#this has actually sent me into a tailspin

[endless-ineffabilities]

chemical override (3)

Ewan Mitchell x actress!reader

series masterlist ▪︎ main masterlist

Both having busy schedules and working in different cities, the reader and Ewan make an effort to keep contact with each other. Will Ewan ever make his feelings known? Will a possible scandal derail their budding romance?

A beautiful floral arrangement awaits you as you return to your hotel suite in LA.

Luxury red roses preserved in an elegant black velvet box, accompanied by a printed note on the side.

Congratulations on your new project, darling.

All my love, Ewan.

Your assistant had alluded to a special package having arrived just before you came in, and you're met with this.

It's the loveliest of gestures and you instantly wish to call Ewan to express your thanks. However the hour is late, the digital clock face reading 10 pm. You'd had a long day at work, having gone through the entirety of rehearsals once more. Filming will officially begin in September, and your focus is much needed as you step into a new role.

Noting the time difference - it would only be around 6 am in the UK - you decide to put off calling him for tomorrow.

It's only been a week since he first confessed that he misses you, and since then, he's had no trouble saying it each time you speak, almost as if the floodgates are opened and he's more confident in expressing himself with you.

I told you, Phia had simply said when you shared this with her.

The strong possibility of Ewan harbouring feelings for you has caused you to become distracted the past few days. If he does, why hasn't he asked you out yet? Granted, you'll be working long-distance for a while, but still.

You quickly wind down from a long day and soon find yourself comfortably huddled in blankets with your laptop propped open in front of you. Winding down, of course, includes some time scrolling on your phone or watching things without a care.

A new video catches your attention on Youtube's home page. One of the segments from Ewan's Vanity Fair feature.

Ewan Mitchell on his firsts and currents

You smile to yourself before you even realise it.

The video starts with Ewan introducing himself - "Hi, Vanity Fair. I'm Ewan Mitchell and I'm here to talk about my different firsts and currents." - He smirks at the camera. You smirk right back as if he can see you.

"So first ever role?" he says, directed by prompts behind the camera. "Technically, my first ever role was for a very small, short film called Stereotype ..." He laughs, remembering how young and inexperienced he was. "... and my current role - none other than the One-Eyed Prince. So far, my favourite as well I have to say."

He continues with his first and current favourite film, pets, song or type of music to get into character... and so on...

Then he gets asked about - his first ever and his current celebrity crush - "Uhhhmm," he looks to the side bashfully, clicking his tongue as he thinks of the simplest answer, "I don't think I had celebrity crushes growing up. It could have been some of the actors I admired, that inspired me... "

Such a classic Ewan answer, that one. You wonder how he would also dodge the question of his current celebrity crush.

"As for my current crush... well... it might be someone from the cast of House of the Dragon, actually." He smiles knowingly, as if he's aware that your stomach is in knots as you watch. Who will he say? Phia? Olivia?

"I really admire ... " He says your name, and your eyes widen like saucers. "She's an amazing actress - I think we can all agree - and a very dear person to me... "

Ewan, you sneaky charming bastard.

" ... so yeah," he shrugs, nonchalantly, but he surely knows he just sent you - and the entire fandom - into a tailspin. "I guess you could say she's my current celebrity crush."

Curious, you pick up your phone and get to scrolling. You've turned all your notifications off, not wanting to become occupied because of them during work.

Sure enough, it's an endless flurry of likes, comments, and messages.

In your most recent post, tons of people comment about Ewan's interview, trying to bring it to your attention.

hotdpolska29: girl, go watch Ewan's Vanity Fair video RIGHT. NOW.

melodygellerr: be honest, is this photo for Ewan???

peraltajake99: now she has to say that Ewan's her celebrity crush too !!!

cassiethemendler: forget Ewan... guys she's acc with jacob frickin elordi. Did yall not see the pictures

There's simply too many comments to go through. One statement and already everyone has formed their own opinion, their own conclusion about how things are in your personal life. It's one of the drawbacks of being in the public eye, and you still don't fully know how to handle it.

As part of PR for your new film, you and Jacob had been tapped to make appearances in public together, photographers hired to make it seem like the two of you are on a date.

The whole thing confused you. You're friends with Jacob, and naturally you hang out with him anyway. All this celebrity subterfuge seems unnecessary. But he was kind enough to guide you through it. "It's just part of the job," Jacob assured. "This whole Hollywood thing is silly, isn't it?"

Since you're both single actors, it wouldn't hurt for people to believe you might be dating. It attracts attention and any publicity is good as they say.

As long as you know what's true, then the public can believe whatever they want.

You end up liking and responding to some comments, and ignoring most of the other ones that pry too much into your private life. Never mind the haters, who also give their own two cents about your alleged involvements with Ewan or Jacob.

Suddenly, the screen is brightened from an incoming call from Ewan One-Eye . You are still pleased with yourself about the name. Your excitement is spiked as you press answer. Having a crush never gets old.

"Mornin', you," you greet him. 11 pm for you in LA, 7 am for him in England.

"Evening, darling," he says with a smile. He's still in bed, with one hand behind his head while the other has his phone pressed to his ear. First thing in the morning, and he feels compelled to call you. If that's any indication, the boy doesn't lie when he says he misses you every day. "You about to go to bed?" he queries.

"Mhmm," you hum, lying down and mirroring his position. "By the way, I think I've got a secret admirer or something."

"What? Who?"

Struggling to hold back a laugh, you continue, "I think you're missing the point of a secret admirer."

"Yeah, yeah," he sighs. "Anyway, what's going on? Are they bothering you?" He sounds worried already, but a bit more should be fun.

"No, but I found a box from them in my room."

"Did they break in?" He sits half-upright, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "Are you okay?"

"I'm okay," you breathe out a tired laugh. "Ewan, I'm - " ... kidding, you want to confess, but he rambles on.

"If you need me, I can take the next flight out."

"Ewan - honey - I am messing with you. I do appreciate the floral arrangment box, by the way, thank you."

A beat of silence. He slumps back down on his pillows. A smile creeps up unrestrained on his lips. He fondly thinks that his girl almost gave him a heart attack at 7 am.

And he loves it.

"You're welcome," he replies. "And if I wasn't fully awake before, then I am now. Good work, darling."

You're pleased - he didn't deny the admirer bit of it all.

"Seriously now, thank you. They're the best surprise after a long work day."

"I'm glad you like them," he says sincerely. "Rehearsals still going on?"

"Yup, two more weeks of this, then a month-long break, and finally filming in Atlanta."

"Hmm," he says, then pauses, framing his next question as best he can. "Are you... do they... that PR relationship business, is that - "

You help him to it. "Well, technically, yeah," you respond. "But they're not laying it on thick with Jacob and I. Everything is alleged by the media and no one will make any sure statements."

When you shared the truth of the pap walk, he had a bunch of questions about it. He had sounded detached and cold at the beginning of that call. Then you complained about relationships for publicity, and he quickly got the gist. You'd think his mood took a complete 360 then.

From sounding completely disinterested with Jacob, Ewan then took to reassuring you that he's a good guy who would respect your boundaries. He's still not a fan of the whole thing, but it's your job.

And... well... it's not like he's your boyfriend or anything. What claim could he have over you?

"And something you said has the public divided," you add.

"What did I say?" he smirks, playing it coy.

"Ewan."

"You're going to have to elaborate, darling."

An idea pops up in your mind. Two can play at this game, Mitchell. "Listen, I'm flattered that I'm apparently your celebrity crush, but you can't say shit like that! I don't think my boyfriend Jacob would appreciate it. He's very protective, you know."

A full minute passes, you hear his heavy breathing on the other line. He wants to curse out at the picture you presented but holds back for you.

Then, "You're so funny, darling."

You laugh genuinely, and all his worries dissipate. "I know."

"A downright comedian."

"Thank you."

"I can't believe you're my celebrity crush," he sighs dramatically.

"You put that on to yourself, mate."

"Hmm." He sure did. He wasn't lying in that interview - you are his celebrity crush, but that seems reductive. He likes you, he misses you, he loves being around you. "The only right answer would have been you. You're the one I think about all the time."

He says things like this, so sweetly, and it's everything. It drives you off kilter that you get tongue-tied at work when you think about it.

But he hasn't said or done anything more. The flowers were a nice touch, sure. Maybe he's gearing up to it? Does he have something up his sleeve?

In the moment, it appears not. He's flirty, as he always is, but you've had a damn long day and the butterflies in your stomach are exhausted too.

"Ewan, I'm gonna go to bed."

"Oh. Right."

"Long day tomorrow. You know how it is."

"Of course. I... I miss you, darling. Sleep well."

"Mhmm," you find yourself responding, not mirroring his statement. "Bye, have a good day."

You end the call, wondering if he caught on at the end. Perhaps you sounded a bit too dismissive, but a voice in your head says, hey - if he wants you, he's gonna have to show you. It'll take a lot more than flattery and banter to win your heart completely.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

That night in London, Ewan sits in a corner booth of a pub with Tom, Luke and Elliott and it's relatively causal, with the boys just catching up over a few pints.

Until Luke mentions you and Jacob, questioning whether that whole story was real or not.

"Absolutely not," Ewan says immediately, shifting in his Adidas tracksuit as if to take up more space so the boys will pay attention. "I talked to her about it and it's all just PR nonsense, trust me."

"Look at this one gettin' all defensive." Tom claps Ewan on the back in jest.

"Well it's true," Ewan just shrugs. "They're not together."

Elliott jumps in, eager to rile Ewan up even more. "For now at least. I've heard that these PR couple things eventually get a little too real, if you know what I mean. The lines tend to get blurred."

Ewan slings his pint back, before engaging. "What do you mean?"

"Well, look at it this way," Elliott explains. "She hangs out with the guy a lot. They laugh, dine and work together. Maybe they even have to make out several times for the film. It's easy for feelings to spring up from all that business."

"Life imitates art, innit?" Luke offers.

"Yeah, maybe soon it won't just be PR. I've heard of some celebrity couples who did that," Elliott says.

Luke adds, "Wasn't there that one PR couple that got married and all? Who was it - I can't remember now - "

Tom intervenes, wary of the way with which Ewan grips his pint glass. "That's all nonsense, come on. Surely that's not a common occurence. I worked with all you guys, and I can't stand any of ya. If anything, she'll be so sick of Jacob after they work together." That earns him a laugh from the twins, who then assign him to get the next round as payment for that jibe.

Ewan stays silent, his mind whirring. Usually, the boys wouldn't mind. They know it's just his way, being a focused and observant lad on and off set. But they sense something else underneath.

The twins share a look, a bit guilty due to Ewan's expression.

Ewan looks up and reassures the table, "Hey, it's alright. Whatever she chooses to do, I get it."

"But come on, mate," Tom says. "Everyone knows you like her. Literally everyone. Even she knows it, I bet. Why don't you just make the bloody move already?"

"I dunno," Ewan starts, not sure of the answer himself, "it just didn't seem like the right time, with her being off across the pond for the rest of the year."

"So what, you're just going to let it slide? Do you want her or not?"

"Mmm, I do." Ewan keeps to himself most of the time. But Tom's got a way to loosen his taut edges.

"Well, as promised, I'm gonna get us all another round," Tom declares, earning cheers from the twins.

Two pints turned into three, then six, seven and so on. Pretty soon, the lads get properly and well smashed. Ewan's never been the biggest drinker, but when the social situation calls for it, he can put them back just as well as the next guy from the Midlands.

"So come clean, mate," Tom drawls, his arm slung around Ewan's shoulders. "Are you in love with her already or what?"

Ewan laughs, rubbing a hand over his face to wake up a little. It doesn't work - the glare of the warm overhead lights is strong and make him feel woozy.

"Could be," he says. "But that's none of your business." Smirking, he points at Luke, "Or yours," then at Elliott, "or yours."

"Hey! C'mon," Tom protests, feigning hurt. "Am I not going to be the best man at the wedding?"

"No way, Aegon the Magnanimous," Ewan shakes his head. "My brother'll be the best man."

"So there will be a wedding," Luke says. "Does the bride know about it?"

"He hasn't even asked her out yet," Elliott teases. "I triple dare you to ask her out right now. Right fuckin' now, Ewan."

"No," Ewan says, but in his sloshed out state, he secretly considers just doing it. "I gotta go for a smoke, lads. Tom was right, I can't stand you anymore."

"Oh, boo!" Tom shoves him out of the booth. "Hurry back, lover boy."

Ewan makes his way to the alley behind the pub. He's thankful that a pub at midnight offers the perfect setting to disappear into anonymity. Everyone's just as drunk or they simply don't care about celebrity culture.

He takes a few puffs of his cigarette, the nicotine quickly reawakening his nerves. Thinking back to the twin's suggestion, he thinks, why the hell not? Why shouldn't he ask you out already? Who cares about the PR shite? If word gets around that you're his, the facade about you and Jacob will get shelved.

With his cig lodged between his teeth, he has to take extra care to call you, the glare of the screen not doing wonders for his inebriation.

The lines beeps, and he's met with your voicemail. You must still be at work or just getting off it.

Still with Jacob. Something in him stirs, and it's not just the bloody alcohol.

He clears his throat, prompted by the notification to leave a message - "Hey, darling. Hey... beautiful... I guess I'm missing you and I... I miss you, isn't that funny?" he starts, proud of himself for making the joke. "I'm out with the lads right now... had a couple of pints. Maybe one too many? I don't know. And... uhhh - "

He stomps his smoke under his shoe, nervous ticks getting the best of him. Here he goes, make it or break it. "I was thinking about you. As I always do. Because I've never felt like this about anyone before. Ever. And I'm sorry it took me this long to ask, but I want to be with you. No - that's not right, it's too quick... I mean, yes, I want to be with you, but I gotta do this right. I want to take you out, properly, on a date. Will you... will you please? I've got some business stateside and I could have that scheduled sooner, and I could come see you. And we could... I just want to see you. So fucking badly, baby. I - I - okay then, I suppose that's all. Good... good morning? No - evening. You're beautiful and I just..." he sighs deeply, because words will never do you justice. "... goodbye."

The line cuts off and he tucks his phone away. Smiling to himself, he feels euphoric from getting that off his chest. The message was coherent enough, he thinks proudly, and it couldn't have sounded better all things considering.

If he could pat himself on the back, he most definitely would. He can already see it, the perfect first date with you.

The lads are going to go nuts over this, he knows for certain. He makes his way back inside the pub, a boy renewed.

A lover boy, as Tom and Phia call him.

No truer words have been spoken.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

It's 10 pm yet again when you make it back to your suite. Having notifications on your phone turned off while you're at work, you're met with a barage of messages and the usual social media frenzy.

But only one thing stands out - a voice message from Ewan One-Eye, sent just around 4 hours ago.

You settle in for the night, making sure you're all prepped to go to bed before playing it, thinking you can maybe call him afterward.

You hear the beep, and the message starts - "Hey, darling... uhhhh so hey, I - uh fuck I'm missing you right now, must be at work eh? And I miss you - " You note how he sounds drowsy but his words are punctuated. Like he's making an actual effort to simply speak. You realise he must be drunk. What's a drunk Ewan doing calling you? " - that's so funny, innit? Which suits cause I'm just a bloody joke cause I took too long... to tell you... that I... I think about you all the time, I'mcrazyboutyou y'know... I wanna be with you... withyou - " He's drunk, you keep reminding yourself that he's drunk. But the effect of his words aren't diminished. He's got you hooked. " - I got work out there too... so I'll - uhhh - see you then and... take you out then and - fuck - kiss ya... I want to kiss you so fucking badly, baby. You're perfect for me, and so beautiful, and I wish Aemond would wed your character cause - as th'twins said - life imitates art!" He snickers at his own remark, and it's the most endearing thing ever. "So... yeah, good, darling. Goodb - " and the line cuts off.

"What the fuck," is all you can speak out into the quiet room. Lying back on your pillows, you actually laugh out loud and kick your feet like a puppy-love drunk highschooler.

The sun is rising across the pond and Ewan has probably just made it back home, immediately collapsing in his bed all wasted.

But he's getting a call tomorrow - and you pray to the fictional Westerosi gods that his intentions are clear, drunk or otherwise.

Kismet is a funny thing. Once a fan of the show, you're now an actress on it, about to date the Aemond Targaryen.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

Ewan's eyes flutter open. The sunlight is weakly coming in from the window shutters in his room. Confused, he glances at the digital clock face and it reads 6:18 PM.

So he slept through the whole day. Brilliant.

It's unlike him to mind his phone first thing after waking up, so he trudges to his bathroom to douse his face with cold water and brush his teeth for a good long while, trying to recall the events of the previous night.

It had the usual workings of a proper pub night with his lads, and he barely remembers the last night he got that sloshed. But anyway, all in good fun, and he genuinely enjoys their company so it must be worth the pounding headache he feels right now.

The lads... an unknown and possibly excessive number of pints... Oasis playing on the speakers... Tom generously buying a round of drinks for everyone in the pub... and of course, you.

The memory has his attention, and he thumbs through his phone as he makes his way to his kitchen to prep his staple black coffee with seven sugars.

He remembers it - kind of - leaving a voicemail, and he's pleased that he finally, finally asked you out. Never mind that it took him getting drunk off his noggin to do it.

But there's nothing from you. Not a message, nor a missed call, nor a voice note.

He tries not to let it worry him right away, but it does. Maybe you didn't hear it yet. Maybe you were too tired from work and weren't checking your voicemails.

Maybe... maybe...

His phone suddenly buzzes in his palm and he mumbles, fuck's sake, out of surprise. But it's not you calling. It's his publicist.

"Hello, good evening. How are you doing?" he greets cordially.

"Ewan!" she exclaims. "Finally! I've been trying to get a hold of you all day."

"Oh, right," he says guiltily, "I'm so sorry, I just had a long night and - "

"I know, Ewan, I know. The whole country - no - the whole world knows by now. Bloody hell, it's always The Sun, isn't it? Those idiots, I swear."

He straightens at that. If a tabloid is involved, it can't be good news. "What's happened?"

His publicist sighs, ready to relay the news, "The Sun did a story on you and the other cast members. About having a wild night out in the pub. It's useless fodder, really, nothing wrong with having a night out."

"Right, right... but - " Ewan says, sensing there's something more. Something worse.

"There's a picture of you with a girl - "

"What?"

"I think I've seen her before. She must be a cousin of the Tittensors? You know her, of course."

"I... I don't - "

"Anyway, according to the paper, you and her were flirting it up a storm at the pub. She had her arm around you and everything. Do you want to look it up now? I can give you a moment. I'll stay on the line."

"Fuck," Ewan mutters to himself as he does a quick search of his name. The headlines make him wish he never did so.

House of the Dragon Stars On A Wild Night Out: INSIDE SCOOP!

EWAN MITCHELL SPOTTED WITH MYSTERY LADY

Aemond Targaryen IN LOVE? See PICTURES Inside!

"I don't think I remember her," he swears to his publicist, "I was just drinking with the lads and there might have been others that joined us but I - what the fuck - I don't - "

"It's okay, Ewan," she reassures him. "We can deal with this. This bullshit just comes with the job, as you should know. It'll be fine."

No, it's not fine.

Because it dawns on him why he hasn't heard back from you.

"Fuck."

💌 next chapter

Taglist: @sprinklesprinkle888 @namelesslosers @skymoonandstardust @valyrianflower @luckyfirebasement @omgsuperstarg @elissanatok @callsignwidow @uwuuness @strbellz @sinistersnakey49 @darkwriteracademia @rhaenys-nyra @yyrzmomo @queenofshinigamis @luvaerina @shamelessblazecrown @mirandastuckinthe80s @elleinex0x0 @pierrotlu @aegonswife @cardiganlovesblog @strangersunghoon @darktrashsoulbear @lunampacheco @writer-ann-artist @gaiaea @of-swords-and-words @ateliefloresdaprimavera @m00n5t0n3 @helaenaluvr @peachysunrize @annie-ruk @luvly-writer @ananas26t @chixnugg22 @athenafaes

Not drunk Ewan thinking his voice message sounded a lot better than it did! 😂

The story will extend further than 3 parts, as it turns out! In the next one, the reader and Ewan will be reunited - any guesses on what will happen?

Comment and let me know if you wish to be added to the taglist 💕

[woso-dreamzzz]

Grouchy II

Katrina Gorry x Baby!Reader

Summary: Mini thinks she's not giving you enough attention

It's a random tweet that sent Katrina on this tailspin.

It shouldn't have even caught her interest but it did. It shouldn't have even made its way onto her feed but it did. It was just a throw away tweet, like one of those inside jokes fans randomly have that the players could never really hope to understand.

But, still, Mini read it and now, she couldn't stop thinking about it.

'Still kind of funny that we see Harper all the time but not y/n. Favouritism perhaps? 🤪🤪🤪'

At first, she thought it was complete crap. Of course there was no favouritism in the house. Mini loves both you and Harper equally. You're both her kids.

But, as she lay caged in Clara's arms one night, she couldn't stop thinking about how right the tweet was. Not the stuff about favouritism but the stuff about not seeing you as much as Harper.

Harper is all over Mini's and West Ham's social media but you aren't. You feature a bit more heavily on Clara's account but that's only because you're usually in Clara's company more because Mini's at training.

There's no favouritism, at least nothing that Mini does on purpose. But she can't help but think.

Harper goes to kindie and Mini is quick to take care of you in the morning. It was her only day off in a while and the plan was for Clara to drop Harper off at kindie and take you out to meet some of her friends while Mini got to sleep in.

Mini, instead, insists that she'll get up at normal time so the two of you can hang out while Clara can fully enjoy her time with her friends.

"Alright, bubs," Mini says as she all but shoves Clara out of the door," What do you want to do?"

You wrinkle your nose up at her before turning away to play with your drum.

Mini sits down in front of your as you bang your drum with a closed fist. It's a bit embarrassing to think that she isn't quite sure how to play with you. You've got such a grumpy disposition that even doing something you enjoy is usually done with a frown.

Mini isn't quite sure when you're actually having fun and when you're not.

She reaches for your other drum and you stop banging to look at her. Mini bangs on her drum too.

She watches your reaction but you don't really give one so she bangs on it again and again.

You screech once in warning and Mini freezes.

You bum shuffle towards her and grab her hand.

She's been banging on the drum with an open hand instead of a fist so you force her hand into one before shuffling back to your drum.

You demonstrate with your own fist and wait.

Mini hits the drum in the same way and you seem satisfied, going back to playing again.

"Are you having fun, Bubs?" She asks and you kind of just grunt in some semblance of an answer.

Eventually, you get bored of your drum, kicking it away and standing up.

You fetch a book from the book corner before collapsing onto Mini's lap. Her arms come around you instantly and you clumsily open the book.

"Do you want me to read that for you?" She asks and you shove it into her hands.

It's one of those silly books made out of cardboard but Mini can't remember the last time she read to you so she's happy to do it, putting on an excited voice to try and draw you in.

You keep bringing her more books after that and Mini can happily say that this morning has been a success in her eyes.

You're still open to her affection and attention. She hasn't messed up too badly. So long as she makes sure to lather you in attention behind closed doors then it doesn't matter what people on the internet say.

"I'm home!" Clara calls out as she opens the door and suddenly you're shuffling away from Mini over to where the stuffed toys are waiting.

"Clara!" Mini laughs teasingly," You scared her off!"

Clara gives her an odd look. "I'm surprised she was even sitting on you. You know what Bubs is like."

Mini frowns. "Huh?"

Clara keeps talking as she takes off her shoes and coat. "You can never get that girl to willingly have cuddles with someone."

Objectively, Mini knows that. Capturing you for your bedtime kiss and cuddle is always a bit of a struggle and Mini's never really seen you sitting on Clara's lap during the day either.

"We read a story together," She replies and Clara laughs.

She crouches down in front of you, swiping a hand through your hair. Your brow wrinkles in answer as you turn to look at her.

"Did you read a book with Mummy because you see her do it with Harper?"

You don't answer.

"Huh?" Clara continues, poking you in one of your chubby cheeks that you puff out in annoyance. "Were you trying to make Mummy happy by doing something she does with your sister? You're such a sweetheart, Bubs."

"I...What?" Mini demands and Clara keeps laughing.

"Mini," She says," You know Bubs doesn't like playing with people. She did it because it makes you happy."

"But the book-"

"They're Harper's books."

"The drum-"

"Harper's drum."

"Did...Did I get duped by a baby?"

Mini must be imagining it but she's sure that she can see a smug little smirk on your face before you turn around to gnaw on the arm of one of your toys.

"Apparently so."

[gghostwriter]

Still Alive for My Lover

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: The four times Spencer brushes with death and the fifth time he's reborn to find his way back to you

Warning: angst with happy ending || [Part 2A of Death of a Love Affair; Part 2B is the sad ending]

A/n: I did a poll the other day on if I should post both different part 2s for Death of a Love Affair and posting both won so here is one of the endings--the happy one! I actually scrapped my first happy ending idea for this (I dreamt about this plot just the other night) so like a maniac, I wrote and edited it in one sitting. Also he has been through a lot so I had to choose scenes that I think would affect his psyche. Hope you enjoy!

Part one || Main masterlist || Part 2B

The first time Death came close was during an Anthrax attack

In Spencer’s quest in solving the time sensitive and nation threatening case, he made a series of misjudgments that had led him to being exposed to the chemically engineered Anthrax.

During his months of adjusting back into being single and alone, he poured all that he could to his job. No longer were the cases viewed with a clear objective mind, they all became personal. Case distance from Virginia, where you were, meant nothing. He viewed each killer a threat to your existence. In the most convoluted way, this was him protecting and keeping you safe when he no longer could beside you. 

“Hey, Reid.” Garcia softly said.

“Reid, wow, no, uh—no witty Garcia greeting for me?” Spencer joked to try and lighten the mood.

She shakily exhaled her breath. “I can’t be my sparkly self when you are where you are.” 

“Garcia, do you think you can do something for me?” His voice trailing off at the end.

“Anything.”

“I, uh-I know I can’t call my mom without uh—“ he cleared his throat. “Without alerting everyone at her hospital and I can’t call Y/N since—since it’s protocol and we broke up.”

She paused, nodding her head. “What do you need?”

“I-I need you to record messages for them, in case anything happens to me.”

“Oh, nothing’s going to happen to you,” she tried to be optimistic. “You’re gonna—brilliantly find out who did this and we’re gonna treat this strain.”

He sighed with a slight smile on his face. “I hope you’re right, but if you’re not, I just—I really want to make sure that they hear my voice.” 

“Ok, just give me a second.” The taps from her keyboard echoing in the background.

“Are you ready?” Spencer asked.

“Ready.”

“Hi, Mom. This is Spence. I just, um-I just really want you to know that I love you and—i need you to know that I spend every day of my life proud to be your son.” His tone fluctuating from holding back tears. “Y/N, I know we broke up months ago but—I need you to know that I love you and that I’m sorry—” A shiver passed through his body, a sign of his fever escalating. “Sorry for pushing you down in my list of priorities—should have done better. I don’t resent you for leaving me and if—if this is my last message, I want you to know you’re one of the last things on my mind, Angel.” 

The thought of you finding out through the news that an FBI agent had died or worse, not finding out at all, sent him into a tailspin. You were a worrier and Spencer didn’t want you to question your judgement of breaking it off with him and drown in the not knowing, what ifs of it all. He wondered where you were at that very moment as he crept closer and closer to Death’s door. Were you wallowing still? Maybe out for brunch with your friends or a date—his breathing stuttered at the thought. He tried and failed to imagine you smiling at a faceless man in front of you, preening under your attention. Who wouldn’t? He shook his head as an effect to bring him back to the present.

The pause made Garcia panic. “Reid?”

“I-I gotta go.” 

Click.

***

The second time was when Maeve died

Spencer thought he was finally going to get it right with Maeve but it was false hope, his speculation far from the truth because Maeve—his second chance in love was dead, killed right before his very eyes. He loved her, truly did even without knowing what she looked like—not in the encompassing way he loved you, no, but Maeve still carved a space in his heart that was one filled by you. She was comfort and a healing balm for the pain of losing you.

He associated navigating life with you as something like entering a luscious forest. With you leading the way though the beautiful greenery and kind animals—a fairytale kind of love. But when you let go of his hand, the forest turned dark and the animals turned into monsters that haunt his every move. Maeve was a cabin in those woods, lighted and warm with a fireplace—a respite for his lost and terrified being. He knew what was out there but housed in her presence, he felt safe and believed himself ready to defend his newfound solace. He was wrong, the security was temporary. His shelter torn down and taken away, leaving him back out in the woods with no light or guiding star to see him through. 

Curling into himself on the floor beside his bed with ‘The Narrative of John Smith’, the copy that Maeve gifted, tucked to his chest, uncaring of the the pathogens that it can carry, a folded piece of paper under the dresser caught his eye. He stretched his hand, feeling the settled dust on its surface scatter, and pulled it into the light. Gingerly, he opened the yellowing sheet and found himself staring at your handwriting—a note that he had never seen before.

He once asked about your penchant for leaving hand written notes for him to find. You shrugged then and nonchalantly called it a treasure hunt for him to partake in. During the times passed, he’d encounter lingering, forgotten notes from you all over his apartment. In his cupboard, pushed in the dark recesses, in his rarely worn patterned coat, and slotted in between the books on his bookshelf. He thought he had found them all but here was one left unread as if it knew when to make its presence known. As if it knew that he needed a sliver of light to guide him home.

Spence,

I’m not sure if we met at the right time, but because we’re both here, let’s do our best and if there does come a time were we must part, know that I love you. I’ll love you enough until we meet again. 

His tears broke free from his battered walls and streamed down his face. He loved Maeve. He was thankful for the peace each phone call had given him and although his memory of each talk may fade into the back of his mind, the relief and emotion she had given him will linger in his chest. He slowly got up from his position and approached his beloved shelf. With one last look at his book, he slotted it within the nook and walked away.

His love for Maeve will always be there but he loved you too and he thinks he always will. And when sadness and grief comes to pull him back under in moments of weakness, he unfolds his talisman—the note—kept near his heart as a reminder. A reminder that he has loved, was loved, and is still loved. 

***

The third time was when he was shot in the neck

Fading in and out. 

In—liquid seeping into his shirt and tie.

You were the only thing he could think of. Not the case, not the team, only you.

Out—sirens blaring in a distant background.

In—Morgan’s voice calling his name.

For the first time in a long time, Spencer was terrified. He was so terrified that death had come to collect his borrowed life without having a chance to right his wrongs. Without any contact and without any way to say how much he has loved you still after all these years and months. He could probably recite how long it had been, if only he wasn’t loopy from the pain. 

Out—muffled voices all around him. 

In—a gentle sway in the ambulance as it rushed to the hospital.

He wanted to tell you how much he’d learned from recalling all his memories with you. How much you had taught him about love—a teaching he could never find in books. How love was selfless and tenacious—just like when you didn’t give up on him early on—when it needed to be. How love is fueled with respect—like how you respected his choices and demands of his career, and how love—true love, knew when it’s time to go. 

Out—streak of bright lights passing him by. 

In—professionals dressed in scrubs and white coats touching him. 

Your face was the only image settling behind his closed eyelids. He tried to remember the crinkle around your eyes when you smile, the scrunch of your nose when you laugh, or the he arch of your brows when you teased him but all were hazy, as if he was staring into a deep depth of water that rippled nonstop. All he could conjure up was your face with tears sliding down to your chin from the hurt he caused. He was deathly afraid that his last memory of you were in pain. 

Out—laying cold on the operating table.

All he could muster to repeat to himself as he faded under local anesthesia was your name. Like it was a mantra, a prayer, and his own personal saving grace. 

In—surrounded by beeping noises and fluffed pillows.

Mind still hazy when he came to, he sent a thank you to the stars. Grateful that Death was unsuccessful and to have been given an opportunity to correct his mistakes. Wishing that somehow, somewhere your paths and his would cross again and he could tell the story of all his adventures and yours, and how he has changed, hoping once again to be worthy of you.

***

The final time was during his stint in prison

He’s changed. In the dark forest you’ve left him behind, the once scared and hunted by monsters had become the hunter. The anger and agitation that simmered near the surface of his every waking moment was something he did not know how to accept. He was worried about the new him and how you’d perceive it. There were no signs of who he was before and during you. If he’d cross paths with you on the street, would you recognize him? He hoped so. Would you still accept him? He needed you to.

Along his long route back to you, he grew thorns and horns. He became decorated with wounds and scars. His talisman—your note—had aged, just like him, and had ripped along the folds. His once brilliant mind—now in a haze from trauma, memorized the words. It was your writing that grounded him while he was stuck in the cell of a mad woman’s making. The slants and loops studied and the grooves and indentations caressed with his calloused, bloody hands. 

He loved you still, very much so, but with his change, it had also mutated. What once was compared to a fairytale kind of love had now been smudged with darkness and desperation.

He felt lethal in his journey back to your embrace. Gone was the boy who felt remorse in shooting an unsub between the brows and replaced with the man who felt no qualms in killing should safety be threatened. He knew he had to talk to someone about the path his thinking had taken but instead, he entered his home with a single-minded purpose, walking straight to your side of the drawer and clutched another memento that will buoy him through the ravaging waters of emotion—your engagement ring. Looping it through a chain that he now wears on his neck and near his heart, a symbolism of his will to see things through, come hell or high water, he’ll crawl home to you.

***

And his second life started when he left the BAU

Spencer wanted to see you. Once inside the building elevator going down, he fought the urge to dial your number—regardless if it was still even yours. He needed to know. To know if you’ve moved on after all those many years apart or lived just like he did—tried but unsuccessful, always comparing and always coming up short. The eyes not as kind as yours, the smile not as radiant, and the heart not as beautiful. Was it awful of him to wish for the former? Yes, yes it was. He knew you deserved happiness and support after all the times he had let you down, knew you deserved a life after him, knew you deserved a happy ending but here he was, hopelessly wishing that your happy ending was still with him. 

He didn’t keep up with your life as much as he wanted to. The wounds of his failure and the battle scars he received along the way were still fresh. He didn’t have the right to know—a self imposed punishment. Although Garcia offered to look into you whenever he would reach rock bottom, and he’s been there a lot, he refused. By returning your ring, the engagement ring hidden underneath his shirt, you’ve taken back his privilege and he respected your decision.

You deserve better than to have him contact you without his life in order. If you’d still have him, you’d get the best of him. And so for the past six months, he focused on himself. He gained his footing in teaching young agents, he worked on his anger and made progress with his therapist, and he got to know who he was again beyond being an FBI agent. And it was as if the stars took notice of the changes and decided to reward him.

It was late into the night when he decided to make a quick grocery trip for some perishables missing in his pantry. This was out of his normal routine and he was forever grateful to the impulsiveness that took over him that night ever since. It was what led him to cross paths with the only person he had once considered home—you.

As he was entering the store, you had come out in all your beauty, struggling with one bag in each hand. Whenever he would recall this story, you’d scoff and tell him that you didn’t feel beautiful then—hair in a sloppy bun, t-shirt all crumpled, and face bare from any makeup. He’d object as no matter what the circumstance, you were always the most beautiful to him. 

He cleared his throat then. “Y/N.”

“Spencer,” you breathed out, surprise painting across your face.

“Do you need help with that?” He asked, voice cracking at the end. He thought he outgrew his shyness, time in prison does that for a person, but here you were reverting him back to how he felt when he first met you. “I’d like to walk you back to your car, if that’s alright,” he added on as he was afraid of your refusal. The parking lot was dimly lit and almost deserted. Years of solving cases has made him hyper vigilante and even if he was technically no longer a fed, his experience stayed the same. He still wanted to make sure you were safe, after all the time away.

You hesitated before nodding once in agreement. 

He smiled, letting go of his breath he didn’t know he was holding, and reached out to take your grocery purchases. “Let me get these for you, lead the way.”

The silence was uncomfortable. Years of being away from each other has made him a stranger to you and you to him.

You crossed yours arms, a sign of defense, before clearing your throat. “How’s the team?”

He pressed his lips into a straight line, not wanting to spill every little change that has happened while you were gone. “Good, good.”

Silence.

“No case tonight?”

“Uh—I only consult now,” he explained. “I went into teaching.”

Your arms dropped, a sign of openness, and you peered at him. “That’s—different. I mean, are you happy about that?”

He laughed and almost felt like preening at the care that you still had for him. “Yeah, it’s nice to have a normal schedule for once.”

“Somehow normal and you being mixed together doesn’t compute in my head,” you teased, swinging your hands in a clear sign of nervousness. He felt good—glad that he still could read your tics. How the slight downturn of your eyebrow meant you’d table the information to ruminate on it later. How the little bounce on your walk, that wasn’t there earlier, meant you were accepting of this situation. And how you slightly shifted closer to him meant you find his presence a protector. 

As he was documenting each non-verbal cues into his memory, the back of your hand brushed with his, sending a jolt of electric charge. It was as if both your bodies needed a physical reminder that the other half is back and nearby. It was as if a defibrillator had charged his black and blue heart to life once again. 

You giggled. “Sorry about that.”

It was a cold night but each laughter wrapped around him like a comforting blanket, warming his weary bones that had been lost in the dark cold woods for so long. “It’s alright,” he stated as he watched you unlock the trunk of your car. 

Loading in your grocery in silence, he shuffled ever so slightly out of the way as you closed the trunk and rocked on your heels.

He stuffed his hands into his pockets. It was the only way he could prevent his hands from reaching out and caressing your pink cheeks. He didn’t have the permission to touch you yet—not matter how much he wanted to. So wanted to.

“You look—you look great, by the way,” you stammered out.

“Thanks, you too—look great, I mean,” he stated. He wanted to sing out more praises on how you’d gotten more beautiful, more radiant, and more lovely but he settled on something simple lest he scares you away with the intensity of his feelings. “Do you think could have your number? You know, just in case you’d need help with groceries again.” A feeble excuse.

You smiled. The type of smile that was once reserved for him and he wished for it to still be his. Please don’t say no, please, he realized that if you do, that will be it. That there will no longer be any saving the tragedy between him and you.

As he was starting to slide down the familiar slope of sadness, you nodded. “I never changed it.” You unlocked the driver seat before facing him once again. “Spence—”

He basked in hearing you say his name.

“—I’m different now. So you’ll have to get to know me again.”

“I’m different now, too,” and while you uttered yours as if it was an apology or a forewarning, he uttered his as a promise. A veiled promise that he was now the man that you wanted him to be after all those years.

He reached his hand out. “Hi, I’m Spencer Reid,” he hoped you’d play along.

You laughed, clearly intrigued at changes that had happened to him. Here he was, a germaphobe, reaching for a handshake to a stranger regardless of pathogens. You weren’t really a stranger, not really, but he wanted to write a new beginning. The last time was too tragic and ended with goodbyes. This time, this time, it’ll be perfect, he vowed to himself. A perfect fairytale with a happy ending that he could share with his kids with you one day. 

“Hi, Spencer,” you reached out your hand into his, engulfing yours in his tight grip. “I’m Y/N.”

He watched as you got into the car, fastening your seatbelt and roll down the window. “I’ll call you.”

“Please do, I’ll be waiting,” you whispered out before backing away from the parking lot.

And he did.

And after a few dates, he slid back the ring that once hung around his neck, sitting near his heart, back to where it belonged—back to your fourth finger where the Romans once believed a vein ran directly to the heart. Vena Amoris, the vein of love. Where it will stay forevermore, never allowing time and the outside to separate what once was meant to be. Never allowing ‘him and you’ as separate, there was just ‘them’.

[alchemistc]

Catie's Big Ass bucktommy fic rec (Part One)

So I'm not gonna lie, I have most of these fics priv. bookmarked because I HAVEN'T COMMENTED ON THEM YET AND I FEEL REALLY GUILTY ABOUT THAT. But more than one anon has asked for this and it tickles me pink that y'all like my writing enough to trust in my recs. So. Please, please, be better than I am and make sure to kudos and comment if you enjoy any of these works.

(Guys, there are SO MANY amazing writers in this fandom. So many truly breathtaking fics already. I got two hours into this and realized I was going to need to split this into parts because I have too many things to say about each of these and I want to do them all justice.)

Writers you can trust in:

@rcmclachlan /ao3 : I will sing RC's praises to the moon and back. There is something about the way RC injects humor into the tiniest of lines that makes me want to scream into a pillow until I pass out. You will see more than one of RC's fics in this list.

@kirkaut /ao3: kirkaut is the reason I jumped on this bandwagon. The unhinged spiral into LFJr obsession and the prevalence of well thought out meta and incredibly hot fic drew me in. If you are not following kirkaut, change that now.

@26-cats-in-a-trenchcoat / catfud_ohplease on ao3: Devastating prose. The ability to turn a theme on a dime and STAB YOU IN THE HEART with it. Mac owns my whole soul when it comes to really scratching that itch behind my eyelids for thematic imagery and really creative ideas for fic that aren't just run-of-the-mill smut/angst/fluff.

@devirnis / ao3: Ali only has one bucktommy fic up on ao3 but it is devine and I love it. Ali is also the only writer who has tempted me into reading buddie. This is not an indictment on buddie fandom or buddie fic writers in general, I just tend to be a one ship kinda gal and I don't really dive into fic for a ship I don't vibe with. Ali's writing has made me reconsider this position.

@beefcakekinard / thingbe on ao3: The domesticity. Literally just reread one of Rose's fics this morning and HAD to comment on it again because it made me want to fling myself to Jupiter.

(This is not a comprehensive list, but I just realized how many fics I have already bookmarked for bucktommy and I'm already under a readmore.)

Fics that make my brain go brrrr:

only fools rush in - somnum365 ( @firehose118)

Tommy lets Buck set the pace. Buck is ready for something.

Super hot and all about checking in. I've got a thing for discovering sex with a partner starting out with frottage and this delivers. The characterizations are so great.

Colin Firth Thinks You're Hot - IDontGoHereEither (@herrmannhalsteadproduction)

Buck is late for a special date night with Tommy, but he still stops to help a stranger stuck on the side of the road. Luckily, that stranger is about to help HIM.

Cute as fuck with a super fun guest star. Who doesn't want Mr. Darcy to think your boyfriend is hot?

sad girl poetic thursday night - screamlet

Date night menu: pasta primavera and emotional unpacking.

There's something about the pacing of this that sent me into a tailspin. The stream of consciousness that actually bleeds from the dialogue into the action and vice versa. Hng.

I Was Only Falling In Love - Princessfbi (@princessfbi)

Tommy in crisis mode.

There's a moment in this fic where Eddie has to pull Tommy back from the precipice of something and it lives entirely rent free in my head, forever and ever amen. The firefam taking care of Buck by taking care of Tommy.

let me count the ways - ashesandhalefire

Buck and Tommy in the aftermath of a good evening are chattier than they probably reasonably should be

There is something about this fic that feels like the witching hour is upon you, like you could live in this little pocket world Buck and Tommy have created for themselves forever. The dialogue is fantastic, and the way they communicate with each other is just *chefs kiss*

let's make it cinematic - kirkaut

Tommy helps Buck deal with some of his impotent rage in the face of the Gerrard of it all.

Listen, I do not have a praise kink. This kinda makes me wish I did.

"[...]Everything is.” He circles a finger around in the air. “It’s very spinny.” - this line of dialogue came for my fucking throat.

Sick with it - Mellow_Yellow

what if in an alternate universe babyslut Buck joined the 118 when Tommy was still in his closeted asshole era and they had a torrid affair??

The way this is a little fucked up. The way the characterizations aren't exactly familiar because they haven't aged into what we know them as in current canon. The way you can see in every broken line and every stutter step that Tommy is falling for Evan and has No Fucking Idea what to do with that. Ugh. Best Met Earlier AU I've ever read.

He blinked as Tommy walked by, eyes sliding closed again before he left. He felt a light touch on the top of his head but figured he was imagining it. He couldn’t think of anyone at the 118 who would touch him that carefully. - just absolutely fucking end me they're so good/bad for each other

A Full Body Workout - Persiflager

Tommy and Buck spend a day trying to distract Eddie from the *gestures vaguely* all of it.

The way this is so quiet in the way it shows you how Tommy and Buck care for each other. The way they are down bad but still so hyperaware of the pace they've set, the things they've talked about. The way they take care of their friend here. I'm obsessed with the tone of this one. Also, as a general theme, nothing draws me in more than well thought out dialogue, and this one has some fucking GREAT dialogue.

Your love is better than ice cream - Cecily_v, liminalmemories

An alternative meet-cute, where-in Tommy doesn’t know the 118 and decides Buck is worth it anyway. Buck is confused but figures some things out.

There is so much I love about this AU. How they meet. How their relationship progresses. How it feels glacially slow in comparison to the canon storyline but also how in character they both are. The foundation of their love in this fic is downright eatable.

just couldn't fall til we met - thingbe (@beefcakekinard)

Buck and Tommy spend a quiet morning in together.

This is the one that crossed my dash earlier today and made me eat fucking glass on reread. The closeness. The way they're both so tactile. The blink and you'll miss it hints at a life being built together. Eating this UP every time I read it.

The Premium Twunk Appreciation Society, President: Tommy Kinard - everythingremainsconnected

5 times Tommy almost faints like a Victorian maiden at the sight of Buck’s flesh, and 1 time he can do something about it.

“Hey,” Evan said, shoving Eddie out of the way and filling the screen with his playful glare, “organise bro time on your own time, I’m on the phone with– with Tommy.”

“With who?” Eddie repeated. Tommy didn’t need to see his face to hear the fondness in the mocking. “Who’s on the phone? I didn’t quite catch that.”

- They are so stupid about each other in this fic, please read it and watch steam blow out your ears at how sweet and hot and down bad for each other they are.

desire (i want to turn into you) - chthonicheart

The first time Buck’s really able to bury his face between a man’s tits, he nearly cries.

pwp but with a whole heaping of character study. HOT.

rule four (you were only waiting for this moment to arise) - middyblue (daisyblaine) [@middyblue]

Tommy has doubts.

There is a general mood to this piece that feels heavy in a way I can't quite explain. There was a weight on my chest all the way through this in the BEST way possible. The way Tommy navigates his mind and struggles to trust the little slice of peace he and Buck have carved out is just mindbogglingly beautiful.

Come Fly The Friendly Skies - RC_McLachlan (@rcmclachlan)

Buck meets their rescue mission's would-be pilot and is extremely normal about it.

"Throttling is what I'm gonna do to you if you don't shut up and let the nice man steal a helicopter for us,"

WHEN I TELL YOU I AM INCANDESCENT WITH RAGE over how funny and insightful this fic is.

Every characterization is picture perfect.

Maddie gives great hugs, but she's so small; if she had this guy's build and could basically fold Buck into her like an old blanket, they'd have to pry him out of her arms with the jaws of life.

In the back of Buck's mind, in a place he hasn't discovered, he's already picked out a venue and chosen his centerpieces. He's mentally putting together seating arrangements. This line of Buck's thoughts on Tommy Kinard told me so.

Please read this and join me in trying to destroy RC with my mind (lovingly).

little by little - MediaWhore

Buck & Tommy, during and after the wedding.

There is something so soft and gentle about this fic. The way Tommy just gives in to the exhaustion and props himself up against Buck because he knows he'll be able to take the weight (he wants to take the weight and Tommy knows it). The quiet flirting, the way they take care of one another. The jumpscare of Marge and Phil and how this fic is right at the edges of exploring that but Buck has me important priorities.

“It was badly done,” - the way this is so in character for Ma Buckley and the way it made me want to SHAKE HER TIL HER TENDONS SHATTERED AND SHE CRUMBLED LIKE A SATISFYING CASINO IMPLOSION

Soft and heartbreaking and mending all at once.

while you arranged flowers - newtkelly

Buck’s got a wedding date, but as far as today goes, he’s also got a regular one.

The way I want to wrap this Buck up tenderly and hide him from the people in his life who DON'T DESERVE HIS AFFECTION, HIS LOVE, HIS JOY.

The non-urgency of this, the absolute too-much-too-soon he's dealing with in his own mind while he grapples with the reality of seizing a second chance with both hands and getting to explore himself within the confines of a very lovely, very sweet and kind, VERY HOT man he wants to get on his knees for.

Beautiful prose, excellent dialogue, an insightful character study.

[freewayshark]

Fuck it Friday

Bucktommy got me acting up because I almost never dip my toes into Omegaverse. Tagged by @rewritetheending

“Eddie, that's impossible. What you’re telling me is impossible. We didn’t mate. I never bit him, I wouldn’t have done that to him,” Tommy says, desperately needing his words to ring true. But Eddie just looks at him with pity.

“We both know that sometimes you don’t have to.”

Tommy shakes his head even though he knows what Eddie is saying is true. It’s rare, but not unfathomably so. Sometimes, the connection between two people is so strong that a mating bond forms without the claiming bite.

Tommy feels like he might be sick. Not only because Evan is now tied to him, but because Tommy leaving him was the worst possible thing he could’ve done. He’d chalked feeling like shit up to the breakup he hadn’t really wanted and maybe a badly timed bout of the flu, but if what Eddie is saying is true, it’s actually because of the sudden absence of his Omega. And Evan losing his Alpha like that would’ve sent his hormones into a tailspin—no wonder his heat has come a month early.

[tumblingxelian]

Chloe Knows:

Apparently game Chloe knows Marinette is Ladybug, so I wrote this:

Summary: Chloé Bourgeois is perhaps the last person Marinette expected to see on her roof after having lost the Miraculous to Felix.

Chloé Bourgeois is also probably the person Marinette least wants to see on her roof.

Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, Chloe knows more than she's ever let on and that complicates things, but it just might end up helping too.

Chloe Knows:

The last thing Marinette expected to deal with right now was Chloe hanging out on her roof, arms folded and tapping her yellow jacket impatiently.

It was also the last thing Marinette wanted to deal with, save maybe finding Hawk Moth waiting for her. & that thought just sent her gut into a tailspin, so Marinette forced open her ceiling hatch and stalked onto the roof.

Chloe zeroed in on her instantly, hissing, "You kept me waiting!"

Marinette barely resisted the urge to grab and shake the blonde, because she had only just finished re-tethering herself after the disaster of losing the Miracle Box.

Still, she had just enough restraint to only force her way into Chloe's space, grounding out, "How did you trick my parents into letting you up here, Chloe?"

The blonde blinked confusedly, "I climbed?" She motioned to a discarded pair of gloves sitting in the rooftop bin. "Why would I talk to your parents about that anyway? This is our business."

Marinette tried very hard to parse that question but she was still trying to process Chloe having scaled her walls!?

"Because they-, I-" No she as not dealing with that right now. "Chloe we don't have business!" Marinette settled on, arms flailing.

"Normally we wouldn't, you made sure of that-"

"Oh I made sure of it?"

"Yes you," Chloe huffed, somehow the one affronted, "When you got me to be terrible for my mother, then made it impossible for me to be good as Queen Bee by taking Pollen. Now you go and lose her & the others? I thought you were at least cunning to pull that scheme off Dupain-Cheng, or are you just lucky!?"

Marinette technically 'heard' what Chloe said, but she didn't have the wherewithal to react to it. Not right now as her whole world felt like it was suddenly unreal and empty and yet crushingly full all at once.

"Hah, haha, what are you t- talking about? Me, take a pollen? I don't know what that is? I don't even like wasps!"

Chloe dragged her hands down her face, screaming into her palms, "You cannot be this thick, no one can, for the- I know you're Ladybug, I've known your Ladybug for ages. Now tell me how you lost the Miraculous!"

"I could never be-"

Chloe stepped forward, counting off on her fingers.

"Rena is Alya, Nino is Carapace, Sabrina the Hound, Max is Pegasus, Kim is monkey guy and Zoe is Vespera, very petty of you, kudos really. Need I list more?"

"I"

"I've seen your Kwami, do I need to grab your damned earrings!?"

Marinette's hands flew to them, and she flung herself back, then started to giggle, maniacally.

"Hahaha, of- of course, this is a nightmare! All a nightmare! I didn't fail, Chloe doesn't know anything, I didn't get tricked by Felix and doom Paris! Hahaha- OW!"

Chloe pulled her hand back and out of pinching distance.

"You're awake Dupain-Cheng & finally answered my question to boot. Felix, ugh!! What, did he pull that stupid 'I'm Adrien' stunt and you just tripped over yourself?"

"Actually-" Tikki cut in gently, drifting out of her bag. "There was no tripping that I recall, & he'd had help this time, as Adrien wished to stay in Paris so it was more believable."

Marinette felt like her throat was closing up as she rasped, "Tikki, why!?"

The Kwami turned to her, big eyes doleful, "I am sorry Marinette, but it was obvious she knew and has evidently known for sometime. I felt you continuing to try and cover this up would only make things worse not better."

"Good thing too, I was about to tackle her and shake you out of that bag-ah!"

Marinette grabbed Chloe, spun her around and trapped her against the nearest wall. Eyes wild and frantic, the command phrase to transform dancing on her lips.

"Where's Hawk Moth? What's your game Chloe!?"

"If this was a game I'd be having fun, also," Chloe brought her hands up, and sharply but lightly 'chopped' her way out of Marinette's grip with the sudden pressure on her elbows and then shot out of grabbing range.

"Uhu, you had your chance to straddle me and passed it up."

Marinette's overtaxed brain wanted to 'scream' at that particular mental image. But Ladybug Brain was taking over and she snapped.

"How long have you known? It can't be that long or Hawk Moth would have found out already. After Penal-Team, no after-"

"Are you kidding? I've known way longer than that," Chloe boasted.

"Then why doesn't Hawk Moth know? Why didn't you just Akumatize and bring him the Miraculous!?" Marinette hissed.

"Because I don't want him to win, obviously!"

"You say you want him to win all the time!"

"I say stupid stuff when I'm angry, sue me!"

"Marinette!" Her parents called, and she could hear them racing up the ladder and nearly tripping over one another in a bid to make it to the rood.

Tikki vanished back into her purse and Marinette stood stock still frozen as her parents clambered out. Her mother hugging her close and her dad stepping between her and Chloe.

"How did you get up here?" Her father groused.

"Marinette, are you OK?" Sabine asked, fretfully.

A million and one excuses flew through Marinette's exhausted brain. Class project, Chat Noir dumped Chloe on her roof, she was Ladybug & Chloe had come to yell at her- No wait, that was the truth!

"What business is it of yours?" Chloe snapped back, evidently not intimidated by her father.

"Because this is our home, and our daughter and you are trespassing." Tom rumbled.

Chloe leaned to the side and looked at Marinette, still in her mothers arms, and then pointedly looked 'past' them.

"That doesn't answer my question, Marinette and I's business is none of yours."

Her mother frowned, "You've never had business with our daughter, just sharp words at best. You have no right to her or anything here."

"Ch- Chloe was just checking up on me, after Monarch's announcement." Marinette rambled, trying to piece the pieces together into something workable that wouldn't send Chloe into a fit.

Both her parents looked stunned and also like they wanted to ask if she was concussed.

Fortunately, Chloe managed to pick up where she'd left off.

"Exactly, we certainly aren't friends, but I felt obliged to check up on someone else I knew Ladybug wouldn't check on."

"What?" Her mothers hug tightened, and her voice actually quivered.

Her father looked between the two sides, seemingly lost for what to do with himself.

The pieces fell into place and Marinette came to the truth, in a sense.

"I was Multi-Mouse, when my science teacher god Akumatized, Ladybug needed someone who was good at multitasking."

"Marinette," Her father rushed forward and pulled her into a hug that knocked the air out of her lungs.

"I... I helped her, I did OK I think."

"You got the Miraculous back so you did your job," Chloe cut in, neither warm nor scathing.

Her mother evidently didn't agree, "It shouldn't have been her job, either of your jobs. You're children!"

"Mum, dad, it's fine, really it's fine!"

Her mother ran a hand through her hair, "I feel like there's something you aren't saying sweetheart."

She glanced at Chloe who was watching the exchange with an inscrutable expression. Some strange mix of confusion and almost starvation like hunger that was honestly painful to perceive.

Marinette licked her lips and pressed on.

"Chloe was right that Ladybug might not check up on me. At least not in a way I could see."

"She's usually such a good hero?" Her father said, sounding despondent.

"It's because I asked her too! I... When I was Multi-Mouse, I used the other Miraculous. A lot. I shouldn't have, but nothing bad happened!" she hastily added, at her parents near frantic looks of worry.

"Ladybug warned me, but I misunderstood and she said even though I was OK this time I shouldn't use magic again for a long time. I was upset, I wanted to help her, I-"

Why was she crying?

"I wanted to be a good hero, but I just screwed up and now," she was sobbing. Gods she was sobbing in her mothers arms.

"There there, my treasure, I am sure you were brilliant, let it out," her mother stroked her hair while her father hovered protectively, one large hand rubbing circles on her back.

Fortunately, Marinette had already cried her heart out once tonight and was too tired for a truly spectacular breakdown.

She managed to half slip her mothers grip, wiping at her eyes. "Thanks, both of you," she glanced at Chloe who was back to not quite staring at them. Her face was a mask of forced, haughty neutrality that looked like it was being kept in place with wires buried beneath her skin.

"Thanks for checking up on me Chloe, and for somehow not telling Hawkmoth our, my, anyone's identities when he had you Akumatized all those times." Because she still needed an answer to that, only the fact Tikki hadn't seemed panicked was keeping her grounded.

Chloe swallowed, hands clenching and unclenching before she spoke.

"Yes, well, I might not be Queen Bee or a hero anymore, but ridiculous circumstances demand ridiculous actions. So for tonight I'm a hero and it's the duty of a hero to look out for people. Even one's they hate."

OK, ow.

Chloe pressed on, "As to identities," She shrugged. "If that idiot Hawkmoth, Shadowmoth or whatever he's calling himself had that kind of control he wouldn't have to wait for people to break before getting them under his thumb. Even when I let him in the last few times, I never let him dig deep and I'd just kick him out if he tried to paw at any of my secrets."

Marinette felt like her heart was going to collapse in on itself because, "Even knowing everything you do, you just- I can't- I don't understand you at all Chloe!"

That actually seemed to draw the blonde up short, "That's a surprise, I thought you knew me better than anyone. You're certainly good at," Chloe looked at her parents ten back to Marinette, "Hitting my weak spots when we come to blows."

It felt like there was a lot to unpack there and for the first time in a long time, Marinette knew she'd actually have to spare no small amount of time and thought on Chloe's inner workings.

For now though.

"Even if you 'can' just kick him out."

"You know I can!" Chloe stomped her foot. "You saw me do it when I was Penal-Team!"

"That's my point! Isn't that like willingly helping him!? Other people have to be tricked!"

Chloe scoffed, "Tricked she says, don't over-sell it, it's being angry or sad, or whatever and taking a deal. Besides, does it look like I'm helping? I played soccer for an hour then quit."

"You had a bunch of people trapped in deadly orbs Chloe!"

"So what!? People try to kill me all the time! Ivan tried to smear me on the pavement! Nathanial tried to chop my legs off! Mommy murdered me and no one cared! No one!"

There was a choked edge in that but Chloe pressed on. "Because it's not a big deal, and anyone trying to make it a big deal is just looking for sympathy points, so there." 

She huffed and unfolded her arms, "Anyway you've clearly got people to tend to and I got what I came for. See you at school, Multi-Mouse."

With that she marched across the rooftop to her sky-box. "I'm not climbing the walls again if I don't have to so I'll just leave out the front and avoid the stray dog."

Before she reached the door, Marinette was surprised to see her mother reach out and gently grasp Chloe's shoulder.

"Chloe," She said firmly, as the blonde practically froze up, looking half ready to bolt, or shout. "Thank you for checking up on our daughter, that was a good thing and for whatever it's worth. People should have cared, I'm sorry those who should don't."

There was a moment where Marinette honestly expected Chloe to start crying, to fling herself at her mother and howl and sob. She was sure she saw something glisten in her eyes before Chloe wiped it away, and swallowed.

Her voice was rough as she said, "It's... Thanks, or whatever, doesn't matter. I don't need anyone's help."

"Everyone needs someone, so if your feelings change, don't be afraid to ask, people can surprise you. Especially if you don't break into their house." Her mother said the last part with a sort of forced, hopeful smile.

Chloe nodded, like taking an instruction, a rasped something escaping her lips before she achingly pulled away and climbed down the ladder.

A million and one feelings, questions and terrors still swirled in Marinette's mind but as her father and mother gently guided her down the ladder, intent on hot coco and comfort talk. She knew they'd have to wait. Could wait, until she was rested and ready.

Even still, a part of her would linger on the question of Chloe. What to think, to feel, to do, certainly. But also on the quieter, more uncomfortable thoughts.

Like who someone who felt they had no one would turn to if they were desperate and at the end of their rope.

'& it's not just Chloe either, who does Chat Noir have besides me?'

It was an uncomfortable thought, but one buoyed by a new revelation. No matter how omnipotent Hawk Moth seemed, no matter how all knowing he claimed to be; he was clearly far less than that.

It wasn't much to build on, but it was something, a foot hold from which she could dig in her heels and drag him down from his perch.

Golden hair flashed in her mind again and another thought echoed in her head.

'One good foot hold may be enough to bring down Hawkmoth. So what could it do for someone else?'

Because no matter what she said or had done, Chloe made a choice tonight, and had been making choices for longer than Marinette realized. Not having fallen down the slope but merely standing on the brink.

'But she took a step back tonight, to somewhere I can reach.'

& maybe all Marinette needed was one good foothold to pull Chloe all the way back, perhaps Farther than she'd ever been, or Marinette even realized was possible. 

It was a tender little hope, strange and unsure, but somehow, in Marinette's mind, it felt like solid gold. 

NOTES:

Wrote this is one sitting, then edited it, I hope it reads well XD

I have no plans to continue this, though if someone else wants to take it and run with it please feel free. I kind of envision Marinette re-inviting Chloe to the class group chat as a sort of olive branch and them slowly working through their respective issues.

Also Chloe turning up at Felix's with a tazer and the same martial arts skills that let her fight Mayura to a stand still and possibly, violently reclaiming Doosoo, cos you can pry Jock!Chloe from my cold dead hands!

[ladylucksrogue]

I was going to wait til Monday to post a bit of this, you know for mental health Monday but I decided to roll with it now.

I don’t post a lot of real life things here because this tends to be my little fandom safe space where I love posting my fandom messiness and thirsting over clones and posting my fanfic.  But I have noticed a lot of peeps that I interact with are going through a rough patch.  Post Holiday blues, January blues…something.  It’s rough out there, especially in the real world.

Went through a bit of a slump myself.  Prior to the holidays, I did up my writing plan for all my WIPs.  It was very…ambitious for lack of a better word.  Like damn, I know I can write a lot in a session but we’re talking like a fic a day and that…just hasn’t happened.  So, when I missed a couple days of writing, I was hard on myself.  I hold myself to impossible standards sometimes and forget to give myself space.  

I was pretty hungover on January 1st, the wine got to me a bit more than usual and I just wasn’t feeling writing at all, though I did push myself to write a few words.  I was able to post my New Years story a couple days later but I remember posting and thinking this is shit.  This isn’t your usual, though it’s not terrible in retrospect.  I just…it got to me.  So instead of following my crazy plan I focused on some drabbles and doing Whumpuary, which is thankfully every other day, so it gives me a bit of space.  I have been working on my next installment of my fix-it, which the first scene is light hearted and it’s been fun but slow going.

Had a bit of an epiphany a couple days ago, because of a comment someone said.  And it sent me into a bit of a tail spin.  An angry tailspin that my hubby had to catch the brunt of.  He is fabulous though and just rolls with it, lets me rant and knows that I’ll feel better for it.  Someone in our extended friends group cracked a joke about me not working yet and how I’m just enjoying sitting around at home.  It was meant to be light hearted but it hit wrong on so many levels.

I lost my job last year due to a company restructuring.  It was sudden and I was really angry at the circumstances of it.  And more importantly, because it was the second job I had lost in two years to no fault of my own.  But I still gave myself the fault in all of it.  There was a time where I really struggled to hold down a job for a variety of reasons after I got out of the military, and every time something like this happens, it digs up a bunch of stuff from then…

But the fact of the matter is, since losing my job a lot has happened healthwise and I am actually on disability.  As of right now, I can’t work.  It’s something that has been a long time coming and the timing just happened to work out.  At the same time, people who know react one of two ways, oh but you’re fine, you don’t look sick, why can’t you work, or they start on some BS about must be nice, etc.  I won’t even start on the whole who is deserving and mooching off the government stuff, because I will just make myself upset.

It isn’t nice.  For someone who has worked all their life, I would much rather go to work every day than sit at home.  Weird but true.  And I feel doubt and second guess this and wonder if I can go to work and all this is just me being weak, etc.

Comments like that from people don’t help at all.  And then it happened, the moment of clarity…because usually I’m fine on most days.  And then I was working on a scene, got up to make myself some coffee and I had a moment.  There was a sound in my apartment, no clue what it was, but it set something off in my head and for a good moment, I had this really disorienting moment of not really knowing where I was, like half in a memory and half in the present and trying to sort it.  It’s happened before.  I have PTSD, an autoimmune condition, and a whole list of things, so the amount of times something has gone wrong suddenly is long.  But I’m standing there at my kettle like nearly going into a panic attack and managed to calm myself down and sort what happened.  Had this happened at work, I would have had to go sit somewhere for a bit, wasting work time to pull myself out of it and then pretend to be productive for the rest of the day.  Because, in the immediate aftermath of this, after I calmed down, I was dizzy and exhausted and just done.  No energy left.

And the fact that I was home allowed me to go take a nap for a couple hours and reset so to speak, which is probably the best and most effective way I have found in dealing with a PTSD attack.  It works for me personally better than any med they have given me.  Can’t do that working.  Not to mention, if someone is next to you when stuff like this happens, most people are not willing to understand.  You are immediately judged and ostracized (in my experience) because you do not fit into society’s mold.  

But after all this, it made me realize that I need to give myself a bit of grace.  To allow myself moments to feel bad.  To focus on myself and be accepting.  I think it is a big part of self-care we all forget.  Like even people that don’t have medical conditions or diagnoses need to remember.  We all cannot be perfect and productive always.  Sometimes we need a break.  We need to allow ourselves that.

Especially during this time of year, when stress is high and people are frustrated.  We just all need to give ourselves a pat on the back, take things a day at a time and practice a little acceptance.  Like if we finish that chapter or art or whatever in a day, that is fantastic.  On other days we might not do much of anything, and that is ok too.

This is in no way a message saying I am taking a break btw, so no worries! To those who follow my writing, I am here and writing, just on my own time. So at times, I'll probably post a bunch at once and other times, it'll be a bit slow going. Also, keep asks and interactions coming, absolutely keeps me sane and happy to keep interacting!

[scoops-aboy86]

Your mission,if you choose to accept it:

Steddie prompt: Steve and Eddie are separate blind dates. Horrible blind dates. They decide to ditch their dates and go on a date together ❤️

I’m not sure I delivered on both dates being entirely horrible—Steve’s is mostly okay, just, not as good as it would have been with his secret crush who just happens to be on a date in the same restaurant. Anyway, here’s this! 4183 words. Sorry it’s been sitting in my ask box since July!

~

Steve walks into the restaurant and immediately perks up upon seeing a familiar curly head of hair by the hostess stand. “Eds, man, what are you doing here?”

As soon as he says it, he experiences a mental vertigo—Robin had sent him to this address to meet “a friend” of hers for a date, something to get him out of his usual social rut and test run his recently realized bisexuality like he keeps talking about but never actually pulling the trigger on. But… she would have told him if it was a friend they both knew, right? Surely, if she set him up with Eddie, she’d tell him… right?

Turning, Eddie blinks and then grins at him, oblivious to Steve’s sudden mental tailspin. “Stevie, it’s been forever!” He walks over, as always with a slight limp even after all the physical therapy, and a faded scar still pulling at one side of his smile. Claps Steve on the shoulder, hand warm and giving one quick squeeze before letting go. 

And the thing is, it has been several weeks. A whole month, at least. Steve blames his schedule… and refuses to acknowledge that he’s felt too self-conscious to seek Eddie out now that he’s realized some, uh, things. Like how Eddie’s smile makes his stomach swoop and not just a weird coincidence every time they hang out. So he’s a little surprised to see that Eddie has put on some weight since they’d last hung out. Not that it looks bad on him, far from it, it’s just that Eddie had always laughed over how he could eat whatever and it never showed, something about trailer park rations and a metabolism that moved even faster than his silver tongue. 

Now it shows. The rounded cheeks make his dimples pop even more when he smiles, and Steve has never seen a more grabable waist in his life. Love handles; who knew?

“Ronnie has sent me on a mission,” Eddie continues, sounding serious but with an amused twinkle in his eye that Steve hangs on like a planet circling a star. “I’m to entertain a friend of hers with my masculine wiles for the evening. Pray tell, have you seen any tall dark and handsomes roving about with a rainbow pin on his lapel?”

Something in Steve sinks all the way down to the soles of his shoes. So Eddie is here on a blind date too, but not with him. Of course not with him, it’s not like he’s told Robin who the catalyst for his realization was. (And she’d said something about it being a friend from her Shakespeare class anyway; Eddie isn’t a college kind of guy.) It’s not like he could ever be Eddie’s type, completely devoid of leather and chains and metal band memorabilia, and way too reppy. Too much of a jock, the type of guy who made Eddie’s terrible high school experience even worse—was that kind of guy for a little bit, between the popularity of being captain of various sports teams getting to his head and a whole mess of adolescent bullshit that had taken him a while to wade through. 

Steve is long over all that now, but it left a stain on him that people like Eddie can probably still sense. Wouldn’t be fair to up and ask him to overlook it, just because Steve went and caught feelings.  

So nothing is going to happen between them, not ever, and that’s his new thing to wade through. Someday he’ll make it out the other side and be a better person for it, and still have Eddie as a friend. That’s… just how it’s going to have to be.

Still, there’s a scratch in his voice when he replies, “Sorry, haven’t seen anyone like that.” Not a lie, because he hadn’t been looking for it and probably wouldn’t notice otherwise. Steve coughs, clears his throat a little. “Robin’s set me up with someone too. I’m supposed to be looking for a ridiculously long striped scarf. Like, thirteen feet long, I think she said? Which seems weirdly specific, but…”

The twinkle in Eddie’s eyes intensifies. “A Doctor Who scarf, eh? Good for you, expanding your horizons to include more nerds. I’ll help you look, can’t be too hard to spot a girl sporting that.”

“Um,” Steve says, face flushing. Right. Eddie… doesn’t have any way of knowing that Steve’s blind date is supposed to be a guy, because the only person in their friend group that he’s come out to so far is Robin.  

He’s saved from having to put it into words by a tap on his shoulder, and it’s a young man with wavy black hair that falls just past his shoulders and square-ish glasses. The scarf around his neck is a morse code of greens and yellows and reds and purples and warm grays, looped multiple times so both ends don’t drag on the floor. 

“Hi, um, Steve? Robin said to look for a red sweater and ‘the tallest hair known to man and Farrah Fawcett’...”

Steve glances at Eddie, whose jaw has dropped approximately to China, then back. “Yeah, of course she did. That’s me.” He wiggles his fingers in a little wave. “Jacob, right?”

The guy nods enthusiastically, blushing. “Yeah!” And then he peers around to look at Eddie. 

“Oh, this is my friend Eddie, we just ran into each other,” Steve explains. “He’s on a blind date too! Uh, with someone else, obviously.”

“Obviously,” Eddie parrots back, a little wide-eyed but clearly pulling himself together from the brink of shock, because he’s good at thinking on his feet like that. (Better than Steve anyway, blurting out Eddie’s business as if Robin might have set all three of them up at once without happening to mention it. Jesus Christ.) “And of course it would be weird to suggest making it a double date, seeing as how it’s blind all around, that would just give Stevie and me here an unfair advantage, ha! Anyway, I think it looks like my table is ready now, so I’ll just—yeah.”

The hostess is approaching with two menus in hand and doesn’t seem thrown off by the way Eddie speed walks to head her off, so maybe it’s just that. Steve follows their progress through the dining area with his eyes for a beat too long, a faint crease forming between his brows because that was abrupt, a little weird even for Eddie. 

But then he turns back to Jacob, his actual date. Brings out the ol’ Harrington charm, because he’s good at this—or used to be, with girls. Maybe it’s not so different with guys after all, because Jacob smiles back with a bashful little duck of his head. 

They end up at the bar while waiting for a table of their own, and the first sour note of the evening comes when Jacob turns out to be a bit of a wine snob. 

“I mean, how hard is it to know something about a bottle besides what’s printed on the label?” he’s saying, nose still upturned at the now distant bartender who’s sticking pretty pointedly to the other end of the bar. “Anything beyond the varietal at least, anyone can tell that just by reading.”

Steve winces internally, trying very hard not to think of his mother’s delicate sneer over the rim of a wine glass right now. It’s not like Robin, who doesn’t drink much, would know or even have much opportunity to screen for this sort of thing. He can get past it, without letting it dominate the first impression, really  

“I, uh, think this place is better known for its cocktails than the wine list,” he says, an attempt at neutrality. “Anyway, what were you saying about that math guy, um… Boris? With the library?”

Jacob brightens immediately. “Jorge Luis Borges, yes—”

A waiter interrupts to lead them to a table, and Steve finishes off his Cosmo before leaving the glass and a covert tip at the bar. The thread of earlier conversation is lost again—Steve hadn’t really gotten much out of it anyway, beyond the vague sense of a labyrinthine universe made entirely of library rooms which, kind of boring maybe, but still better than the universe full of sentient vines and eyeless creatures with too many teeth. 

They look over their menus and place their orders. Steve just gets another cocktail to go with his entree, and while Jacob fusses over wine pairings again he finds his eyes drifting around the room, trying to find… 

Eddie, chatting away with some guy that Steve is only able to see the back of at this angle. He seems in good enough spirits after that weird departure, and happily not stood up or anything, but.

There’s a moment where his gaze flickers just enough to catch Steve looking straight at him, and Eddie visibly stumbles over whatever he’d been saying. It’s too far away to hear and Steve can’t read lips worth a damn—despite the slight loss of hearing in his left ear after that bullshit with the Russians that one summer, no matter what Dustin had assured him at the time about his other senses compensating for it or something. Steve takes a deep breath and returns his attention to his own date, feeling guilty for whatever awkward word pile-up he’d inadvertently caused. 

“So what do you do?” Jacob asks with a smile. “I don’t think you’ve mentioned it yet.”

It’s maybe the second sour note, realizing that he hasn’t represented himself very well so far in the first half hour of their date, but Steve’s just distracted enough worrying about Eddie to not fully register it. 

~

By the time dessert lands on the table—chocolate cheesecake with raspberry coulis and two forks, one of Steve’s signature Moves™—he’s almost managed to put Eddie out of his mind. There were a few hiccups here and there, but from the looks Jacob is giving him over the shared dessert it seems pretty certain that they’re going home together after this. Steve is even looking forward to it, because a few hurried handjobs in club bathrooms is one thing but this feels like a Big Deal, a true comparison of his past dating history and what it would feel like to be with a man. 

He lives for this part, the tingle of anticipation in every shared look and knock of their feet under the table, all smiles and bitten lips and something electric in the air. 

And then Steve’s eyes land on Eddie again, as they have every now and then throughout the night. It’s like he can’t help himself, attention flitting back occasionally like a moth seeking light, as if just the fleeting reminder of Eddie’s glow is enough to keep him steady— Only this time, something’s wrong. The chair across from Eddie is empty and he’s slumped forward, elbow on the table as he glumly pulls an abandoned plate of apple pie ala mode closer to him, alongside two empty, stacked plates that must have been his own. 

The shock of seeing Eddie apparently abandoned throws Steve for a loop. Had something happened? Maybe the guy had been called away for an emergency, like a relative falling off a ladder or his apartment catching on fire. Maybe he was a doctor and had gotten a page from the hospital. Or does Eddie seem sadder, more defeated than that?

“I, um,” Steve finds himself saying when Jacob asks if he’d like to come back to his place. “I just remembered, I’ve actually got kind of an early day tomorrow? Some other time though, for sure, I’d love to. Just, tonight is, you know… no bueno…”

What the fuck. He’d taken the required years of Spanish classes for the credit to graduate high school, and this is, for some godawful reason, the first time since then that he’s ever even attempted to whip any of it out. 

This is definitely going to be a tally in the You Suck column, he knows, as Jacob’s expression shutters in disappointment. He’ll still tell Robin about it himself, though, since she’ll probably find out eventually anyway, but damn. Why did he say that?

And why, after the bill has been settled and his date has left the restaurant alone and probably feeling led on, does he stand and slowly make his way over to Eddie’s table?

Steve arrives and stands there stupidly for a second, because Eddie doesn’t look up from the last bites of his pilfered dessert. “Uh… hey. Mind if I sit?”

Eddie just shrugs listlessly, and that’s so wrong. He’s always such a vibrant guy, movement never ceasing and energy always thrumming beneath his skin, even when it’s the nervous kind. So Steve sits, but it’s with a sinking feeling that he can’t put his finger on. 

Or maybe it’s guilt, again, but he can’t really think of anything he’s done. It’s not like he drove Eddie’s date away. He’d only distracted Eddie the one time, as far as he’s aware, and that shouldn’t have been enough to disrupt the evening on its own. 

“If you’re going to ask, just go ahead,” Eddie mutters around a mouthful. 

Steve only hesitates another second or two, because maybe that means Eddie wants to talk about it. “Did your date have to leave early?”

A thin, very un-Eddie-like smile appears on Eddie’s face. “You could say that, Steve. You could say that… He, actually, made a comment about how I probably didn’t need dessert after two appetizers and one of the bigger entrees, and when I told him so what if I like my food and he could fuck off with that kind of attitude, he, uh. Took me up on that. Stuck me with the check too, so, you know, fuck it.” He jams the last bite into his mouth and adds around ice cream-soaked pastry, “I’m taking his leftovers home too. Fucking asshole.”

Steve can’t believe what he’s hearing. It’s dating 101 not to comment on how much your date does or doesn’t eat—at least, it always had been with girls. Maybe there’s some sort of gay memo that he, as a bisexual, has never received, but damn. 

“He’s an idiot,” he tells Eddie with absolute certainty. “That’s such bullshit, talking to you like that. If he were still here I’d kick his ass for you, man. I mean it.”

Eddie doesn’t look up at him, trying to scrape the last of the melted ice cream up with his fork. “Oh come on, who’re you kidding. He’s right, Steve. I ate two appetizers and an entire pizza all by myself, no to-go box. And three desserts. And I’m planning on finishing off his leftovers as soon as I get home, pity-party style, because I’ve just blown the first date I’ve bothered to go on in a month. I mean, look at me!”

Finally, Eddie makes eye contact with him, but it’s a dull and self-pitying look that makes Steve want to gather him up in a hug until he feels better. He hasn’t seen Eddie look like that since the summer of ‘86, after the bat-attack induced coma had worn off and someone (Steve) had had to tell him that his uncle had moved away while, in the aftermath of the ‘earthquake,’ the general public had briefly assumed Eddie was dead. 

(That, at least, had turned out all right. Steve had personally driven him all the way out and knocked on Wayne Munson’s new door while Eddie had still been physically weak and too pessimistic to do it himself. The reunion had involved an undignified amount of tears—but Steve had ended up drawn into some of the hugs too, and Wayne had clapped him gruffly on the back and called him a good man after Eddie explained who had carried him out of hell, and, really, some of that runner-nosed sniffling had been his.)

Now, if possible, Eddie looks even more resigned. When he looks back down at the scattering of empty plates before him, Steve notices the gentle swell beneath his jaw, the start of a double chin. 

“Nobody wants the fat guy. Tonight’s made that crystal fucking clear.”

“Bullshit.”

It takes a second for Steve to realize that he’s the one who said that. His mouth working faster than his brain again—hur hur, dumb ol’ Steve, what else would anyone expect when he’s known more for his hair and his past than anything else. 

But, fuck it, he really means it. So he continues, “I haven’t been able to stop looking at you all night, man. I just turned down my first real time in bed with a guy because… because you looked so upset over here, alone, and I wanted to make sure you’re okay. Which, you’re obviously not, because that’s a fucked up thing to say about yourself. About no one wanting you,” he adds quickly, when Eddie’s mouth opens to rebut. 

It’s enough that Eddie hesitates, licks his lips, pauses for a drink of what’s left in his glass and clears his throat. “You… You never even told me you like guys. You’re…?”

“Bisexual,” Steve fills in. He looks down at his hands where they rest stupidly in his lap. 

“Right. Are we… not close enough for you to tell me that?”

The suggestion stabs right through his heart, and shit, there’s no escaping the moment of truth coming up, is there? Steve wishes he had his own drink to clear out the sudden dryness in his mouth, but there’s nothing on this side of the table that Eddie’s date probably hasn’t put his mouth on first, and. Ew.

“I was… nervous,” Steve says carefully, wringing his hands out of sight beneath the table. “We are that close, but I, or—too close, maybe? I didn’t want you to, like, see. How I… feel about you, so… So I backed off a little.”

“A little?” Eddie repeats, incredulous. “We used to hang out every day, man. But this is the first time I’ve seen you in, what, a whole damn month?”

Steve is still staring down at his hands, at the little smudge of sky blue in the corner of his thumbnail he’d missed when cleaning up after the last time Robin had done his nails. 

“I thought I did something to push you away. I thought you’d seen right through me, how I feel about y-you.” It’s terrible, the way Eddie’s voice cracks over some of those words. “I put on twenty fucking pounds because I’ve been so stressed out.”

“It doesn’t look bad,” Steve blurts out. His face is so hot, he could probably cook a whole new dinner for them. Christ, but the idea that the new weight is there because of him is doing something really unexpected for him… Sending little jolts of possessiveness through his heart with each beat. 

How I feel about you, Eddie had said. How I feel about you. 

How I feel. 

About you. 

He’d give Eddie anything, everything, if he lets him. 

Eddie scoffs, and Steve can’t help the way his head snaps up. 

“No, I, I’m serious,” he stammers. “You want me to get you anything else? I’ll do it, Eds. I—I fucked up, must’ve if you could possibly think I don’t want you around. I stayed away because I felt transparent as hell, every time I looked at you, and I figured there was no way I’d be your type, because I’m not exactly—”

“Steve,” Eddie interrupts. “Did you spend the whole night looking over here and not even notice that my date was wearing a polo shirt and had the second most fantastic head of hair I’ve ever seen on a man? That he has certified muscles from working out at the gym, just like you do? Ronnie knows my type, man, and it is you. Everyone else is just a cheap imitation at best!”

“… Oh,” Steve says dumbly. Because he hadn’t noticed that; he had only been looking at Eddie. And then he considers for a moment. “I… don’t even think I bothered to get Jacob’s number. He was… okay, but not, um. Not you.”

He wills Eddie to hear the rest of it, the parts he’s still kind of terrified to say out loud, worried that it would be too much, like he’s always been. Nothing compared to you, he can’t say yet. Couldn’t even hold a candle. Never stood a chance in the long run, really, from the moment we both ended up at this same restaurant. 

There’s a pause, during which Eddie’s waiter turns up with the check, a large box already tucked into a plastic bag, and a puzzled look at Steve. 

Eddie hands over his credit card and shoos the waiter away without even looking, something like hope dawning bright in his expression. “Do you, um. Want to get out of here, Stevie?”

Steve beans at him, giddy. “Sure. If you’re still hungry I know an ice cream place we could walk to from here.”

The look Eddie gives him is one part shrewd, twelve parts delighted. “You might be more of a freak than I realized. Which is a compliment, by the way.”

“I know,” Steve replies with a wink. He can’t quite believe this is happening, but it’s happening—and he honestly can’t think of a better compliment than being called freak by Eddie Munson while that twinkle is there in his eyes. Steve’s a sucker for that twinkle, and the dimpled smile he gets in response. 

~

They do end up going on that stroll for ice cream. Steve lets Eddie’s eyes be what he thinks is bigger than his stomach, then cheers him on as Eddie does actually manage to finish the entire banana split with minimal assistance. He kisses the chocolate sauce from Eddie’s lips in a dark spot outside the parlor, touching the new love handles that he’d noticed before and noticing, too, the way Eddie’s tight jeans are squeezing his softness into two separate rolls. 

“Let me?” he murmurs, and at Eddie’s eager nod he lets his fingers travel beneath the oversized shirt that hides his straining waistband. With a little sucking in, it’s just possible to get the button undone—Eddie moans prettily against his mouth at the release, his full belly rounding out into a smooth dome under Steve’s soothing hands. The shirt is still long enough to cover the fact that his jeans end up completely unzipped, the open flaps stretching wide as Steve helps him resettle in them to be more comfortable, with his belly hanging out and over. 

Steve doesn’t know what twenty extra pounds looks like, exactly; he has no idea if that’s an accurate number or an approximation. But Eddie feels big in a way that makes his pulse speed up, same as when he drops his hands a little lower and feels Eddie’s cock react to his touch through the denim, growing thick and heavy there too. 

It doesn’t even feel strange, going from friends to fervently making out in a darkened alcove. Going from there to Steve’s car, which he helps Eddie into because his full stomach gets in the way and bending over forces out these endearing little hiccupy burps, helps crank the seat back to make it more comfortable for him. Going back to Steve’s place because Robin is out at her girlfriend’s for the night and Eddie rooms with all three of his bandmates. 

Going to bed, where they see all of each other for the first time. The contrast of Steve’s scars on his lean sides and the way they pucker and stretch over Eddie’s recent gains—Steve kisses every inch of them, because it’s Eddie, tears in his eyes from how much he’s wanted this. Years out from all the trauma of it but still wearing matching reminders that will forever bind them together, make them feel whole, together, in a way no one else could ever really quite reach. 

They finish the leftovers in bed together, as a post-sex snack. Eddie can barely keep his eyes open, can’t take his hands away from his packed-full belly, but still whimpers for Steve to press more little tidbits between his lips and sucks sweetly on each fingertip before letting go. Breaths that sound more like moans, getting Steve just a little riled up again despite the fact that he’s tired too. Snickering together over long-shared jokes from their years of friendship and new little things to tease each other over from tonight. Savory-sweet kisses shared in their drowsy cocoon of blankets, Steve pressed against Eddie’s plush back and providing slow and steady belly rubs that make his new boyfriend (boyfriend!!) curl his toes with happy, satisfied sighs. 

Tomorrow, they’ll each tell their best friends that it was the best blind date night ever, even though they’ll never talk to the guys they were set up with ever again. Tonight, they fall asleep in a cozy universe built for two, soft and warm and hearts full to bursting. 

Permanent tag list (ask to be added or removed): @hotluncheddie @hiei-harringtonmunson @sofadofax @victorclays @oatmilk-vampire

@wheneverfeasible @hamiltonswiftie @grtwdsmwhr @yesdangerpls @theseaofdespair

@ape31

[codenamesazanka]

(pikahlua's translation)

i know that it's ultimately all AFO's fault, and it's unfair of me, but idk what Deku expected when he decided to "keep smashing away at [Shigaraki]'s lid until it breaks"* - basically prying open Shigaraki's repressed trauma - and the vestiges then all collaborated to destroy themselves trying to break through to Shigaraki's "most delicate and malleable" core so that Deku can reach The Crying Child (because he only ever cared about the Crying Child, which is why he never bothered to say more than like five sentences to Shigaraki the whole time he was fighting the guy?).

I mean, I know he didn't expect AFO to come back out, and this is shonen manga so punch therapy works, he only expected to have forced Shigaraki into trauma-catharsis submission (and also the narrative made him correct and heroic in prying out Shigaraki's trauma) (except while Shigaraki's guilt and self-hatred might have been alleviated, he ultimately wants to be a Hero for the Villains (maybe; depends on whether the 419 will change this because even AFO had a hand in developing this conviction), so it's implied that that wouldn't have stopped Shigaraki completely) but given the nature of his methods... I wonder if this might be saying something about how Deku should've gone about this differently. Probably not. Deku and Heroes are largely beyond reproach and it's all AFO's fault, after all.

This is also weirdly like the second time that Shigaraki's hatred has sort of an ambiguous value. His hatred and rage is bad and scary of course, and should be extinguished... but it was because his negative feeling was so powerful that AFO (original) was sent into a "tailspin, losing control over [his stolen quirks]", getting "swallowed up by Shigaraki" (Chapter 409) and Bakugou was able to defeat AFO; and now it was because his hatred was calmed by Deku/Deku won a 'spiritual battle', that AFO was able to resurface.

Basically Shigaraki's hatred, which AFO cultivated, was actually detrimental to AFO, because it was powerful enough to repeatedly foil him. Well—that's sorta like a weird version of 'your own hatred will destroy you one day', so fair?

* remember when the fandom rejoiced that Deku was going to 'shred the rug'? But it turned out that was a mistranslation? and he wasn't actually intending to shred the rug of injustices of Hero Society, but more truly intending to beat Shigaraki up until Shigaraki throws up his trauma? yeah.

[babytarttdoodoo]

do you think roy and jamie have kids?

The tailspin this sent me into, anon.

Certainly not while they're keeping their relationship out of the public eye. As per my post-canon timeline, Roy would have been pushing 50 by the time they started talking about Jamie's retirement and their subsequent engagement/marriage.

I can see kids being a big part of that discussion, particularly from Roy's perspective.

I don't think he's ever really been attached to idea of kids of his own - he has Phoebe and he's perfectly happy being a hands-on uncle to her. He is also acutely aware that having a child at his age would leave him parenting a teenager in his 60s.

(To be clear, there's obviously no issue with that in general. People are having kids later and later on in life across the board. Roy specifically just doesn't want to actually be mistaken for a grandad.)

However, he also knows that Jamie is great with kids. He lights up around young fans and goes to mush when someone hands him a baby. Roy kind of assumes it's a deal breaker.

Jamie is taken aback by that POV.

He's never seriously thought of himself becoming a father. The prospect of that responsibility is incredibly intimidating. And, yeah, he likes babies and kids. He also likes being able to hand them back to their actual guardians before he manages to break them.

(We can all spiral endlessly about where those fears are rooted from.)

So, yeah, they talk about it. But they agree to take it off the table.

And then Jamie becomes an ambassador for a children's charity, supporting sports clubs for underprivileged inner-city kids. And he meets a pre-teen in care who scowls and sasses and wears long sleeves in all kinds of weather.

And he has to really think about if he's going to let his own anxieties stop him from actually, properly helping someone.

He sees so much of his younger self in this person. How is he supposed to not get involved? How could Roy not support that?

They're the first foster kid Jamie and Roy take in. They're not the last.

[yourdadsbasement]

mingus vs her anxiety...another long rant

chat i was not prepared for how much my anxiety was going to kneecap me throughout my chemo treatments and now into the post-treatment. i seriously was not psychologically prepared for how isolating it was going to be being sick and stuck in my apartment for six months including through a harsh northern winter. I cannot believe how badly it has fucked up my brain and how far from "normal" i am considering how i was when it started, and that is from a person who has NEVER been "normal" mentally, I've been dealing with my mental illnesses since i was fourteen and the chemo-related episodes have been some of the worst so far.

It is starting to improve--like this morning I woke up strong, had my cup of coffee and started working on Dirtbags while listening to my playlist and was making progress where I had felt blocked and confused and dejected before and I actually felt happy for a change, but then the initial caffeine high faded and my flow dried up, which sent me into an anxiety tailspin because i really WANT to finish a chapter and get it up hopefully today. i had a great time in CO but i was thinking about Dirtbags a lot and was eager to get started on it again and it was disappointing to be doing so well and then suddenly get BODIED by an anxiety attack. i took one of my illegally obtained benzos (listen i write a fanfic called Dirtbags i live kind of a dirtbaggy life...maybe have a little more in common with Dirtbag Chris than I'd like to admit...hashtag only god can judge me) and took a walk outside and those things helped me calm down so i am going to try to get more done today. i'm not forcing myself to do this for the readers even though i love you guys (i know you would never want or expect me to force myself to write for you, because you are angels). I want to be doing work on Dirtbags because it feels good to do work on Dirtbags. nothing feels as good or makes me as happy as when i have a good flow going and these scenes just appear out of my fingertips like magic, and it's been such a struggle to get back to that place and it's so frustrating. i know i'm not being patient with myself but i have never been patient and i've always struggled to rest and do the work that comes with healing and you can imagine how a high strung impatient person handles "nonlinear healing."

anyway i don't really know where i'm going with this, i'm just going off because i'm feeling feral and i know i can do that here. i know that it's going to improve--it's already improving--but i am sick to death of my heart suddenly deciding that it needs to hammer out of my chest and ruin the nice time i was having.

[verdemoun]

What Mitski song do you think each of the gang members would resonate with if they listened to it (if you don’t listen to Mitski than replace her with any emotional/vent songs to associate with them) Also do you think Kieran and Molly would bond over being somewhat hated in the canon timeline? (Fun fact! Kieran helps Molly out of the wagon when the gang arrives at Shady Bell :])

I will respond to all asks I promise but this sent me into a tailspin because @themodernpr0metheus and I talk about this regularly. Also I don't think you're legally allowed to be gay And depressed without listening to Mitski.

People who actively listen to Mitski: Arthur, Javier, Sean, Lenny, Jenny, Karen, MOLLY, Trelawney, Annabelle, Jack, Isaac, Abigail Jr.

Molly and Kieran are besties I love that scene I want to believe they were almost-friends in canon era just with Molly usually sulking at the edge of camp when she was mad with Dutch meanwhile Kieran sulked at the edge of camp to avoid being physically or verbally assaulted. They text constantly and Molly will always send Kieran a photo of a horse whenever she sees one.

Dutch: I Bet On Losing Dogs (very specifically reminded of his last canon interaction with Arthur) and I'm Your Man (his relationship with John, his favorite son). Mental breakdown levels of distress first time he heard those songs. Walking up to his nurses asking to be sedated levels of distress.

Hosea: Me and My Husband. He loves his wife infinitely. That doesn't mean he won't always love Dutch too. It really was always just him and them together. He really did bet it all he had on that.

Arthur: Two Slow Dancers. As much as he loves that he gets to grow old with Charles he is terrified of getting old and aging bit Mitski makes that fear okay.

John: A Pearl. He knows Abigail has always tried to understand how he struggled to move on from VDL era but sometimes she doesn't get it and he feels the need to apologize for the way he is.

Javier: Love Me More. Absolutely blames John for him having issues with needing constant validation and affection in relationships. Kieran is happy to supply though they are very happy and secure.

Bill: Shame. Someone tell him internalized homophobia went out of fashion.

Micah: Everyone. Not that he would ever admit to listening to Mitski. Micah thinks he is a victim and had no choice but to become the villain everyone thought he was. I think Micah is a jackass.

Charles: My Love Mine All Mine. He is soft and in love with Arthur and it is beautiful.

Sean: Remember My Name. Sean, to everyone's surprise, is actually the one who deals with the most existential dread over the fact the legend of the VDL gang was already mostly forgotten by modern era. Feels like his life has been too hard to just be forgotten, y'know? But definitely knows his completely average modern life is nothing memorable to anyone other than his found family and feels like he's already lost his five minutes of fame being an outlaw in 1899.

Lenny: Stay Soft. Between being on the run for murder as a teenager, being a young black man in 1899, and losing every meaningful relationship in his life (Father, Jenny, Sean), he actively has to learn to be soft again and be emotionally available in timewarp era.

Sadie: Because Dreaming Costs Money, My Dear. Because she always has and always will find a way to make things work so her darling soft husband never has to worry about a thing in the world.

Karen: Nobody. Look me in the eye. Watch the music video. Imagine Karen Jones. Also, asking Sean to see her when they borrow John's tent at his party?? She gets it.

Uncle: A Horse Named Cold Air. Will pick at banjo strings to play creepy tune at campfire, with strange southern warble in his voice howling the 'ooh's.

Abigail: I Don't Smoke. Look she knows it is unhealthy but sometimes she's just gotta romanticize those shit years with John pre-1907.

Grimshaw: Square. Dutch doesn't mean to do it but he absolutely infects anyone he's in a relationship in ever with a brain worm where they still feel themselves faulter under his gaze or attention. She didn't stay all those years just for the sake of the gang. She stayed for Dutch.

Strauss: Fireworks. He still has a lot of angst about losing his sister and family immigrating to America.

Trelawney: Pink in the Night. Bouncing through time just to kiss his wife humming strange tunes she's never heard because he's such a romantic.

Kieran: Drunk Walk Home. He likes the screaming. Had very dangerous edge in his voice when he sings you know I wore this dress for you and the gang are too afraid to ask.

Molly: Why Didn't You Stop Me? Very much about no one physically trying to stop her in Beaver Hollow when she was clearly drunk and saying shit just to get Dutch's attention.

Jenny: Townie. She holds onto a lot of anger over being abandoned by her parents as a teen, dances like a wild spirit when Townie plays and is utterly entrancing.

Annabelle: I Guess. It was her early timewarp anthem when she was coping with finding out Dutch turned so evil and became everything they both hated while she held onto the ideals he inspired in her. It is simply her song.

Bessie: I Will. Heavily based on her efforts to keep Hosea with her when he has his moments of hating getting old, self-loathing, or the itch to do outlaw activities. And when she thinks about him leaving in canon era to continue being an outlaw while they were married.

Jack: I Don't Like My Mind. Word for word was written for him. Might be awkward being around the gang being so much older he doesn't remember a lot of them clearly but would rather have that awkwardness than be alone with his thoughts.

Isaac: Last Words of a Shooting Star. He's got a lot of feelings about death and relates to wanting that relief of knowing when he's doing to die.

Eliza: Old Friend. Both her modern era friends and some members of the gang do not understand how her and Arthur can be just friends when they have a child together so when they want to hang out as friends it is very secretive which makes it feel even more obnoxiously like an affair. Charles always knows because he naturally one of the few people who understands they are just friends, who both love their son, and Eliza adores Charles.

Jake Adler: Star. Makes Sadie dance with him whenever it plays which she hates (no she doesn't she loves it. If they get married again it's going to be their song).

Abigail Jr: Strawberry Blond. She can't wait to be old enough to be in love and subsequently ruined by it. (this is John's rule she's not allowed to be in love until she's at least 18)

[blowflyfag]

WWE SMACKDOWN MAGAZINE: SEPTEMBER 2005

MNM

“WE’RE GOING TO BE BIGGER THAN ELVIS”

By Keith Elliot Greenberg

You might say that MNM is rewriting history one snapshots at a time. Each time one of the paparazzi snaps their picture, it helps their star shine just a little bit brighter. In fact, they enjoy having their picture taken so much that they named their fishing move the Snapshot. And similarly, every time they nail the move, it brings them one step closer to becoming one of the greatest tag teams of all time.

With each victory, the trio becomes more and more resentful of those who apparently dismissed MNM as a fad that would soon fade. In the August issue of Smackdown! Magazine, Nitro said, “We're going to be bigger than Elvis, bigger than the Beatles.”

When you make statements as pompous as that, it’s understood that many will root against you. But MNM expected contempt from opponents, as well as the fans they’d derided as “too weird, too fat, too stupid, too scared, or too damn normal.” Now the trio believes their harshest detractors are the same journalists and paparazzi profiting from covering the electrifying new tag team.

“I have plenty of admirers in high places who’ve told me what these weasel journalists utter behind our backs,” Melina says. “I heard that some even started a pool over whether we’d be on a losing streak by the time the August issue of SmackDown! On sale–and guess who’s on the cover?” 

To a degree, Melina’s self-righteousness is reasonable. After all, many observers initially tagged MNM as the team more famous for its look than anything else. Even before their first match on SmackDown!, MNM was trailed by photographers more intrigued by the threesomes' unique appearance than its achievements.

When Nitro & Mercury captured the WWE Tag Team Championship in their very first match, the popular consensus was that the gold would slip through their fingers right away. They were too arrogant, too shallow and too inexperienced to remain at the top of the tag team ranks. Somehow, MNM proved all their critics wrong. And, now, when the paparazzi appear, there’s a legitimate reason why the pictures are in such great demand. 

In April, the team came out of nowhere and captured the titles from Eddie Guerrero & Rey Mysterio–two proud Latino stars not accustomed to getting bested by untested talent. Although tensions had been simmering between Guerrero & Mysterio already, the loss sent their relationship into a tailspin. The two were soon bitter enemies, and when they reconciled for one night to challenge for MNM’s championship, the result was disastrous.

In the aftermath, Mysterio was plagued by troubling doubts, while Guerrero appeared to be possessed by demons. Meanwhile, MNM’s light only burned brighter. 

“That’s what we do,” Melina says, “We take the icons you people have chosen to worship, and we reduce them to nothing. We’re competitors, baby. And when you compete, some people lose and some people win.” “We happen to choose the latter.”

That was made abundantly clear when MNM tangled with Heidenreich and his new “friend,” Road Warrior Animal. The cocky young tag team held their ground against Animal–at one time one-half of perhaps the greatest tag team ever-refusing to be intimidated by his legendary status.

“The Road Warriors, The Midnight Express, The British Bulldogs, The Dudley Boyz, all those tag teams everyone talks about as being so great,” Melina says. “Yeah, they were probably all right in their day, but that’s the past. This is now. MNM is the tag team of the present, and of the future. Deal with it.” For Melina, that aggressive spirit extends outside the realm of tag team combat. Repelled by the notion that her fellow WWE Divas are paragons of beauty, Melina has used both violent language and sadistic behavior to diminish their status.

In one memorable confrontation with Michelle McCool, Melina actually asked her boys to remain backstage. Melina then tore into the athletic blonde with an aptitude that matched the newcomer’s managerial abilities. In the end, Melina survived a dropkick and a spear. But as her opponents straddled the ropes, punching downward, Melina shook off the bows, snatched Michelle, and defeated her with a powerbomb. 

Even among MNM’s enemies, there were immediate comparison to other females who established themselves in WWE as managers, but ultimately transcended the role.

Today, for instance, few recall that Trish Stratus actually entered WWE as the manager of T&A–the hulking duo of Albert (later A-Train) and Test. Like Melina, Trish drew fans with her good looks, but she had greater ambitions. After she struck out on her own, she dominated the Women’s Division.

Parallels have also been made to Sunny, the stunning cover girl who shepherded several teams to tag team gold in the mid-1990s. In the process, she gained a reputation as a woman who pretty much attained anything she desired. 

Others theorize that Melina’s career may most closely resemble that of Sensational Sherri. At different stages, Sherri managed Shawn Michaels, Randy Savage and Ric Flair, and also held the Women’s Championship.

Yet, those who focus on Melina fall into the trap MNM hopes to set–diverting opponents away from the strengths and weaknesses of Nitro & Mercury.

Mercury all but admitted this recently when he told a reporter, “While our opponents are busy thinking about Melina, talking about Melina, and, yes, fantasizing about Melina, Johnny and I can pretty much step into that ring and do whatever we want to them.”

Because of their early success, Nitro &N Mercury’s potential is sometimes compared with the records of other WWE newcomers who swiftly rocket to the top of their profession. But such comparisons mean little to them.

“We hear people comparing us to guys from back in the day like Kerry Von Erich, because he burst on the scene and won the Intercontinental title right away,” Mercury says. “But those people just don’t get it. Bon Erich already established himself years before when he beat Ric Flair for the NWA title. Unlike the ‘Texas Tornado,’ we walked into WWE cold. We came out of nowhere and shocked all the so-called experts.”

“I mean, sure there were Superstars like Kurt Angle and Brock Lesnar who came here and won titles right off the bat, but even those guys didn’t do what we did,” Nitro says. “Angle was an Olympic gold medalist; Lesnar was an NCAA Champion. WWE fans had no idea who we were that first night, when we debuted in Madison Square Garden. But we changed all that by winning the WWE Tag team titles that same night. Now, everyone knows who we are.” Perhaps it’s more appropriate to measure MNM next to Carlito, who won the U.S. Championship in his first SmackDown! match, or Christian, who earned the Light Heavyweight title in his WWE debut. Both came out of nowhere and very quickly grabbed the spotlight. And in both their cases, they have remained among WWE’s elite ever since.

“To all those people who say we got lucky, I have news for you,” Nitro says. “We were lucky the day we were born. Not everyone is blessed with the attributes we were given. And that’s too bad. But nobody says that life is fair. It’s not really our fault if we’re perfect in an imperfect world.”

It’s an attitude MNM carries on the red carpet and , as the results have shown, into the ring as well.

[suleikashideaway]

Physical health: good

Mental health: good

Interpersonal health: excellent

Creative health (???): good i guess

It's been about a year since I started posting fanfic online. Woweeeeeee

Time for a personal update!

I gotta say, I am pretty proud of how much my writing has improved since those early posting days. Of course, I would be writing now but, yaknow. Fatigue.

On that note, I feel inspired and excited to write write write. Just don't have the...mental and physical ability to do so.

So yeah, I say that my physical and mental health is "good," but maybe that's more because I am in a place of relative calm, understanding, and acceptance of my current condition. I'm tired as fuck. But I am figuring it out.

Number 1 "problem" with getting more rest is that my small business is doing really really well. I finally found a way to turn clients away in order to focus on my health but dammit if I'm not a sucker when I come across an Ideal Client. I can't say no. Soooo I just took on 2 more clients because ahhhh it's my real life passion, I guess?!

Other "problem" is not so much a problem as it is an understanding. I'm realizing that as a parent of elementary-aged children, I am not only doing the required feeding/cleaning/homework/etc stuff for my kids, but I'm also like...their only connection to the outside world? Sounds stupid that I'm just now realizing this but hell. If they want to hang out with their friends, or go to birthday parties, that is now also *my* social life. They are too little (obviously) to take themselves anywhere, and still slightly too little for me to drop them off anywhere except with very very trusted adults.

I am not at all resentful of this. In fact, I like being this supportive and involved in their lives. It's just literally if there's a birthday party on the weekend, that's all I have energy for. No grocery shopping. No cleaning. No writing. It's the birthday party, and napping. And so this goes for everything. And I want to show them the world. And give them the best. So I do.

I also realized recently that the election results last November sent me into a bit of a tailspin. I kind of buried my head in the sand, as it were. I'm a bit embarrassed about it tbh but I had one of those "i don't want to be in this timeline anymore" moments and just fucked off to Stardew Valley. I am still struggling immensely with it. I want to be well-informed but for real, I don't know if I can physically take the stress.

Related: turning inward and spending time with my family has actually allowed me to find a bit of balance with health stuff. I know fatigue is still an issue, but my nausea is being managed pretty well, and further diagnostic testing is coming ever so soon. I've managed to walk my kids to school these past two weeks, so the bit of light activity feels like a good thing. And I've managed to catch up with my friends, and spent two awesome weeks with my bro, and that has all been so good for me.

Anyway, this is feeling rather disjointed and rambly now lol. All of this to say: I hope I can get some writing time in tomorrow (cross your fingerrrrrssss) and maybe some on the weekend because there are no birthday parties lmao

[beeeinyourbonnet]

Unbowed | Chapter 19

Rating: E

Pairing: Develle (Danny Devine x Belle) and some Ivelle for fun (Colonel Ives x Belle)

Summary: Belle works nights at the Parrot Club to pay off her estranged husband’s debts to Danny Devine, and days at a bookstore where she has struck up a friendship with a gentleman named Ives. Belle is just supposed to do Danny’s books and keep the office organized, but when Something Happens, she gets drawn into a world she never expected.

Read from the beginning

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Danny hopped onto her desk. “I’ve been thinking.” He spun around until he faced her, cross-legged. “You’re too fucking tired all the time to be any fucking use to me.”

Seven months ago, this might have sent Belle into a tailspin, but now she knew that Danny preferred to preface his good deeds with sounding like an asshole. She leaned back in her chair.

“Sorry that my life is in the toilet and I’m hanging on by a thread,” she said, though she was actually rested today. Sunday was her day off at the store. “I’ll try to do better.”

He smirked, and she tried to keep a straight face. One of them needed to be the straight man for his bit.

“I want to train you to take on more responsibility.”

Belle narrowed her eyes, trying to puzzle out how this was Danny being nice. “How will that help?”

“Look, you’re my most competent employee what isn’t also a bartender, and it’s a fucking shame that the most you can help me with is organizing.” 

She narrowed her eyes further. “Okay. So—you want to train me?”

“Aye.” He fiddled with the edge of his jacket, burnt orange today. “I want to train you to be assistant manager. So I can hire you full time.”

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[wakaposting]

I don't know if you have any strong opinions on them but either Shizuku or Tokitsugu :3

I DOOOOOOOOOOOO. looking at you with my big eyes

Shizuku

First impression: I know that Matsui-sensei gives all his characters their time to shine, so I was excited to see how he'd treat her as the story progressed. Her deadpan delivery was really endearing to me.

Impression now: I really adore Shizuku!! Her arc is such a beautiful example of so many themes that are important to this story. I can't wait to see her grow into herself and become more outspoken, and fight for her desires...! and also just experience the pleasures that life has to offer!

Favorite moment: "I want to feed your eyeball to a snake ^_^" is one of the first things she said that really made me giggle hehe. Her gambling battle against Mima is so insanely iconic and I think about it all the time.

Idea for a story: If I had to write about her... her having a vision and talking to shige post-timeskip (similar to what happens during the mima boat battle) would be interesting. whatever i wrote would probably be very quiet and introspective. i do also want to keep working on the role swap au where toki is a god of a shrine and shizuku has known him since they were very small!!

Unpopular opinion: I can imagine people would get up in arms about her relationship to toki bc she calls him 'nii-sama' lol. It's very clear that she does have romantic feelings for him. unpopular opinion i suppose is that i love her love for him, and i think it's as beautiful and valid as mima and ayako's, too, but it's also important to me that they do NOT end up together. the only answer is for him to marry all three of them or none of them tbh, lol. this is an opinion that is exclusive to nigewaka and matsui's writing bc i literally detest harem/love triangles in any other media.

Favorite relationship: I like her and Ayako trying to navigate both having crushes on waka tbh, lol. which again is a testament to how good matsui-sensei's writing is because as I said before i usually Hate this angle.

Favorite headcanon: she's weeeeeeird bro. let her be weird. i can't remember if they actually make this joke in the manga or if i made it up but she's a kid who would sit and squish ants or drown them a little bit fr (sob). i think we need to let her say strange unknowable and slightly unhinged things more often

Tokitsugu

First impression: tokitsugu freaked the hell out of me when i first saw him because at the point where he showed up, i still hadn't been able to figure out if shizuku was shige's biological daughter or not, lmao. so i was like WTF DO YOU MEANNNN HE HAS ANOTHER KID. he sent me into a tailspin trying to figure out how old shige was, too, lmfao.

Impression now: I LOVE HIM. i love him. i freaking love the suwa family so much. beautiful man and his horrible son. i love them

Favorite moment: I love when he cries a little bit and blurts out that everybody ignores him when his dad is around. it's so freaking funny. more poignant answer is when he admits to yorishige that he snuck into his bed as a child... cries forever.

Idea for a story: I really really REALLLY wanna write modern AU answer to the 'kunitoki meets shige' fic where shige introduces tokitsugu to tokiyuki. i think he'd want to be supportive. but he also is like. this is..... unusual...

Unpopular opinion: More people should pay attention to him. GIVE HIM ATTENTION!!!! I love you forever Tokitsugu

Favorite relationship: I think about him and Yoritsugu a lot. i can't imagine it was easy raising a kid like that, haha...

Favorite headcanon: in modern AU i headcanon him as not being fully blind, but having a degenerative eye disease that has been slowly getting worse as an adult :( he's a single dad and lives with yoritsugu in a rural little area maybe 45 minutes away by train from where shige lives, but his health problems have been making it harder for him to come and visit his dad.