#people still died and she regretted not spending more time with them

[tvrningout-a]

hmmmm no writing today, just thoughts and vibes. just me imagining if there’s an alternate version of jorogumo who suits the name more — a darker version who honestly would kill all the bad guys if not for her moral compass ( her moral compass being her grandma?? her cousin?? someone close to her ). chiyo meeting her and going oh that’s who i could’ve been?? yikes! and the other lady is actually a lil envious that chiyo still has light in her eyes and all i’m saying is i could so easily make a new oc and connect her to chiyo bc you know what i love?? connected characters :’ )

[defmaybe]

Promise

12 Days of Christmas: Day 2, December 26th, 2024

LE SSERAFIM’s Nakamura Kazuha x Male Reader

8.8k words

Christmas Masterlist

A/N: This is actually my first time writing about a guy being dominant lol.

—

Ambition.

It’s not really a far-fetched concept for anyone. To aim higher has always been an innate trait in humans. Kazuha is nothing short of that, perhaps having the quality even more than a lot of people.

So, it breaks your heart to say no to her.

“Kazuha, I really can’t. I’m sorry,” you say, despondent in your response. “The solos have never been in our plan.”

She sighs, as if she has already known the outcome of her request. But her eyes remain determined, staring straight into yours. 

She’s not going anywhere.

Kazuha’s personality is nothing short of resolute. Motivation, determination, diligence—she has it all. These are reflected in the over-time practice sessions every single day. The time she pours into perfecting the dance choreographies is unreal. And it really shows on the stage, it really shows.

She stands up, her long, muscular legs come into your view. They’re beautiful, and you can just spend all day looking at them, but that’s going to be postponed for now. There’s the puzzle of guessing her mind right in front of you.

“Is there anything else I can do to convince you? More practice? Better stage perform–”

“No, Zuha, I’m so, so sorry about this, but we’ve never been a vocal group, really. You’ll have to under–”

“I don’t want to be remembered as just another member of this group. Please, this is important to me. I’ll do anything, please,” she pleads.

It’s your turn to sigh. She won’t let up, will she? Your fingers tap onto the handle of the chair restlessly, unable to find a solution for this woman.

“I just can’t find a solution for you right now, Zuha. If you really want that, you’ll have to find your own way, alright? I’m sorry.” You’re trying to sound stern, but there’s only regret within the words.

She takes a step towards you, resting her hands on the table. Her shirt falls down slightly to give way for you to her faint cleavage. Your breath hitches slightly.

“Please?” she pleads, one last time. That slight view of her breasts is giving her the upper hand in this.

Don’t.

You find your mouth latching onto Kazuha’s tits, tasting the sweat after her practice. She cries and cries in euphoria, spurring you on. Your hands roam around her body, feeling her otherworldly tight abs, her supple ass—one that you’ve been wanting to bury your face into. Your fingers then find their place inside her cunt, nudging her sensitive spot deep within.

Don’t

“You know, Kazuha, I found your ambition–” you say, standing up to match her tall height. Still, you have to look up slightly to match her eyes. “–admirable. It’s one of your best qualities. It really breaks my heart to say no to you.”

“Thanks, boss,” she scoffs, looking down with despondency. The fire in her eyes died down. “I’ll come back when I’m ready.”

Kazuha then walks away, crestfallen. Her strides are aimless and disinterested. The view of her back is displayed to you. 

With your eyes, you start to strip her, piece by piece—from her shirt, her pants. She’s in just her underwear now. Your cock starts to grow at the mental image you create inside your head. 

You slowly unlock her bra, fully revealing her toned back. Her body warmth emanates into you. You reach for her pert breasts, making her moan as your fingers graze her hard, brown nipples. But you don’t stop just there. Your frisky fingers wander down into her panties. You found out that she shaves, and she’s already fucking wet for you. Then, you plunge your fingers into her soaked cunt, rewarding you with an airy moan from Kazuha. You nib on her ears softly, bringing out another whimper from her.

Without any patience left, you strip down her last garment, making her bare in front of you, and you can tell that she’s as aroused as you are. Her dripping cunt is finally coming into your view. Her body is yours. She’s yours.

Don’t.

You’re snapped back into reality, though. Back to watching her, almost leaving the room. You have to take your chance. 

Now.

“I’m not done yet, Zuha,” you order, sounding serious for the first time. It gets over you. Lust gets over you.

She stops, looking back at you. Her breath hitches as she sees the newfound determination inside your eyes. There’s something about you, and she can feel it.

“Yes, boss?”

“Let’s say for tomorrow, you wear something–different, something that is a bit more–provocative, and we’ll see what happens.”

Kazuha furrows her brows, giving you a puzzled look. “P–Provocative?”

You only nod, expressionless, trying to hide the fact that your heart is beating so damn fast right now. “Provocative, Zuha.”

“A–And wh–what will I get in return?” Kazuha asks, her voice starts to shake. Her confidence is faltering.

You smile back at her unsure expression. She’s going to get what she wants—a chance to have the spotlight on her own. You’re going to get what you want—her.

“You know how this goes, Zuha. You know how this goes.”

“I–I d–don’t know. D–Do I really need to do this? I mean–I want to have that solo–”

“I’ll be in the practice room tomorrow, make sure to follow my instructions,” you say, stern and confident.

The words linger within her mind. “I–fuck–fine, boss,” and she gives in to you.

“Don’t ruin it, Zuha.”

—

You couldn’t sleep last night.

Kazuha is stuck in your head. Your mind replays the event that might happen—you having a mind-breaking sex with her. Your cock twitches with anticipation, expecting her cunt to wrap around it like a vice. Hell, you might get to fuck her tight ass even. You’ve seen it. You lost count of how many times you’ve watched that Perfect Night dance practice video. The cinematographer did know their job.

“Mmm, that felt so good, boss.”

How in the fuck did you stay assertive like that in the room? That wasn’t you at all. Though, at least it opened a new door for you.

You’re getting to watch Nakamura Kazuha in her tightest, smallest clothes she’s ever going to wear, and maybe, just maybe, they’ll be off by sunset.

—

Kazuha opens the door into the practice room to find you already there, dealing with work, among other things.

You give her a faint smile, satisfied with the way she composes herself for today.

She’s wearing a tight-fitted sports bra, one that shows you the curve of her firm chest. You’d love to put your hand on them, kneading, nibbling her taut nipples through the thin fabric. Her hair is freed, swaying with her strides. Below, her shorts are so damn strained that you can see the outline of her soon-to-be drenched panties. You’re going to use your mouth to take it off, while your hands grip on her muscular thig–

“Hey, boss,” Sakura snaps you back into reality. Standing beside her is Eunchae, smiling brightly.

“Shit–fuck–,” you mumble to yourself. “Uh, hi, girls.”

“Yeah, I noticed it too,” Eunchae says to you, voice barely above a whisper. “She probably forgot to do her laundry.”

“Who–Who?” Fuck, you sound like a goddamn owl doing this.

“Zuha, she’s wearing something that’s a bit–exposing, isn’t she?” Sakura says, smiling.

“Bet she must be so damn embarrassed,” Eunchae adds with a giggle. You can feel your cheeks starting to grow hotter.

“Uh, y–yeah, she must’ve been–”

“Alright, girls, let’s start the practice,” the instructor shouts, clapping her hands.

Sakura and Eunchae giggle at each other before walking away from you.

“See ya, boss.”

“See ya.”

—

As the practice goes on, you can’t help but popping up from your work to watch Kazuha now and then. Just like last night, your length starts to grow, and you’re doing your best to use your laptop to hide the tent in your pants.

(The work is actually a façade, really. If you could just stare at Kazuha for the whole practice, you wouldn’t have risked straining your back carrying your laptop down from the top floor.)

Her movements are nothing short of strong and sensual. She’s committed, showing no signs of relenting. She has always been this determined. Every kick, every sway, every arch, she gives it all.

When she bends down, you have a magnificent view of her supple ass, so juicy. You wish you could’ve put your face in it, tasting her sweat dripping down her tightness. 

When she arches, you have a splendid view of her small tits under that damn tight sports bra. You wish you could’ve sucked on them, tasting her sweat dripping down her valley. You wish you could’ve made her moan erratically in your embrace.

Your bulge is screaming under your tight pants. It aches to be freed, aches to be inside of your employee’s ass, aches to be thrusted into her mouth.

The other women don’t seem to notice, still focusing on the practice. Thank god.

—

As the practice comes to an end, you’re struggling to hide your raging erection under your slacks. It’s time to approach her for the next step, so you stand up and walk towards Kazuha, who is all drenched in her sweat. Her creamy skin shines against the lights in the practice room. She’s stretching to cool down herself, while all the other members and the instructor are already leaving the room.

“So,” you begin the conversation.

“So,” Kazuha repeats. “How did I do?”

You try to compose yourself. “You did well, Kazuha. Committed as always.”

She smiles. It’s a genuine one. “Thanks, boss.”

You continue, “Now, about the solo comeback we’ve talked about.” You sit next to her. You can feel her body warmth close to you. Maybe you’re sitting a bit too close to her. Her expression is unreadable. Maybe she’s expecting something from you.

“Yeah? Is it done?”

“Let’s say–we’re halfway there.”

Kazuha’s breaths speed up a little. She’s anxious.

“Halfway?”

“Halfway, yes.”

“Go ahead, boss. Tell me what to do,” Kazuha says, slightly apprehensive, but she still has her ground. Her fiery eyes bore into yours.

Here goes nothing.

Your hands make a soft contact with her knees. You hear her breath hitch softly. Her eyes weaken. You can feel the apprehension building up within her loins. Her body jolts.

“B–Boss,” she stutters, before she brings her hand atop of yours, putting some force on it. Your movement is halted.

“A–Are you sure that I have to do this?”

You should stop.

You gulp, unsure whether to have this woman go your way or let your lust take over.

Do the right thing.

The image of Kazuha’s body, all sweaty, atop of yours, moving back and forth on your cock, materializes in your head. Her nasty, salty fluid falls onto your naked body. Her pungent aroma fills your nostrils, and it’s driving you insane. Her small breasts rest above you, and you can’t help but give them a taste.

You should stop.

Kazuha mouth’s create a suction around your cock. Your wails echo through the practice room. You grip onto the back of her head, harshly pressing it into your hardness. She gags and gags. Her eyes become watery. Her grips on your thighs grow harsher, and it’s going to draw blood out of you.

Do the right thing.

You’re lavishing Kazuha’s cunt with unmatched hunger. She cries out in ecstasy. You keep attacking her sensitive nub with your tongue. Your fingers are knuckles deep within her, applying pressure on the spot that makes her moan even louder. Her taste is salty, yet so addictive. She tastes so fucking good.

You should stop.

You’re gripping onto her waist, thrusting into her wet cunt repeatedly. “Yes, yes, right fucking there, boss. Please, please, please don’t ever fucking stop,” Kazuha sobs. Wet sounds vibrate through the practice room. The reflection of you two in the mirror only fuels the fire. You bring your hands onto her firmness, playing with her taut nipples. She keens, and it’s one of the best things that you’ve ever heard from her.

Do the right thing.

But you give in.

“How far can you go, Zuha?” You keep your composure. Please make it work. Your heart rate spikes, but your breathing is still saying the opposite. Keep your cool. Keep your cool.

“I–” She stares blankly into your eyes. You can feel that the gears in her brain are turning quickly. Yes or no. Yes or no.

“Stand up, Zuha,” you order and get up from your sitting position. She looks around, trying to find solace in the objects in the room. She’s unsure.

“Fuck,” she mumbles to herself, before getting up. She’s a bit taller than you, but with the power you’re holding, it’s like you’re six-feet tall.

“Stand against the mirror,” you say, sternly, pointing to the reflective wall. She hesitates for a bit before complying with your command.

You walk towards her until you’re just a breath away from her. You kneel. Her cunt is right in front of your face. She’s pervading your nostrils, and you’re so damn happy to make her your air.

“A–are you going to eat me out, b–boss?” Kazuha asks nervously. Her hands are trembling.

“How much do you want this, Zuha?” you ask her back. Your hands are closing in on her tight waistband already. You want to eat her pussy so fucking bad.

“I–I don’t know.”

You let the silence hang in the air for a moment, contemplating your next move. Maybe you should stop just here. Just say no to her request, and act like this never happened. 

But the show has to go on.

“I’ll go slowly, okay?”

“O–Okay, boss.”

You slowly peel down her shorts, slowly revealing her black panties underneath. They’re already drenched with her sweat. God, if you could just give it a taste. You can feel the urge to stick out your tongue. Her creamy thighs are slowly exposed to you, but you can’t just yield to temptation that easily. You have to go slow.

The outline of her puffy cunt can be seen through the dark fabric. She looks so fucking delicious from the outside. You find yourself closing in the distance between your filthy tongue and her pungent, drenched folds.

“Boss, p–please don’t tease me,” Kazuha hisses. Her thighs are shaking from the uncompromising anticipation. You can see sweat running down her toned legs. “If you’re going to do it, just fucking do it.”

And you break.

You yank her shorts down, making her body jolt in shock. 

“Kick it off,” you order her, and she kicks her shorts away in the boiling lust. It’s just her underwear now, before your tongue can taste her nectar. You’re drooling at the sight of the trace of her pussy. Fuck, you’re not waiting anymore.

Hastily, you grab onto her panties’ waistband before pulling it off in a quick swoop, rewarding you with an airy moan. And there it is, the treasure you’ve been seeking. Her clean-shaven cunt already glistens. Her juice shines under the room’s lights. Her scent is so damn addictive. It’s pungent. It’s musky. It’s tart, and you can’t help but–

“Ah! Fuck!” Kazuha rasps as your tongue finds its place on her cunt. It echoes through the empty practice room. Her body turns rigid. Her hands grip onto your head harshly, pushing you into her pussy even harder.

The first taste of her cunt feels salty—a combination of her sweat and her juice. You’re lapping it up relentlessly. You’re revelling in it—the way she moans, the way she tastes, and the way she just fucking keens. It’s all so perfect.

She curses and curses a variety of profanities. Her face displays pure ecstasy and a glint of embarrassment, but your only goal right now is to make her falter. You keep lapping and lapping on her cunt, tasting her nectar without yielding.

Her eyes are lit up with raging fire, fluttering in bliss. Her hands grip onto your head harshly. It's almost drawing blood from your poor scalp. Her cries only climb in volume and frequency, more demanding. It grows louder and higher with each lapping of your tongue.

You double your efforts, eating her cunt out faster and faster hungrily. Her rasps become harsher. You close your eyes and take in her scent through your nose. It’s musky. It’s tart. And you swear that it’s a fucking aphrodisiac for you.

And if it’s not enough, your hands grab onto her firm ass, suffocating yourself with her pungent cunt. She lets out a gasp, and you swear that you’ve never been any more feral like this in your whole fucking life.

Her ass feels so meaty, a product of her consistent squat routines. You do nothing but give them a squeeze and a grab, bringing out endless wails from her thin lips.

Then, an idea pops up in your filthy head.

“Turn around, Zuha.”

“Wh–What, boss?”

“I’m gonna eat your ass.”

She complies quickly, showing her tight ass in front of your face. It’s heaving. She’s expecting. And without a word, you bury yourself in between her supple cheeks. Your tongue immediately plants atop of her asshole.

“Godddd~” Kazuha grunts, her voice low and harsh. The sweat running down her tightness combining with her juice makes up an even better taste. You’re basking in them—her taste, her aroma, her moans, her sounds.

Her body spasms in a bliss. Her hips jerk against the practice room wall, painting it with her salty sweat on her meaty thighs.

And if that isn’t already enough, you drive your fingers deep into her. They’re hugged by her tight walls, before you’d curl them to make her cry even more.

“Fuckkk~” she groans, deeply. She uses her hands to grip onto the back of your head. You’re pressed into her ass even stronger. Her moans start to get frenzy, and that drives you even wilder.

“B–Boss, please, I–I’m gonna cum,” Kazuha screams, echoing over the room. Her entire body turns more rigid, sucking the life out of your dirty mouth.

“Hgnngn.” Kazuha can only form unintelligible sounds at this point. Any lilt in her voice is now replaced by primal grunts and moans.

And she cums. Her frame becomes stiff, gushing out clear liquid out of her plump pussy onto the wooden floor. Her entire body spasms and writhes against the wall, painting it with her sweat. Your mouth goes through the entire ride of her orgasm, feeling her high, savoring her precipice.

As her orgasm dies down, what comes out of her mouth are indescribable groans and guttural whimpers. Her body becomes limped after the mind-breaking orgasm she just experienced.

“Fuck, I–I’ve never thought–” she pauses to catch her breath, trying to make sense of the situation. Her head is hanging from her neck. Her body rests on the mirror weakly. Her boss just gave her one of the best orgasms of her life. “–I’ve never thought that it could be this good with a person.”

You wipe your mouth, getting a taste of her salty squirt remaining on your hand. “My pleasure, Zuha.”

“Guess–Guess I should–I should return the favor, huh?”

You stand up. Even if she’s towering over you by mere inches, you feel like the ball is in your court, and you are going to do whatever you please with it.

“Kneel.”

She slowly gets down. Her eyes lock with yours, filled with uncertainty and anxiety. You aren’t sure what’s filling her mind right now. Lust? Disgust? You can only guess.

You let it go on, anyway.

Her slick forehead shines against the room lights. Her hands start to unbuckle your tight jeans, slowly freeing your cock from its fabric cage. As the first barrier goes down, she watches your covered erection anxiously. Her breathing accelerates. Her hands tremble. She’s unsure, but what is she unsure about?

“B–Boss,” Kazuha stammers.

“Yes, Zuha?” you say, looking down to meet her eyes.

“Wh–What if I don’t do well?”

“I don’t mind, really. Don’t put so much pressure on yourself,” you say with a smile, trying to lighten the mood. Sure, you’d love to have power over her, but not to the point where it leaves her in dread.

“Thanks, boss,” she answers, before grabbing onto the edge of your boxers. She slowly pulls it down to reveal your hardness. It springs free. She’s watching it in awe, taking in the image of your stiff cock.

She starts slowly, stroking your cock from the base. Your breath becomes shorter.

“Are you okay, boss?”

“J–Just go on, Zuha.”

Kazuha then plants her lips on the tip of your cock, making your body shudder in pleasure. She’s coating you in her saliva. She’s making you go wild.

“Fuck.”

Kazuha lets out a giggle before taking in more of your length, starting from the whole tip. There’s determination in her eyes, the eagerness to make you cry out her name in bliss.

She doubles her efforts, second by second. She takes in more and more of your thick cock into her filthy mouth, and you start to reach her throat. It feels so fucking good. Your breathing grows more erratic. You can almost moan in pleasure, if it’s not her teeth that keep getting in the way. They keep grazing your cock, and it’s the only thing that stops you from crying her name out.

“Z–Zuha, shit, fuck, y–your teeth.”

She suddenly pulls back from the act, leaving you lost in the sudden absence of your high. Her hand detaches from you.

“Yes?” she asks, drool leaks out the edge of her mouth.

“Fuck.” You try to catch your breath, trying not to collapse onto the floor. “Y–Your teeth, it keeps grazing my cock.”

“Oh,” Kazuha utters. “Should we just–try something else?”

You stare into her eyes. Her expression is unreadable, but you need an upper hand in this. She’s going to suck your cock.

“Do it again, Zuha. Suck my cock again.” Your voice is commanding. You swear that you’ve never been this assertive before in your life. “Without the teeth.”

She looks up at you. There’s anxiety in her eyes. There’s the fear of letting you down.

“S–Sure, boss.”

She moves her gorgeous face towards your cock again. This time, she makes sure to wrap her lips around her teeth. And at the first contact, you cry out her name. It feels so fucking good.

“Fuck, Z–Zuha.”

She only smiles with the tip of your cock in her mouth. She stays there for a while, giving your tip licks and licks to make you whimper in rapture. Her hands stroke along your length. Her eyes look up at you, she knows she’s having a lead.

Kazuha then takes more and more of you and seconds go by, slowly. You watch as your length disappears into her mouth and her name leaves yours.

She takes your cock in so deep you start to hear her gag. Her eyes start to flutter in discomfort. She’s still trying to look up at you, as her hands go to your testicles. She’s squeezing them.

“God, fuck!”

Her saliva does wonders to the experience, making you suck a sudden every chance you have. It’s hard to resist not pushing her fully onto your cock right now, making her take its length fully.

“K–Keep doing that, Zuha. Keep fucking doing that.”

With encouragement, she then pushes herself fully onto your cock. You are now inside her mouth, and the image is nothing short of phenomenal. Saliva is leaking out of her. Her eyes are blinking rapidly. Tears are running down her cheeks. She’s making unintelligible sounds around your cock, choking on it, sputtering on it. It’s a cacophony. She’s submitting herself to you, and you’re loving every second of it.

“So eager to please, don’t you?” you have to ask. Your hands land on the back of her head softly.

She only let out a hum as a reply. Her mouth is too full of your cock to say anything. It’s huge for her. She’s cock-drunk now.

Finally catching the wind of your dominance over her, you sneer, “Never know that you’re quite a slut, Zuha.” You grip her by the hair, slowly pulling her off your thick cock. She chokes and sputters on the way out. God, what a sight.

As her mouth leaves your cock, you finally get to see her face fully. Black streaks run down from her eyes. Her lips are swollen. She’s drooling. 

“What a cockslut,” you utter, still holding onto her hair. A smile forms on her face. She’s fucking happy to be dominated like this.

“Anything for you, boss. You promised me a solo~” she says sultrily (and drunkenly from your cock), giving the tip of your length a lick as she finishes her words. Your body shudders.

“G–God, Zuha,”

Without another word, she dives onto your glistened dick again, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. Her teeth graze your cock slightly, though.

“Sh–Shit, your teeth, Zuha, y–your teeth.”

She quickly complies, covering her hard teeth with her lips. She’s fucking you with her mouth properly again. She bobs her head up and down slowly, trying to catch the rhythm. Pleasure shoots through you like a bullet. And with the way she’s looking up at you so damn submissively, you swear you can cum right here and now.

She starts to find her tempo, quickening her strokes. She’s going up and down your cock faster. Her hands find themselves on your exposed thighs. Fuck, they’re cold from the air conditioners, and it makes your body tremble in the sensation.

The wet sound of her sucking your cock echoes through the room. Your hands, again, find themselves on the back of her head, pushing her into your cock relentlessly. Your fingers run through her soft hair, feeling her silk.

“Fuck, s–such a willing slut for your boss, don’t you?”

Kazuha only lets out a low groan affirmatively. She’s still aiming to pleasure her boss. Her career is at stake, after all, and you’re rejoicing in the way her mouth moves up and down your cock like this.

And you can feel it, the inevitable. It’s building up inside your loins. You’re going to cum inside her warm mouth. You can’t resist it anymore.

“Z–Zuha, gonna cum.”

She only makes muffled sounds into your cock, too busy sucking your length to say anything, and you’re so damn happy that she’s willing to go this far for you.

“Take all of it, alright? Be a good girl for me,” you groan out. Your mind is so lost in the pleasure Kazuha is giving you.

She can only nod, still bobbing her head without any care. She’s giving you a damn good blowjob, and you start to lose control of yourself.

You’re close. Your muscles grow more tense. Your cock twitches inside her mouth. Your grip on her head becomes harsher and harsher, determined to make her take all of your hardness.

“Gonna–Gonna cum.”

You break. You push Kazuha onto your cock harshly, making her nose hit your pubic bone. Your cock shoots ropes and ropes of semen into her mouth, emptying your balls inside her. She’s damn eager to take it all. She’s gripping onto your thighs tightly. Your scent is filling up her nostrils, making her eyes flutter in unbridled lust. Gagging sounds come out of her mouth.

“Goddamn–fuck!”

Your vision turns white. Your cock twitches violently inside her mouth. Cum is leaking out of your tip into her warm cavern. You’re painting the insides of her mouth white. You’re damn ecstatic. What a fucking ride that is.

Successive spurts grow softer, from shots into drizzles. Kazuha is still determined to take it all. Her hands snake up to squeeze your tight ass, pressing you forward to bury yourself further in her mouth.

“F–Fuck, Zuha.”

She smiles, before finally pulling herself off of your cock. She takes a small gulp, signaling that cum is going down her slutty throat. You watch in awe. She then opens her mouth, tongue hanging open, no trace of cum left inside. Fuck, she drank all of you.

“What’s next, boss?” she asks, wiping the remnants of cum off her face. Her face is a mess, but she’s ready for another round.

Not you, though.

“Wait a sec.” You then sit on the wooden floor, looking into the mirror. Kazuha rests beside you.

“Gotta wait for this little guy to be ready again, huh?” she asks, touching your now-flaccid cock.

“We can talk.”

She then rests her head on your shoulder, faint black streaks can be seen on her face. You can feel her body warmth emanating onto you.

“So.”

“So?” you ask.

“So, I have a question for you,” says Kazuha. Her voice is weak, clearly tired from the oral action she gave you. You two make eye contact in the reflection.

“Go ahead.”

“Why did you decide to become our manager?”

“Well–” you pause, trying to recollect the complete picture. You just keep forgetting it “–I kind of wanted to become an idol, you know?”

She lets out a soft chuckle. “But?”

You can’t help but to laugh along with her. “Yeah, my body isn’t really up for the task.” You then pat your out-of-shape tummy softly on your shirt.

“I’d like to be remembered, just like you,” you continue, sighing along the way. “To live among the stars, all that stuff.”

It starts to pour out now, your story. Despite the earlier dominance, you feel vulnerable with her. You’re showing your heart to one of your employees.

Kazuha laughs again. “It’s not all confetti and flowers, boss.”

“I know, I know,” you say, somewhat understanding her life after a few years of observation from afar. “All of you have gone through a lot, and I’ll forever admire you guys for that.”

“Thanks, boss,” she replies. Her hand moves down to play with your cock again. “Still not there, huh?”

A chuckle leaves your mouth. “It’ll take some time, Zuha.”

“Ask me something, then,” she says. 

You let the silence hang in the air, trying to think of a question. It’s difficult, especially when you’re naked down from your waist like this.

You were about to ask her the same question she had asked you, but you’ve asked her that already. She loves Blackpink, hence her idol aspirations. She's an INFP, used to be an INTP. Her eyesight gets worse with time. What’s left to be asked?

“You know, I was so scared when that interviewer asked me about my type,” she says, her hands caressing your body. Your mind is brought to that interview, the one she–

“I was so afraid that the fans would reject me just because I said ‘men or women’.”

You can only sigh.

“It seemed like they didn’t, Zuha,” you shoot her a smile, holding her hand gently, as if you didn’t fuck her throat senseless mere minutes ago. “Don’t give much fuck about those people.”

She lets out a giggle. “Yeah, I suppose so.”

The conversation goes on for a few more minutes. At first, it was simply a time killer, waiting for your soft cock to get hard again. But as it flows, you feel like you get to know Kazuha more and more.

Slowly, your arousal returns, and Kazuha seems to notice that. It twitches in the expectation of another round.

“Oh, look at him~” she says softly. Her hand is drawn to touching you gently. You can’t help but giggle as she caresses your hard cock.

“Stand up, Zuha,” you command. You’re trying to sound stern, but the exchange earlier just softens your voice.

She complies immediately. Her toned legs are displayed elegantly in front of you. You stand up with her, taking the full view of her body on the way.

What a banger body.

“What’s next, boss?” Her words seem to want you to get this over with, but the small smile plastered on her face seems to say otherwise.

You pause, thinking for some witty response as you unbutton your shirt, revealing your out-of-shape body. You clearly have been eating too much. It’s a bit embarrassing.

What’s next?

“I want your bra off, Zuha.” Well, that’s far from witty.

“Thought you’d never ask that,” Kazuha playfully scoffs before taking off her tight sports bra. Her small breasts come into view, along with the taut nipples proudly sitting atop of them. She can’t wait for what’s next, so do you. The bra is then thrown away onto the floor. Her naked body stands proudly in front of you.

She’s nothing short of unreal—the pert breasts, the firm abs, the glistened pussy. She’s sculpted by a deity. And without a word, you push Kazuha onto the mirror, drawing out an airy moan from her. You press your body against hers, while her back is pressed against the wall.

She sucks a sudden. Her hands are trembling against the mirror. Her eyes are closed, enamored in the expectations of you inside of her cunt.

“F–Fuck, boss.”

“I know, Zuha. Now if you’d bend over for me.”

She quickly follows your orders, flipping her body around so that her back faces you. Your cock is pressed against her ass. You let out a hum in satisfaction.

You draw a line with your finger down her spine, making her suck in the air. Sweat from the earlier activity still lingers on her back. Her body quivers in pleasure. She’s submitting to you now.

“Goddd~” Kazuha groans. She’s at the mercy of your touch.

Your finger runs down the middle of her back, down her sculpted arch, to the ridge of her tight ass. She screams, as your finger makes contact with the outer of her puckered hole.

“Fuck!” Her whole body shakes erratically, overwhelmed by the pleasure you’re giving her. Her breathing grows restless.

“Slut,” you whisper the demeaning word into her ear. You’d argue that it fit her, with her being a whimpering mess under your touch.

You circle your finger around her asshole, heightening her moans. You feel the creased patch of skin on your finger, letting out a satisfied hum, but that’s not your main course. You then draw your finger down, touching her wet heat. Kazuha sucks a sudden, before you push your finger into her. 

Her cunt welcomes you easily. You swear that the wail coming out of her mouth is one of the best sounds you’ve ever heard. You watch her face become contorted in the mirror. She’s lost in the bliss you’re giving her.

You slowly push yourself into her pussy, burying yourself in the wet heat. Kazuha’s body shakes with pleasure. You insert your whole finger into her, before touching a rough patch inside her.

That’s where you make her collapse.

You curl your finger to touch her sensitive spot, and as expected, Kazuha lets out a sharp, sudden moan. Her legs are barely holding her up. She’s faltering, and you’re enjoying every second of it.

“F–Fuckkk~”

You double your efforts, stimulating where she needs the most. Your finger is engulfed by her tight, wet heat. She feels warm. You’re loving the way she feels around you. You’re loving the way she submits to you. You’re loving the way she fucking keens from your finger inside her. Fuck, you need even more.

You quicken the pace, and it is making her quiver uncontrollably. How she’s shuddering around you, how she moans. It’s just unreal for you. This is a once-in-a-lifetime experience. You couldn’t have found a better woman in your life who you’d find as angelic as Nakamura Kazuha.

“Goddamn it, Kazuha. You’re doing so fucking well for me,” you say, playing with her inner walls recklessly. She’s shaking under you. The sound of it is spurring you on. The smell of it is making you go feral. The sight of it is making you feel the power you’ve never felt before in your life.

“G–Gonna c–cum, boss,” she utters, mustering up any energy left to say it. Her eyes are rolling upwards now.

Then, you regretfully withdraw your finger out of her. The engulfing wet heat is now missing from your fingers. She groans in disappointment.

“What the fuck?” Her expression is on the line of anger.

You smirk at her through the reflection, sucking your finger lewdly. She’s salty. Still, that doesn’t seem to lighten up her mood.

“Goddamn it, you’re fucking insufferable,” she sneers, still pissed off by your sudden absence. You have other plans, at least.

“Stand still for me, please,” you say with unwavering calmness, getting a hold of her waist. You’re fucking her properly.

Her expression changes, realizing your next action. “Oh,” she utters.

And for the first time, you plunge yourself into her, feeling the way her tight, wet cunt hugs your cock. It feels so fucking ecstatic. The sensation pierces through your entire body like a spear. She keens loudly, and so do you. It echoes around the room that’s yours.

“Fucking hell–” you give her ass a harsh spank, she wails in the concoction of pain and pleasure “–you’re so fucking tight, Zuha.”

“Th–Thanks, boss,” she replies, as you slowly push your hardness inside her to the hilt. “Y–You’re big too.”

You chuckle, and you swear that it’s the most wicked laugh you’ve ever let out. Your thighs press against her ass, before you drag your hips back. Her tightness around you is making your cock throb, and you thrust back into her cunt. You grunt loudly, and so does she.

“Nghhh~” Kazuha groans, as you find your rhythm in plowing her pussy. You start fucking her properly this time with your cock, pounding into her with no abandon. She feels so good around you.

No words can describe the feeling of fucking Kazuha’s cunt. It’s something beyond your comprehension—the tightness of her alone, the power you’re holding over her, the sounds of her guttural grunts and groans and moans and whimpers. It’s just nothing short of unreal.

“D–Don’t you dare–ah–fucking pull out th–this time, boss,” she commands, trying to sound as stern as possible. Though, it comes out weakly, just like her limp body right now.

“What if I do, huh?” And you give her ass another loud spank. She whimpers. Her resolve falters. Her posture almost collapses.

“Hgngnn.” She can only let out a whimper as you kiss the vanilla skin of her neck. She’s salty from the sweat lingering on her body. Her scent pervades your nose violently. You swear that she’s like an aphrodisiac to you. It’s driving you feral. Her skin shines under the room's light beautifully, and you only wish you can just stay with her like this forever.

“B–Boss,” she mewls, her voice weak and lost.

“Yes, Zuha?” You’re still ramming into her with reckless abandon. Her tight cunt hugs your length perfectly, coaxing the cum out of your balls.

“Gonna–Gonna cum.”

You say nothing but upping your ante, pressing her harder into the mirror. Her tits are splayed on the wall. Her walls contract for you, drawing breathless moans out of your lips. Both of your mouths hang open in bliss. You both want this.

“Cum for me, Zuha, but don’t think this is over yet.” You give her rear another slap. The skin clashes against your hand. She wails, as you lean in for a whisper, “There’s another hole to be filled.”

“Hhgnn,” she grunts under the weight of your promise. Her arms go limp, both hanging just beside her pliant body. Her mind is filled with nothing but your cock inside her pussy.

And she cums for the second time today. Her walls contract around your cock, gripping you like a vice. She lets out a guttural groan from the depth of her lungs. Her right cheek is pressed against the mirror, painting it with her slick sweat.

“Fuck! Goddd~” she shouts loudly from the force of her violent orgasm. You relentlessly fuck her through the forceful orgasm, pulling groans and grunts out of her as much as possible.

Her orgasm subsides, leaving her shaking body as the evidence of it. Her pussy is still contracting around your cock. You slow down, and the other plan comes into play.

You pull your hard length out of her cunt. You’re all glistening in her juice now. It’s strange. You usually cum a lot faster than this. Though, with Kazuha, it’s like you can just go on and on forever.

You insert your fingers inside her pussy, making her entire body tremble in shock once more. You’re trying to gather her slick juice to smear your cock with any lubricant you can find. Your bottle is too far away from you right now (about fifteen floors away, under your table). The wetness of her cunt is really helping you here.

“What a slut,” you sneer at her, as she whimpers in response to the degrading name. “Look at you, all wet for me.”

“P–Please, boss,” she pleads, her voice shaken with unrelenting desire. Her body is trembling with unbridled anticipation.

“Please what, Zuha?”

“Please f–fuck my ass, I–I need it,” she whines, and you couldn’t be happier to fulfill her wish.

You rest your tip at the entrance of her ass—teasing, playing with her. She whines at the act, as if she really wants your cock inside her ass so fucking bad (she does). Your cock in all glistened in her slick juice, ready to fuck her rear hole raw.

And slowly, and carefully, you push your cock into her tightness, inch by inch. Her body trembles as you find yourself inside her once more. She cries out in bliss. The lubricant definitely helps.

“F–Fuck, nghhh.”

You respond to her moans by pushing ever further into her ass. Your body presses onto her more and more, feeling her damp back, gathering her sweat on your body. The warmth around your cock is just too much. She grips you like a vice. 

“Goddamn it, Zuha. Is this your first time in the ass?” you grunt. Your voice is raspy.

“Nghhh, n–no, boss. This is my second time, b–but I–I’ve never cum from that,” she whines. Her hands are pressed against the mirror harshly. You’ll have to be more gentle if you don’t want to break this expensive reflective wall.

You keep pushing and pushing, and finally, you are buried deep up to the hilt. The tightness of her ass is just unreal. A loud moan escapes your lips. Fuck, she’s tight, too tight.

You stay inside the depth of her ass for a few more seconds, feeling yourself inside of her tight ass. You’re hoping that she’s at least enjoying this a little bit.

She does, after all, moaning and writhing like that.

“You love this, don’t you, Zuha? You love having my cock inside your ass like this,” you taunt her, rewarding you with breathless whimpers and moans out of her lips.

“I–I love it, b–boss,” she answers, stuttered and shaken. The sensation is just too much for her. Your hands snake up her body to her small breast, a pair that’s unforgettable for you. You decide to give her nipples some soft treatment with your filthy hands, rubbing them between your fingers.

“Look at you, your nipples are all hard for me.” You run the sides of your fingers up and down her nipples, feeling them between your digits. She lets out guttural grunts and groans in pleasure. “What a goddamn slut.”

“Nghhn.”

After what feels like an eternity inside her ass—so warm, so tight—you draw your hips backwards. Her walls are grazing your cock, making the retreat so damn ecstatic. You pull back until half of your cock is out of her puckered hole, before pushing yourself back in. You let out primal moans with it.

“God, fuck!”

Her ass feels so tight, so right.

You start to find your pace in ravaging Kazuha’s ass. You set the rhythm in fucking her properly. The room reeks of sex, no matter how big it is. The only thing filling your nostrils right now is the smell of Kazuha’s sweat and something that screams her.

Your hands are still kneading Kazuha’s small breasts enthusiastically. Touching them fills you with unbridled joy. They feel so–soft, so–firm in your hands, as you plow into her ass with no abandon.

“Fucking love these tits, Zuha,” you utter. The words come out before you can suppress it. Your mind is filled with the sensation of fucking her ass and groping her tits. “So–soft, so–small.”

“Nghhh, th–thanks, boss,” she cries out, her voice feeling like she’s unable to make sense of what’s going on anymore. It’s just too overwhelming for her. Your cock inside her ass, your hands on her breasts, your smell, your grunts. It’s too much she might have hit the third peak of the day.

Her eyes flutter in bliss—that’s what you see in the mirror. She keens, and you love the way she does it. Her voice reeks of complete submission for you. Her smell is driving you insane. It’s making your grunts more raw, more primal, more animalistic.

You reach out to grab her face. You’re trying not to make it harsh. You don’t want to hurt her. Her moans are interrupted with a gasp. She’s shocked at the sudden contact on her face. She definitely is.

You move in for a kiss.

It’s sloppy, unrefined. There’s no tenderness in it, no romance, no lovey-dovey bullshit. Your hands are still freely groping Kazuha's breasts like they’re yours (they’re yours). Your tongue invades her mouth, gathering her taste. She’s definitely salty—all the sweat and such.

She finally catches the tempo of the kiss, finally holding on her own. Your tongues are now intertwined in a battle for dominance, trying to taste each other as much as possible. The sound of kissing rings inside your head. It’s far from romantic. It’s sloppy. It’s primal. It’s raw.

“Mmmph, fuck,” she utters as you’re still ramming into her ass. Occasional moans into your mouth can be heard. She finds pleasure in it, and you’re happy that she does.

And you pull back. A string of saliva is still connecting your mouths together. It’s vulgar. It’s obscene. That fits. You rest your forehead on Kazuha’s. It feels so intimate. You’re so close to her. You can feel the warmth emanating from her, see her sweat running down, see her pores, and you can only think to yourself: fuck, she really is an angel.

“I’ll get that solo for you, Zuha,” you say, forehead touching hers. Your mouth feels empty without her tongue. It feels great having her inside your mouth.

“B–Better keep th–that promise, boss,” she replies, voice barely holding itself together.  “I’ll fucking join aespa if it’s an empty one.”

You let out a chuckle. She definitely won’t do it, but it’s not like you’re flippant. 

“Sure. It’d be suck to lose another member,” you answer her with a smile. You’re trying to make it as sincere as you can.

You keep pounding into her ass, chasing both of your orgasms. Your hands roam down back to her small, slutty waist. Her breathing grows frantic. You can see the goosebumps on her arms. She’s close. She’s close.

“F–Fuck, a–again, gonna cum again,” she rasps. Her voice is barely holding itself together. Her walls contract around your cock.

Her dam breaks. Her nectar leaks out of her cunt onto the floor. Some of it spills onto your cock, some spill onto your feet. She lets out a primal grunt, spurring you on to fuck her ass with‌ even more roughness. You plow her puckered hole through her orgasm. She’s sensitive, but you don’t fucking care. You couldn’t care any fucking less. You have to cum inside Nakamura Kazuha’s ass.

You buck your hips into Kazuha with reckless abandon. Fuck the other women if they’re going to hear this. You’re more than willing to let them know who owns this angel. It’s you. It’s you. Your hands roam over every curve and contour of her body, feeling her smooth skin on your hand. You know it’s hyperbolic, but she’s nothing short of perfection.

Her moans remain guttural and raw. They’re echoing through this practice room, and you’re damn sure that no sounds can be as ethereal as that. Her body, god, her body, you are going to keep dreaming about it forever. Her ass feels utterly divine. She wraps your cock in a way that’s so damn flawless, and it’s like she was made for your cock and your cock only.

You can feel it. The rising current inside you. It runs through your body. It’s electric. It’s going to burst. You’re going to cum inside your employee’s ass, and you couldn’t have found any better situation to be in.

“Here’s what I’m going to do, Zuha,” you order. Your voice couldn’t be stronger than this. Your grips on her waist tighten. “I’m going to fucking cum inside your ass, and you’re going to take it like a good girl you are, alright?”

“Nghhngn, y–yes, boss,” she groans, her voice breaking into pieces. She’s broken already.

It’s there, that familiar feeling inside your loins. You quicken and quicken your pace, pounding into Kazuha’s ass with an unmatched aggression. Your cock is throbbing inside her, so ready to explode. Your breathing is erratic. It’s all culminating in this. You’re going to cum.

“Gonna–Gonna cum,” you grunt, thrusting into her as fast as you can. It’s there. It’s right fucking there.

“Fuck!”

You lose yourself for the second time of the day, this time inside Nakamura Kazuha’s ass. You can see stars. White spurts paint the inner walls of her. Your body convulses, shaking in bliss. You grunt loudly. Your cock twitches inside her rear hole. The way she keens rings inside your ear as she feels the cum paint her walls. Fuck.

Your cock keeps shooting ropes and ropes of cum into her ass. It feels utterly divine, the way her ass hugs your cock so damn tightly. You press Kazuha against the wall, trapping her in your embrace, forcing her to take all of your cum. She screams in pure pleasure. 

“Fuck,” you groan, as you slowly come down from the earth-shattering orgasm you just had. Both of you are panting in exhaustion. It was tiring. It was mind-breaking.

You drag your spent cock out of her tight ass. Both of you groan in oversensitivity. Cum slowly leaks out of her ass. You’re all limp, and so is she.

Kazuha still can’t seem to catch her breath. She turns around to face you, face all flushed, mouth hanging open before slowly retreating onto the floor. She’s exhausted, and so are you.

You look down to face her. Your hands are resting on the wall, trying to hold you up with all the forces they have left. Your cock is all sore from the act, and you’re going to need a good sleep after this.

“God,” she utters, smiling. “That was–that was fun, huh?”

“Y–Yeah, that was fun,” you reply with a chuckle. The mood lightens up. The lust earlier is now replaced by comfort. You feel the air thinning. It’s not as tense as before.

You sit down next to Kazuha, head resting on the mirror. The trace of her body can be seen on the wall. It’s imprinted, dirty. You don’t really care. Let the staff see it.

You look around the room, trying to cool down from the debauchery, before Kazuha rests her head on your shoulder. You feel the unfamiliar warmth from her head. It’s–comforting.

“Promise me you’ll get me that solo.” She brings up her pinky finger.

It wasn’t supposed to be much more than a currency. Robotic. Mechanical. Transactional. Though, as you experience through it, you somehow find retreat in it. The act, even if as rough as it was, brings out the side you’ve never seen in her, and something you thought you’d never shown to anyone else. It’s weirdly comforting to you. And maybe, just maybe, the two of you might look forward to another encounter where you fuck her brainless again, and you might learn a few more things about her, and she’d share more of her with you, being each other’s solace against the world.

“I promise.”

—

[hexhomos]

little random but i really appreciate your dissections and analysis of Mel mainly bc the fandom either adore her and won't admit she is a flawed character and get over defensive when you call her out, or straight up hate her and make her out to be completely evil.

Mel is written as morally grey for a reason and when ppl try to act like she was morally correct in everything she did, it goes against the whole plot. yes, she regrets most of her actions by the end of the series and is left to deal with her family's leagacy and the weight of her actions, but that doesn't undo anything she did. and her eventually starting to care about Jayce doesn't just cancel out that she manipulated him (you'd think this would be obvious)

what bothers me the most i think is meljay shippers who say Jayce mistreated her and that Mel only ever helped and care about him and aided him in rising to power politically, and how she was so understanding of Jayce's and Viktor's friendship. yes, encouraging methods of political corruption in order to gain more power is so caring and kind of her! ❤️

Mel might've told Jayce to go spend time with Viktor after finding out he was ill, but the one time in the show she interacted with Viktor was... prejudiced to say the least. she never directly spoke to or answered Viktor, and the expression on her face any time she looked over at Viktor was so clearly full of dislike. it shocks me ppl still believe Mel and Viktor could get along and respect one another, especially romantically. no way.

anyways, sorry for the rant. just tired of how many bad takes there are in this fandom and very fond of your account lol

you are right and you SHOULD say it re: that oft repeated argument about her "only wanting what's best for him" bothers me so much. Its just... weirdly patronizing and spousing pro-piltover nationalism every time i see it being brought up. "She's doing what anyone would do/what is best for the city!" IDK MAN I AM NOT ROCKING WITH THAT. Im not an ubercapitalist. I don't think any of that was the good option actually lol. Probably I hate piltover too much to humor these arguments but from day 1 we are shown this is a city of immense class inequality in which the elite few holds all the power and all the profit gains at the cost of everyone else's submission and humanity. (Not for nothing: these are also the classic old guard Noxian tenets of supremacy. That's how they do colonization.)

The interactions Mel has with Jayce for majority of the series, before she watches that bomb come in and has her rapid onset change of heart, are her talking about how investors want his work and how she can use his discovery to advance this city (which is already built on exploitation!) or instigating his rise to power as a new ringleader for the council's rigged mercantile operations, and this is just not good or heroic in any way to me. This isn't love either, it's industrial convenience. The fact that she's conflicted by the end doesn't cancel these actions out! Jayce realizes that he's been used in ways he strongly disagrees with and any the affection in that dynamic vanishes instantly. The time he spends in isolation replaying his mistakes in that cave has an emphasis on mel/heimerdinger's voice on the council too, all of his regrets with blindly following someone else's vision or disappointing an idol he held in high regards.

And Jayce DOES care about the state of the cities, or he did before the writers forgot: He's the one who pleads for Zaun's independence at the end of season 1! He's the one who spent all his life trying to work towards improving the lives of common people, giving them the miracles they've been denied!

Viktor is a fucking nobody. He is extremely worthless in the eyes of the piltovan upper crust, only kept around on the merits working with Jayce have afforded him; and they still don't care. They're probably hoping he dies quicker. We *SEE* him being singled out and alienated during that weapons discussion where Mel is pleading for Jayce to think about "protecting his people" (only piltovans, never, ever zaunites- protecting piltovans against the zaunite menace.) and Viktor is set off at that whole exchange because it doesn't matter how loud he screams, these people can just tune him off and pretend he doesn't exist anyway. It's what they're used to doing. It drives me insane!!!!! His indignation is extremely under-explored and very inline with his act1 speech of feeling like an undesirable presence in piltover and having to push through with the grit of his teeth. It's open faced classism and I still see people pretending it didn't happen. Fandom makes all of these characters FAR less interesting by defanging them. The heart is in the friction and in the ugliness of them fucking up because they have very, very different conceptions of "utopia" - and some of those utopias require the death of the other characters present.

A lot of the Arcane character arcs have to do with realizing the above, and weighing if the sacrifice is worth the risk. Sometimes it turns out their utopias were shit.

[scripts4dreamers]

Me and my one (1) friend who has also had their brain corrupted by the blight (dragon age) have been fighting about this for two days but I’m so sure I’m right, so I humbly present my thesis to you lovely people.

1. After the events of the Veilguard, if Rook and Neve ended up together, Neve tries to leave you.

LET ME EXPLAIN! (Spoilers for the Veilguard ending)

I love Neve. She’s my favorite romance from Veilguard, she’s an incredible character and she does not deserve all the hate she gets. Having said that, she does 1000% try and leave Rook.

The one thing we know about Neve, almost from the moment we meet her, is that she is not a believer. She doesn’t believe Solas is a god, at first, she doesn’t believe anyone will have her back, she doesn’t believe Minrathous will improve and she doesn’t believe she’s going to survive this job. But still she fights on, not out of a genuine belief that she can win, but because she has a soft spot for lost causes.

Neve has devoted her life to being the champion of lost causes. She tells Rook that, even if this job doesn’t get her, one of them will. She risks her life, day in and day out, in service of a city that has done nothing but hurt her. Neve believes she’s a dead woman walking, and all she wants to do is go down protecting the people of Dock Town because someone has to. Someone has to.

And then she meets Rook and Harding and now gods are real, and they’re destroying the world and oh well everything was always going to go down in flames, so why not help out? She’s always been a magnet for bad news, for bad luck, for the worst of humanity, so why not spend her last days fighting for what little good is left?

She tries to fight falling for Rook, but they’re everything she wishes the world could be. They’re the lifeline she’s been waiting for since before the world forced her to stop believing. They’re good and kind and full of life and how can she do anything but love them for that? But she’s already dead, they’re both already dead and she can’t survive another loss.

She throws herself into loving them only after she lost them to the Fade. Only after Harding/Davrin died. After her world already ended, because that’s when she really realizes how quickly it can all end and how much time she wasted pushing people away. The goddamn WORLD IS ENDING and the person you love is THERE and they’re REAL and they WANT YOU, so why not? What is there to lose? It’s easy to love someone when the world is ending. It’s easy to love someone when you’re both already doomed.

But then the world doesn’t end. The sun rises on a blighted Minrathous and they’re both still alive, and now she’s faced with rebuilding. There’s so much work to be done, she’s a bloody, scarred mess and the job she was brought in for is over, isn’t it? She’s not a cool noir detective who died saving the world anymore, she’s someone’s partner, someone’s friend and lover and those aren’t jobs she had ever prepared herself to take.

Suddenly, without the haze of panic and the urgency of stopping the gods, things look different. She needs a new apartment. Minrathous needs a detective. Life goes back to normal and Neve still isn’t a believer.

Of course, everyone says they’ll stay in touch. Bonds formed that can never be broken and all that, but Neve knows better. You don’t hang around once the party is over. You don’t give the world more ways to hurt you, more people to take. You don’t give people a chance to leave you.

So she leaves first.

She regrets it. She hates herself for it. She cries herself to sleep wondering how she could be such a coward, but she leaves. She packs a bag, writes a goodbye letter and leaves before morning.

Now, do I think her and Rook get back together? Absolutely I do. I just think that, with all the events of Veilguard happening in such a short time, there’s going to be some major questions for all the companions once the dust settles, and leaving before you can be left is Neve Gallus’ answer to those questions.

[crazylittlejester]

Do you have any angsty/general hcs of Wild?

yesssss yes i do >:) i actually have a lot of thoughts about Wild (sorry for taking so long to answer this im real behind on asks)

- Fluent in a TON of languages, which he only discovered when he actually went to the other regions of Hyrule and got a few memories back. If you asked him to think about it he wouldn’t be able to, but plop him down and have him have a conversation with someone from a different region in his Hyrule and the memory of the language will come back and he can understand and speak with them

- His poor body is so used to getting thrown around that he rarely if EVER experiences motion sickness (never let him challenge you to see who can roll down a hill faster. it will be him because he will make it to the bottom and you will have to stop because you got nauseous.)

- There’s something INCREDIBLY odd about him that is both extremely uncanny and alluring at the same time, and its not because he’s covered in scars. Like people will look at him as he passes by and they can’t STOP looking at him for some unknown reason and they get a full body chill when they do. It took the chain a very very long time to stop feeling like that near him because they just had to adjust to him (it’s not caused by anything Wild does, he’s not in control of it, it’s just that he has the aura of an ancient dead being and it’s so fucking strong that those who are more attuned to magic can like. literally feel him.)

- His eyes used to be a very dark, stormy blue. In a way, they still are, but they seem unnaturally bright and almost turquoise, but if you actually got up in his face you can see the stormy blue beneath it, it just looks very oddly dead

- He’s hard of hearing, and it’s harder to hear from the ear on the same side as his scars which he why he really liked learning the chain knowns sign because he CAN read lips fairly well but sometimes it’s just hard and annoying to have to do when people are talking quietly. He can hear like, a slightly louder than normal talking volume if the person he’s chatting with isn’t too far from him, but anything softer than that becomes very hard for him to make out

- He has no memory of his mother, and the guilt eats him alive. She died so long ago there’s no one alive who remembers her still, not even the few older people who’ve survived the calamity and stuck around for a hundred years, and he feels bad that he has a few faint memories of his dad and sister but not her

- He’s a bit scared of Warriors at first because he looks at him and wonders if that might have been what his life would’ve looked like had he not failed, but once he spends more time with him and realizes that Wars is just a person, and a person who lives under so much stress and regret at that, he realizes he has a lot in common with him and they connect really well

- He. LOVES. to. talk. Whether he’s using sign or running his mouth he LOVES to talk, and he has so much to talk ABOUT. He has so many pictures and he’s seen SO many things and now he has friends to share that with who also love to learn???? This is so good for him. However he will stop talking the second he gets overwhelmed or overstimulated, and sometimes it takes him a day or two to start talking again

- He documents everything with his slate to show Zelda when he gets home because even though she’s free now, he feels bad that he gets to see a side of the world she never will so he takes pictures of it so she can experience things through HIS memories in a way to pay her back for letting him re-experience life through hers

- He sometimes has trouble feeling like he’s actually IN his body and it scares him. He mentioned it to Wars at one point (because Wars has moments where he doesn’t seem all too there) but neither of them can figure out if he’s dissociating because of trauma or if his soul is literally just loosely tied to his body because he died and he ACTUALLY starts to drift out of it. It scares him that Wars doesn’t have an actual answer for him, and no one else seems to know either

- He gets overwhelmed at times, especially when people hover over him because he simply isn’t used to it, but if he gets hurt he will let Twilight hover all he wants because the alternative is Twi working himself up and driving everyone else insane and Wild knows that Twi just needs to feel useful and taking care of people helps him keep himself calm. So Wild puts up with it

- Will spontaneously try new food dishes or just combine ingredients he was curious about and feed it to the chain without telling them he’s testing out a brand new recipe so they aren’t unconsciously biased when he asks them how it is (obviously he avoids allergens, diet restrictions, or foods that will just make them uncomfortable because he’s not an asshole, he just doesn’t tell them its something he’s never made before)

- On a similar note one of the first things he did when the chain started getting comfortable with eat other was take them all one by one and have them cook with him a dish they liked from home so he could learn the recipes and they could all share their cultures and food with each other

- It’s not that he DOESNT take care of his hair, he just also barrels down hills, crashes through bushes, and falls in mud puddles so by the end of the day he’s a hot mess. He takes very good care of his hair, and he WILL NOT go to bed without combing it out and braiding it to keep it from tangling, no matter how fucking tired he is (or Twi or Wars will end up doing it for him)

- TERRIFYINGLY intelligent and a brilliant strategist. He’s the only one who’s ever outsmarted Wars in a game of chess, and no one in the chain has gotten over it. Sometime’s Wild’s head is really foggy and it’s hard for him to think but on days of clarity he’s wicked smart and he thinks FAST

- It’s very hard for him to sleep sometimes because of his century long nap. Sometimes he’ll be up for multiple days in a row and then crash for 15 hours

- It is not necessarily that he’s reckless, more so that he had to relearn what it is like to be killable. His recklessness is accidental. He woke up, grabbed a stick, and just fucking WENT, and when he got mipha’s grace he was invincible for a bit. Obviously he knew death was a thing but until he recovered the memory of himself dying, it was almost like he didn’t think it could happen to him. Because of this, sometimes he just jumps at things before he remembers “hey, you can die doing this- maybe do not”

[haechoxo]

[9:07 pm]

johnny’s “thing” was meant to be a small get-together of sorts, to further celebrate the group being together again after such a long time.

what it was not meant to be, was what felt like a frat party, a rager even. you showed up alone, intending on catching a ride with someone or even spending the night if you drank a little too much, but the party itself was already over the top. a jittery feeling settled in your stomach the further into the house you moved, not a single friend in sight, not even haechan.

you soon found jaemin and jisung tucked away in a corner of the kitchen where the tall glasses of whiskey, wine, and beer were stocked, and decided to stick with them until you were comfortable (tipsy) enough to branch out and find someone else.

“so where’s your boyfriend?” jaemin smirked, but jisung only nudged him a little to lay off.

“he’s not my boyfriend,” you mumbled against the rim of your cup, sounding more dejected than you anticipated.

“but you still knew who i was talking about, hm?” he egged on. you were about to sass back, but the comment died on your tongue when someone called out to you.

“y/n! what took you so long? everyone’s been here since before the crowd showed up.”

mark.

“just got caught up with extra work is all, but i’m here now,” you said, offering a faint smile before bringing your cup to your lips. it was only now that you noticed a familiar head of dark hair over mark’s shoulder, in the other room. he looked almost… angry, scoffing and turning away.

“well i’ll see you guys around later maybe, gonna go catch up with some more people.” mark’s voice sounded in your ears once again, and all you could do was smile and nod again, the jittery feeling in the pit of your stomach returning.

you weren’t having any of this, as you turned to find as many shots as you could, to soothe the regret filling you for even showing up in the first place.

“you good?” jisung asked, noticing you downing your fourth shot in a minute.

“mhm! yeah totally, totally.” dial it down, crazy.

“maybe take it a little easy... don’t want to wake up shit-faced tomorrow, you have work right?” jaemin murmured, trying to pry the glass from your fingers. you were feeling buzzed already, yet not enough to notice jisung moving over slightly, as if to block your field of vision.

“what are you doing?”

“me? nothing.”

“ji.”

“i’m not doing anything.”

“move, please.”

“i-i’m good though, i like it here, i-it’s a little better, don’t you think?” jisung sounded nervous, more than usual. for what?

gently pushing him aside, and moving over to see what he was blocking, you really wished you’d just let him do as he pleased. the feeling in your stomach was replaced by your heart plummeting there instead.

there was haechan, sitting pretty on an armchair, with an even prettier girl, kim minjeong, hanging off his arm. you saw the way he looked at her, as she looked at him as if he hung the stars. you knew that look.

it was the way he used to look at you, as you looked at him, like he was the star.

“y/n…”

you couldn’t even be bothered to figure out who called your name, “i think i’m gonna go, have work, remember?” you said weakly.

previous - next

a/n ; part three!! (more like a definitive part 2 but its okay) 17 yr old me found the bitterness/angst in part one better than this part but u all can be the judge🧑‍⚖️ again, hope u enjoy! let me know what u think, advice is appreciated!! xoxo jelly

[softxsuki]

Hey, hope you're doing great! Can i ask an urgent request, a jjk x fem reader where the reader is left in a vegetative state after a mission, all them seeing her for the first time in intensive care with multiple tubes going in and out of her while she was fighting for her life in a coma, and like when she wakes up she's clueless the first days, struggling to say what she wants or express any emotions because she's unable to talk (and move also) Hope it's not a burden to you <33

Megumi, Gojo, and Itadori With S/O Who's In A Coma After A Mission

| Pairings: Megumi x Fem!Reader, Gojo x Fem!Reader, Itadori x Fem!Reader | Genre: Hurt Comfort, Angst | Post-Type: Headcanons | Word Count: 1.07k |

Warnings: mentions of death (no one actually dies), past character deaths, despair, crying (in itadori's), reader in a coma

Note: Hello <3 Happy New Year. I actually really enjoyed writing this one. One of my fav jjk posts so far 0.0 hope you and anyone else that reads it also enjoys it! And I hope your situation with your family has improved <3

Megumi:

Megumi is in shock as soon as he finds out you’re in a coma after your recent mission

You had assured him you’d be okay, and in that moment, regret fills him for not pushing to be there with you

He’d already gone through this with Itadori years ago when he thought he was dead after that one mission they were on together, and now here you were clinging on to life, one of the most important people in his life

He was scared he’d never see you awake again, yet he remained calm on the outside, coming to the hospital to visit you everyday

You were in the same hospital as his sister, who was also in a coma, so he was also able to visit her more often while you were there

The two most important women in his life were practically lifeless on hospital beds, it killed him

However, hope filled him one day when he saw your fingers fidget and he immediately ran to get a doctor–you were waking up

Confusion fills you as soon as your eyes open, you can’t quite put together where you were, the last thing you remembered was fighting that powerful curse before everything went dark and now you were in a room surrounded by people in white coats

The doctors had just finished removing your breathing tube since you were finally stable and conscious 

Megumi feels his shoulders lighten as he sees your eyes open, you were alert, which was a good sign

He takes a seat beside you, the chair he’d been glued in since he found out you were in a coma and takes your hand to let you know he was there as the doctors started their examination on you to make sure you were doing well

The next few days are tough on you as you struggle to move or speak due to going so long without doing both of those things while in a coma, but Megumi is by your side the whole time helping you out

He spends his every waking moment by your side, taking care of you until you’re back to your normal self

Gojo:

Like Megumi, Gojo is also worried of course, but that worry doesn’t show on the outside

Yet everyone around him knows something is wrong because he’s unusually quiet and doesn’t joke around anymore, he’s become very serious

He was the strongest in the world, yet couldn’t do one simple job and keep you safe? He was beyond disappointed in himself

There was so much responsibility on his shoulders that the elders threw on him, but they didn’t dare request him during these weeks while you were in a coma

Gojo was unstable and there was no telling what he’d do if anyone pushed him too far, so he spent his time visiting you, and continuing to teach and train his students, the only two things he could find the energy to do, but all solo missions were at a standstill

Even after you awaken, Gojo still isn’t himself, his attention is now fully on your recovery and making sure the doctors are doing their utmost best to make sure you recover fully

The thought that he was so close to losing you just like so many of his other friends and colleagues terrified him, he felt unworthy of his title of the strongest, but moving forward he’s even more protective of you after seeing how easy it was to almost lose you

So after you’re released from the hospital and sent back home, finally able to speak and move around again, Gojo is on high alert

He feels paranoid that something will happen to you again so he pushes back his missions and has the elders give them to other sorcerers in the meantime so he can watch over you

It kills you to see him this way so you’ll have to do your best to persuade him that you’ll be fine and safe, he can’t spend his whole life glued to your side, that’s no way for him to live

So it does take a while to persuade him to continue his work, but he makes sure to keep you heavily guarded while you’re still in recovery

It will take a while before he’s back to his usual self, just give him some time

Itadori:

Itadori is probably the most visibly impacted one after hearing the news that you were in a coma after your latest mission

He’s another one who has lost countless people and felt responsible for not being strong enough to protect them, and now he couldn’t even protect you

He’s distraught, silent tears falling from his eyes as he makes a promise to exorcize the curse that did this to you

If he wasn’t by your side, he was out on the streets eliminating curse after curse, waiting for the moment he’d come across the curse that put your life in danger, he wouldn’t be going easy on it

It kills him to see all those tubes connected to your body, you looked so fragile, like any tiny gust of wind will have your heart monitor flat lining at any given moment, he was terrified 

He experienced too much loss already, if he lost you as well, he’d never recover

So when he receives a call from your doctor, he’s already running to the hospital before he even picks up the phone

You were awake

Tears of relief fall from his eyes when he sees for himself that you are in fact awake–your eyes on him as he enters your hospital room, eyes he thought he’d never see again

He collapses at your side, pulling you into his arms, almost scared that if he let go, he’d never see you again

The weeks of your recovery go smoothly with Itadori by your side though, he listens to everything the doctors say and helps you get back on your feet, literally

Walking became difficult for you, so he became your cane

Even talking hurt your throat, but he’d speak for you until your throat healed up andyou could speak again

He was incredibly attentive and caring during the next few weeks of your recovery and made a vow that nothing like this would ever happen to you again so long as he was alive and by your side

And that was a promise he’d keep forever

Posted: 1/1/2024

[restinslices]

Everything pt4 (FINALE)

PJO Show Ares x Child!Reader (no gender specified)

Word count: 6772

Summary: It’s been years since you’ve spoken with your father, but with Kronos’ armies marching and the final battle approaching, you have one question on your mind. If you survived this, would it be too late to mend what was broken? Unbeknownst to you, Ares is wondering the same thing. Warnings: Spoilers for The Last Olympian (not too big though), giving Hestia a power idk if she has for the plot, angst, OOC Ares but y’all know this already

You know what sucks more than daddy issues?

The world ending. 

Both are seriously draining but the world ending? It was a real bummer. Not only was it a bummer, but it was incredibly confusing. You expected to be actively in battle right now, not being made a peanut butter and jelly sandwich by Luke's mom. 

As shady as it sounded, you couldn't understand for the life of you how Hermes had fallen in love with her. She looked as if she had been electrocuted multiple times and the smile she wore reminded you of something you'd see in a horror movie. Looks aside, sandwiches and cookies were rotting in her house and it smelled like something had died. You couldn't see Hermes being here. 

“Ms. Castellan” you began as nicely as possible. “I'm not Luke. My friends aren't either. This is Percy, Nico and I'm Y/N. We're…” the people that want Luke dead. No. You couldn't say that. “We're friends of Luke. That's all”. She seemed to understand what you said, even if her eyes told a different story. 

“Friends… Friends? Friends with my precious boy…” you almost scoffed. “I'm so glad he has friends. I've always wanted to meet his friends”. She spoke like she was in a dream state and her eyes stayed on you, not blinking once. “You've come for a sleepover? I'd have to talk to your parents first. I need to know if you have allergies! Then your parents and I can also be friends and spend time together! I'm sure I'd like them”. 

You forced yourself to keep smiling at her, even if she unknowingly brought up something you were trying desperately not to think about. In 2007 you and your father Ares came to an agreement that it'd be best if you never saw each other again. The year was 2009 and you were still keeping up your side of the deal. You didn't burn offerings for him, you didn't go see him for that field trip, you haven't even uttered his name since then. When you heard about the gods fighting Typhon, you tried not to think about him getting hurt. 

You were the one that proposed the deal, yet you immediately regretted it. A part of you thought “good job! You're keeping your peace! Your relationship would've never gotten better anyway!”. The largest part of you kept thinking “but what if you were wrong? What if he changed?”. 

You shook your head. Curse your stupid loyalty. You could've turned Nico and Percy down, but Percy pleaded with you to come with him. The last time you become someone's adoptive older sibling… 

“Nah, you wouldn't like my dad Ms. Castellan. He's a real hardhead”. She chuckled, which looked insanely creepy because she still hadn't blinked. 

“Men tend to be. I'm sure he's still very lovely”. Yeah, if you enjoyed headaches. 

Nico took over the conversation and thankfully your familial issues were no longer a topic. Thankfully should be in quotations though, because the conversation quickly turned depressing. May Castellan spoke like she was floating and talked about her son and Hermes as if the last couple of years hadn't happened at all. In your heart, you knew that she either didn't know, or she forgot. You didn't know what happened to her and why she looked like she took a tumble in Wonderland and never escaped, but whatever happened caused her to never see reality the same. You pitied her. Poor woman. Forever making sandwiches for a boy that had grown into a man. An angel that snipped his own wings. 

Suddenly she stopped and screamed. You all jumped up and you pushed the two boys behind you. You doubted May Castellan would try to fight any of you, but you wouldn't take that chance. 

A glowing green filled her vision and she rasped “My child! Must protect him! Hermes! Help! Not my child! Not his fate! No!”. She grabbed at your shoulders and continued screaming about fates and you pushed her off. 

“Guys! Let's get out of here!” You yelled to the boys behind you. 

You were prepared to run out of there, but May collapsed and Percy ran to catch her before she could hit the floor. 

As quickly as she was screaming about fate and her eyes were glowing, it all stopped. She went back to her version of normal. 

“Normal” was a word that really sucked as a demigod because your version of normal would never be what you wanted. What you wished was normal for you was going to school, complaining about teachers, listening to music and playing video games. Your normal was fighting monsters, training, keeping the world from ending and nightmares. When other people's lives diverged from the norm, it was probably something small, like dyeing their hair a neon color. Your version of “well this doesn't always happen” was sitting across from Hestia and listening to her do that thing gods do, where they give you advice in riddles. 

The conversation was mainly on Percy, until it wasn’t anymore. Hestia looked over at you and you couldn’t help but feel small under her gaze (which was comical considering she looked like an 8 year old girl), like she was peering deep into your soul in search of something. 

In any other circumstance, you would’ve stayed silent. You didn’t have time for more mysteries right now, so you cleared your throat and said “my lady, is there something you want to say?”. 

“I just wonder…”

”Wonder? About what? Please, I wanna hear it” 

“I wonder whose side you’re on”. 

What?

Your brows furrowed. “The gods obviously”.

”Is it obvious though?”. You had to stop yourself from rolling your eyes. Making an enemy out of Hestia wasn’t on your to do list.

”My lady, may I speak bluntly?”. She nodded. You really wished she didn’t choose the form of a child so you wouldn’t feel so silly. “The world is ending and there’s still so much I haven’t done. I’m stressed out, wondering if I’ll survive the battle-” if your father would care if you didn’t, “-if our efforts will be enough, how many mortals will die, if the gods survive their battle with Typhon. Please don’t add ‘not understanding a riddle’ to my stress. Whatever you’re thinking, just say it”. You could feel Nico shooting you a ‘are you crazy?’ look. How else were you supposed to say it? You thought you were being extremely kind and respectful. The alternative was “English please”.

Hestia looked you over as she thought. “I’ve heard about your conversations with your father”. Yeah sure, let’s bring that up again. Perfect!

You shifted uneasily, not wanting to talk about this anymore. Hestia either didn’t notice or didn’t care. “I wonder why you didn’t side with Kronos”.

You couldn’t stop yourself from rolling your eyes this time. Did she truly think so little of you? “Why would I side with him?”.

”Many of the demigods on his side feel neglected. No doubt you do as well. I wonder what’s the difference between you and them” 

“Brains” you answered. “We all have parental issues. You don’t side with a guy like Kronos”

”You think little of those demigods? Think yourself above them?” 

“You know what I did when I was angry with Ares?” His name felt strange on your tongue. It’d been so long since you said his name. “I gave myself terrible bangs and wore all black. I stared outside car windows, listened to sad music and imagined myself in a music video. I wrote in a diary that said ‘do not touch or I’ll kill you!’, all in uppercase letters. I didn’t side with a crazy Titan that wants to destroy the world as we know it. Seems a bit extreme, don’t you think?”. She nodded.

“My lady I mean this with respect and love in my heart; what is the point of this conversation?”.

She poked at the fire a bit before answering. “This battle will be a hard one. Perhaps I am buying time and trying to memorize your face in case something goes wrong”. Gee, thanks for all the hope lady.

”If something goes wrong for me, I at least hope everyone else gets a happy ending”

”Your death does not frighten you?” She asked with a raised brow.

”Of course it does” you answered truthfully. “But I can’t let fear stop me from doing what I know is right. You’re the goddess of the home, so you should understand when I say I fight for my home. I don’t think home is just a place though. Home can be people. Percy, Annabeth, 

Grover, Nico…” you swallowed, “… my dad. They’re my home. I won’t let my home be hurt without a fight. I’m willing to fight, kill, and die for my home. That’s how much home means to me”.

She smiled. “Spoken like a true child of Ares”. You wish she’d just tell you why she was hassling you in simple words. “But homes can be hectic-“

”My relationship with Ares is hectic but it doesn’t matter”

”You have hope”

”Sounds more like a statement than a question” you mumbled.

You looked at the fire, not wanting to look at (what appeared to be) the child on your ass.

When looking at the flames, for whatever reason you thought of home.

Images flashed in your mind. Images of camp, of laughing campers, of you and Percy giving Sally multiple heart attacks.

Of you and Annabeth debating, you and Grover planting flowers, you and Clarisse training together.

Images of your life flashed quickly, yet it all made sense. You could see everything as if you were there again.

Then the images slowed.

You felt Ares arms as he caught you when you fell from multiple floors up in the mall.

You could smell burgers and fries in the diner and saw him sitting across from you.

You could hear the two of you arguing and your ears started to burn with rage when you suddenly felt his warm embrace. You leaned into him and sighed, feeling his beard against the top of your head. You probably looked ridiculous to everyone else in the diner, but you didn’t care. You couldn’t remember the last time you felt his warmth and you knew you never would again. 

“I love you dad” you said.

You couldn’t believe what you heard next. He said “I love you too” and he genuinely sounded like he meant it. At the time, you thought there was no possible way he could’ve been being genuine.

“He’s gotten good at lying” you thought. “That’s all. He doesn’t care. You’re making things up”.

But what if you were wrong? What if there was a chance?

”I have to have hope” you said out loud. You were too busy looking at memories in the fire and missed Hestia’s satisfied smile. 

Hope.

Home.

If you were still alive by the end of the war, you knew you’d have to break your end of the agreement.

You knew you had to go home.

***

Everyone knew war was coming.

The hope for everyone else was that Kronos would never get strong enough to challenge the gods. Hope wasn’t something you could depend on though. You had to actually work, and apparently the gods hadn't done enough. 

All the gods, besides one, was nervous. Of course Ares was more excited than nervous, like a child in a candy store. If he had the power to control time, he’d speed this whole thing up so he could be in battle already. The anticipation was killing him.

It was so grim and depressing in Olympus. Everyone was on edge and acting as if this would be their last time seeing each other. Complete and utter bullshit. They were the 12 Olympians for fucks sake! Anyone else there was there for a reason. They’d beat Kronos and his army, then drink to their victory and hug their children.

Hug their children? 

“Stop”, he thought. “Not that shit again”.

He didn’t wanna think about children.

He pinched the bridge of his nose in annoyance and made his way to a nearby fireplace.

”Ares” Hestia greeted without having to look at him.

“Hestia” he greeted back and sat down next to her on the ground. “Poking at the fire again?”

“What else is there to do?”

“You could be preparing for the battle”. She made a noise of disapproval, 

“You know I'm not one for fighting. I am where home is”. He couldn't say he understood it, but whatever kept her happy. Ares wasn't fond of all the gods, but he liked Hestia. She stayed to herself and overall was friendly with everyone. She didn't blab her mouth or make jokes about him and Aphrodite being caught by Hephaestus. She was a breath of fresh air honestly. 

Hestia looked over at him and cocked her head to the side. “No” he said before she could get anything out, “don't start asking me questions about feelings and try to dissect me”. Hestia was nice and all, but she always noticed when someone was off, and even if they weren't she'd find a way to make a conversation more deep than it needed to be. 

“Ares, the battle ahead will be a difficult one. There's a possibility that you could be destroyed or that your children-”

“Don't”. His voice came out harsh and he shot her a warning look. Unfortunately for him, Hestia was never intimidated by that. 

“They can die. Do you think they're keeping their feelings bottled? I doubt it. I hear them whisper their fears around the campfire at camp. They're terrified Ares.”

“How many are terrified?”

“All of them”. 

He wished he didn't ask. He should've stayed curious. 

Hestia was right. Any of his children could die. Maybe all of them. They all probably whispered to each other in their cabin, trying to comfort each other, and what was he doing? Sitting in Olympus. 

He hated that he cared. Ever since his last talk with a particular child, he had been trying to build those walls back up and go back to being his “normal” self. Unfortunately, those cracks seemed to remain and refused to go away. He tried to seal them, but even something as small as a talk with Hestia revealed those cracks again. “They'll be ok” he said although he knew the truth. The truth was that he had no idea what would happen. 

“I could deliver a message to them if you'd like”

“There's nothing I can think to say to them”

“Then perhaps you could say something to me. Whatever is on your mind, you can speak and I will listen”. 

Ares didn't wanna look at her so instead he looked at the fire in an attempt to ignore her. That proved to be an error when his nose filled with the familiar smell of rain and his ears filled his child's voice. 

“To me… to me you were everything. You are everything. “. Your tears mixed in with the rain and you wore a deep frown full of a child's repeated crushed dreams. His heart squeezed tightly for the first time in a while and he hated it. That's when it all started. 

Other memories flashed. Memories of him and the other Olympians fighting wars, sometimes with each other. 

He saw a time before strict rules and before he vowed to keep himself distant from his children. A time when he mourned them fully and intensely when their final breath passed their lips and their bodies became limp. 

He saw the time now and while it was full of distance and misery, he saw his other children. He saw them visiting him and talking about things he didn't care about but listened to anyway. Saw their sad faces and hung heads when they had to leave. 

It all went back to you though. 

“You want more from the child of Ares?!” You had puffed your chest when you said his name and held your sword tighter. “I have plenty to give!”. 

He heard your back and forth snarky comments to each other before the smell of food filled his nose and the conversation went from humorous to angry then sad. 

“I don't matter to you. Just admit it so we can move on”. You were so wrong but you said the words with such conviction. You genuinely thought you were right. Was that truly how neglectful he had become? All his children had become strangers and he couldn't blame anyone but himself. 

“Seeing you at all, it gives me hope” Was hope so bad to have though?

“You want this?”

“No” you said immediately. He remembers how he was surprised you had been that honest with him. He thought you'd make up a lie and pretend to be extremely confident, but your voice cracked and this time there was no rain to hide your tears. If earlier you wore a frown of repeated crushed dreams, that day your eyes filled with a child's final dream crushed. 

But then he felt the both of you hug and he couldn't help but think to himself “Does the dream have to be crushed? Does hope have to be lost?”. 

The fire continued to show him more memories of his children before it went back to you purposefully ignoring him. He had to admit that seeing you spend time with Hermes instead of him made his brows lower in frustration. But he agreed to a deal. 

“Ares?” Hestia questioned. Ares kept staring at the fire and hoped the images would return, but they slowly faded away. She said his name again. She had saw what he saw and felt the way his heart cried. It was a feeling she never wanted to experience again. 

He agreed to that deal… but what would happen to him if he broke it? Nothing that hasn't happened before. How could he see all of that and still want to keep his side of the deal?

“I think…” he whispered “I think I miss my children…”. 

His children. His family. His home. He had to believe that hope was possible. 

Hope.

Home.

He'd fight with his all while keeping everyone in the back of his mind. He knew he'd have to break his end of the deal. 

He knew he had to go home.

***

If someone were to ask how you felt in this exact moment, it'd be irritation. Because of some stupid disagreement between the Ares kids and the Apollo kids, Clarisse ordered that none of Ares' children were to attend the battle. When you reminded Clarisse that this battle was bigger than some stupid argument over a chariot and that campers have already died and more will, she simply puffed her chest and went on about how she's tired of Ares getting disrespected. Sure, ok. Maybe you got a point Clarisse. Couldn't this wait until after though?

You shared some harsh words, half of them being curse words, and joined the battle with everyone else. 

Manhattan as a whole was trapped in a deep sleep, yet somehow they seemed like the lucky ones. Sure, maybe a monster would step on them but at least they'd die in their sleep. If you died you'd be fully conscious and you knew it'd hurt. 

Only a fool feels no fear. A bigger fool lets fear paralyze them. You did your best to let your fear move you through your enemies and you cut and hacked at them, leaving a trail of dust in your wake. You tried at first to ignore how many old campers you were killing, but it was hard to when your sword was soaked and you stared in the eyes of people you used to call friends before you took their life. It didn't feel good but it was either you or them. None of them held their punches and those same kids came in camp and killed campers, so you wouldn't hold your punches either. 

A squeal filled your ears and you winced as you looked up. The fighting stopped and you understood why when you saw a huge flying pig heading straight towards everyone. You scoffed and wanted to make some sort of joke, but figured now wasn't the time. 

“As far as I know, no hero has ever beaten it” you heard Annabeth say when you got closer to her and Percy. Your heart beat in a skittish panic but you forced yourself to hold your sword firmly and say the words “we will” as serious and brave as you could muster. 

Percy had some idea and while you were told to keep the enemies back, your eyes landed on a white Pegasus and you knew you couldn't. 

“Hey Annabeth” you grabbed her arm, making sure not to grab too tight because of her previous wound. 

“Yeah?” she asked. Annabeth looked terrible. She was covered in dirt, dust, blood, and her hair was so out of place that you thought May Castellan would take kindly to her. You didn't know how you looked but you knew that all of you would need showers if you survived. 

“I love you too”

No. When you survived. 

“I'm gonna try and help Percy. Stay here. I'll come back. I promise”. Before she could ask you what you meant or remind you that you couldn't promise such a thing, you ran off to the Pegasus. 

“Hey buddy” you waved and forced a smile. You knew Percy could understand them and vice versa, but you couldn't understand them and you didn't know if that could understand you. “Me” you pointed at yourself, “friendly” you raised a thumbs up. You pet its head and it didn't bite you, so you assumed it understood. 

“Me” you pointed at yourself. “You” you pointed at the Pegasus. “Follow Percy and pig” you pointed at Percy and the pig, who were quickly vanishing from view. It nodded its head and after a sigh of relief, you got on its back. 

If it wasn't for the war and death, you'd say you were really enjoying this. How many people could say they had done something like this? Not many, that's for sure. 

“Hey Sharkboy!” You yelled when you were within shouting distance. Percy thankfully was no longer hanging by a rope, but was on Blackjack. You didn't know if Blackjack recognized you as the one always giving him donuts, but he made a pleased sound when he saw you. “Uh, is this a part of your plan?” You motioned to the statue that took his place attached to the rope. “It's a pretty shit one”. 

The boy rolled his eyes and huffed at you. Whether it was because of the nickname or insulting his plan, you didn't know. It made you smile either way. “I gotta get close to it! I can activate the statue to fight the pig!”. 

Flying pigs, fighting statues, just another day as a demigod. You rubbed in between your brows to stop the migraine that was forming. How hadn't you gone insane yet?

“It sounds crazy but-” Percy kept talking but you stopped listening. You looked behind you at the battle and like a fool, you froze. 

Manhattan was a war zone. This you knew. Seeing it up high like you were a god though made it all seem so much worse. You could see family being forced to fight each other. You could hear screams and pleads and crying. You could see kids trying to dodge being stepped on. You saw so many people not being allowed to mourn. You saw death. You saw it everywhere. 

Then your shock and fear turned to anger. These were your friends and family killing each other! Sure, they were still responsible for their actions, but there wouldn't be any actions for them to take if Kronos hadn't got in the way. He used these people and he didn't care how many died. He just wanted his throne. Annabeth could die. Grover could die. Percy could die. 

Your father could be destroyed. 

You didn't know how you looked, but you must've looked terrifying because Percy “talks back to everyone” Jackson looked at you the way you expected him to look at the gods; with edge. 

“Hey-”

You pet the animal under you neck and pointed at the pig “closer!” You ordered. It obeyed. It beat its wings harder and you passed Blackjack and Percy with ease. The closer you got, the more you could smell its stench. Under normal circumstances you'd pinch your nose and walk the opposite way, but this time you kept going straight towards it. 

The animal under you whined and you assumed that meant it was having a hard time keeping up. Your eyes fell to the rope and you knew what you had to do. 

Your sword morphed back into a necklace when you brought it close to you and after so much practice, clasping it wasn't a problem for you anymore. 

“Good boy or girl. I'll get you some snacks when this is all over. You like donuts?” it made a pleased sound and you pet its neck. 

You moved so that instead of straddling the animal, your legs were hanging over one side. 

“Don't let me die” you whispered to no one in particular then you pushed yourself off. 

A mixture of luck and skill prevented you from becoming a mark on the concrete. 

The rope burned your bare hands but you held on anyway. You managed to grab on above the statue and started climbing upwards, using the beating in your chest to motivate you not to fall and die. The white Pegasus stayed beside you as you forced yourself up the rope and you gripped the pig's fur to pull yourself all the way up. Now, pigs don't have tons of fur, but a giant pig had plenty enough to grab onto. 

The wind blew through your hair so harshly that you were surprised it didn't snatch it all off. The pig was flying at an intense speed with its only goal being to destroy everything you loved. 

You pulled your necklace off and it turned back into the double edged sword your father gifted you so many years ago. 

It was only now that you realized something. 

When you killed this thing, it'd disintegrate. You wouldn't. In the mall you were high up but you were only up a couple floors. Now you were definitely above the mall and many other buildings. The white Pegasus was no longer keeping up with you and when you looked behind you, Percy and Blackjack were still a while away. 

Percy connected the dots a lot faster than you did and you saw his lips move and Blackjack's wings flap faster. 

What do you say when you know you're gonna die? Damn. You didn't have time to prepare and you didn't have time for a speech. 

You felt like you were looking back at the flames. At home. At hope. You were supposed to return home after the battle and things would be okay again. But in the same breath, this is why you were fighting. You were fighting for your home and so the people you love could live as peacefully as they could. 

The sword felt heavier in your hand. You smiled to yourself. You still had a piece of home with you and you'd use it to better the lives of the other people you call home. 

You screamed as loud as you could in hopes Percy would hear you. “IF EVERYTHING GOES OKAY, TELL MY DAD THAT…” tell him what? You had so much to say. What could wrap everything you wanted to say together?

“... TELL HIM I MISS HIM! AND THAT I LOVE HIM!”. 

Blackjack's wings beat harder, yet he was still far. Percy wore a look of determination and you laughed. You couldn't believe he was still the young scared boy that arrived at camp when he was 12. 

“I LOVE YOU GUYS TOO!”. You smiled at him to leave him with something nice to remember. “THIS WAS FUN!”. 

You turned away from him and with as much strength as you could muster you plunged the sword through the pig’s skin. 

You felt its body crumble away and then you felt yourself slipping through the air. 

***

As one could assume, war was Ares' element and where he felt the most comfortable. There wasn't much to say about the battle. Sure, it was a battle for humanity but honestly? Ares wasn't that worried. Call it an inflated sense of self. Was it really that though when you could back up how high you thought of yourself?

As corny as it sounded, the war in his mind was much more intense. As he fought, his mind kept slipping back to what he saw in the flames. His family. His children. His home. His hope. The reason he fought. Sure he liked a good fight but he fought this giant monster with the other Olympians for his family. 

Ares is a proud man, so naturally he had faith that his children would survive the battle, but an ego could only get you so far. He knew the truth. He knew that any of his children could be crushed at any second, or squeezed to death, or stabbed, or eaten, or whatever Kronos and his army had planned. He knew that he could return to whatever was left of Olympus and he could mourn children that he had forced to become strangers. He wanted to be better. He had to be. He just needed time and that meant he needed his children alive. Especially the one that started this. 

Besides the diner, Ares had only held you once. He didn't think he'd remember it well yet somehow he could smell the cookies your mother had baked and he could remember exactly how the furniture was. He could see blinds covering the windows and the white walls lined with family photos and art pieces. He could see the black couch that sat across from the TV which sat on a table. 

And he could feel your mother place you in his arms. 

“This is your child” she had said. He looked over at her and she smiled down at you with a sense of joy and pride, which was much different to how he saw her look at you recently, with hate and contempt. 

You were so small then. Only months old, still exploring the world and having no idea how life would beat you down. You cooed as you looked up at him and shifted in his arms. He wondered if somehow you knew he was your father and that he was no threat to you. 

So small. So curious. So innocent. Now you were a warrior seasoned by the battles you had been fighting since you were a small child. 

He kept thinking about what would happen next the entire time. He knew he'd have to break his end of the agreement, but it was up to you and any of his other children to accept him turning a new page. It absolutely did NOT frighten him more than the Titan he was battling. Absolutely not. 

As Ares suspected, the Olympians and their children won the war. Kronos was gone and his armies were slaughtered. That was the best part. He didn't get the chance to have a good look at the battle, but seeing the damage the demigods caused made him proud. He hadn't seen you though, which was something he noted. 

The worst part was looking at Percy Jackson's face. Sure, he started the fight but that didn't matter! When Ares said “enemy for life” he meant it! The fact that he had to listen to Percy be praised and he couldn't beat on him right then and there made him tap his finger against the arm of his chair in discontent. 

“Lord Ares” Percy said and he could tell he hated saying the “Lord” part. It made him grin. 

“Boy?”

Percy's fist balled and Ares continued smirking. 

“I have a message from your child”. 

His smirk fell when he heard your name. A message? Did that mean… 

“They said that they missed you and loved you. They were… They…” he paused and Ares leaned forward. “They were in trouble and out of everything they could've said, they said that. They’re-” 

Ares didn't let him finish. He jumped out his chair and his feet thundered against the ground as he sped walked to the elevator. 

This couldn't be. That boy was wrong. His child was fine! He wanted to be better for them and now…?

No. No no no no! This couldn't be! He pressed the floor button repeatedly hoping that the elevator would move faster, even if he knew that's not how elevators worked. 

He lied to you once and said that gods didn't feel fear. How wrong he was. His whole body felt warm and if he wasn't pressing the button then he was tapping his fingers against his legs and if he wasn't doing that then he was pacing and if he wasn't doing that then he was imagining your limp body covered in blood. Was it at least quick?

“I love you dad”

No… 

Not his baby… 

After what felt like hours the elevator dinged and the doors opened. 

He stepped into the hall of the building. 

***

Turns out you should give Blackjack a lot more credit. 

You closed your eyes and hoped that the fall wouldn't hurt as much as you suspected it would and then suddenly your crotch hit something hard. 

“Fuck!” You exclaimed. Your eyes flew open and that's when you realized Blackjack actually managed to catch you. Percy let out a breath you suspected he was holding the whole time. 

“You don't ever do that again!” he scolded. Ironic coming from the guy who always did stupid things. 

“I hope I won't have to”. He rolled his eyes and looked back ahead of him. 

“I just knew you were gonna do something stupid. I just couldn't tell what it was at first. And don't you ever look at me like that again”

“Like what?”

“Like you want to kill something”. Once again, ironic. Percy had that same look on his face more times than you could count, but instead of arguing you kept a hand on his shoulder and said “sure Sharkboy”. 

You tried to tune out the rest of the battle to keep yourself sane. One moment you and Percy joined everyone else, then Percy and Annabeth went to Olympus and now you were sitting in the Empire State building completely exhausted. You were slumped in a chair, covered in dirt and grime when the Stoll brothers came over. 

“Guess what we have” Connor said in a sing song voice and raised his brows.

“An Advil?”. The two laughed like what you said was funny. It wasn't funny to you. Your head was killing you. 

“Even better” Travis said. “Boom!”. You hadn't noticed the bag he had on him somehow, and when he opened it your eyes were filled with candy. You looked back up at their faces, both with an ear to ear smile. 

“I thought Percy said not to snatch anything when everyone was asleep”. 

“We didn't! How could you say something like that?” The two looked at each other with faux innocence but their devious smiles betrayed them. Whatever. You were too tired to scold them and it wasn't your business that got ransacked. 

“Listen, we'd typically charge for these but since you killed that pig, you can get something for free”

You raised a brow at them and looked at them disinterested. “Or I could report you and make you take all that back”

“You won't” Travis challenged. 

Little shit was right. 

You looked in the bag for what you wanted and chuckled when you saw it. 

When you and Ares talked in the rain that night, you debated on burning a fruit roll up as an offering. You decided that was a shit offering and didn't do it, but your father saw you in the rain and came over anyway. 

Now that same flavor of fruit roll up was sitting at the top of all of that candy. 

You took it and thanked the two. They were on their way after, probably about to scam some poor kid by overcharging it. They never tried that with you or any of the other older kids. 

You pocketed the candy and used your sword to help you stand. You were exhausted. Your shoulders sagged, your back ached and you smelled like everything unfortunate in the world. You needed a shower and new clothes desperately. 

You began walking then a ding filled your ears and out of curiosity you turned from the door and looked over. 

It was him. 

By the way his eyes softened you could tell he saw you. You were done lying to yourself and convincing yourself he didn't care. You knew you saw relief in his eyes. 

Maybe Ares should've listened to what else Percy was gonna say. Maybe he was gonna say “they're fine but you should really talk to them”. Something like that. 

Ares had seen you tear up multiple times. In sadness, in anger, in betrayal. This time though? You didn't look hurt. You looked relieved. You looked like how he felt. You looked like a huge pain had been lifted off your shoulders. If before you looked like a child whose dreams were crushed, now you looked like an adult who realized there was nothing crushed that couldn't be fixed. 

You had grown up more since he last saw you. He didn't wanna miss any more years. 

“And I hope the idea of me calling you Ares instead of dad terrifies you” 

The words rang in his ears. You were right. It terrified him. It paralyzed him. He had one question on his mind. 

What would you call him?

The two of you stood facing each other for seconds but it felt longer. Both your minds were racing. You were both thinking of the past, the fact that both of you were okay, and wondering what the future would be.

You felt like a kid again. You just stared at him with so many emotions coursing through you. The main ones being joy and relief. 

Without thinking, you threw your sword to the side and ran at him. “Daddy!” You shouted with the inner voice of a child who was finally getting everything they wanted. You jumped into his arms and he caught you. His grasp was firm and he kept you close. 

You both closed your eyes and focused on each other's warm embrace. You were both okay. You were both home. Neither of you held your tears and vulnerabilities from each other. 

“I heard you were missing me” he said. You knew it was a joke but you couldn't laugh. You nodded into his shoulder. 

“I did”. 

“I missed you too” he admitted. It felt so good to finally admit. 

It felt so good to finally hear. He missed you. He cared for you. He loved you. He was holding you. 

“I don't like our agreement anymore” you mumbled. “You gonna rearrange my fingers or-”

“No” he answered firmly. He set you down and his hands held your face. “No” he said again. 

“Not gonna turn me into an ant either?” You joked. He smiled at you and pulled you into another hug.

“I love you dad”

“I love you too”. 

Ares did something he hadn't done in a while and he kissed the top of your head like he saw other fathers do. It surprised him how much happiness it filled him with. You on the other hand thought this would only happen in dreams. You were so glad you were wrong. 

Then he did something else he hadn't done in a while. 

He apologized. 

“I'm sorry”

“I know” you answered simply.

“I'm gonna be better”. 

You smiled and closed your eyes, allowing yourself to melt in his embrace. 

“I believe you”. 

Hope. 

Home. 

You two managed to hold onto hope. What others would call delusional or stupid, you called a dream. You both managed to make that dream a reality. 

After years and years of complications, heartache and frustration, you two made it. 

You two made it home. 

If y’all sexualize the reader calling Ares “daddy” I swear I will rewrite this and have the reader die a terrible death. Do NOT-

Anyway y’all IT’S HERE! We finally made it to the end! Y’all feeling as proud and emotional as I do? Originally Everything wasn’t gonna be a series. I made pt1 and was like “yeah. A simple one shot” but people wanted more and it became a series. I got 2 abandoned series for different fandoms so it’s an accomplishment I finished this one. I don’t have any new series planned right now but I wanted to say thank you for the support Everything has gotten and the nice comments I’ve received. This was really fun. Until next time! (Also I told y’all they’d get a happy ending. I know some of y’all didn’t believe me)

Taglist: @kyuupidwrites @chadmeeksmartinswifey @lebguardians @beansficreblogs @itzjustj-1000 @white-wolf-buckaroo @elsisenta @leathesimp @marshymallo @stickyfictioninwriting @asexualaromosafezone @arialikestea @1mawh0re @samoanroyalty @wolfgirl294 @unoficialy-married-to-ace-austin @ohlookitsasinglepoeceofpopcorn

[medlilove]

Please click for Full Res!

AVES 'Rook' LAIDIR 28 at start of game. Mage Dagger - Fire/Necromancy later. 5’3”

Born on the edge Dairsmund, the capital city of Rivain. Her father was from an upper middle class merchant family. He was unusual in his business that he would regularly trade and do business with neighbouring Dalish Clans. Though his prices were always higher for them, not that they were aware. 

In his early adult life he had an affair with an Elf from a neighbouring clan. When she became pregnant he convinced her to leave her life behind and be his wife in the city. Swept up in the romance she agreed and left her clan. However, after the dust settled he pushed away and his family pressured him to distance himself from them for the sake of the family business. 

He did, but at the same time would keep her wrapped around his little finger. He would say over and over that it wasn’t the right time and to be patient, using her ignorance of the society they were in to his advantage. He hid her away in their home and she developed a deep depression and loneliness. He convinced her that it was safer for her and the baby to live as a servant, but it was more to protect his own business and reputation. Aves grew up half in the servant's world and half not.

Her mother lived with terrible guilt and regret, believing her clan would never take her back but at the same time, for years she still held out hope that he would bring her into his family for real. This was held up by the fact that he would regularly come to spend time with them and when alone he would shower her in affection, but around others, act like he hardly knew her. 

After six years she succumbed to her depression, Aves found her in their bedroom in the servant quarters. In a rare show of kindness (or obligation) her father formally adopted her into the main family, but made her swear to never speak of her mothers heritage, convincing her that doing so would destroy her fathers business and result in them losing everything. She developed a complex about it mixing it with misunderstanding the shame her mother felt about her life with shame of her own heritage. She never even knew the name of her mothers clan, her mother would never speak about herself.  

Three months after her mother died, her father married a woman Aves had never met. Her father and step mother ended up having 5 more children. She was the black sheep of the family and was shown occasional affection from her father, and was barely acknowledged at all by his wife. Her father looked at her like a burden and her step mother wouldn't look at her at all. 

Her magic came in at 12 during a heated argument, in the form of a circle of spitting fire that shot out like fireworks. Her father had a distant cousin who was a mage who agreed to take her on as a pupil, she went to Ayesleigh to live with him. She learnt the basics, but found him unsettling, after two years she had had enough and ran away. 

She bounced around the next few years living on the beach and meeting fellow vagabonds. Learning magic and life skills informally from wanderers and beatniks. 

She eventually ended up travelling up and down the coast with an acrobatic troupe who would go town to town doing risky and elaborate performances for onlookers. It was run by a hard edged money hungry, yet extremely charismatic man who barely paid them at all, they would often perform for ‘room and board’.  

She met the most extraordinary people being part of that travelling show, eccentric, creative, different. They taught her how to be the best version of herself, kind, empathetic and strong. She performed the high rope with 3 others, all elves, and learnt to control her magic from an old Qunari woman who tended the animals. Aves would take her second name with her when she left. ‘Laidir’. 

Though it wasn’t all fun and games, they were expected to perform twice a day 6 days a week, often travelling at night and rehearsing on the 7th day. Additionally each performer was pressured into getting facial scarification to mark them as members of the company, one mark for every year. She got all her arms and legs tattooed by a dwarf who would perform as a ‘strong man’ who was so heavily tattooed and had such a long beard you could barely see two inches of free skin. 

The show eventually fizzled out and closed down, and most went their separate ways.

One day, she got caught pickpocketing a woman who turned out to be Isabella. Isabella was so impressed that Aves had managed to get so close that she offered her an opportunity to join the Lords of Fortune.

Meme that represents her the best:

[blingblong55]

Did you care? - König

F!Reader, angst, no happy ending, cheating

For months since you met him he had made it known his job was his priority and like any fool you accepted that. If he couldn't make it to a date, he'd let you know something had come up on the job. Not once did he ever tell you what he did for a living, which raised alarms from your friends and family. All worried he would end up hurting you, leaving you in ruins. But you liked him too much to even dare question him or his actions. 

There were times when he'd never call, for months on end but you'd always update him on your life like he had made you promise months into the relationship and still he gave you nothing in return. You always thought he was just not the type to be romantic but that maybe deep down he was someone with emotions and vulnerable to the right person. You of course wanted to be that right person. Around you, he was able to talk more but it was never about who he was outside of the four walls where you two would share life stories no, it was just meant for you to hear. 

The day you found out he was cheating was glass shattered, your fragile heart in pieces. You had gently held that heart for him to take, the one you kept hidden from the rest of the world. The restaurant where he told you the news of his infidelity still was frequently visited by you from time to time. Wanted to stay there, wait for him just in case he came back for you. "R/N," that day was the time of death for the nicknames he once adorned you with. "I'm deeply sorry, I found someone new and she...well she is someone I see myself spending more time with." Maybe the way he broke the news to you was awful but it was better if you heard it from him than from the cheap whispers of so-called friends and family. 

You sat and stared out the window, watching as four memorable years went by as if they were just another bullet to the target. Maybe it was stupid to think he would've never cheated but all the signs and alarms were there. After all, they do say those in love are blinded. That was your case, the worst one to have as a hopeless romantic. The books of love you read, the movies and wishes you hopped for, all gone with one sentence. 

A day after the breakup, you were at that restaurant, people whispering about you, what a sad sight to witness. You sat in the same spot, light lingering on your face, dim and depressive. Autumn was awkward, scarf season, cardigans and watching the leaves fall to the mossy pavement of the park you two used to read at during spring. Winter was the worst, wanted to cuddle up to him after a snowy day. Spring came with sorrow, as you found out how happy and outgoing he was with his new partner. Summer and the Blues, what a bad time to be alive. Sleeping in, drowning in regret and memories of what once was. It all felt as if that pain he created with 20 words dug a deeper hole for it to stay warm during winter as you died of cold and sorrow, the heart of a winter soul. 

The floors of your parent's cabin creaking under your step, cat purring in your lap. Tears running down your shameful face. The memories of him holding you as you two watched a movie one blissful Christmas coming and making your brain palpitate as if it had more than sadness to work for. Two years after the breakup, he was there, holding the hand of a pregnant woman. Many times ago, he had told you he never wanted a family, that all he needed was you, the cat and the bedsheets that covered your bodies. Guess that was a lie too. You walk past them, yellow tulips in your hands and that is how he saw you. All along, he never meant to leave, the autumn breeze bringing him a beautiful time in his life. 

There you two ran, the taxi about to leave, your blue scarf waving in the wind, drunken words said, and there he was, holding your hand. "Liebling, where are we going!" his laughter warm. "It's a surprise!" you smile. Always so spontaneous, your soul and being making him bend his usual cold heart in two to gift you the best of him. Maybe he didn't do his best to give that but behind doors, where he felt safe, you were the one to make him try his best. And now, there you go, heart in hand once more as he watches you in woe. "Liebling." he whispers, the woman he was with turns to him, "What was that?" he had never called anyone else Liebling. That belonged to you and only you, the woman he wanted all of life with, the dreary days, the hand holding as you two carefully walked over the snow and now here he is, lost again. 

"Nothing, I...I twisted my English and German," he laughed. Maybe if he had been more patient with himself. At the time of the infidelity, all his mates and soldiers were getting married. You had expressed your marriage concerns, how the image of it was ruined by your parent's loveless marriage. But in between words that he never heard, you wanted to try for him. The cries of laughter, the warm embrace on the summer nights, the scarred face that was kissed over and over, happiness because of you, the weird combo you made with a vanilla ice cream cone and crisps, all that is gone. There were days he'd head down to the fast-food chain and order, "Some crisps and ice cream, please." Eating them by the corner you laughed at, stupid jokes said and all making him love your little laughs.  

Life is funny, maybe for not emotional little humans but for the gods that watch us. A mystery will stand for the rest of human time, did he care? Did he care that you adored him with your entire essence, body, mind and being? Or maybe it was your homemade baking, the burnt cake, biscuits and the random bruise you'd when walking around being careless. Maybe it was envy that you lived such a tranquil life and he didn't. Maybe. Did he care?

Part 2 is here

--

Tags: @warrior-of-justice

[strangersteddierthings]

No Regrets - Part One

Content Warning: mentions of main character deaths but these are temporary because this is a time travel two-to-four-shot and so, they start dead but then get better :3 Also maybe a whiplash warning? In that it starts off kind of dark for a story that's pretty light-hearted in the end.

Here's the first part of the threatened season 4 AU time travel fic where Steve gets thrown back to the moment in family video when Dustin and Max show up demanding the phones. Previously he was 5 years into a grueling apocalypse.

Part One🦇 Part Two🦇Part Three🦇Part Four🦇Part Five🦇Part Six

Steve has lived his life in regret. Replaying scenarios in his head over and over late at night when sleep eludes him. And sleep is always eluding him these days, weeks, past five years. Steve hasn't known a day without regret since the day they failed to kill Vecna, the day Max almost died. The day Eddie did.

It's five years to the day today.

Steve spends endless nights thinking about how he'd change that spring break. It was the start of the end of everything. Eddie's death wasn't world ending for Steve. It was the end of a what-if. A maybe. But for Dustin. Oh God, Dustin. Who had blamed himself for Eddie's death, who was broken and then never able to get time to recover. To grieve.

Dustin, who pulled away from everyone, from Steve, because of it.

He's not dead, Steve knows, because he still hears his voice on the radio. Separated from the group but vital to their survival. He spread intel on Demo-creature movements, where safe spaces are, news from across the broken and destroyed America, and how to survive the hellscape.

There have been losses. Terrible, tragic losses.

Murray Baughman. Lucas Sinclair. Karen and Holly Wheeler. Will Byers. And those are just the ones he knows. A lot of people scattered to the wind when Hawkins became overran with the Upside Down and its creatures.

He's still two days out on this supply run. Two more days and he'll get to know who is still around. Who they lost this time. It's not always someone they know, but the horrors never cease, and Steve's been gone a total of three weeks.

"Hey," Robin breaks him from his thoughts as she leans over to whisper in his ear, "since you're gonna daydream, you might as well actually dream. Scouts say it'll be a while before we can continue moving."

"I'm not daydreaming, I'm thinking."

"Well, be sleeping instead. You'll be more useful with some rest," Robin pats her shoulder, inviting him to lean his head against it.

"Don't use my weakness against me. You know I love being useful," Steve sighs as he drops his head onto her shoulder.

"I know. It makes you easy to manipulate," Robin teases. He can hear the smile in her voice. "Now, shut up and sleep."

Steve grumbles under his breath. No real words, just grumpy noises as he does shift and get as comfortable as he can leaned against Robin. He is tired, and with nothing else he can be doing, he won't feel too guilty about it.

He closes his eyes.

He opens his eyes, blinking rapidly at the sudden brightness of the sun shining through the glass storefront of Family Video. Usually when he dreams of the past, the sun's never this bright. It's been years since he's seen the sun at all, with the red-black sky of the Upside Down looming above them constantly.

He takes a deep breath, basking in the fresh(ish) air of Family Video. How long has it been since he's taken a breath without his mouth covered by a mask, bandana, some cloth or another? Well, he's not really breathing without a mask on, his conscious self has one on, but it still feels good to fill his lungs and release. He has half a mind to jump the counter and go outside to repeat that; see if his unconscious mind will provide a difference in the air, if it remembers enough to do so.

"Hey Steve," Dustin says as he is stepping through the doors with Max at his side. It's then that Steve takes in where the dream has started. The doors have just opened, and Steve's looking partially over his shoulder, towards the doors instead of the TV as it plays the news of Chrissy's death on the screen. The world fades back into motion, instead of the slowness the beginning of his dream started as Dustin finishes his question, "how many phones do you have?"

"Are you seeing this?" Steve asks on autopilot, playing out the scene he knows, but he holds off from stating the someone was murdered part. He's tired of saying it.

"How many phones do you have?" Dustin asks with more urgency.

Steve takes in Dustin and Max while Robin explains the phone situation. It's been so fucking long since he's seen Dustin. Since Max was able to see him. God. He can't let this play out like normal. It's not going to fix reality, he knows that logically, but what would it hurt to live out his fantasy of getting a re-do while he dreams? Wasn't that what he was thinking about while awake?

He tunes back into the conversation when Dustin shoves his backpack across the counter, and then himself. Instead of whining about the tapes, he reaches for the pen and notepad they keep close to the till. "Hey, what's this about?"

"Max, fill them in while I do this," Dustin replies.

Max turns to him and Robin, who is eyeing both Steve and Max but listening. Max explains what Steve already knows. The lights going crazy, Eddie fleeing his own home, and that it might be Upside Down related.

There's a script here. Responses he has memorized because of how often he dreams this moment over and over. An answer Steve usually gives, but this time he finds he can hold his tongue. He doesn't have to speak. Doesn't have to follow the script.

"Okay," Steve says instead. "Dustin, what's the number for the Byers now?

Surprisingly, that actually pulls Dustin from the computer. He spins on the stool to give Steve a confused look. "What? Why?"

If he's being honest with himself, he's never really had this much control over his dreams before. Having this control makes him want to do all the things he's daydreamed about. To change the choices that fill him with regret and guilt. "I want to leave a message for Jonathan," Steve lies, "or talk to him if he's home. Give him a heads up that Upside Down shit might be going on again."

Dustin narrows his eyes at Steve, suspicious, "Jonathan?"

"Yeah. Jonathan," Steve says in his bitchiest voice. "Number, dude."

He can tell Dustin doesn't fully believe the lie, but he recites the number anyway.

"Thanks," Steve says as he scoots around Robin and heads to Keith's office to use the phone there. The first thing he does is call the police station and let them know that he saw Eddie Munson at Rick Lipton's place, up by Lover's Lake on Holland Road. The lady who answered starts to ask questions, Steve just says he recognized the trailer on TV as the Munson's and hangs up. He'll swing by later once everyone else has pieced together the Rick Lipton part of this all themselves. If Eddie's still there, he'll drag him to the station himself.

'Cause the thing is, Steve has thought of many scenarios. So many. And even if nothing else changes, this is the bit that will. Eddie cannot be killed in the Upside Down if he is in a jail cell instead. And if the police do follow up on his tip, then they'll take Eddie in for questioning before Fred dies. And that's.

Well.

Steve's living through the end of the world and that changes people. It's changed Steve. Once there would have been a time when allowing someone to die, knowing it was going to happen and not stopping it, would have filled Steve with guilt, regret, maybe even some self-loathing. But Steve's made enough sacrifices for this town. Lost enough of the people he loves to be jaded. Maybe even cruel. If Fred has to die to prove that Eddie didn't do it, then that's what will happen.

His next step is to call the Byers. It surprises him that Joyce actually answers with a hesitant hello. That never happens in the dreams.

"Joyce. I mean, Ms. Byers. It's Steve. Uhh, Steve Harrington," he says.

"Oh. Hello Steve. What, uh, what can I do for you?" Joyce's voice is still hesitant.

"Listen, the Upside Down is back. Or, like, it was never gone? I don't know. But I needed to tell you."

"Oh my God," Joyce sounds horrified, and Steve can hear Murray in the background asking questions. "Are you sure?"

"Absolutely. Vec- sorry, it has already killed a girl. Max was a witness. Well, of the aftermath. But that's not important. What I need is for you to tell El that she's never been a monster and never will be. That everything has been the fault of One. And I think you should tell her Hopper is alive and you're going to rescue him."

There's not an immediate answer. A rustling sound and then faint voices he can't make out. She must be covering the phone with her hand as she and Murray talk. Or argue, knowing Murray. After a moment, Murray's voice comes through the line, "How do we know you are who you say you are?"

It's followed by Joyce shouting, "How do you know about Hopper?" and Murray quickly shushing her and some shuffling noises before Joyce says, "Okay. We're both listening."

"Look, I know you have no reason to believe me so I'll give you something that might serve as proof that I know things I shouldn't. When everyone gets back from the roller rink, be there for El. She's going to- to have a bad night, because of a girl that's been, like, bullying her at school. Then, I need you to get them headed this way tomorrow morning, because you gotta be gone then, too, but like. Be there for El tonight. There will be an incident involving a roller skate. So, if you believe me, call me back after that."

"How do we know you're who you claim to be, Steve?" Murray questions again, while Joyce says, horrified, "El's been being bullied?"

"I can't exactly prove I'm me. But call my house tonight after you've spoken to El and I'll answer. That's the best I can do. I... I don't know if Jonathan or Mike have my number, but Mike can call home and get my number from Nancy. That'll be proof, right? Or Will can get it from Dustin. Whichever."

"And how do you know about something happening tonight at the roller rink?" Joyce demands.

"I know more than I should. So, if the roller rink thing holds up, and you decide to at least hear me all the way out, call my house," Steve hangs up then, not wanting to get into a loop of explanation.

"Steve! Hurry up and come help people while I help Thing One and Thing Two!" Robin calls through the door and Steve takes a step towards the closed door to comply but he stops, hand hanging just above the doorknob. That's how the dream goes. That's what 19-year-old Steve would have done.

But that's a Steve that died five years ago, when the world ended, when the apocalypse started. Steve's not 19 anymore, though he must look it, a master of his own puppet. He's never sought himself out in a mirror when he dreams; he's too busy taking in everyone who has been lost to him in his waking life to bother with himself.

What does he want to do this time?

What does he want to do right now?

He leaves Keith's office to beeline to Dustin, pausing only to pat Robin on the shoulder. He slides around Max and comes to a stop beside Dustin.

"I already told you, I need this for-" Dustin starts to speak but cuts off with a squawk that sounds like a mixture of indignation and confusion as Steve just reaching out and bodily turns Dustin towards him. "Steve, this is important!"

"I know," Steve says and then hugs Dustin. Dustin doesn't hug back, but neither does he pull away. Steve knows he's missed Dustin, felt his loss for many years now, but holding Dustin now, feeling him solid and here feels Steve what he can only equate to grief.

Dustin lets himself be hugged for what is, undoubtedly, an awkward amount of time for him before he thumps Steve's back twice and says, "okay... You can stop now."

Steve lets go and turns to Max, who immediately puts her hands up, "No. Absolutely not."

He chuckles and steps around her. He won't force his affection on her.

Then he takes off the family video vest and sets it on the counter.

"Steve?" Robin asks.

"Sorry, Robs, I can't stay and help customers. I have some things I got to do."

"Steve, you cannot abandon me on a Saturday!"

He can't quite bring himself to feel bad for abandoning her. It is a shit thing to do but right now saving Eddie and Max from Vecna is more important. He's already wasting daylight, so instead of answering his gives her his best 'I'm so sorry' face and bolts out the door. All three of them shout after him but he doesn't slow.

He's got a list of regrets to change.

-

Tagging the besties and all the people that expressed interest when I posted the lil blurb about this. Sorry if I missed you!

@i-less-than-three-you @nburkhardt @afewproblems @skepsiss @music9009 @apomaro-mellow @soaringornithopter @reighnofdreams @eddie-munsons-lunchbox @sirsnacksalot @livelifeliketheresnotomorow @sageclipse @schnukiputz @mbloggotdeletedsothisismybackup @lumoschildextra @vampirestevie @alex-axolotl @juleswashere3 @yet-still-more-banched

[ranna-alga]

I admittedly got into RDR2 five years late and I remember being confused seeing older comments of fans completely dogpiling on Mary Linton (née Gillis - a character who I interpreted much differently than these users did), but assumed maybe people would have grown up a bit since then and understand Mary better. Unfortunately, I still see so many people completely misunderstand and shit on Mary's character and I want to talk about it (this meta will be my opinion AND biased as a Mary defender, but idc)

I cannot stand it when people, particularly male fans, call Mary "manipulative" or someone who just "uses Arthur when it's convenient to her" because that just isn't true, and it really shows that a lot of the people who just trash on her have no idea what they are actually talking about.

Labelling her as someone who uses Arthur just for her own personal conveniences makes no sense when you consider the fact that so many other characters, including members of the Van der Linde gang, have also asked Arthur to do things for them, including requests that are much worse than anything Mary could have asked for (you know, like Strauss for example?). Not only that, but if Arthur rejects Mary's help, she doesn't get angry - if anything, she understands why he may be reluctant to help her. If Mary truly only wanted to use Arthur, she wouldn't have shown how grateful she was for his help and how much she truly did miss spending time with him by asking him out on a date to the theatre.

And to those who criticise her for not being able to leave her family sooner: do you... not remember the time period this story is set in? All of RDR2 (1899 - 1907) takes place before women got electoral equality with men (1928) and during the main story's time, women were very much under the control of their husbands - or their fathers if they were not married. A big reason as to why Arthur wasn't able to marry Mary in the first place when they were courting each other was because her father didn't approve of his outlaw lifestyle.

Even if she had more of her own autonomy, we must remember that Mary is part of an abusive family unit. She often tries to excuse her father's terrible actions even though she knows how awful of a man he has become over the years. She is isolated and is hopping from one temporary shelter to another (Valentine, Saint Denis, etc) - she is a widow, she cannot depend on her father obviously, she cannot depend on her mother since she died, nor could she depend on her brother Jamie since perhaps she thought that she was meant to be the source of dependency as the older sibling. Mary said it herself in her goodbye letter (if Arthur rejects to help her) that she truly had no one else to turn to. Arthur was literally the only other person she could ask help from and even then, it seemed like a last resort after not interacting with each other for many years before her first mission and her being apologetic for taking up his time.

Mary holds a lot of regret and remorse for how things ended and it is clear she still thinks about what could have been between her and Arthur. When she fully accepts that she doesn't want to continue living such a miserable life because of her family, she makes a big leap in suggesting she and Arthur run away together, a parallel to Arthur's proposal years before, showing that she has grown and no longer wants to accept a life she feels trapped in.

People who criticise Mary for not being able to leave her family + the life she has always known behind should also consider how Arthur is the exact same. He is as much of a victim of this unfair circumstance as Mary is, but we have seen how he couldn't leave the gang life behind. It was what he died for, after all. He failed to meet the promise he made to Mary that he would run away with her after getting some money and ensuring the gang members' safety - which technically isn't his fault since this was pre-Guarma, but Mary couldn't have known about that. To her, he kept making promises he couldn't keep/getting dragged into violent crime life and she couldn't bear to continue having false hope anymore.

It's a shame that Mary has been given such a bad rap by certain fans who have mischaracterised her. Her story is a sad one and so is her love story with Arthur. I will always love and defend Mary (+ the other main female characters of RDR2) and I truly wonder how different her and Arthur's lives would have been if they managed to run away and get married (TB ideally excluded) and how happy they would have been.

[sequinsmile-x]

The Call

Movie night was, of course, Penelope’s idea. 

AKA - the one where a classic horror film makes Emily, who is freshly back from Paris, panic, and it changes things between her and Aaron forever.

-x-

Hi besties,

Happy Halloween to those who celebrate it! I hope you all have fun and eat all the candy your heart desires.

I did a little poll for what Halloween fic you guys wanted, and the results were so close I decided to do both!! This one won so I've done it first, and the cute family one with them in matching costumes will hopefully go up tomorrow!

I hope you enjoy this, and as always please let me know what you think <3

-x-

Warnings: brief/non specific references to PTSD

Words: 3.9k

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

Movie night was, of course, Penelope’s idea. 

Ever since Emily’s return from Paris, from the dead, both Penelope and Dave were going to great lengths to bring the team back together, to erase the pain from the last year. It’s why she agrees to go to movie night in the first place, even though it’s truly the last thing she wants to do. 

She’d only been home for a handful of weeks. She still felt unsteady, the path beneath her feet uneven and paved with the choices of her past, decisions she refused to call mistakes no matter how much she despised their outcome. She’d done what she had to - both when she was with Ian, and when she was protecting the team, the closest thing she had to a family, from him. Her lack of regret didn’t make any of it any easier to deal with. She hated how her friends looked at her sometimes, how they’d look at her as if they didn’t know her. As if she was still dead and buried to them and they were simply looking at a ghost. 

Sometimes, she wondered if she was one. The person she was before all of this long gone, with someone else left in her place. 

The only person who didn’t treat her that way was Aaron. He didn’t try and pretend everything was okay like Penelope, or look at her like she was a stranger like she’d sometimes catch Derek doing, a spark of betrayal in his eyes that she knows she’ll have to address one day. Aaron simply just let her be. He would take her lead on everything whether it was at work or in their personal lives outside of the BAU. He was kind to her, achingly so, and it only made her one and only regret in this entire mess hurt even more. 

Before Sean McAllister had called her, before his warning about Ian had torn her life to shreds, the comfort and safety she’d found in the last few years ripped apart at the seams, she and Aaron had been close to something more than simply being friends. 

She helped him after Haley died. Did whatever she could to make him and Jack as content as they could be. She’d cook for them, and go grocery shopping so Aaron didn’t have to deal with crowds of people all going about their day as if his world hadn’t changed forever. She’d spend weekends with them at diners that served smiley face pancakes and then at the zoo, holding Jack on her hip as she let him repeat all the facts he knew about the lions, his fingers curled around a necklace that had since been sold in the liquidation of her estate after her death. 

Sometimes, she would catch Aaron looking at her, a glint in his eyes she thought she knew the name of at the time, the same feelings she’d only come to terms with when she found him in hospital after Foyet attacked him.  She didn’t know when she’d fallen in love with him. It had happened slowly, taking over bit by bit until she didn’t remember how it felt to not love him. It was only when he was missing, fear a vice around her heart, that she dared to name it. All pretence that it was nothing more than a crush left shattered around her on his living room floor, the pieces of it mixed in with his drying blood and the smell of iron in the air. 

She waited. Ignored every moment that felt like it could be their moment, because the last thing she wanted was to be a rebound. A place of misplaced comfort for him after the death of the woman he’d once promised forever to. 

Eventually, when he was doing better. When his smile was real and she’d have to clench her fists to stop herself from pressing her thumbs into his dimples, she felt like it might just be their time. Before she could ask him on a date, he beat her to it. His request coming out as a fumbled demand, his eyes wide and cheeks warm with embarrassment as he admitted he hadn’t asked anyone out since he was 16 years old. If anything, it made her love him even more, and she kissed his cheek and told him she’d love a date with him. 

Sean called the next day, and her life as she knew it came to an end. She pulled away from him, ignored the look in his eyes when she cancelled their date, and she told herself it was the right thing to protect him and Jack. 

Her one regret now she was home, now she was trying to pick up the pieces of who she was and build someone new out of them, was that she’d never kissed him properly. That she’d never pressed her lips against his and found out if it was more than she’d imagined. If their lips would slot against each other like she thought they would, if their noses could squish against each other’s cheeks. She regretted it, because she’d missed her chance. He hadn’t brought up the date they never had, the couple they could have been, and she couldn’t bring herself to do it herself. Couldn’t bear the rejection now he knew the worst thing she’d ever done, his perspective of who she was forever changed by the person she’d actually always been, even if he hadn’t known those parts of her. 

She could settle for being his friend. Could accept that was all they’d ever be, but she’d never stop regretting not taking the leap when she had the chance. 

She jumps a little when she hears a knock on the passenger window of her car, and she rolls her eyes when she sees Aaron standing outside, a smile on his face as she unlocks the doors.

“You were in your own little world,” he says as he climbs into the car, his smile turning into a teasing smirk, “I was stood there long enough I started to think I’d have to walk to Dave’s.” 

She chuckles dryly and raises her eyebrow at him as she watches him click his seatbelt into place, “That’s still an option if you continue to mock your designated driver for the evening.” 

His car had broken down, much to his annoyance, and he’d originally said he wasn’t going to go to movie night as a result. She’d immediately offered to drive him, a brief reflection of another time when she’d made the same offer, because she found herself unwilling to spend the evening without him. He hadn’t taken much persuading, although Dave had teased him a little and called him a ‘passenger princess,’ and she was grateful for it, for the comfort his presence brought her in situations where she felt like she had to perform for everyone else. 

“You’re right,” he says, his smile not fading, his hands held up in surrender, “I do appreciate you coming to get me.” 

She hums as she starts to drive away, “It’s purely selfish really,” she says, smiling as she briefly looks at him, “If you’re not there, who would stop me from snapping spaghetti in front of Dave just to get a reaction?” 

He laughs, the sound beautiful and goofy and entirely him, and she feels her heart grow in her chest. She looks back at the road, ignoring what she thinks might be affection in his eyes, convinced she was wrong. “Well, we can’t have that.” 

___

He was in love with her. 

He’d been desperate to ignore it at first. His attraction to her something that made him feel guilty, the familiar pull in his gut whenever he looked at her, whenever he’d focus on the cut of her jaw and the slope of her neck, quickly turning to irritation aimed at her. He piled it on top of his mistrust of her and her sudden appearance on his team. 

As that all faded, disappearing along with his marriage with the signing of divorce papers, leaving just the attraction and something more in its wake. As soon as he started trusting her, he saw everything else he’d been desperately ignoring. Her kindness. Her empathy. Her bravery. How she looked after everyone around her, how she cared for people she loved and the victims of the cases they worked. Everything she did enhanced her beauty, made her more incredible to him, and everything he had found out about her time at Interpol, her time with Ian Doyle, had been no different. 

Just when he thought she couldn’t be braver, she had proven him wrong. 

He wished so many things were different. He wished she’d spoken to him about it, that she’d given him the chance to help her. He wished he’d asked her out on a date sooner, and that he hadn’t taken her eventual rejection so personally he hadn’t been able to see through it to the panic and fear that laid beneath. 

He wished he’d kissed her, just once, so he knew what it felt like. 

She was different now she was back. Still her. Still the Emily he loved, but different. Changed by the things she’d been through, by the things she’d died for and the things she’d survived. He knew how it felt to have your life as you knew it torn from under you, how long it took to feel like you were back on an even footing. She’d helped him after Haley died. She’d looked after him and Jack, been whatever they needed her to be. Sometimes he’d watch her, Jack happy and content in her arms as he spoke at her about anything and everything, and he’d find himself impossibly more in love with her. 

From the outside, he’s sure they looked like the family he hoped that they one day would be. 

He so desperately wanted to pick up where they’d left off. The 9 months without her had been torture, the separation confirming how much he loved her, how much he needed her, but he didn’t want to push her, half convinced that her time away had changed her mind anyway. 

He decided he’d follow her lead. He’d happily be her friend for as long as she needed him to be, even if that was forever, as long as he could be in her life in some way. 

He’d lived without her before, and he had no intention to do it again. 

“So,” Penelope says, clapping her hands together to get everyone's attention, making him jump a little as she draws him out of his thoughts, “Since it’s Halloween tomorrow, I thought we could watch a classic horror,” she pulls a DVD out of her purse and holds it up proudly so they can all see it, the words When a Stranger Calls emblazoned on the front. Penelope sighs when no one else shows the same enthusiasm as her, “Unless anyone else has a better idea.” 

“No, that sounds fine,” Dave says, handing her the remote so she can get everything going, “Horror and pasta - the nights in dreams are made of.” 

Penelope narrows her eyes at him, “I know you’re making fun of me, but that actually is a perfect evening.” 

“I would have thought you weren’t into horror, Baby Girl,” Derek says, his smile amused as he watches her set everything up, “It doesn’t seem like your kind of thing.” 

“Usually it isn’t,” she says, sitting next to him on the couch, making a point of sitting as close as possible, “But it’s Halloween, so it has to be done. Plus, it was made in the 70s. It’s not even that scary when you compare it to everything they make these days.” 

“I recently saw one set almost entirely in an elevator,” Spencer adds, throwing some popcorn into his mouth, “The twist was predictable.” 

JJ rolls her eyes at him, “You think every twist is predictable.” 

As the others carry on their discussion, Aaron realises Emily is silent next to him, her shoulders so tight he can practically feel the tension rolling off of her. He looks at her and concern blooms in his gut, her jaw also tense as she stares straight ahead, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. 

“Are you okay, Em?” He asks, his voice quiet so only she can hear him. She looks up at him and nods, a short sharp thing that does nothing to convince him. 

“I’m okay,” she replies, “Just tired I think.” 

He doesn’t believe her, but he lets it go, files it away for later, because the others are quietening down as the movie starts. He barely focuses on it, all of his attention on her, how she holds her breath at certain points, anticipating moments in a movie she’s seen before, the awareness of what is to come somehow making it worse. Her shoulders get impossibly tighter, and he looks down to see her picking at her cuticles. He’s about to reach out to stop her, unable to prevent his hand from moving towards hers, when she sucks in a sharp breath. It sounds painful even to him, drowned out by the infamous line of the movie he wasn’t watching. 

"We've traced the call... it's coming from inside the house.”

She stands up suddenly, looking as surprised as everyone else, a flash of something close to fear in her eyes as she walks towards the door. 

“Do you want us to pause the movie?” Penelope asks, and Emily’s hand grips the door handle tighter than necessary for a moment before she shakes her head. 

“No,” she says, a smile Aaron knows is fake painted across her face, “I’ve seen it before. I just need the bathroom.” 

She’s gone before anyone can say anything else, her departure from the room forgotten almost immediately as a jump scare happens on the screen. Aaron gives it a couple of minutes before he goes to check on her, not wanting to draw too much attention to himself or her, and he tells Dave when he asks where he’s going that he’s getting another drink. He heads towards the bathroom, but changes direction towards the front door when he feels a cool breeze and sees the door slightly ajar. He finds her outside, sitting on the top step of Dave’s porch, her elbows on her knees and her head in her hands. He walks over, makes sure he’s a little heavy footed so she hears him coming, and he sits next to her. He doesn’t say anything. He simply sits there, providing the silent support he would want in her situation. 

“You don’t have to check on me,” she says, clearing her throat as she turns to look at him, tears shining in her eyes that they both ignore.

“Yes I do,” he replies, leaving no room for argument, “Was it the movie?” 

She scoffs at herself and nods, “It’s stupid really. I’ve seen it maybe a hundred times. I love horror movies,” she blows out a breath, “But the phone calls. The shadow of the intruder,” she shakes her head and wipes a stray tear from her cheek, “It all felt a little…”

“Close to home,” he finishes for her when she drifts off, and she nods in agreement, looking down at her lap instead of at him. 

“Yeah,” she says, swallowing thickly, “Every time I…every time I think I’m doing okay something like this happens. It’s like he keeps taking things from me even though he’s dead.”

He knows she doesn’t want platitudes. That she doesn’t want assurances that everything will be okay, so he doesn’t say them. Holds them back no matter how much he wants to comfort her in that way. 

“After Foyet, I had to take down every picture in my apartment,” he says, his eyes fixed on her as she looks up at him, her brows furrowed in curiosity, “Just before he attacked me, and I mean seconds before, I saw his reflection in a picture hanging on the wall. When I got back from the hospital I couldn’t look at them. Every reflection, every change in lighting made me panic.” 

“What stopped it?” 

He smiles sadly, “Well, it still happens occasionally,” he says, his heart aching when her face falls, “But it got better. I started putting them back up bit by bit,” he smiles fondly, “When Jack came home he asked why the apartment ‘looked boring’ so I put most of them back up then. Except the one I saw Foyet in.” 

She hums, her eyes closed as she smiles sadly, “So, you’re saying I need to be patient with myself?” 

“I’m saying, Em, that healing isn’t linear. And you should never be mad at yourself for some things being harder than they were before, even if it’s something like not being able to watch horror movies anymore.” 

She chuckles, the sound wet as it catches in her throat, “Maybe I should stick to Disney movies with you and Jack.”

He reaches out for her, his hand on her shoulder as he squeezes it, hoping it provides some comfort, “You know we’ll never say no to that,” he says, smiling when she nods, “Do you want to go home?” 

“I don’t want the others to know,” she says, her lips pressed together, “It would upset Pen if she knew the film she chose upset me…” she sighs, “And I just don’t want anyone to know but you.” 

“No one has to know,” he assures her, and she raises her eyebrows at him, something other than sadness flashing in he eyes as she rolls them at him. 

“And how would we get around leaving 15 minutes into the movie?”

“I’ll tell them I don’t like horror films and that I’m going to go,” he says, shrugging one of his shoulders, “And you drove me here, so you have to go too.” 

She beams at him, her lips pressed together as she tries to contain it, as if it feels at odds with the emotions still tumbling in her gut, “You’d do that for me?” 

He nods and squeezes her shoulder one more time, “I’d do anything for you.”

___

When she wakes up in the morning, she has a headache. She groans as she pulls herself out of bed, rubbing her eyes as she blearily walks out of the bedroom. She yawns as she walks through her apartment, desperate to seek out a cup of tea, but she comes to a stop when she smells bacon, her eyebrows furrowing as she steps into the kitchen and finds Aaron standing at her counter, two plates of pancakes and bacon plated up in front of him.

“I was just about to wake you up,” he says, his smile soft as he looks up at her. He’s still in his clothes from the night before, his polo shirt slightly rumpled and his hair askew, “You could do with going grocery shopping,” he raises his eyebrow at her, “But there was enough for me to make pancakes and I found some bacon in your freezer.” 

She opens her mouth to talk, but no words come out, the shock of finding him in her kitchen looking so deliciously domestic, stealing her ability to speak. He’d offered to come to her place with her, able to tell from her behaviour she wasn’t sure how she felt about being home alone after the reaction she’d had to the movie, and he said he’d get a cab home when she was ready for him to leave. They’d watched Star Wars together and shared a bottle of wine. She’d eventually felt brave enough to ask him to stay until she fell asleep, barely able to look him in the eye as she asked. He’d agreed without pause, and they’d said goodnight. She’d slept well for once, something she was sure in part was because she knew he’d been there when she fell asleep, and she wasn’t expecting to find him still here this morning. 

“Did you go home at all?” 

He looks sheepish as she asks the question, avoiding her gaze as he finishes plating up breakfast, “No,” he says, clearing his throat, “I slept on the couch.” 

Her eyebrows raise at that, “Aaron, that couch isn’t big enough to sleep on,” she says, looking him up and down, “You must have been so uncomfortable.” 

He shrugs, as if it’s nothing, “It wasn’t that bad,” he replies, and she narrows her eyes at him, “Okay, my back is killing me. But I wanted to be here in case you needed me.” 

Suddenly, she can see everything she’s been missing since she came back. The love in his eyes, the way he was looking at her. The way he looked after her at every turn, somehow always managing to be whatever she needed him to be. 

They were both idiots. 

She walks over, not allowing herself to second guess anything, not herself or their feelings for each another, and she cups his cheeks as she kisses him. He tastes like pancake batter and coffee, and something that she knows is just him. It takes him a moment to respond, the longest in her life, but he does. His hands on her back as he pulls her closer, his nose squished against her cheek as he leans into the kiss.

It answers every question they’d both ever had, and creates more - like how had they lived without this for so long? Why had they delayed what now felt inevitable?

She pulls away when breathing becomes necessary, and she rests her forehead against his, completely unsure what she should say, “I…”

“I think we’ve both been waiting a long time to do that,” he says, cupping her cheek as her hands drift down his chest, eventually landing on his hips. 

“Yeah,” she replies, her tongue peeking out to lick her lower lip, chasing the flavour of him, “I think we have,” she stamps he lips against his again, unable to stop herself, the glass broken now she’d done it, “We should talk.” 

He nods and kisses her, his hand tangling in her hair, “Good thing I made breakfast,” he says, smiling at her like she’d hung the moon and the stars, as if she’s the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen in her oversized t-shirt and pyjama shorts, “We can eat and talk about everything,” he tucks her hair behind her ear, “But, I think we’ll be on the same page about a lot of things.”

She smiles and rests her forehead against his, “I think we will be,” she smiles, happiness flooding through her chest, “I was going to tell you that I have a spare bedroom, in case you ended up sleeping over in future to save your back,” she chuckles when his eyes go wide, internally cursing himself for the unnecessary back pain, “But I have a feeling you won’t be needing it,” she runs her fingers through his hair, flattening it out, “The mattress in my room is much better anyway.” 

He kisses her to stop himself from saying he loves her then and there, and she does the same, pouring everything she doesn’t have the words for yet into it. 

She loved him, and he loved her too, and for now, just knowing that would be enough for them both. 

[auspicioustidings]

Ae Fond Kiss - Part 8 (Final)

A Red, Red Rose

Summary: A bombshell is dropped and you look to the future. Words: 2k TWs: mention of miscarriage

So I've lost interest in this fic hence why we have a rushed wrap up because I didn't just want to abandon it :') All parts - 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8

“We gonna do this forever then Johnny?”

It was a form of torture Simon was sure, them having lunch together once a week every week and making small talk. He missed his best friend. He missed being able to say something outrageous and knowing Johnny would call him a sick bastard and then immediately try to outdo him.

“Eat lunch?” Johnny replied a little miserably, shuffling pasta about his plate.

“Johnny…”

“What dae ye want me tae say LT?”

“Not your LT anymore, retired remember? And Price told me about your promotion.”

Captain John MacTavish did have a nice ring to it, and Soap had more than earned the stripes. In another world he’d have grinned at Ghost, smug as anything and making some comment about being able to order him around now. But instead he frowned and Simon hated it. 

“Talk to me for Christ sake!”

“I cannae! Ye want me tae tell ye how much I miss your wife? How it kills me that she’ll never forgive me and that she’s right about it?”

“Johnny…”

“Or were ye hoping tae hear that I dinnae even regret Las Almas? It’s ruined everything, but I’ve loved you since I broke my fingers on that stupid bloody mask and I didnae even realise until we nearly fucking died! Ignored it even when I did, had 9 years tae think about how either way I was breaking my own heart because it decided it loved two different people!”

Fuck. He was crying. Johnny was crying. And Simon was caught between wanting to kiss him or kill him. He had never expected to be loved back was the thing. He did something unbearably selfish on the understanding it was all one sided, that the fuck was just the adrenaline from thinking they were going to die and they’d forget it ever happened. And then everything had went to shit and he had fallen in love with Johnny’s widow. He’d already lost one person he loved because he was too scared to admit it, he just couldn’t do it again,  selfish asshole that he was. 

“You should regret it. You… we hurt her. Hurt her so bad that we might lose her.”

“Aye. I deserve tae lose her though, never deserved tae have her in the first place anyway. I just caught you in the crossfire of my sins.”

“Who the fuck are you?” Simon said with full derision.

This has gone on long enough. So what? Everyone was just supposed to be miserable forever? They were supposed to just lay down and take it? Johnny looked at him, hurt and confused. 

“I watched you fight every break up. You fought tooth and fucking nail to make it work. When you fucked up you made it up to her. When she fucked up you forgave her. And what? Now that Johnny is dead? Either you still love her and are willing to fight to get her back, or any part of the man I loved died in Russia.”

“You’ve lost yer fucking mind Si, she’s your wife!”

Simon stood, determined.

“And our wife needs to remember who she belongs to and who belongs to her.”

As he started marching off Johnny near choked and scrambled to follow.

“Ye cannae be serious! Leave her be Si! Ye cannae just barge in and-and-”

“And tell her she’ll try forgive us because we’ll spend the rest of our lives making it up to her? That we can start right now by showing her how well you can follow orders and how well I can give them for her benefit? I bloody well can and I’m bloody well going to. Either you’re with me or you can stay and mope.”

“...aye sir.”

–

Once upon a time Joey being at a sleepover was exciting, it meant some much needed alone time with your husband. Now though? The house felt cold, empty. You considered asking Gaz and Price’s partner if they’d come round to hang out, but it felt so messy when they were just as much Simon’s friend as they were yours. It would somehow make you miss him more. 

Everytime he was at the house briefly and you made polite conversation you wanted to cry. You had a few times, only after he was gone of course. That big fucking lummox. You wanted to strangle him, but then again that wasn’t exactly new. And you wanted rhubarb and sugar. Oh you could murder some rhubarb dipped in sugar like your parents used to give you as a kid. 

The door went just as you finished pouring a large glass of wine. Simon stood looking like he sometimes did when you were about to get absolutely ruined in bed and you swore your heart nearly stopped. Johnny was by his side, pupils blown with a blush crawling up his neck as if he somehow knew exactly what images just popped into your mind. Oh. Oh you suddenly wanted them so badly it hurt. 

And damn them for knowing you so well, for being able to fucking tell. Simon’s lips were on yours as he walked into the house, you being led backwards. You were clawing at his shirt as he squeezed your ass until you bumped into the kitchen island and realised how insane this was, pulling away to try find Johnny. He had followed, was swallowing thickly as Simon started to kiss and nip a path down your neck. This was insane. This was certifiably mental. You could not… have a threesome? Have a threesome with your husband and your husband who had fucked each other ten years ago on a mission before one faked his damn death. 

“W-what are you doing? We can’t…” you mumbled, trying to get your head on straight since currently your brain seemed to reside between your legs.

“Tell me what you need princess. Want me on my knees begging against your pussy? Want Johnny to fly you to Hawaii and keep you in the lap of luxury for a month? Want us to be here every single day in the garden announcing to the neighbours that we deserve a fucking whipping for how badly we fucked everything up with the gorgeous mother of our child?”

Christ almighty. So much for Simon being the unemotional and ineloquent one. You couldn’t handle this. You couldn’t handle how much you wanted to just give in. He made it sound so easy, like you could have them both, like they would give you whatever you wanted just to stay by your side despite what they’d done. He was going to his knees in front of you.

“Rhubarb!”

The room froze for a moment as Simon hit the ground with his knees and just stared at you.

“...is that, uh, a safeword?” Johnny asked, seemingly surprised out of the slack jawed, dazed state he seemed to have been in. 

“No. I mean I… rhubarb. You asked what I needed. Rhubarb and sugar, but we have sugar in the cupboard so… just the rhubarb.”

“...ok, rhubarb. We can do rhubarb” Simon said after a moment, taking it in his stride as he snuck a peck to your stomach where his head currently was and then stood. 

If they just left and went to the shops maybe you could… you didn’t know. Maybe you could hurriedly touch yourself to get rid of the ache between your legs and then neck your wine to get rid of the one in your chest. Simon turned and nodded to Johnny and took a few steps, so you picked up the glass of wine to calm yourself down only for Johnny to pluck it out of your hands.

“Unless you’ve suddenly developed a taste for red wine I’d appreciate that back” you snapped at him.

“And since you’ve suddenly developed a taste for rhubarb I’m naw giving it tae ye.”

“MacTavish” Simon scolded, sure Johnny was about to ruin what he was hoping was some reconciliation here.

“That’s not…” you started before you went pale. 

“How ye been feeling recently hen?”

Oh no. Not now. You just assumed you felt sick because of the stress. But then the take away food had seemed so off despite you usually loving it. You kept having to throw up. You were lethargic. And now you needed rhubarb and sugar, something you had only craved twice in your adult life, the most recent being over a decade ago. The last time you were pregnant. 

“What’s going on?” Simon asked, not liking at all how your face just fell as he strode back to you. “What did you do Johnny? It’s ok sweetheart, I’m sorry we just showed up, seemed like a good idea at the time. Just missed you so much.”

The universe had a sick sense of humour. Over a year of trying for a baby with this man. 18 fucking months. And you get pregnant right before your other husband comes back from the dead, the one it turns out your current husband has slept with behind your back? This could not be happening, but all the signs were there. When had you last had a period? You hadn’t even noticed that you were late with everything going on. 

You tried to do the maths in your head. It had been a few months since Johnny had come back, so you were at the very least that far along. 8 weeks. You had miscarried at 10. Maybe you were further along, maybe you were past the worst of the danger. God you prayed you were past the worst of the danger. 

“Si, gie her some room would ye? We’re right here, if ye want us tae be. It’s up to you, you dinnae have tae…” Johnny said, struggling to get out the words.

There was no thought in your mind that you would get rid of this baby, but the fact that he was putting that option out there when he himself had always been so desperate for a big family was something you appreciated more than you could say. Goddamnit, he still loved you. 9 years away and he still bloody loved you. Would still do whatever it took for you to be happy. Even if in that case this meant not having another baby.

How strange that you thought of this baby as his. How strange that you just as strongly thought of it as Simon’s. If the past few months had shown you anything it was that you could look after a child between the three of you, so it wasn’t like they had to be with you to do it. Even if you’d like them to be. Despite it all, you’d really fucking like them to be.

“Princess?”

You took a deep breath and smiled softly at Simon who was looking increasingly alarmed. You caressed his face and it felt like relief to touch him. 

“Maybe we can go a trip to the doctor on the way for the rhubarb Casper. Think we might be pregnant.”

–

A very healthy baby girl with an incredibly healthy set of lungs. You sang to her, love like A Red, Red Rose for your little Rose. You bawled your eyes out when Joey refused to turn down his hearing aids even when she was screaming at the top of her lungs because that was his baby sister and he would never not want to hear her. It was a good thing you could all sign with the way she drowned you all out, even Johnny as clumsy as his hands were with it had dedicated himself to learning since he had got home. 

You were fairly certain your little Rose was making Price broody with Gaz and their partner finding their grumpy old man losing his mind over a chubby baby adorable. Although there was a good chance Price wasn’t making any babies with how you had planted your foot in his groin when he finally came out of hiding. 

You were still figuring things out, but right now? Right now you were happy. You had two perfect children by two imperfect husbands. It was up in the air what your family was going to look like in the future. Did you want to forgive them? Even if you did, would you be friends and co-parents or something more?

That you hadn’t quite decided yet. But you were determined that whatever the future held for you, it was going to be a future full of love and laughter.

[liberumalas]

I LOVE YOUR DRAWINGS/ ART STYLE ALASTOR AS A CHILD IS SO CUTE !!!

What do you think baby and child Alastor was like growing up like personality and how did he get along with others and what he was like at school? Do you think he was a hard to handle baby or one of those quiet ones (fully conscious baby lol 😭)

ATTENTION, THESE ARE ALL HEADCANNONS. I'll refer back to canon when there is information but we don't know much of Alastors early life. Or of anything about him at all that much. This is gonna be a loooong one...

I also think, I'll colour code a little; orange is what is actually canon and blue is the stuff that i think ive read somewhere but might not be true or might become outdated.

I. Alastor and mental health

I think it is very likely that Alastor has ASPD (antisocial personality disorder) othervise known as psychopathy. Now people with this disorder are not inherently evil, but I'd think their upbringing takes a lot more care, attention and knowledge than the avarege person because people with aspd don't experience empathy, and regret after hurting someone or at least these feelings are very limited. They are also very likely to disregard rules, be reckless, agressive, impulsive, decietful, etc...

Alastors childhood propably stems from the 1900s to the early 1920s roughly (we don't know when he was born, only that he died in 1933 and was in his 30s-40s). Psychology was not as advanced as it is today, and it was especially propably unavailable for a child of colour.

So I think that Alastors behavior was very poorly managed throughout his childhood, leading to him becoming a not very good person (a serial killer).

II. School life

In school he'd act violent toward classmates he didn't favor. It's been said that he has a messed up moral code, but a moral code still, so I'd imagine that means either getting revenge for those who were wronged in some way and could not protect themselves (and Alastor actually liked them) or protecting those who cannot protect themselves. Either way, these likely ended up in Alastor beating another boy up, putting glass shards in his sandwich or ruining his status or reputation in some way. In fights he'd be creative and use his surroundings, other than mindless punching.

Towards his friends (whom were very likely all girls) he'd act very polite, charming and even kind. He'd enjoy spending time with them instead of other young boys who were a lot less mature and sometimes straight up repulsive and barbaric. Him and his friends would hang out, gossip, dance, etc, he was always just *one of the girls* lol. This is also where I'd imagine the moral code comes in, because of early 1900s mentality and sexism and boys bothering girls and Alastor standing up for them and those were very different times and Alastor just seems like a very uniqe case.

So he'd get into trouble all. The. Time. His poor mother is just tired and at a loss at this point. Nothing makes this kid behave better, there is no use of punishing him, she (or his father) can beat him (reminder that those were different times), talk to him, talk to teachers, punish him with chores and work, nothing works. It is a miracle he wasn't arrested yet.

III. General behavior and perception

I think he was always very confident, charismatic and passive agressive rather than outright violent (which he reserved for those he particularly hated and actually could fight or trick). He was polite usually (his mother thought him well in that regard, and being polite is very useful anyways) and very intelligent and tactical. People rarely caught onto his mischief and the targets would usually be too afraid to speak out. Usually. Or just be annoyed and if the target was an adult, hooo boy.

I think the people who knew him would see him as a troublemaker but someone who would have great potential if he wasn't such an annoying pain in the ass. He is theatrical, dramatic at times, they just really didn't know what to make of this kid. People who didn't know him would see him as a good kid, who has a strange sparkle in his eyes that could be something harmless and innocent or something that is very worrysome. Family thought he was strange, worrying, but outside that, helpful and a sweet kid. Other than the beating classmates up.

IV. Family stuff. God help me...

So... this is the part where the source of angst for every Alastor fanfiction comes from.

-About his mother:

She propably ended up in Heaven so thats the only indicator we have of her personality.

His mother was a caring, sweet as candied apple but a very troubled person. Troubled because of her husband, her son and society. But she was also very firm and and had a spine, and she was a great source of inspiration for Alastor. He loved her very much (in his own way) and enjoyed being around her.

(fyi we don't actually know, which of Alastors parents was creole and which one was white or smth else. All we know is that he himself is mixed creole.)

Alastor loved his mother's cooking and they'd both like jazz and swing and all these types of fun. She encoureged him throughout his life, though she likely didn't know about his serial killer hobby later in life. Or if she did, than that was a very complicated situation.

And oh boy, oh, man, the father of the year.

-Dear old Dad.

I don't think that for Alastor to have a valid reason to hate him (and by extension almost all men) his father had to be phisically abusive, even though beating or hitting your child was common practice to punish them. What I mean is he didn't have to throw bottles at his son's head, beat him to a bloody pulp or strangle him and his mother for Alastor to hate his guts. I think that him being pathetic and disgusting in Alastor's eyes is very much enough and maybe makes even more sense. Hear me out.

Think about the stereotypical man. The ones women oh so hate. He drinks, he smokes so much, you can't see him, he cheats and lies and he is just a mean little bitch.

(I'm a man myself, don't kill me, I wrote that from the perspective of Alastor Manhater.)

And if his father did these things that were (are somewhat still unfortunately) not at all uncommon among other men, Alastor's hatred of this can be easily extended to every man who cannot prove otherwise. Maybe even those who can or could.

So I think that while it is possible that dear ol' Dad was horribly violent towards his family, it would be a lot less clichè and maybe even make more sense for him to be a pathetic cheater who drinks and smokes and is just unpleasant to be around.

Alastor would fucking hate his guts. His father is rude to his mother and to him, he is useless, he is pathetic, he is spending the hard earned money on cigarettes, alcohol and brothels. He lies, he's mean, he's just a horrible person.

Alastor would never want to be like him, though ironically some traits he can't help but learn from him. Lying, being mean to others, he'd also as an adult would occaisionally smoke.

I also think that his relationship with his gender is not the best, in a sense that he doesn't like being a boy, because all boys are douchebags and he doesn't want to be a douchebag. Not like his father anyway.

Okay, closing words.

First of all, I'm not a native english speaker and i wrote this very very late.

Second of all, this is, again all just my idea of what Alastors early life might have looked like. Season 2 is coming soon and it was said that Alastors backstory would be important and would be explored, although that could mean his arrival and early times in Hell as well, we'll have to see.

If you yourself have any other ideas or thoughts or you think I got something wrong, comment it, I'd love to read other fans' thoughts!

Anyways, thank you for reading this far! I'd love to write in a similar format about Alastor's time as an adult or a mixed person working in radio in the late 1920s to early 1930s, so let me know, if that interests you! I'll propably do better research for that, in this one most of the history knowledge is from memory, so if ive made any errors, again, let me know.

Alright, goodbye now.

[atinylittlepain]

Big Fan - Part Two

Joel Miller x actress!reader

joel miller masterlist

Joel is smitten. But he's having a hard time figuring out when she's being real and when she's just acting.

warnings | 18+ lil angst, mostly fluff, fun times abound

a/n | this is a continuation of a request that I was not expecting so many people to like lol, read the first part here!

........................

“Real or fake?”

“Oh, definitely fake. I still don’t think I know how to hold a gun right. Those were all just plasticky props.” Joel laughs with a shake of his head as she shrugs. They’re sitting in the spot they usually find themselves in as the sun starts to turn syrupy over the mountains, Joel’s arm draped across the back of the bench seat on her porch with her ever so slightly leaning into his side. By the time he says goodnight to her, he knows she’ll be melted right under his arm, pressed fully into his side, since that’s how these nights tend to unravel. 

It’s been entirely too sweet, all this time he’s been spending with her. They’ll talk for hours, well into the night, but not without a few interruptions. Word had spread fast around Jackson about the pre-apocalyptic starlet, and Ellie was right, it wasn’t just Joel who had been a big fan of hers before. It was typically women, recognizing her from some sappy movie he remembers Sarah liking, stopping by her porch to tell her that they loved her work and if she needed anything at all, to not hesitate to ask. Joel couldn’t help but roll his eyes at these displays, but she always handled it with an awkward grace, giving them a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. Not like the smiles she gave to him.

The men that show up are a different story. Joel would like to do a bit more than roll his eyes at them, with the way they lean up against the railing, shooting her crooked grins and telling her how they just can’t believe there’s someone “so darn pretty” calling Jackson home. But she treats them just the same as the others that show up, a clean smile and a few polite words, a far cry from the sailor’s mouth Joel has found her to have around him. And he thought he couldn’t like her more than he already did. 

After a few of these visitors had come by, Joel had fixed her with a quirked look, asking her if she was “putting on a show for these folks.” She had shrugged with a grin, and that’s how this game they play came about of Joel asking her what was real, and what was fake.

“They didn’t have someone teaching you that?” She sighs, nudging a little closer into his side.

“Mm, no. Think they were a little more concerned with how my tits looked behind the machine gun than if I was holding it right.” Joel clears his throat, her crass language flustering him a bit, and she seems to know it, giggling lightly as she looks up at him.

“Well, you seem to be holding your own just fine. But I could, um, give you some pointers some time if you want. Check out your form.” He regrets those last words the instant they come out of his mouth while she throws her head back against his shoulder in a hard laugh. He grumbles, heat creeping up his neck as her cackling finally dies down. She sighs, craning her neck to catch his downturned gaze.

“You wanna check out my form, Joel?” He huffs as she dissolves back into laughter, leaning over her thighs with her elbows propping her up. This was also something that often happened during their time together. Joel would manage to put his foot in his mouth, looking like a “hopeless fool” as Ellie lovingly put it, and she’d start teasing him until he could barely stand it. They flirted like dumb teenagers with each other, Joel wasn’t so thick that he couldn’t see that. But it never went any further than her resting her cheek against his chest in the darkening night, his arm sliding to drape over her. He knows it's silly, but he'd really like for it to go further.

She glances over her shoulder at him, sighing as her laughter finally dies down.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. No more teasing, I promise.” She leans back into his side as he shakes his head.

“Have a hard time believing that, darlin.” He savors the effect that little name has on her, the melty smile she offers him whenever he calls her that. She smacks his knee before squeezing it lightly.

“Pfft, be nice, Miller. After all, you did have my poster in your bedroom.” She can barely get the words out behind her giggles. Joel tries to press a scowl across his face, but he dissolves too easily at her bright laughter, a defeated chuckle leaving his lips. 

“Alright, I couldn’t help myself. But I’m done now, I swear. In all seriousness, I’d appreciate that. You checking out my form. Could probably learn a thing or two from you.” She settles down into his side, the spot that Joel likes her in the most. He lets his arm slip down around her shoulder, hand brushing idly along her forearm.

“Why don’t we go out tomorrow for a little target practice? You can show me what you got, hollywood.” She snorts at that, hand squeezing his knee again.

“Sounds good, Texas. I’m game.”

…

“Real or fake?” She stops walking for a moment, a shy grin crinkling up her face. Joel chuckles.

“No, really?” She shrugs, picking back up the pace. They’re hiking out to a clearing Joel had used a few times to help Ellie with her target practice, a bright spring day that has them both dressed down in t-shirts, packs loosely slung over their shoulders.

“It was just a publicity stunt. Two co-stars in love. Certainly sold movie tickets, I can tell you that. But no, it was very, very fake. Truthfully, I couldn’t stand the guy.” He can’t help but laugh at her admission, shaking his head as they keep moving.

“My daughter had the biggest crush on that guy. I can remember her telling me she thought you were the luckiest lady alive to be dating him.” He lets out a long sigh. It’s been getting easier, talking about Sarah. Less of a pain and more of a relief in getting to remember her and share it with people he cares about, but a twinge still runs through his heart when he talks about her. She has been easy to talk to about it, letting him share as much or as little as he wants to, in turn telling him about her own family that she had lost, a little sister that she never got to see again. He couldn’t help being surprised at how easily they both talked with each other, coming from two completely different worlds. Though he supposes they share a whole lot more in this world they live in now.

She hums, glancing over her shoulder at him.

“Yeah, her and everybody else thought that I’m pretty sure. Such a shame he was actually a total asshat.” He snorts at that, picking up his pace to walk alongside her.

“Asshat. That’s a new one. You’ll have to share that one with Ellie. Kid’s always looking to expand her, uh, vocabulary.” She grins at him, eyes crinkling up as she laughs.

“Oh, I know. I taught her “douchebag” last week.” Joel huffs as she giggles at his exasperated expression, muttering a low “was wondering where she picked that up.” 

They fall into a comfortable silence as they reach the clearing and Joel is quick to shrug off his pack and take out the old street signs he and Ellie had painted targets on, setting them up against a stand of trees. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say she had been checking him out as he turned back around to her. But he knows better, right?

He sidles up next to her and hands her the pistol he had brought along. 

“Alright, show me how you’d normally stand.” She nods, staggering her feet slightly and cocking the gun up in one hand. Joel sighs, shaking his head as he comes up behind her.

“Almost as bad as Ellie, Jesus christ. Here–” He guides her one hand up to clasp over her other hand, bringing both his arms around her to firm up her grip with a light press of his palms. He can hear the clipped inhale she takes, can feel the stuttered rise of her shoulders from where his chest is hovering against her back. He clears his throat, leaving one more firm touch over her hands before stepping back.

“Thumb over thumb. Ain’t nobody gonna knock it out of your hands that way. And two hands are always steadier than one.” She hums in confirmation, glancing back over her shoulder at him. He nods toward the makeshift targets.

“Let’s see what kinda damage you can do, darlin.” It happens so quick, Joel can barely pick his jaw up off the ground as she turns around with a bright smile. She smoked it, hitting all three targets dead center without so much as a flinch. She saunters back over to him with a chuckle at his slack expression. 

“Where the hell did you learn how to do that?” She shrugs.

“What can I say? You learn early on as an actress to always hit your mark. Thanks for the tip though, definitely made it easier to stay steady.” She goes to hand him back the pistol and he clasps his hand around hers, pulling her a little closer.

“You didn’t need my help, not really.” She just shrugs, a crooked grin on her face as she looks at him. Joel huffs.

“So why exactly did you wanna do target practice with me?” She steps a little closer, bringing her hand that’s not clasped in his up to splay over his chest.

“Maybe I just wanted to spend a little more time with you, Miller. Is that so bad?” Joel sighs, shaking his head and letting go of her hand to drag his through his hair.

“Christ, you can’t just say shit like that. Not when–” Her brow is furrowed as she cuts him off.

“Not when what?” He huffs, keeping his eyes on his boots.

“Not when you don’t really mean it.” The laugh she lets out shocks him into meeting her gaze again. She shakes her head at him.

“Who says I don’t mean it?” His head is spinning at her words, at the warm look she’s giving him and he has to scrunch his eyes shut to refocus on reality. His eyes flicker back open when he feels her palm coming up to cup his jaw.

“Joel, if you don’t believe it, just ask me. I haven’t lied to you once.” At first, he’s not quite sure what she means, but when he finally gets it, he lets out a long sigh.

“Alright. Real or fake– you’ve been flirting with me.” She smiles, her fingers lightly drumming against his chest.

“Real.” 

“Real or fake– you flirt with everyone.” She scoffs, shaking her head.

“Fake, and I’m insulted too, geez.” It’s playful, but Joel is already posing his next question.

“Real or fake– you like flirting with me because you like messing with me.” She laughs at that.

“Hmm, fake. But also a little real.” His brow furrows, but she just smiles.

“Real or fake–” She cuts him off, bringing both her arms to wrap over his shoulders.

“Wait a minute. It’s my turn. I’m gonna do something, and you tell me if it’s real or fake.” Before he can ask her what she’s going to do, she’s leaning up and guiding him down with her hand at the nape of his neck, brushing a fluttering kiss to his lips. Joel’s mind goes blank, the only thing he can focus on are her eyes as she pulls back just slightly. She grins.

“Well, was that real or–” He cuts her off this time, dipping back down for a much more demanding kiss, bringing his hands to cup her face. They both pull away a bit breathless and Joel lets out a laugh, his thumb stroking the arc of her cheek.

“Real. That was very real.”

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