as kindness. Still, when the common consensus split so unevenly, that left one question: what would I, Y/N, do? After all, 'myself' was the only thing I could be.

I sighed again, much more exhausted this time. "Okay, let's go get dinner. Follow me."

The man's eyes shook slightly, reluctance evident in his expression. Still, when I started to walk out of the store, they followed after me. Damn, being followed by a guy in that outfit was truly humiliating...

The girl caught on much quicker, hurrying to match my pace. "Haha, isn't this sweet? Going out is much better than convenience store food. You're so nice... Mm, I don't think I caught your name?"

"Ah... Yes, my name is L/N Y/N."

"Y/N?" She echoed. My name sounded strange in her mouth for whatever reason. Maybe I just wasn't used to hearing people not from work use it. In fact, she had an odd look on her face, but it passed quickly. "I see. It's a good name!"

I smiled faintly, shrugging. "Thank you. Though, I guess you should be telling my parents that more than me."

"Aah, well, I'm Biyoo! And you can just call him the 'Supreme King.'"

I immediately shot back, "I am not calling him that," the same time our titular king went, "Do not call me that."

A moment of silence passed between us, as though he was seriously debating something. Finally, he spoke, seeming deeply annoyed. "Yoo Joonghyuk."

Was that his name, then? His manners were bad, but I let it slide for now. He would just have to thank me very sincerely for buying him food.

"Here, this place does cheap meal sets. Sorry, I know I offered, but it's nothing fancy..."

Biyoo seemingly paid this no mind, while Yoo Joonghyuk shot me an inscrutable look. Hey, at least I had some money. He was in no place to judge. Even if this would mean I'd be eating leftovers for the next couple of days.

The restaurant sat us down quickly. Biyoo and I pulled our chopsticks apart cheerfully. Yoo Joonghyuk kept his utensils untouched, however.

"What is it? I already apologized that it isn't too nice."

"I don't eat food made by others."

His voice was deadly serious. Who was this arrogant bastard? No, actually, both of them were rude. Why was I humoring them to this extent?

Finally, I shrugged. "Okay then, your choice. What's this I heard about you stealing from convenience stores? Perhaps I should go alert the workers there, I wouldn't want their jobs to be in danger just because some man decided thievery was better than perfectly good food, already paid for..."

He glared at me, but I ignored him, eating happily. Ah, the rice here was so fluffy, I never got it like this when I made it at home.

Biyoo laughed, which prompted me to look up. To my satisfaction, Yoo Joonghyuk had picked up the chopsticks and was gruffly taking his share.

"So, Y/N-ssi, tell us about yourself! I'd very much like to know about the person who's been so hospitable to us poor mugging victims."

"Well, firstly, you don't need to pretend to have been attacked to me. I already bought you food. I don't need your sob story."

"Aha, what gave it away?"

"Secondly, there's not much to say about me.. If anything, I'm more interested in your story."

"I'm sure that's not true! Let's see... What do you do for a job that lets you provide for two stragglers?"

She avoided my questioning easily. Was it okay to be giving out my information like this to two strangers? Perhaps they'd kill me after we finished eating.

"I work at an editing company. You’re just lucky I can stretch my budget these days, or we’d all be going hungry. It’s not exactly freelance? But the jobs are varied enough that it keeps me engaged."

"So, you read for a living?" Yoo Joonghyuk asked, looking unexpectedly interested.

"Er, I suppose that's one way to put it... It's a lot of typesetting and indexing meaningless writing. I do like reading fiction in my free time, though," I confirmed. "Not that I have a lot of that, of course..."

"Webnovels?"

I stopped short. "What was that?"

Yoo Joonghyuk asked again, in a patient tone, "Do you read webnovels?"

It felt like being caught reading said webnovels during work, even though my phone was firmly in my pocket, and this guy had definitely seen stranger things than a reader of webnovels. After all, they had to be read to be popular.

"Yes, a little bit... But they'd almost be harder to avoid these days."

Yoo Joonghyuk and Biyoo shared a meaningful look, though it appeared less like they were making fun of me, and more like they were commiserating on some unknown truth to my words.

"What's your favorite genre?"

"I don't know, maybe reincarnation? They can include both action and romance, so it can diversify. Isn't it a nice thought that after I die, I could come into a world where I could be even happier?"

"You shouldn't think like that," Yoo Joonghyuk said, and I raised an eyebrow.

"Well, it's not as if it's ever going to come true."

He carried on like he didn't hear me. "While you shouldn't completely forsake your plan for the future, nor can you forget the past that shaped you, you have to live in the present. You must live to give yourself the best life possible now, with what you have, rather than thinking things would get better if you had the chance to repeat them."

I stared at him for a long moment, surprised, before I... I burst out laughing. His face darkened, but I couldn't control myself. Biyoo giggled a little with me, patting his shoulder.

"I'm sorry, I'm not dismissing what you're saying. You're just so serious about it. You act like you've repeated your life many times." I grinned at him, rubbing tears out of my eyes. "I have no intention of dying anytime soon. It's just daydreams, anyways."

It was so odd being with the two of them, but I didn't hate it. Feeding them, telling them about my life, and Yoo Joonghyuk's heartfelt words. It made me feel as if we had known each other for a long time, even though it had been less than an hour.

We stayed like that for a while, talking and eating in a way that felt strangely comfortable. It had been a long time since I had last eaten with other people, especially with people so strange. I’d have to tell someone about this. But… who?

As we finished up, I thought about it. Without me asking, they offered to walk me home, and just for the fun of it, I decided I’d let them.

I’d tell my roommates, I realized. They’d berate me for having strangers come to our home, but then they’d laugh, and we’d keep a baseball bat by all of our beds. I’d tell my co-workers, who would make jokes about me treating them to dinner too. I’d tell my family, my mother fussing over whether I needed money and my sister calling me a liar for claiming Yoo Joonghyuk was dressed like an astronaut. There were plenty of people to tell, who’d want to hear about something so insignificant, who would just want to hear from me. How could I have forgotten?

When we arrived at my apartment building, we all hesitated for a long moment, none willing to be the first to say goodbye. Finally, I said, “You know, I should probably ask that you pay me back at some point.”

Biyoo smiled sadly. “Well, I doubt we’ll see each other again.”

“True. But just keep it in mind, okay?”

“Stingy,” Yoo Joonghyuk tsked and I shrugged good-naturedly.

“Thanks for walking me. I could’ve handled it on my own, but it was nice.” I worked my key out of my bag as I spoke, turning to the building. “I hope you two have a good night.” However, before I could even go inside, Biyoo reached out and clutched my sleeve desperately.

“Wait!” She burst. "Before you go, we... There's a story we want you to read! A webnovel, like the kind you enjoy. You definitely have to read it! Do you promise?"

I smiled at her earnestness. Wasn't she a bit cute? She almost reminded me of a puppy. "Alright, alright, I promise. What's the name?"

"That..." Biyoo pouted. "There isn't a name yet. It isn't released yet."

"Then how am I supposed to read it? Even when it gets published, I won't be able to find it."

"No, it's okay! I'm sure you'll find it once it starts getting released, and you'll definitely come to love that story. You made a promise to read it, so don't go back on that promise."

"Ahh, you expect so much from me. What do you want me to do, read every new webnovel until I somehow find the one you're talking about?" Despite my exaggerated words, she nodded, and all I could do was laugh. "Fine, fine! Is it a sad or happy story? I like most everything, but I should prepare myself if it's anything too sad."

Instead of her answering, Yoo Joonghyuk began, "L/N Y/N..." I glanced over at him, confused. His voice was full of inexplicable longing when he asked, "Are you happy?"

"Hah? What's that supposed to mean? If I say yes, are you going to tell me to get used to never being happy because of it?" It was a joke, but his expression was deadly serious. I gave a helpless laugh, but matched his sincerity when I told him, "I... Yeah, Yoo Joonghyuk. I'm happy. I wasn't for a long time, but I'm really happy right now."

He smiled. It was a smile that was forged from years of loneliness and hardship, but finding a way to live despite it all. I recognized it, because I saw the same exact smile in my mirror every day.

"It's a happy story."

"Then I promise I'll read it."

Biyoo gave me one last hug before she left. "We'll both do our best, alright? So, stay happy, for the rest of your life."

Those two were so strange. Still, I watched from in front of the building as they walked down the empty sidewalk, towards the setting sun, until they disappeared completely from view.