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cryptidghostgirl · 1 year ago

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-Alastor x spouse!gn!reader:

Alastor and his Spouse had been together ever since they were alive and his spouse had always been his right hand in life and death. Just giving a helping hand if Alastor needed it, watching proudly as he became a powerful overlord. But then Alastor disappeared and no one knew where he had gone to, not even his beloved spouse. After a year or so of searching and waiting for their husband to come back, they accepted that he was gone and went on to become an overlord themselves, getting some tips from Rosie here and there. After a while they became isolated, only ever going out to gossip with Rosie or attend meetings with the other overlords. And they were never really a fan of the media or technology either. Only ever listening to their husbands radio, sometimes even joining in. So they weren’t aware of their husbands return, only seeing him for the first time in 7 years at one of the meetings with the other overlords. And they were pissed.

Sorry, that was really long.. my bad :[

Also, no pressure if you don’t want to go write this <3

A/N okay one, don’t apologize. Two, this ask is awesome. Three, I hope what I’ve done with it makes you happy :)

Wrath (Alastor x Overlord!Spouse!Reader)

Pairing: Alastor x Gn!Reader

Warnings: Tame as heck for the most part, ngl.

Word Count: 1,820

Master Lists:

Master Lists

Hazbin Hotel Master List

Y/n had never known life without Alastor. They had grown up together, shared a wild childhood in the back streets of New Orleans. Nothing can ever beat that type of love and so, when they were fifteen and terrified and he asked them on their first date, how could they say no?

One date turned into two and before either really had time to sit back and take stock of their lives, they were twenty and married. Alastor had a budding career as a radio host and Y/n found a simple joy in the life of a house-partner. Things had been happy, they had been good.

The pair had always been inseparable, attached at the hip. That first night Alastor had come home, eyes wide and suit soaked in blood? Y/n had handed him a damp towel. Even their entrance into death had been together, shot by a hunter while burying a body.

It had been a joy to watch him grow and change, to witness the way their husband built a life for them in the world of the living and nothing changed that when they entered Hell. They were his right hand, his everything. That was why it hurt so much when he disappeared one day without a trace.

Alastor had never done that before, not tell them what was going on. He'd been gone for days, weeks at a time on rare occasions, tracking some demon he was intent on killing or the like. This was different. They always talked before hand, he always made sure Y/n was safe and set up with their mutual friend Rosie for their protection. This time, there hadn't even been a note.

In tears, Y/n had wandered their way into Cannibal Town. Rosie's smile had slipped from her face upon welcoming them into the little shop she ran, quickly ushering the demon into the back room. Y/n, while they had been a right hand in their first life and this one, had never been an active part in Alastor's work. Sure, they leant a hand if he needed one, but the occasion he did was rare and most of them helping him was through making sure he had a hot meal to come home to and a loving environment to exist in. They had never had a life without him in it and refused to believe they were entering into one now.

The first weeks were rough. Y/n stayed with Rosie, in the same guest room they always did but, they barley left it. When Rosie suggested they start looking for her lost partner, Y/n had jumped up. It was a shred of hope, something to hold onto.

A year of searching went by. Rosie tried, did everything in her power to keep Y/n happy and hopeful, to keep her safe. Time is the cruelest master of all and not even Rosie could stop the doubt it brought to her friend.

"I can't do this anymore, Rose." Y/n admitted one day as they drank their coffee, "I... He's not coming back."

"You don't know that!" Rosie had insisted, grasping Y/n's hands across the table.

"We've been looking for a year. There hasn't been the slightest bit of evidence. I... I can't do it anymore. I have to move on."

And move on they did. With their husband gone, there were empty shoes to be filled among the overlords of Hell and who better to fill them than Y/n? They worked hard, training. They grew strong and it payed off at last when two and a half years after their husband's disappearance, Y/n managed to take down an overlord, officially indoctrinating them into their ranks.

The more time went on, the more feared of a figure they became. Y/n had hoped it would have been a distraction, carrying on Alastor's legacy. The loneliness ate away at them. He had always been there, and now he was suddenly gone. The more powerful they became, the more they retreated into themselves. They became a rumor, a name whispered behind closed doors.

Y/n still held out a spark of hope that one day, Alastor would return. As they hit the seven year line since his disappearance, that too fizzled out. Things were getting bad in Hell, the last extermination had been the most brutal in history. Just the other day, word had come in that Heaven wasn't even going to wait their normal year before the next one, only a meager six months. Even with Y/n's aversion to all things media, they were only a painful reminder of what they had lost, after all, they managed to hear about it. It was a big deal, and a terrifying one too.

Of course, in response to this, Carmilla had called a meeting. When Carmilla Carmine called a meeting, there wasn't an overlord in all of Hell who wasn't going to show up. It was serious, she meant buisness.

Y/n had dragged themselves out of the place that had become their home over the past seven years. One of the first things they had taught themselves how to do was to travel through shadows, the way their husband had. With a snap of their fingers, the shadows took them, spitting them back out in the waiting room of Carmilla's offices.

Looking around, Y/n caught sight of Rosie and approached their oldest friend.

"Hey, Rose." they hummed placidly.

"Oh! Y/n! What a pleasure to see you here." she smiled back, turning to face them, "I half expected you wouldn't show."

"You know me." Y/n shrugged, "I come when it's important."

"I'm worried about you." Rosie admitted after a moment, her smile faltering slightly, "You've been spotted out and about less and less."

"I'm fine, I promise." Y/n weakly reassured, "I'm drinking water and touching grass or whatever. I just... socializing isn't super my thing anymore."

"Yes but, you're putting a target on your back doing that." Rosie insisted, "People are going to start wondering, start questioning your power and authority. You should at least go rough someone up, or start a business! Establish your presence."

"Don't worry, Rose." Y/n smiled, their mouth full of razor sharp fangs, "Let 'em come. I can take care of myself now."

"That you can." she relented.

Y/n turned, surveying the room which held a handful of Hell's other top overlords. They recognized a couple, but there were a few they didn't know. They let out a sigh, eyes turning to the elevator doors as they slid open to reveal Zestial.

Y/n raised their hand, intending to wave a greeting to the oldest and most respected of their group as he entered the room, but froze. Their hand at chest level, their eyes went wide as they caught sight of a familiar shock of red hair.

"Fucking... Al?" they whispered, their arm falling to their side as they took half a step forward.

"What did you say?" Rosie asked.

It sounded like her voice was coming from somewhere underwater, the world was spinning.

"What's the matter?" Rosie asked, following the path of Y/n's gaze.

As her eyes landed on Alastor, standing clear as day at the other end of the room and casually conversing with Zestial, she gasped lightly.

"Oh my."

"I'll be back in a second, Rose." Y/n hissed through clenched teeth, their hands balled into tight fists.

With fluid, silent footfalls, they stormed across the room and came to a stop beside Alastor. The room fell silent at the sight. They all knew of the pair's story, had heard from Rosie about how long and how hard Y/n had searched for their husband. Hearing the silence, Alastor turned, his eyes locking with Y/n's.

"Ah!" he exclaimed, placing a hand gently on the top of their head, "How have you been, darling? Zestial was just telling me about what great strides you-"

Y/n harshly took his hand from their head, the strength with which they held his wrist cutting Alastor off. They took a step forward, now just an inch away from Alastor as they glared up at him. Fury coursed through their veins as he watched them in mild confusion.

"Seven years." Y/n scoffed.

Alastor made no reply, simply continuing to watch his spouse as they practically frothed at the mouth.

"Seven fucking years." they repeated, releasing the grip on his wrist.

"I'm here now."

The slap echoed through the silence like the crack of a whip. Alastor stumbled back to slightest bit, his hand raised to his cheek.

"You..." Y/n took a deep breath, trying to calm themselves, "Al, where the fuck were you? How... how long have you been back?"

"A few days." he admitted.

Y/n's eyes widened as they processed the information.

"A... a few days?" they scoffed, "A few days? You know what? You didn't tell me when you left, why should I have expected you'd tell me you were back."

Y/n turned away from him, rubbing their forehead in irritation. Alastor hesitated before taking a step forward, placing a hand gently on their shoulder.

"Lov-"

"What?" Y/n spat, spinning back around to face him.

Their teeth were sharp, elongated and dripping. Tears welled in their eyes. Alastor's breath caught in his chest.

"Fucking what?!"

"Please, let me make it up to you." his voice was soft and gentle, the same one he used when they were alone together.

"I..." Y/n took another deep breath, "I don't know if you can."

Tears were streaming down their cheeks now, falling thick and fast. Their body glitched, half transformed into their full demon state and half staying as their more human public face. It pained him to see. If he had had any other choice, he would have done something different. He had never wanted to hurt them. Alastor reached out, grabbing their hands in his.

"Please, let me try."

"Why should I!" Y/n screamed back at him, pulling their hands out of his reach, "Seven years! Seven fucking years! You promised me. You promised me we'd stick together."

The grief seemed to be winning in its battle over the anger as the glitches slowed. Their teeth shrunk back to normal and their voice faded, becoming softer, weaker.

"I'll explain everything just please, please give me a chance."

Y/n sighed. Lifting their hands to their face, they pressed their palms into their eyes. They stood like that for a moment, unmoving and silent. Alastor waited, tense with anticipation. At last, they looked up at him once again, their arms falling loosely to their sides.

"Fine." they sharply stated and Alastor's smile grew, "After the meeting. You get as much time as it takes me to drink a cup of coffee. Deal?"

"Deal."

----

A/N ngl I wasn't super sure how to end this fic but I really like it and this was such a fun request to write. I love and angry reader.

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entitled-fangirl · 1 year ago

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I see how you look at her, William.

Hannibal x wife!reader; Hannibal Lecter x reader x Will Graham

Summary: Will is introduced to Hannibal's wife. The three seem to hit it off a little too well.

Words: 1,587

Warnings: idk, poligamy? Mutual pining should be its own warning, cause it always pulls at my heartstrings. And typos. Always.

Author's note: I literally pulled his GIF up, giggled, and said "Ehehehehe. He's so silly."

Masterlist

I don't own the rights to these characters!

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She descends down the stairs of the house, rounding the corner to the kitchen. She stands in the doorframe, watching her husband do what he does best- cook.

He stands at the counter, focused on the cut of meat he had in front of him. She took this moment to admire him. His strong back, his shoulders moving with each movement of the knife, his biceps flexing. Although all traits were hidden from her view by the dress shirt he wore, she could still imagine it just fine. His sleeves pushed up his forearm always seemed to catch her eye, like it did now. Her eyes wander to his greying hair, imagining running her hands though it. He seemed to feel her gaze, because he turned his head just slightly. Not to look at her, but just to see her see him acknowledge her presence. His voice carried through the kitchen, “I don’t need to turn around to know that you look beautiful tonight.”

She let out a soft giggle, pushing herself further into the kitchen. “And why is that?”

He stopped his movements momentarily, his eyes moving up the wall slightly. “Because you’re always beautiful,” he says before going back to his knife and cutting board.

It had been Hannibal’s idea in the beginning, inviting Will Graham over for dinner. He loved hosting dinners, but having dinner with only one guest was an unusual thing. And he had yet to meet Y/N.

Hannibal had kept Y/N a secret for many years, only revealing her to those attending his dinners. And sometimes, not even then. He knew what he did was dangerous, and he wished to keep her hidden from the public as much as possible. And she never minded, for she often felt anxious at big events and meeting too many new people at once overstimulated her. And above all else, Hannibal didn’t like to share things that were his. Especially things as kind as her, where the world could ruin her in a day. No, she was his, and they were a perfect pair, the two of them, for his arms were her favorite place to be. And his arms were also his favorite place for her to be.

He places the meat into the pan before finally turning around to look at her. He froze, a pleasant smile crossing his face, “Ah, bella. I knew I wouldn’t even have to look.”

She does a quick spin, letting him see all the aspects of her dress. She grows nervous under his gaze, “is this alright?”

He lets out a soft chuckle, “Darling, it’s perfect.” He takes a few steps forward, closing the distance between the two of them before leaning down, his arms open on either side of her to avoid touching her dress with dirty hands. She meets him halfway, sharing a soft kiss.

He smiles, moving back to the food at hand. She takes this as a cue to prepare the dining table.

Before she even finishes, a knock is heard at the door. She quickly walks to it, taking a deep breath before opening it. The sight in front of her is even better than she thought.

Will Graham stood at the threshold of their house in a dress shirt and sweater vest, his hair gelled to perfection. He held a nervous smile about him. His eyes trail up to hers, and his smile drops. He takes a deep breath of his own, before he places the smile back on. “Oh, sorry,” he apologizes, reaching a hand out, “I’m Will Graham.”

God, he was handsome. Hannibal had said he was quite attractive, but this. Attractive was an understatement. Will Graham was beautiful.

She reaches her hand out to take his, “Y/N… uh… Y/N Lecter.”

She watched as the gears turned in Will’s head, his handshake slowing. “Lecter?”

Hannibal’s body appears behind Y/N, his hands moving up to rest on her hips. “Ah, Will. I see you’ve met my wife. Come in. Please.” He pulls Y/N’s body back slightly to make room for Will to enter. Will does so, letting his eyes wander around the house.

Y/N feels her husband's grip tightening around her waist. She knows him better than anyone. He’s not jealous, per se. No, this was something else entirely. Was he…. Nervous?

Will stuffs his hands in his pockets, as his gaze returns to the couple. “This house is gorgeous, truly.” He looks to Y/N, assuming she decorated it.

She smiles, pulling herself from Hannibal’s grip, “I didn’t do it, Hannibal did. He has an eye for things. Excellent taste.”

Will smiles back, fighting himself to not look at her for too long, “Yes. It seems he does.”

Hannibal shuts the door before moving towards the dining room. “Please, come sit. I’m almost done,” he says, giving a final glance to his wife before disappearing into the kitchen.

Y/N immediately moves to her usual spot, at the left side of the head chair. She pulls the chair out softly, sitting down in it before her gaze moves back to Will. He follows suit, sitting on the right side, directly across from her.

A silence ensues as both of Hannibal’s favorite anxious people look anywhere but each other. Finally, Will break the tension, “Hannibal never… mentioned you. I, I definitely didn’t know he was married, especially to someone so,” he stops himself.

She smiles, catching his eyes, “someone so… what, Mr. Graham?”

Will looked away again, his breath caught in his throat. He lets out a cough before smiling. “I guess.. I guess I was going to say beautiful.”

She tilts her head at him, “You guess? So, why didn’t you?” She liked watching his squirm. Perhaps she picked that trait up from so many years with Hannibal.

This caught him off guard. She was rather blunt in her thoughts. “I just, I don’t know, assumed it inappropriate to say too much of another man’s wife, is all, Mrs. Lecter,” he says, taking a sip of the water in front of him.

She nods, leaning back slightly in her chair. “Hannibal is aware of what he has. As am I. He taught me to never refuse a compliment.”

He nods as well, “Then, you look very beautiful, Mrs. Lecter.”

“Y/N,” Hannibal’s voice was heard from the kitchen. He usually didn’t call out like that. He never raised his voice. She stood quickly, moving towards the kitchen.

Hannibal stood in the kitchen, the plates neatly prepared before him. He glances up at her entrance. “Ah. Sorry for the harsh tone. It shouldn’t have come out that way.”

She nods, “you didn’t intend for it to be so.”

He sighs, “Yes. That’s true. I just…. It’s hard to see someone admire what is mine.”

She nods again, “I understand.”

“I wasn’t only talking about him admiring you,” Hannibal stated, “you seemed to like him just the same.”

She scoffs, “As if you don’t like him yourself, Lecter.”

Hannibal’s lips pull into a smile. He was caught. “I suppose you’re right, bella. As always.”

She gives him a knowing look, taking two of the plate carefully, one in each hand, and walks to the dining room. Will still sits at the large table, a nervous look in his eyes.

She sets a plate in front of him carefully, “Don’t ask me what it is, Graham. I’m not the cook.”

His lips now pull into a smile, as he nods, “I see. Thank you, anyways.”

She sets her plate down in front of her, sitting down gracefully. Hannibal walks in, setting his plate down. He's now in his full suit, his blazer neatly buttoned. “William, I hope this is to your liking.” He sits himself at the head of the table.

It’s a rather awkward dinner, as they all give each other obvious glances. Everyone at this table adored one another. Will and Y/N were the anxious ones, but as each conversation digressed, Hannibal’s grin only grew. He can read the two of them like an open book, and he was enjoying the book in front of him.

As they neared the end of their dinner, Y/N happily collected the plates and disappeared into the kitchen. Hannibal took this opportunity to his advantage. He leans towards Will, his voice low, “I see how you look at her, William.”

Will freezes, staring at the table. “I don’t believe my gaze is that different between her and you.”

Hannibal smirks, tilting his head, “No. I don’t believe it is too different.”

Y/N enters the room again, her hand gliding across Hannibal’s shoulders as she walks around his chair. She stops behind him, leaning over him to kiss his cheek gently. He smiles at this, reaching his own hand up, and grabbing her jaw quickly before she can move away. He twists his body slightly to kiss her on the lips. She pulls back in shock but doesn’t go far due to the grip on her jaw. He smiles into the kiss, enjoying the feeling of the stare from Will. He lets her go, letting her catch her breath. She moves back to her chair with a soft pink now on her cheeks.

Will lets out a deep breath, calming himself. Hannibal knows it, and he smiles at his darling wife.

“Should we invite William over again, mia bella?”

Her eyes glance over from her husband to Will, full of mischief.

“I think we should.”

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Author's note (part 2): It's so easy to read a piece and critique it, but when it's your own.... golly. How can I go so easy on myself and yet so difficult to please???

#hannibal nbc x reader #hannibal lecter #hannibal x reader #hannibal fanfiction #hannibal nbc #hannibal x reader x will graham #Hannibal lecter x reader x Will graham

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aweina · 2 years ago

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ᥫ᭡. school boy crush , mike schmidt ( fluff )

wow, she’s really pretty …

tags fem reader. mutual pining. strangers to crushes. awkward older brother mike. abby has a new bestie.

the doorbell buzzes. three times exactly, few second pauses in between each of them — ultimately forcing him to wake up with a blank mind.

shuffling towards the door, mike tiredly opens it and finds a woman, seemingly around his age, and some younger girl patiently waiting on his doorstep. he’s confused at first, just woken up from a heavy snooze — the curls on his head are frizzy and his mouth dry from crashing into bed without some water.

his brain doesn’t register anything other than the woman on his doorstep, you, was the prettiest person he’s ever seen. he scans your face carefully — making sure to rub off the blurry haze that his slumber brushed over his vision while keeping his gaze subtle. tracing over your eyes and mouth. a pink hue stains his freckled cheeks when you finally caught him staring, a soft laugh escaping your lips as he profusely apologizes in an incoherent manner.

you formally introduce yourself, pointing towards the young girl who happened to be your younger sister — a new friend of abby’s. mike is relieved, his sister finally making friends that are actual living beings and not some ghost lingering in her head. but he’s also conflicted, seeing how pretty you are and how hard he could contain himself around you.

suddenly, mike’s smitten trance is shattered when he’s pushed away from the door, where abby happily greets your younger sister and yourself. her voice upbeat and her small arms wrapped warmly around both your bodies. the young brunette turns around towards her brother, a sour look on her face.

“don’t creep out my new friend.” abby warns, sticking her tongue out to mike while she protectively holds your sister’s hand.

“yeah, he was staring at my sister weirdly.” your sister shyly mumbles, intended for only abby to hear but both you and mike heard her clearly.

he’s embarrassed, being called out by a child of all people. even worse, it was in front of you to hear — now biting back a pleased laugh while ruffling the messy locks of your sister out of the act to comfort her.

“now don’t be rude. he seems like good company.” you assured your sister with a smile so radiate, mike swore he saw a reflection flash in his eyes.

you gazed up at him, eyes so soft and holding no malice — not one’s he usually sees. he nervously gulps at your lingering eyes, dragging towards his pursed lips and tired eyes, the same thing he did just moments ago. wait, are you checking him out too?

mike couldn’t help but gaze away shyly, a big grin on his face. your staring was too intense, but at least he knew the attraction wasn’t one sided. then you do the same, noticing your own fleeting gaze and the knowing smile on his face, your polite smile quivering and nervously coughing.

both the young girls quietly observe your nonverbal flirting, confusion knitted into their small brows.

“umm actually, i think both of them are weird.” your sister faintly yells as she gently nudges abby, who nods in agreement.

add. note : mike is just being lovesick is so precious. he also needs to make a new ‘friend’ just like abby aka YOU ( ¯▿¯ ) !!

#.୨୧ ina writes #.purple mark #PLAY(DATES) immediately #mike just acting like an infatuated teenager #he deserves it #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt #fnaf movie x reader #josh hutcherson

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phan3145 · 7 months ago

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Title: Slippery Slope. Fandom: Kingdom of the Planet of the Apes. Rating: T. ( Cursing, Implications, Intensity) Pairing: Eventual Noa x Human!Reader.

***Notes: Sorry I haven’t updated in a hot minute everyone. Life has been kicking my butt as well as my husband’s. We had to prioritize, and then afterward I didn’t feel like writing. Not promising regular updates again, but I am consistently working on this. As always, thank you for your support and kind comments. I love you all.

Chapter 13: Not the First

You

You had gone to bed last night, stomach burning and body restless from the day that had transpired. The only comfort had been that Micheal apparently did not care about Anaya’s scent all over you the way the apes cared about his. He had snuggled in close to you as you laid there, thinking about how you would handle the balancing act between the two- no three, species moving forward. Anaya accepted Micheal, at least he stopped trying to kill him once he knew you cared about him. If Noa knew you cared about Micheal, maybe he would also leave him alone? Maybe, he could understand you caring about another animal? He cared about you, didn’t he? At least a little bit. Certainly enough to come talk to you after a fight.

That had caused you to toss and turn even more, not really knowing why Noa had shown up. Maybe he had still been angry, but seeing the situation with you and Anaya had distracted him enough to let it go temporarily. You could only imagine what you had looked like, the definition of sheer panic coming to mind. Noa had always been attentive to your feelings…he probably did push his anger to the side when he saw you were scared. You believed he did anyway, that was just the way he was. Caring, patient, and understanding to a fault.

That thought only served to remind you that the next morning you needed to face him. You needed to apologize for hitting him, maybe talk about the future between you and the clan. You were obviously putting him in a tight spot with the elders. That’s not even speaking about the rock and hard place you were placing Anaya in by having him keep your secret. The elders expected you to show yourself…you had no idea how you would manage that either. If Soona, Anaya, and Noa were there with you, then you should have no trouble feeling safe, but there was something else that made you shudder at the thought. You had this feeling you would be losing something, this small peace you found with your three ape friends. That small, fragile peace built on mutual respect and trust.

You had scoffed at that. Today was an example of how easily trust could be broken, but also re-built. In all fairness, the apes never really expected much from you. Noa even took great pains to make it clear to you that you could always say no. If they asked you to do something you didn’t want to, they wouldn’t force you…but this Caesar Council was a different animal all together. Anaya wanted you to be a part of it, which meant you would be a part of the clan…even if it was indirectly. Either way, it changed things. Anaya said Noa had created new laws, and this council was one of them. That would need to be something you discussed with Noa down the road…probably not tomorrow.

You had almost rambled yourself to sleep at that point, when your eyes had flown open wide and you realized you never decided when you would meet Noa at the rock. Anaya had simply said he would show him where it was. You had groaned and snuggled in deeper under your blanket, knowing you had an early start the next morning.

So here you were, sunbathing on your chunk of safety in the middle of the creek. You were soaking wet from your swim, making sure to scrub away Micheal’s scent as you made your way to your rock. Thankfully, you had sense enough to wear a dirty top that needed to be washed anyway, as well as your singular pair of shorts your reserved for the extreme heats of summer. This summer had not been too bad so far, but today the garment served a new purpose of keeping your modesty while you swam. You would not be caught naked in front of Noa like you had with Anaya. You knew he hadn’t seen anything of course, but you still were not going to repeat your actions and risk the possibility of Noa seeing you naked.

You rubbed at your eyes, a yawn sneaking up on you as you became more comfortable. You were sure Noa didn’t care about your body anymore than Anaya did, but it was the principle of the matter. Humans and their pride…not that you had much to begin with. Still, you clung to the slivers you did have.

You had just fully settled in, sleep creeping along the edges of your consciousness, the early morning sun warming you perfectly, when you heard the hoots of apes. You stretched, turning your head to glance to your right, but did not see hide nor hair of Noa or Anaya. This confused you at first. Did you imagine the noise? You closed your eyes again, only to have them fly open when you heard it again. This time, it was to your left…on the other side of the creek.

You froze for a moment, daring to turn your head at a snails pace to your left. The noises were clearer now. While you were sure they were chimpanzee hoots, they definitely did not sound like gorilla noises, you were still uneasy. Once your head was fully turned, you were surprised to still hear the noises, but see nothing on the other side of the creek.

You sat up slowly, hesitantly, confusion spiking as you looked left, then right once more. Nothing. You pushed yourself up onto your knees, frantically searching for the source of the sounds. You swiveled around on the dry stone, turning in a full circle as your eyes desperately scanned for something that simply wasn’t there. Were you going crazy? You swore you could hear ape noises. You stopped, closing your eyes and listening more intently.

There!

It was coming from your left, as you originally thought, but no matter how hard you looked, you could not see anyone approaching. The tree line was clear up and down stream. Still, you heard the noises, and the longer you heard them, the more pitiful they sounded. Was someone in pain? Were they hurt? What if they were calling for help? You rose into a standing position, practically on tip-toe, blocking the sun from your eyes with your hands in an attempt to see better.

Finally, you spotted the smallest of movements along the bank. It seemed it was just a baby chimpanzee, crouched down on the edge of the creek among the bushes. You felt your lips turn down into a frown, the scared looking chimp tugging at your heartstrings. How did they get here? Why were they all alone? You opened your mouth to call out to them, but immediately stopped yourself, dropping back down to plaster yourself flat against the rock.

No baby would be left alone like this.

You suddenly felt very exposed, creeping yourself back to the edge of the rock before quietly lowering your body back into the water. You stayed behind the rock, on the opposite side of the chimp, who did not seem to be aware of your presence at all. You peaked around the edge, wanting to keep an eye out, but not wanting to be seen. You couldn’t leave the baby alone, but you were still wary to approach them, lest an angry mother burst through the clearing and see you as a threat.

You waited silently, patiently. After a few more minutes of the chimp hooting and no one coming, you heard the noises change. It sounded like- were they…crying? Could apes cry? You floated there, transfixed by the tiny chimp, who curled its arms around itself and sat there sobbing. You fought the urge to reveal yourself, but in the end your heart overruled your head. The chimp was just a baby, you couldn’t leave them there alone and scared.

You carefully maneuvered around the rock, making your way towards the sobbing baby on the bank. You stopped when you felt muddy earth between your toes, water still up to your chest. You called out softly, so as not to scare them, “Do you need help? Are you lost?”

Your soft and careful voice did nothing to soothe the chimp, who jumped back from the edge and started screeching louder. You winced, muscles tensing and nerves screaming at you to swim away and leave. Something in your brain decided against that though, your hands coming up from the water to quickly sign, Friend. No hurt. Safe. Need help?

The baby went silent before you even signed the question, staring at you as if you suddenly became the most fascinating thing they had ever seen. You watched their eyes dart from your hands, to your eyes, to your body in the water, and back to your hands. You repeated the four phrases, wondering if they understood sign yet or if they were too young. Then, after another moment of intense staring, they raised their hand. It was hesitant, but they signed, Alone. Help. Afraid.

You swallowed, “Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Another moment of hesitation, then a nod and a signed, Yes.

“Okay,” you took a deep breath. “I’m going to come to you. I’m going to walk up to the bank and sit with you. Alright?”

They nodded again.

You returned the nod, slowly walking up the incline until you made it to the edge. The baby did not seem to realize how big you were, head tilting back as you continued to approach. When they could no longer lean back they scrambled to their feet, crouched on all fours before backing up a few steps. You couldn’t blame them, Micheal was easily twice their size. You ran a hand through your wet hair, body slipping down into a sitting position before you crossed your legs. You didn’t want to frighten them anymore than you already had, so you sat and waited. After a moment or two the chimp made their way to you, knuckles brushing against your exposed thigh. They flinched back immediately, as if you would strike at them like a cobra. You let out a breath, trying to smile as you signed, Friend. Safe. Protect.

The furrowed brows and downturned mouth of the chimp eased into something more neutral, more curious, as they decided to climb into your lap. You fought the intense urge to lock up and stiffen your muscles in preparation for an attack. You tried instead to think of the baby as if they were Micheal. They were more open than him though, pinching and pulling at your wet clothes in fascination. That didn’t hold their attention for long though, as they poked at the meat of your upper arms. That forced a giggle out of you, watching them get closer and continue to poke the exposed flesh.

You bit your lip in concentration then, fighting off more laughter, “Do you know where your parents are?”

The chimp paused only long enough to shake their head.

You blew air out of your mouth then in a slow exhale, “Do you have a name?”

The chimp paused, making a gesture over and over that you did not understand. You shook your head, trying to explain that you did not understand. The chimp pouted, opening up their mouth suddenly in a widely comical elongated fashion. You heard a few intakes of air before they huffed and screeched, “E…E…E.”

The loud noise was shrill against your ears. You winced slightly, holding up the hand they weren’t clutching onto, “Okay, okay, easy there. Don’t strain yourself. You can’t talk yet, that’s okay. E is good enough for me.”

E nodded once, puffing their cheeks, before they continued to poke and jab at your arm. You became increasingly confused, watching them and trying to parcel out the reason. Then, they noticed the fascination in their gaze as they dragged a finger down your arm in a slow push. You saw your skin lighten in color from the pressure before darkening again, and you smiled. The color change was something they had probably never seen in an ape before. You let them play to their hearts content, so focused on them that you had lost track of your surroundings.

Then someone called your name.

You snapped your head up, finding Soona standing a few feet in front of you, an unfamiliar Eagle perched on her arm. You breathed a sigh of relief as she began to screech and hoot in delight, “You…found her.”

“Her?” You parroted.

Soona pointed to chimp in your arms, who seemed happier, but reluctant to leave your side. The Eagle on Soona’s arm was given a signal and quickly flew away as she explained, “Wandered off…have been searching…long time.”

Your brow furrowed at that, “Wandered off? Your village is far from here, how did she get this far by herself?”

Soona shook her head, trudging over towards you and practically falling down next to you. She seemed exhausted. “Not from…village…from group of…younglings…upstream.”

Soona held out a hand, which the smaller ape happily grasped a finger of. When Soona reached for her though, E gave a small shout of protest before moving to the opposite side of your body. Soona looked surprised, the young ape becoming fascinated now with your wet, matted hair. She stood on two legs, leaning against your chest for balance as she pulled and tugged at the strands. You winced slightly, but chuckled good naturedly as you locked eyes with Soona.

She broke eye contact for a moment, gaze turning towards the empty forest off to the side. Before you could ask if something was wrong, her attention was back on you, head tilting slightly as she asked, “You are…better…than yesterday?”

You shrugged a shoulder, catching E starting to braid the pieces of your hair that were almost dry. “I guess. I hope you know that I never meant to offend you, or your clan. I’m sorry if you were expecting me and I never showed. I just wasn’t…prepared to see your village.”

Soona hummed, “Noa…should have told you…should have told us…sooner…I am…sorry…that apes have not…always been kind…to you.”

E tilted her head up then, her question obvious though she could not voice it. You shook your head, “There’s nothing for you to be sorry about. It wasn’t you who was un-kind to me. You, Anaya, and Noa have been nothing but kind to me…for the most part.”

“You are…still angry…with Noa?” Soona asked carefully.

You puffed out a long breath, thinking, snickering as E did her best to mimic your noise. You pulled more hair from your back to your front, noticing she enjoyed braiding. You hoped it would keep her distracted from the conversation, “Can anyone truly stay mad at Noa?”

Soona seemed to brighten at this, but chose to remain silent as you continued, “I understand why he did what he did. I don’t like it, but I understand it. The real problem that day…well…it’s just…. I know there are barriers between our species. It’s more than just speech, and I…I mean, these problems probably have carried over from hundreds of years of differences. You three have been great, but the part that upsets me is that Noa seems to choose to ignore the fact that apes and humans don’t normally co-exist peacefully. We do, but I’ve also experienced the other end of the spectrum between our species. And Noa just…”

Soona hummed, “Think he…does not see…the differences…in you…but you cannot help…but see them…in us.”

You hesitated, but ultimately nodded in agreement. “I don’t hold being apes against you or your clan, I just…wish he understood what it feels like. To not know if you can trust the person- ape, next to you. To not know if they are going to turn on you, betray you, or even hurt you.”

E, who you assumed had been distracted by her task, stopped immediately. She looked up at you then, a soft coo leaving her as she patted your shoulder. You snorted, using a single finger to mirror her actions. She hooted in clear amusement, leaning her head into your shoulder, rubbing her face against you before sliding down into your lap. She seemed tired now, curling into your side and closing her eyes. You felt a smile slowly creep onto your face, carefully using two fingers to stroke the top of the chimp’s head. She snuggled in closer then, gripping tightly onto your shirt as tears threatened your vision and you thought your heart was actually going to explode.

Get a grip.

Your hormones must be crazy right now. At least, that’s what you told yourself, as you brushed a hand along the loose braids along your shoulder. Soona, as she tends to do, had remained quiet during this exchange. She studied you, noticing how emotional you had become, scenting the air quietly before admitting, “Noa does know…what it is like…to be betrayed.”

This surprised you, your attention quickly brought back to the present conversation. Your eyebrows rose, curiosity peaked as you asked, “By a fellow ape?”

Soona shook her head, causing confusion to drown your mind until she spoke, “By a…Echo…you are not the first…that could speak…that Noa has met.”

You felt your jaw go slack, trying to contain your excitement as you asked, “There are other humans around who can speak?”

“There was one,” Soona answered, lips pursed as she noted your disappointment. “We do not know…where she went…left five seasons ago…have not seen her since…her name was…Mae.”

You nodded, urging Soona to continue, “What happened with Mae? You said she…betrayed Noa? How?”

Soona sighed, “We do not…normally speak of her…she was a source…of much pain and…confusion for Noa…think…you should know.”

You waited, allowing Soona to collect her thoughts. “There was ape…Proximus…he was king of apes…he searched for Mae…killed other humans that…were with her…wanted to get inside…a human vault…it held great weapons…that would make Proximus…more powerful.”

A shiver ran down your spine, remembering the ape Sylva that Anaya had spoken of. He never mentioned this Proximus ape though. Wanting a better idea of the situation you asked, “Who was Sylva to Proximus?”

Soona seemed completely surprised you knew that name, but nevertheless answered, “Sylva was…his General…not sure if that is an ape word…or a human word.”

You swallowed, “It’s human…Proximus seems to have already been an advanced ape.”

Soona curled more into herself then, “He was….we all were afraid…if not for Noa…and Mae…Eagle Clan would not…be here.”

“Proximus ordered your clan to be stolen, and Sylva carried out his orders.” You connected the dots then, “What happened to Proximus?”

“Noa stopped him,” Soona answered without hesitation.

This surprised you. You were aware that Noa killed Sylva, but Proximus as well? Noa did not seem like he was violent, or capable of such great strengths. You assumed he had killed Sylva, a gorilla, by outsmarting him…but Proximus? How? Was Noa secretly more dangerous than you gave him credit for?

Soona grunted then, pulling you out of your thoughts, “Noa says…Mae hid from Proximus…in our village…Noa accidentally…lead them to us…the entire clan was taken…Noa tracked us…for many days…Mae followed…Noa did not know she could speak…until she called his name…Sylva was close…she was scared…she chose Noa as…lesser of the two apes…to fear.”

“So, she lied.” You offered, “Noa was betrayed by her traveling with him but he didn’t know she could speak, or that Proximus was hunting her.”

Soona nodded, “More than that…when Noa and Mae…were taken to Proximus…he learned she shared…the same goal…as Proximus…she wanted to…get inside…get a book…that could help humans…learn to speak…again.”

“That…” you hesitated. You wondered how much to say. A book could not bring back human’s ability to speak. You either were immune or you were not…unless there was a record of some sort. Maybe a cure…a vaccine? Had humans halfway across the world developed their salvation but been unable to share it with anyone outside the vault?

You remembered your vault constantly sending out a signal using the available satellites orbiting Earth, but they never received a response. So much had been lost to time…and if there had been a cure all along? You swallowed the bile in your throat at the thought of how many millions died over time who couldn’t even speak.

You shook your head, “That sounds incredible. Did she find what she was looking for?”

Soona nodded, “Noa helped…we helped her…but she…did not help the clan.”

You tilted your head, “What do you mean?”

Soona huffed, clearly agitated, “The reason…we do not…speak of her…she flooded Proximus’ kingdom…killed many apes…in the process…then ran away.”

“I’m sorry…” It was the only thing you could think to say as silence engulfed the both of you.

“Noa…” Soona began, attention once again towards the forest at your backs. You waited, brows raised as Soona turned back to you. “Noa was…different…after meeting Mae…is different…with you…now.”

Something about that sentence sent chills down your spine. There was many implications, and you chose to ask the most obvious of them, “Does Noa think I’ll turn out to be like Mae? That I’ll betray him? Hurt him or the clan? Is that why he’s always watching me, always careful around me?”

Soona shook her head, “Noa knows…you are not like Mae…you are…what he wished…Mae was…wants to make sure…he does not become….like Mae…to you.”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair, “I…I threw a rock at him yesterday. I made a mistake…I already hurt him. He shouldn’t think that I’m not like her…I could be. I’m human after all.”

“Human…” Soona began, hand coming to rest on your shoulder. “Does not mean bad…ape…does not mean good…Noa says…wants others to learn…we are better…stronger…good and bad…together…more alike…than either side…wants to speak of.”

Still cradling the sleeping E in your lap, you leaned your body into Soona’s, head coming to rest between her neck and her shoulder. Her hand slid from your shoulder to the back of your head, leaning in to return your half-hug as well. She patted your head a few times as you sighed, “Thank you, Soona.”

There was silence, peaceful this time. E breathed heavily in your lap from sleep, and the creek next to you trickled soothingly while the sun climbed higher in the sky. You took a deep breath, feeling more prepared to speak to Noa than you had been before. There was a distinct crack sound behind you, causing both you and Soona to turn.

You saw some leaves fall from a tree not to far back, but couldn’t make out anything more than that. You thought you saw movement for a moment, shielding your eyes with your hand once more, when Soona’s Eagle tore through the canopy and landed next to her on the ground. She stood too quickly then for your liking, looking upstream before turning back to you.

Her eyes were pleading, almost desperate as she said, “Do not…be scared…do not run.”

You were confused, until you heard the litter patter of many feet moving towards you. You leaned your body to see past Soona, body tensing and breath freezing at what you saw. Many apes, children from the looks of it, were running down stream towards the both of you. You suddenly did not want to be on the ground.

You carefully scooped E from your lap, holding her close to your chest as you practically leapt to your feet. Whether from being moved or the sudden frantic beat of your heart, E woke with a start. She began to hoot and squirm in your arms. You clutched her tighter to you, feeling your breathing become labored, taking a step or two back in fear. You didn’t get much further, Soona’s arm coming up to hold your arm.

You jerked towards her with frantic eyes. Hers were still calm, concerned as she tried to comfort you. “I am…here…trust.”

As the apes came closer, you swallowed hard, nodding a few times before taking a step closer, behind her. She hummed, screeching at the apes a few moments later. They came skidding to a stop in front of you, all of them transfixed, as if they had never seen a human before. You reasoned, that perhaps they hadn’t. You tried to take deep, discreet breaths to calm your nerves. None of them were taller than your waist, but the thought of so many surrounding you still made you nervous.

Suddenly, the biggest of the bunch stepped forward, sniffing at your feet for a moment before glancing up to meet your gaze. His held tilted in confusion as he demanded in a voice that sounded much younger than he looked, “Why does Eden…get to be carried…by the Echo?”

#kingdom of the planet of the apes #kotpota #planet of the apes #pota #noa #noa x reader #noa pota #fanfiction #noa kotpota #kotpota noa #kotpota soona #soona pota #soona #anaya pota #kotpota anaya #Slippery Slope series #noa planet of the apes #planet of the apes x reader

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lenacethemenace · 3 months ago

Text

So I fear I may be writing a fanfiction for Shadamy.

Okay so for context, I opened google docs one day and giggled because the font I was using reminded me of Amy (she’s me guys) and I thought it would be a BRILLIANT idea to write her getting stood up on a date she was supposed to go on with Sonic, from her point of view. Now I love love LOVE Amy Rose, so this was a fun little writing exercise.

GUYS, IT’S NOT JUST CUTIE PATOOTIE ANYMORE!!! I’ve written over 20k words so far, switching between Amy, Shadow, Tails and Sonic’s POVs. It got SO crazy in fact that one of my friends offered to be a free editor. I have no idea who would be interested in reading it, but I have so much content planned, and art to make for it.

I’m only about 1/6th of the way through the story, since it follows events that happen over the course of a couple of months. It’s mutual hurt/comfort, some nice fluff, a decent amount of Angst, and a bucketload of personal head-canons thrown in for some spice. It’s during a time of peace, and I’m not exactly too familiar with the extensive lore of the comics (IDW, Archie, or even Fleetway) but it’s been consuming my life, and I’m investing in them as we speak.

I’ll probably be posting updates on the state of the fic because it’s not currently nowhere NEAR ready to publish even the first chapter, but I’m so genuinely enthused about the project that I’ve been writing thousands of words per week (I started writing barely two weeks ago.)

I’ve been SO invested I practically eat sleep and breathe this ship. Made like 3 playlists all over 7 hours long by now.

If anyone wants to know the details I’d love to answer questions and have an excuse to yap about them. I’m not the best writer, but I’d rather post a mediocre self indulgent fanfiction then have to keep it to myself.

(Yes I will be posing updates)

Update one!

Update two!

Update three!

Update four!

Update fivvveeeeee!

Update 6, art?

GUYS! WE HAVE THE SAMPLE!

#Shadamy #amy rose #shadow and amy #sth #sonic the hedgehog #shadow the ultimate lifeform #fanfic woes #can’t write to save my life #somebody sedate me #send help #conceptual #writing #pray for me #what are tags #Spotify

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bellafragolina · 3 months ago

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HIYYAAA!! HRRUU?? I HOPE UR GOOD!

THIS IS GONNA BE MY FIRST TIME REQUESTING YOU SOMETHING..😭

Could I please have hesdcanons for Leon, Raihan, and Piers having a protective and clingy Delphox? Just like the incineroar one you did, just with delphox!

Sorry if it's much 😓😓 but if you do do this, THANK YOUUU 💗

(All three of these guys r my fav and delphox is my fav‼️)

you got it! here's the incineroar fic for those who wanna read it too!

(i also wrote this whole thing with a super protective deoxys before realizing i got the 'mons confused hhhhh)

🍓🍓🍓

Leon:

The first time he meets your Delphox, she encapsulates him in a ring of fire and nearly lights his hair aflame. You're horrified, quickly scolding your Pokémon until she sulkingly extinguishes her flames and frees Leon. You make sure she's included in your rapid apologizing, forced to bow alongside you as Leon laughs and assures you both that there was no harm done. He's used to protective Pokémon, since his own are similar due to how often he's hounded thanks to his status.

Leon does his best to win you Delphox's favor. He carries treats with him, offers pets or a brushing, and tries not to get in the way whenever she cuddles up to your side, even if he'd love to join in. Soon enough, his efforts are rewards with her not waving her flaming stick at him whenever he shows up at your home. Progress!

What really bonds the two together is their mutual love of you. Delphox sees Leon's dedication to keeping you happy and safe. She notices how he brings you little gifts alongside her own treats, how his hugs seem to relax your mind and calm any frantic thoughts. She gazes into her flames and sees there's no future without Leon nearby, so she resigns herself to sharing your affections. Luckily, Leon has never been one to back down from some friendly competition.

Raihan:

Raihan, to his credit, doesn't even flinch when your Delphox waves her stick in his face, angrily chittering at him while keeping herself as a firm barrier between the two of you. All because he gave you a kiss in greeting. You're rightfully mortified, but he just laughs, throwing out one of his own Pokémon out so the two can battle. It tires your Delphox out enough that you can recall her and apologize to Raihan, who just slings an arm around your shoulders and leads you towards your actual plans.

He's not intimidated, not really. He understands Pokémon that really love their trainers can be possessive and clingy, but he's a little possessive and cling too. Your Delphox gets to see you all day every day, so Raihan takes what time he gets pretty seriously. You don't let the Pokémon hurt him, so he happily lies in your lap and watches you Delphox pout with a smile.

The love of the game does eventually lead to them bonding. Raihan can appreciate a clever plan that ends with his seat against your side being stolen by Delphox. Delphox begrudgingly respects his ability to distract her with treats and battles in order to get you to himself. It's a mutual truce that makes things a lot easier on you, since you do have two hands, after all.

Piers:

Piers is a little surprised how aggressively your Delphox stares him down when he's only just taken your hand in his. The Pokémon makes a point to walk into your arms to break the hold, standing between the two of you, still looking at Piers despite how you scold her. She only breaks the intensity when you retrieve her ball, and then she whines and whimpers and cuddles up to you, begging for forgiveness. She even gives Piers a tiny little lick on the cheek to convince you.

Clingy, but Piers can handle that. He lets Delphox settle how she pleases with you, then fits himself into the puzzle however he can fit. It boggles the Pokémon, but after the first few times, she stops protesting him joining in. Piers long fingers make for decent pets, and his relaxed demeanor easily calms any nerves Delphox might have. She still demands first choice of cuddle position, but with time, she awaits for Piers to join before she fully settles down.

Soon enough, Delphox becomes clingy to not only you, but Piers too. He's a calming presence she's come to enjoy and expect, surprising, given the type of music he produces. But there's no complaining from you when Delphox climbs up to lie against Piers, and only Piers, of her own volition! You take a million photos, over the moon that the pair are so close. Piers sits through, cause he loves you, and loves your silly little fox too.

🍓🍓🍓

ta-da! i tried to make them kinda varied for you! hope it worked out!!

thank you darling!!

~Renee

#pokemon imagines #pokemon x reader #leon x reader #champion leon x reader #raihan x reader #piers x reader #can y'all believe i'll be graduated in may #god damn

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generic-sonic-fan · 4 months ago

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Hi!

When I read your fics I was amazed how you write team dark and their dynamic. I was wondering, since I would like to write about them as well, but am struggling with really getting them to feel like actual people.

Do you have any tricks or things you keep in mind when writing Omega? And on top of that, what do you keep in mind when writing Rouge or Shadow? How do you make these three fit so well? Like three puzzle pieces that kind of have the right shape but still don’t quite align.

I’m sorry if this is a big ask, I’m just quite curious, you have written them so well in Mirror Verse and other one shots like CTRL + ALT + DELETE. Can’t help but ask for the secrets of the master :)

I am so honored by this question and you've also activated my trap card. I LOVE talking about how I see these guys and the vibes I keep in mind for each of them while writing.

The TL;DR:

Team Dark are a group of three mutually beneficial friends who regard each other as equals, even if they occasionally disagree/fight. In my opinion, if this is missing, you're no longer writing Team Dark, but "Rouge and her two dogs" or "IDW Shadow and his no good very bad mandates" or whatever. This is my most controversial opinion.

For Omega, he's the boisterous rebel of the group. He helps keep their momentum going at all times, and tends to be a driving force in conversations and the instigator of new actions.

For Shadow, he's the serious anchor of the team. He helps keep Team Dark together, tending to be the one most willing to let his true emotions show, whether that be his attachment to them or his real opinions on a situation.

For Rouge, she's the charismatic tactician of the team. She helps point Team Dark in a direction, tending to outline the circumstances and situations they find themselves in to help the other two understand better.

To use tropes, they're all Lancers for each other. Ideally, each one of them can be compared and contrasted against each other- not just Shadow and Rouge vs Omega or Shadow and Omega vs Rouge.

To move onto individual breakdowns of how I see each of them and how they fit together- LONG post beneath the cut! You have been warned! Oh, and the actual writing advice is at the bottom because I got carried away, oops.

Omega:

The basis-

The very core of my writing for Omega comes down to three points, which I will reiterate here for convenience. Omega:

Hates Eggman

Will do ANYTHING to avoid being ignored and overlooked again

uses the first point to cover up the second point and would sooner deactivate than admit it

This is, in my humble opinion, what motivates Omega in almost everything he does. He's loud and boisterous. Why? Because he hates being silenced! He's violent and dangerous. Why? Because the idea of being (and being seen) as powerless makes him furious.

Omega's greatest desires, outwardly manifested by his drive to kill his creator, are about choice and freedom for himself. If he wants to do something, he does it. Flat out. Or in the very rare cases of his restraint, he will make it explicitly clear that he is choosing not to for a reason that still benefits him in the long run. This robot has a pathological need for control over his life, and god help anyone who dares threaten that.

That control includes control over his image- he's a deeply prideful individual. Getting him to admit a mistake is like pulling (metaphorical) teeth. Shadow and Rouge are more likely to apologize than he ever will be. He can't stand being perceived as weak, inconsistent, or incompetent.

He's much more of a liar than Shadow ever could be. I've heard the phrase "still waters run deep", and I think that describes Omega perfectly. Like all the other members of Team Dark, he is extremely guarded with his more vulnerable emotions. Whereas Rouge's cover emotion is a flirty suaveness, and Shadow's cover emotion is aloof determination, Omega's cover emotion is a sort of joyous rage. He wants to be seen either as A. Angry or B. Having the time of his life. Good luck getting him to express anything else. (Even in front of Shadow and Rouge!)

But the important part is that he does feel the full range of emotions. And he accepts that he feels all those things, even if you couldn't get him to confess it out loud. I myself tend to accidentally write Omega as more philosophical than I think he needs to be, but that doesn't negate the fact that he does care about things that he pretends not to! How people treat him vs how they treat his organic teammates, his role as the (not quite) only friendly robot in his universe, so on. He has a curiosity about the world around him that someone who was isolated from it might have. And yes, there's actual canon evidence for this now- he spends all of Shadow's campaign in Sonic x Shadow generations making remarks and generating conclusions about the world around him, not just about Eggman robots.

Omega has such a zeal for life that he's not himself without it. He cares. He cares. He cares. Make him have strong opinions on everything.

Fitting into Team Dark:

Omega fits into Team Dark as their catalyst. The definition of "catalyst" is "a substance that increases the rate of a chemical reaction without itself undergoing any permanent chemical change".

Omega is the one always spurring Shadow and Rouge into motion, and he's the one that forces them into conflict- not against each other, but against the world, and their preconceptions of just about everything. He's the one asking "WHY NOT?" whenever they say they can't do something, "WHO CARES?" whenever they worry too much about anything. He's got too much drive to ever sit idly by, and being friends with him requires at least some level of reciprocation of that energy.

The biggest way Omega shows that he cares is simply by his presence. Shadow and Rouge understand that if Omega did not want to be here, he wouldn't be. Tolerating their own problems and eccentricities is their biggest ask from him. Given that "their problems" usually tend to be far outside his skill range, he's always a bit unsure of how to solve them. And of course, as we covered previously, he hates feeling or seeming unsure.

. . . but he does want to solve them. Because he cares.

He's the most classically tsundere out of all of them. It took him the longest out of all of them to figure out that he did genuinely care about them, but now that he does. . . he's not quite sure how to navigate it? Relationships are still new to him, give him time. The line where "WANTING TO MAINTAIN TEAMMATE EFFECTIVENESS" separates from "SEEING MY TEAMMATE IN DISTRESS MAKES ME DISTRESSED" is really fuzzy for him.

So he tries. He's one to face their problems like he does every other problem- head on. It's moments like this where his own clarity and certainty of character can cut through the fog of a problem that the other two are overcomplicating.

---

He's most similar to Shadow in their shared bluntness and need to feel like they're accomplishing their goals. They're both impulsive. They're both guys who ask "well why don't we just do X" and then they go run off to do X, even if it's already been tried and found to not work by someone before them. They share a mistrust of the competency of others.

He's most unlike Shadow in the fact that Shadow masks, heavily, while he does not. Shadow keeps quiet and tries to blend in with "normal" people. Omega does not, from his appearance to the way he acts. He embraces his differences while Shadow struggles with them. Omega is much more certain in his identity than Shadow will ever be.

---

He's most similar to Rouge in their shared nonchalance for consequences. Rouge is barely, barely governed by the idea that it would be harder to do what she wants if the cops are after her. Omega has come to agree with this philosophy. I've always headcanoned them as being far more morally questionable than Shadow would ever let himself be. They're also both go-getters. When they see something they want, they get it, even if the methods they employ to do so differ.

He's most unlike Rouge in that Rouge loves to play the "game" of society. She gets joy out of playing the fool sometimes and allowing people to underestimate her, something Omega would never tolerate even if he did see the value of such a play. This extends to her proclivity for stealth and anonymity- she doesn't mind having the last laugh over someone in private, whereas for Omega, what's the point if nobody knows that you won?

Shadow:

The basis:

Shadow is a character that I have the most difficulty describing how I write. Probably because, for fuck's sake, he's Shadow the Hedgehog. Everybody knows Shadow. Everybody writes about Shadow. And everybody writes about Shadow differently yet they all feel like the same guy. He is "all of him", and in a manner almost similar to Metal Sonic, there's so many different ways you can portray him yet still have it feel right.

Here is just about the only post I've made about how I write Shadow. It's a bit rambly, but I still stand by it. My favorite paragraph from it is probably this one-

At his best, Shadow is thoughtful, neutral, and surprisingly level-headed. Impulse only gets the best of him when he perceives himself as being the only one who can act competently- if a situation "needs" an Ultimate Lifeform, he's the first to run in and try to solve it. Otherwise, he's much more methodical than the likes of Sonic, Amy, Omega, etc. He values efficiency over fun or flashiness. He's not very good at putting himself in other people's shoes, but if you want an objective opinion on a situation at hand he's one of your best bets to ask.

For me, Shadow is someone who values being stoic and being there for the people who need him. One of his innate desires, one that he consistently struggles with, is to be the perfect tool for the people he cares about. He wants to solve their problems. Ease their pain. Fulfill their wishes about the world. I always thought that his very first line in SA2 to Eggman, about "granting his wish" was very resonant to him both pre- and post-Maria.

Shadow knows that he has the tendency to follow the directions of others, and it's something he fights within himself. He pushes himself to be independent to the point of overcorrecting and putting everyone off. He also has a tendency to form attachments, deeply, and this too is something that he tries to suppress and avoid showing (for Maria-related reasons).

Ultimately, Shadow is the most honest character of Team Dark. His struggles with who he is and his own mental health are too big for him to fight alone- as a result, he's forced to share them. He tries so hard to deny parts of him to himself that he ends up spilling everything everywhere. Shadow tries, and does a decent job in front of strangers, but among friends he just can't hide. He is all of him.

(This ironically results in him being the 'token mentally ill one' of Team Dark when I write him, lol! He's the one who's had to put the work in because of his PTSD, and it shows! He's got more emotional maturity than either Omega or Rouge because he's had to develop it to keep moving forward with his life.)

Fitting into Team Dark:

Shadow is the anchor of Team Dark. He helps ground Omega and Rouge to the world. He's by far the most philosophical and spiritual of the three- he's the only one thinking about stuff like his purpose, his future, his role in life, what he's meant to be, etc. He's a thinker, and sometimes Omega and Rouge need that sort of anchor to the bigger picture to stay themselves.

He is honest and he is earnest. He says what he means, and means what he says. He provides the best evaluations of the current situation. He's almost like the "canary in the coal mine"- if something is going wrong, if the Team or anybody in it starts to lose their way, Shadow is the first to speak up.

He might not be the one to start the conversation, but he is the first one to really talk, and this helps the others open up. The most important thing is that he doesn't even realize he's doing it. He's not self-aware enough to be a facilitator or mediator in any capacity, but he is the stabilizer of the three regardless.

. . . which some might call ironic, given the fact that it's Rouge and Omega helping him stay level when it comes to his erratic mental health. He does lean on them when he gets triggered. He needs to. And sometimes he needs someone to talk him out of his own spiral when he thinks too much. Omega and Rouge help him to unwind from the tight little knots he binds himself in trying to sort out himself.

Saying that Shadow cares about them is like saying that Shadow cares about breathing. It's effortless. Natural. He couldn't stop caring about them now if he tried. It's just the way he's wired. The biggest way that he shows this is by doing things for them and worrying about them. Both in silence, of course.

---

He's most similar to Omega in his potential for ruthlessness and a stubbornness when they've made up their minds. They also relate through their shared otherness to the majority, being manufactured beings who have difficulty discerning the intentions and reasoning of others.

He's most unlike Omega in that he has a firm moral compass and a deep consideration for what is "intended" for him. Furthermore, conflict isn't something Shadow enjoys. Destruction? Sure. Conflict? Not really, so he avoids it for things he doesn't deem important. Omega finds disagreements refreshing, whereas for Shadow they make him feel trapped.

---

He's most similar to Rouge in that they both don't mind slowing down. They both take pleasure in the little things in life, from soft blankets to good fur care products and the like. Though Shadow is more duty-driven than her, they prefer having lives outside of their work. They both need to have periods alone to gather themselves again.

He's most unlike Rouge in that he's selfless while she's selfish. It's not even just that he's got a more heroic moral compass than her- he just fundamentally values other things more highly than he does himself. Of the entire team he's the most likely to step up to "do what's required" or "do what's right". Oh, and he's self-sacrificial to a fault, something Rouge just can't fathom.

Rouge:

Rouge is the hardest for me to write because she's the opposite of Omega in a lot of ways.

This is a bat who puts on a front for everything.

Including in her own narration.

I think my strongest POV character work for her that shows this is chapters 2 and 6 of my 2024 Team Dark Week one-shots. Both of which allude to things about her that she won't even tell the audience, as well as plenty of emotions that she kicks down so that nobody sees them.

Whereas Omega desires physical control, Rouge desires control over information. She's a string-puller, a manipulator, a planner. She's the ultimate tactician, and she will do everything in her power to ensure that she ends up on top and her enemies end up on the bottom, crushed by her own heel if she's lucky, but she'll also settle for their destruction by anyone or anything else.

She's invested most heavily into her social skillset. She always knows the right thing to say. Conversations are if-then equations for her; if she says this, then the other person will feel that. She uses this on enemies and friends alike, and furthermore, regardless of what she might actually want to say or do in the moment.

A friend might be sad, and if she needs them to be happy, she'll console them, even if she would rather grab their shoulders and scream her frustration at them. An enemy might ask her to do something that she hates, but if it means accomplishing her goals, she'll shove that down and do it with a smile. She's flexible, adaptable, mutable, and she can track her status with each individual with ease. . .

. . . except with herself. Not to say that she isn't incredibly prideful, and that she won't stick up for herself, but sometimes the gap between what she needs to be to get the result she wants and what she's actually feeling in the moment can grow so large she disconnects them entirely. She won't just hide her emotions- she will feel ashamed of them and try to force herself not to feel them.

She's the most 'herself' when she's 'off shift', so to speak. She relaxes significantly when she's alone or with the two people on this planet that she trusts enough to do so. She actually becomes less opinionated when she's at her most casual. She can get catty or annoyed by things in this state but she much more go-with-the-flow. While she gets the most pleasure from intensive gem heists, it doesn't take much to just make her happy. A good TV show? She's happy. A fun chat with a friend? She's happy. Painted nails and a good outfit? Happy.

The catch is having the stability to stay that way, hence the impressive tangle of machinations she concocts to keep her little corner of the world totally within her control.

Fitting into Team Dark:

Most people probably were surprised by my previous section stating that Shadow was the emotional anchor of the team. Most people see Rouge that way- and that's a valid interpretation, but I prefer a different take.

Rouge is the team leader. Period. I stand by the majority of this post I made about Rouge's dynamic as the team leader. The TL;DR is that she's the planner and tactician, the expert at cognitively thinking through the best way to aim the two living weapons at her disposal. This also, however, comes with resolving the differences between them when things get heated.

She often finds herself as the one resolving conflict, not because she's the "mom friend", but that she needs these two to get along (and some external parties to get along with them!) or else a lot of her plans could fall apart, and she cannot have that. Being a part of Team Dark is one hell of a vulnerable position for her, and there's some days where she wonders if it's worth it. Being dependent on others like this freaks her out in a way that Shadow and Omega can't conceptualize.

She's always had a soft spot for Shadow and Omega given the circumstances. That much is true. But I think it's only a significant ways into her friendship with them that she resolves to stick by Shadow and Omega's sides should the world turn against them. Choosing to have someone's back instead of distancing herself the moment things become dicey is a huge sign that she genuinely cares. I believe her confession in Sonic 06, and again in SxS Gens, to be the most honest and heartfelt she's ever going to be with them. Shadow and Omega might not understand the full depth of what those moments meant for her.

---

She's most similar to Shadow in that they're both pretty grounded. A lot of the basic assumptions they make about the world and scripts for how to behave are similar between them. They feel their emotions similarly and in response to similar situations, even if Rouge tends to hide them better. They're both just. . . pretty relaxed people outside of extraordinary circumstances. Not to say they don't have moments where they get passionate and excited on their own though.

She's most unlike Shadow in that she doesn't think anything is wrong with her. For all her knowledge on people and emotions and conversation, she doesn't understand that the way she operates is pretty mentally ill, folks! She thinks that she doesn't have any trauma, anything to cry about or angst over, and nothing is further than the truth. Her struggles were 'ordinary', distant from alien bioweapons or growing up on a space station or being freshly created then locked in a basement forever. But they were still struggles, struggles that shape how she sees the world and not in a good way.

---

She's the most similar to Omega in their shared pathological need for control, lol. They're both control freaks, even if said control freaking can occur in opposite directions from each other. It's where they chafe the most and it's because they're so similar. They're also both prideful and care deeply about keeping their reputations consistent. They're both liars in contrast to Shadow's honesty.

She's the most unlike Omega in that she's willing to mute herself to get what she wants. Sometimes she wishes she could scream "why can't you just pretend to be normal?!?!?!" at him when he's stirring up trouble and forcing her to alter her plans. She's calculated. He's rash. Fundamental mismatch of vibes sometimes.

Conclusion

It's been so fun to type out the culmination of almost my two years writing for these characters and how they weave in and out of each other.

In a not-at-all-concise way, I've tried to describe how they fit together and how they all have different sides to them.

I think the most important thing I've practiced to make them feel "real" when you're writing them is to hint, but not outright state, that there's something they're not saying that differs or is deeper than their surface-level conversation. For example, Rouge would never ever EVER say "I'm manipulating people to protect myself." Omega would never ever ever say "I care but I have no idea how to show it." Shadow could maybe possibly say "I'm trying to find myself and resist being the obedient tool I was made to be," but holy shit is he going to have to be going through it to even consider saying that.

You have to hint at it. Dance around the topic. Delight in withholding the information from the readers. Have Rouge sweet-talk someone to do something only for her smile to fade into something anxious and tired the moment their back is turned. Have Omega shoplift something small for Rouge from the supermarket and have him questioning the entire time whether it was even worth the effort, only to be relieved when Rouge squeals in delight. Have Shadow give an abrupt "no" to a seemingly benign request for a favor from Rouge and write him clamming up about why he did so afterwards.

It's blending these deeper facets of their characters into their current dialogue and actions that's my favorite thing to do in my writing. Even better if an outside character witnesses that little glimpse of the interior world and goes "huh, I wasn't expecting that."

Oh, and all the above paragraphs I've typed in this post to perfectly describe each character? Remember that they don't know all that about themselves.

They might be just as surprised as the outside characters are about how they've acted. They might not realize that something was bothering them, or that there was something they feel strongly about, until it surfaces unexpectedly! This can result in fights, or big dramatic moments.

All of THAT dives into the whole "avoiding therapy-speak" discussion currently happening in the greater writing community, one that would require me to write an entirely different post to explain. Here's my favorite primer on the subject if you'd like, but this post is already long enough, so I'll leave off here.

Thank you so much for this ask. You gave my autistic ass the best evening of my life typing this all out.

#team dark #e-123 omega #e 123 omega #shadow the hedgehog #rouge the bat #long post #oh my god this post is as long as some of my fics. about 4000 words if you're curious #please remember that these are general guidelines and that I reserve the right to contradict myself in the future!#but this summarizes the broad strokes of what I love writing in each of them pretty well #oh and this is purely my interpretation. take what you like and leave what you don't.#obligatory 'canon is fake and I am committing word crimes' disclaimer #you can send me an ask about what I think my OOC habits are while writing them and I'd be happy to answer that too lol

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steviewashere · 1 year ago

Text

Balls in Laundry Baskets: An Apology

Rating: Teen and Up CW: Bitchy/Mean Steve Harrington, Mean Eddie Munson (Both Briefly and For Good Reason) Tags: Post Season 4, Post Canon, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Arguing, Steve Harrington & Lucas Sinclair Friendship, Eddie Munson Gets Put in His Place, Lucas Sinclair is a Sweetheart, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Protective Steve Harrington, Emotionally Hurt Lucas Sinclair, Emotionally Hurt Steve Harrington, Established Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Eddie Munson Means Well He's Just Defensive, Hurt People Hurt Others

This is chapter one, which also includes the first two pages that I already posted. Please keep your expectations low, as I'm still working on the second and final chapter.

Read on AO3

Read Chapter Two Read Chapter Three (Final)

🏀—————🏀 “So, you and Eddie, huh?”

Steve startles at the sound of a voice, deep and hushed, from where he’s been waiting in Hawkins High’s parking lot. Hellfire was supposed to be out by now—6:50pm if his watch is correct—it’s their first time back since March and it would be cordial. But it seems that only Lucas got that memo.

“Jesus Christ, Sinclair!” He yelps. Holds his right palm flat against his chest, trying his best to rescind the spike of panic that is crawling through him. “I thought I told you to quit doing that,” he harshly whispers, rubbing his palm against his shirt. The scratchy material of his polo a balm against his nerves.

“Sorry,” Lucas sheepishly murmurs. Speaking at a normal volume, he asks again, “So, you and Eddie?”

He rolls his eyes. “What about me and Eddie? Can’t I just hang out with the guy without being pestered?”

Lucas shrugs. “You can do whatever you want,” he states, but Steve can already tell there’s somehow more. “But I didn’t think you two would be…buddies. Considering how he feels about, y’know, sports and whatever.”

For a moment, Steve considers Lucas’s approach. His fidgeting hands and his slightly closed off eyes. The hunch to his shoulders and the general unease that accompanies talking about Eddie. Which, that’s particularly odd. Aren’t they buddies, Steve questions himself. Wrapped up in the Hellfire club, their mutual interest in Dungeons & Dragons, the ragtag group of nerds that they are—all of that is perfect for their oddball friendship, at least Steve thought so.

“What’s wrong with you and Eddie?” Steve asks, beating around the bush. He doesn’t do cryptic. And he especially doesn’t do it with somebody like Lucas, a kid already smarter than him by several margins.

There isn’t an answer right away. But Lucas’s shoulders drop. His eyes go from frustrated to…sad. “Remember my championship game?” He asks, though it seems a bit much of a topic change. What does this have to do with Eddie, Steve has to wonder.

“Well, yeah,” he answers instead, “I was there. Had a pathetic date with a girl I hardly enjoyed being around. Mocked Tammy Thompson with Robin. Watched you get that winning shot. It was a, genuinely, awesome championship game.” And that’s the truth. It’s the best one he’s ever witnessed. Which is saying something, considering he’d played several championship games. All of them, though, were major losses. He’ll take those to the grave with him, with how often his previous basketball teams teased him.

Lucas gives a harsh single nod, a small smile that whisks away as soon as it appears. “Right,” he mutters, “I remember.” He leans against the Beemer’s bumper, shoulder brushing with Steve’s. Looks forlorn towards the high school’s doors, where Eddie and the rest of the Hellfire bunch should be spilling out any moment now. Steve looks on with him. Listens as Lucas’s voice drops low, nearly angry, fully spiteful, “I begged Dustin and Mike to talk to Eddie about my game. To see if the Hellfire campaign—which would be happening the same night—could be moved. And I, look, I understand that D&D means a lot to all of them, it means something to me, too. But I was really hoping to see my friends there. If not my friends, then at least Erica.

“They didn’t move the campaign,” he states so bitter, Steve tastes the words on his own tongue, “apparently a game where you’re shooting ‘balls into laundry baskets’ is too…mainstream and norm-ie for Eddie. He refused to move his precious game. Then, get this, instead of getting some random kid to play, they egged Erica in.” Lucas drags his eyes away from the school, head turning slow to look at Steve. He follows suit, eyeing Lucas back. His stomach churns with the vitriol painting itself unsubtly across Lucas’s face. “Color me surprised, I guess, that he’s going out with a jock,” he states, voice carefully blank of anything.

Steve stares on at him. He didn’t know this was the case at all. Remembers getting the phone call about Dustin wanting him to play, but he figured that had something to do with him bugging Steve for the millionth time. Because that was something Dustin wanted. For Steve to play. And, granted, Steve refused because it was too nerdy—unimportant and embarrassing. Yet, now he’s looking into Lucas’s face. Where hurt etches itself like solid lines of chiseled marble. Being told, instead, that Eddie’s holding his own bias.

Maybe he hasn’t removed his biases towards high school nerds, not completely. But he’s coming undone from that mentality. Considering Nancy and Robin and Eddie—Dustin and Mike and Lucas—even Max, they’re all big nerds. They all have some sort of interest with Dungeons & Dragons or theater or video games and math. And he loves them all. Though, Steve’s never stopped to think about the opposite side of the coin. Tail-side, where balls in laundry baskets is considered taboo.

After a deep silence when Steve finally digests this information, his eyebrows furrow on their own accord. Mouth downturning into a harsh frown, one that he feels to the bottoms of his feet. He stops himself in time from balling his hands into fists, but the urge to do so snarls in him like a newly unmuzzled, wild dog. A dog, he thought, that he trained obedient away from his anger. But it seems like once the teeth are bared, they never truly hide away.

“That ass,” Steve snarks. “What—so I have to reconsider all my biases surrounding nerds, reconstruct how I view everybody around me, and realize how awesome it is. And—what—Eddie can just get away with that…bullshit? That’s…What the hell?” There’s a little bit more of a bite to his words than he had anticipated. But it really isn’t fair. The table turns and he’s better for it, sure, but Eddie just…That’s not fair. The dog growls louder, drool burbling in its chops, a bark forming in the back of its throat.

“That’s what I thought,” Lucas says, “and I know, I know, that Dustin and Mike tried everything in their power. And that Eddie was the one to, y’know, be the asshole. But I thought that maybe my friends would be on my side. That they’d skip the game, show Eddie up. Not get my little sister involved or have fun without me or…I don’t know.” And the way he says those last three words stings something acidic inside of Steve. Corrosion and battery acid hot and alive in his stomach. Anger reaching the surface of his skin, words crawling and resonating in his mouth.

The doors to the school open distantly and Lucas suddenly perks back up, blossoming from where he was wilted against Steve’s car. “Doesn’t matter,” he chirps, though it’s all fake, “at least I can play with them now, which is awesome.”

But before he can stride away, to where his bike is parked and locked up, Steve snakes a hand onto Lucas’s wrist. They lock eyes again. “I’ll talk to him,” Steve swears, “he’ll apologize.”

“Steve, you don’t—“

“You used sports as a means to fit in, right? Granted, popularity’s not all that cool and you know that especially now. But it was a…a—“ He snaps his fingers, searching for the word. “—A cover, something to find security in. And you had that. And that’s what the D&D game is to Eddie. Sports is my D&D, too.” He loosens his grip on Lucas’s arm. Neither make any sort of move. “Just because you were trying to find your people doesn’t mean you can be…” He chooses his next words carefully. “Ostracized or outcast by those who you found safety with before. Especially when those guys orbit around each other for the same reason. I’ll talk to him,” he urges, “and he will apologize, or else.”

Lucas gives him a softened look. “Thanks, Steve,” he mutters, “I wasn’t looking to start anything, but I appreciate you having my back. It really means a lot.” And then he shuffles away, towards his bicycle, small chat starting up with Mike and Dustin.

When Steve turns back towards the school, Eddie is sauntering towards him. Eyes wide. Smile big and easy. Yet, his soft features are all too nauseating to Steve’s chest right now. His heart aches. If Eddie thinks of Lucas’s interests that way, what does he think of mine?

He tamps down his annoyance and anger. Because Eddie takes his hand and is looking at him as if the world belongs to the two of them. But that hurt on Lucas’s face is like a dagger impaled in his brain when Eddie greets nice and low, “Hi, baby. Been thinking about you the entire time I was in there.”

Steve smiles, though it may come off as more of a grimace with how Eddie falters. “Been thinking about you, too,” he echoes. Though, thinking positively isn’t what he’s been doing, as far as anybody’s concerned. Beat around the bush, he tells himself. He takes a steadying breath, posture straightening, demeanor changing. Says with a sour tone, “I, uh, I think we need to have a little talk in the car, if that’s okay? It’s not a breakup thing, but it might make you…somebody might get mad and I don’t want to cage you in at my house.”

“Oh,” Eddie breathes. His eyes go distant very briefly. When he refocuses on Steve, something has hardened in his features. Steve’s throat goes tight. “It can’t wait until after our date night?” There’s a low amount of ire in his words already and Steve is momentarily caught in it. Until he lets his eyebrows scrunch down his face again, giving in to that tightness in his throat.

He sighs, annoyed already. “No, Eddie,” he bites without meaning to. “I need to talk to you now. I’m already upset about it and it’s not going to do me any good to just brush it off.” His hand releases from Eddie’s grip, falling heavy against his side. He turns towards his driver’s side door and stares back at where Eddie is rooted. “Come on,” he states lowly, “you were the one to tell me to talk about the shit that’s bothering me. Can’t ignore it just because it has to do with you.”

Bitchy is probably not the best approach to all of this, but Steve is already cornered out of options. He pulls his door open with more force than necessary. Slides into his seat, key into the ignition, and honks once at Eddie. Jarringly gestures at the passenger seat. Thankfully, there’s nobody else to witness the potential torrential fire that’s brewing in him. It’ll be just the two of them; though that realization stirs something sickly in Steve’s stomach.

Eddie gets in silently. Places his school bag in the footwell. And keeps his face pointed out the windshield. “What’s wrong?” He asks, though his voice is devoid and edging on irritated.

Steve rolls his eyes, though Eddie can’t see him. He sets his hands firmly on his steering wheel. Squeezes the leather for comfort, an instinct. And heaves a sigh, urging himself to be calmer about this. “I had a talk with Lucas,” he starts. “About, uh, about his championship game back in March.”

Next to him, Eddie immediately tenses.

He continues without acknowledgement. Keeps himself as leveled as possible. “He told me that you refused to move your game for his. That he was looking forward to having his friends, which I’m assuming includes you, watch him play. And I—I know how important that championship game was to him. Y’know, it’s one of the bigger—“

“Are you mad because I didn’t want to sit at some jock event?” Eddie interrupts, question clipped. Though there’s also mild amusement in his tone, as if Steve being upset is poposterous. He continues without any regard for Steve. “In a room full of, mind you, people who hate me?”

Steve tenses more than Eddie had. His shoulders hiking and his stomach knotting impossibly more. Finally lets the dog bark, gives in to whatever it wants. “You know what, Eddie?” He bitches back. “I am mad at you. In fact, I…I…I’m so fucking angry that you…you make this whole deal about ‘lost sheep’ and herding them in to play your game. You concern yourself with making a community for people who are lost to the crowd of cliques in that school. And it’s just—Lucas is one of those kids! He is, even if that means he wants to play basketball!”

The passenger seat squeaks. Clothes rustling as Eddie turns toward him. But Steve doesn’t rip his eyes from the windshield. If anything, he leans more towards the left, creating a deeper, larger space between them. His hands instinctively tighten on the steering wheel again.

“Yeah, I do pride myself on that,” Eddie spits. “I do. Which is why, honestly, it irks me that Lucas would pick a crowd full of assholes. A bunch of people who would never give him the time of day.”

Steve goes rigid at that. He was an asshole, too. He knows that. Eddie especially knows that. The Munson Doctrine wouldn’t exist without the inclusion of asshole jocks, Steve being near the top of the list. He tries to tell himself that Eddie doesn’t think of him that way, but it’s hard considering himself. Who he used to be. Instead, he takes another breath, this one longer and hopefully more steadying than the other ones have been.

“He went out for basketball for a sense of security,” Steve states slowly, verging on impatient. “To find somewhere to belong to. That’s all a freshman looks for—a group to be somebody with. And, you know, considering that he’s already sort of singled out for being one of a few black kids at the school…Belonging is kind of important to him.” He settles back into his seat, arms still stretched to their full length in front of him. His stomach is turning and his heart is racing. And why won’t Eddie just get this? “Even if the basketball team has a bunch of assholes, he still wanted to do it. He was celebrated for his skills, who he is—even if it was for a moment. Playing was, and probably still is, important to him. And you—“ Steve finally turns his head towards Eddie. Knows his eyes are shooting daggers, can see where they lodge themselves between Eddie’s ribs. He raises a finger and accuses, “—you made his game feel unimportant. None of his best friends came because they were toopreoccupied with your game.” His face grows unusually hot as his voice drags passionately. The words just tumbling, splattering between them. But he carries on like a fire fed, “They even got his little sister to play yourgame. And, you know what really hurt to hear? Lucas wanted at least Erica to watch. And she wasn’t there. She wasn’t there because of your game, Eddie. How do you think that looks to him?”

Eddie has the audacity to look cowed, appalled. His mouth agape and his eyes as two large craters on his face. And for the first time, probably ever, he is stunned into silence.

Steve looks away. Bitter. All that festers in him now is hurt, ache, sadness. He chews on his lip, inhales softly through his nose, and opens his mouth with a silent word. Finally, he murmurs, “When I came to the high school as a freshman, I did the exact same thing as Lucas did. I joined the basketball team. Not because I was good. Or because my dad forced me to, like everybody seems to think. It’s because I wanted to fit in.”

His eyes are stinging. Cheeks flushing even more with overwhelming, consuming emotion. Continues, “And, though I let the feeling eat away at me, it felt good to be protected by a camaraderie like that. Outside of the nerdy friend group I had in middle school, going into high school. It felt good. And—It’s not the same as why Lucas joined, I know that, but I can understand.

“On top of that, I never had friends or family members show up for me at my games. So, for me to know the hurt Lucas feels, that would be an understatement. What’s important to note, though, is that he had people in his life to be there for him and they didn’t show. They didn’t.”

The fight is draining out of him, but he has to solidify his point. Has to finish this or else. Thinks briefly that maybe he should quit while he’s ahead, but he can’t make himself do that. The ferocity engulfing him from the inside out all too much to ignore. He’s been beaten down before for Lucas, literally—oh so literally—but he’d do it again and again and again for that kid to find his footing. Including this…spat? One sided argument? This argument with his boyfriend.

“Even I was there,” he says, hollowly, “cheering him on. It just would’ve been nice, for him, to have more than just some washed up, ex-jock, nobody be there. Right? I’m sure you get where I’m coming from. You can understand what I’m saying.” He glances forlorn out his window. Can’t even muster the courage to look over at Eddie. He’s basically drained himself. Being vulnerable isn’t his forte, but he can be for the people around him. Even if it’s at the expense of his own well being. “Well, I thought you’d understand. Wanting to have a community, people to lean on, to make something of yourself. No matter the means. I just didn’t think you’d be part of the reason that Lucas feels so…so singular.”

He takes a deep breath, ignoring how nasally it is to his ears. And mutters, a final thing, “I didn’t think you viewed something that Lucas and I are into as so…nothing. I try my best to be better about what you like, but it seems that you don’t make that same effort. That’s not fair, Eddie. You should know that.”

Without much else to say and with Eddie’s eerie silence, he starts the car. Puts it into drive. And peels away into the silence of the long and stretching road.

Briefly, he thinks about turning on the radio or cranking down the window, but the air is too thick to move through. Even the slight turns of his steering wheel is enough to make him feel sick. He’s sick with how disgustingly to-the-point he had to be. Though, there’s no other way that Eddie would’ve listened. Not with how defensive he immediately got.

The original date night plan had been to go to his house, but he finds himself pulling into Forest Hills’ driveway. Past the dimly lit trailers and the striking quietness of Max’s home. He parks in the vacant spot next to Eddie’s van. Which, the van is broken down right now—the main reason Steve is even driving Eddie around. But, now what? Is Eddie mad at how mad Steve was? Is he going to realize that he doesn’t like Steve because of his interests, who he is? Is this it?

A gentle anxious thrum runs through Steve like the very blood he needs to exist.

He silences the car. And just sits with his hands in his lap. Looking blankly at Eddie’s front door.

“Your stop,” Steve murmurs.

Eddie takes a deep breath and sighs heavily through his nose. But he doesn’t make a move to open his door. To step out. To walk away from…all that Steve is and has been.

Steve turns to him, gestures loosely at the Munson’s. “Your stop,” he reiterates.

“I—“ Eddie musters, voice croaking and rough. “I didn’t realize that…I didn’t know Lucas was mad about that. I didn’t think it…mattered.”

“Of course you didn’t,” Steve bitterly states, “It’s not like you actually cared.”

“But I do,” Eddie insists, “I care so much about Lucas. And I care so much about you. I swear!” He finally moves, tossing himself in the seat to face Steve, flailing. His face a mournful thing, downturned and sad. Skin pale and his hands desperate and his voice urgent. “There’s no excuse, I know. But I just…The reason I look at jocks so awfully is because they’ve always turned on me, you know? They always downplay my interests and mock me and tease me for what I like. Which is why I have to show myself as the bigger guy, that I can take it. I just didn’t realize that I was doing it, too.”

Slowly, Steve crosses his arms over his chest. Fingers tightening over his biceps. “Real life and your friends are more important than biases, Eddie.”

“I see that now.”

“And I think that you…you love me? And that you like Lucas. But it’s just hard to feel that, for either of us, when you adamantly refuse to involve yourself in our interests. Even if it means attending some jock event. Even if it means sitting in a room full of people that hate you. Which, by the way, that isn’t true because Lucas and I both like you—I love you, even.” He faces Eddie again. His face a sure thing of great ache, based on Eddie’s own crestfallen eyes. “Maybe just…give us space for a couple days? Think about this. Apologize once you’ve given it some thought. I understand where the whole hating jocks thing comes from, but just think about how that hurts, too.”

Eddie takes a gasping breath. “But I’m sorry now, Stevie,” he swears, “I am. I’m so sorry.”

There’s part of those words that soothe Steve like aloe to a sunburn, but he can’t accept them. Knows that the sure sting of the burn will still be there if he lets Eddie do this now. So he collects himself, mulls the words, and defends himself—for once. “I’ll accept that when it doesn’t feel like you’re saying it just to make me feel better. I want you to mean it. And I want you to apologize to Lucas first.”

He watches Eddie nod fervently, sharply. His hands twisting together in his lap and his eyes wetting, shoved harshly to the side. “Yeah, okay,” his voice trembles, “okay, I’ll fix this.”

Carefully, Steve takes Eddie’s hands. Tugs them until Eddie looks at him. Involuntarily, he makes a soft, sympathetic noise. It’s clear in the wetness of Eddie’s eyes that he’s determined to change this, to make this better. It’s clear that he didn’t mean to hurt this severely. He presses deep into the back of Eddie’s hands, tethering himself down to the earth, away from the cloud of anger that threatens to swallow him whole.

“Hey,” he murmurs, “listen to me, baby. I know that you’re sorry. I know, okay? But Lucas won’t know that, he’ll probably think you’re saying it to get on his good side. And…maybe you are, a bit, but it’ll be better if you really mean it. Trust me.” He swipes his thumbs over Eddie’s knuckles, massages them to ease the tension. “I still love you. I’m still learning, too, to love your interests with my full heart. And I know that it’s hard to let go of stupid biases, but you’ll be better for it. You will, Eds, and you’ll find you actually feel good.” Steve runs his hands up Eddie’s arms, to his shoulders, the sides of his neck.

Gently, he cups Eddie’s face between his hands. Presses his thumbs underneath Eddie’s eyes.

Eddie softens, loosening. Breathes slowly onto Steve’s wrists. “I’ll make this right, Steve,” he promises quietly, “I want to love both of you guys right.”

“I believe you,” he whispers in turn, “you’re a good guy, Eddie. You’ve got a good soul and a good heart. But you just need to relearn some things, baby.” He leans in, softly pecks the soft tissue of Eddie’s facial scar, and pulls away. Reaches up and runs a hand through the wiry ends of Eddie’s curls. Finds that he does mean the softness in his words, even with the bitter edge in his chest. He murmurs, “Let’s cool off tonight, because I know we’re both upset. And we’ll reconvene in a couple days, after my shift. I’ll help you come up with a good apology, promise.”

“Okay,” Eddie mutters, sniffling.

“I love you,” he feels the need to remind.

“I love you, too, Stevie. And I mean that. I really do.”

🏀—————🏀

Taglist (Open For Chapter Two): @wonderland-girl143-blog @tinyplanet95 @sharingisntkaren @ghostquer @practicallybegging @croatoan-like-its-hot @reinedslys-central

#stranger things #Steve Harrington & Lucas Sinclair #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #lucas sinclair #angst and hurt/comfort #Eddie Munson & Lucas Sinclair

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vaaaaaiolet · 1 month ago

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um ok tldr i had a very strange long overdue crashout and am checking myself into the hiatus ward until further notice LMAO

so if that's all you're here for I LOVE YOU!! and goodbye <3

so for the rest of you nosy people (MY PEOPLE!!), here's your james charles apology video.

i don't like being negative on this blog. unfortunately a bunch of goals and commitments need my attention right now (have been for the last 5 months actually) and i'm diverting my energy to writing instead, except writing's not really making me happy either? i feel obligated to write (entirely my fault, literally no one is pushing me) and it makes me indifferent towards a hobby i really loved at one point. also it's been like. three years of writing for one character from one franchise if you count before i started posting. that's 52,460 words about ONE WHITE MAN!! i've tried dismissing and denying the feeling by pushing myself through wips but i'm straight up burnt out.

fanfic etiquette also sucks ass rn and while i've been lucky to be spared from the brunt of it, it's pretty discouraging to write for empty likes and no feedback. times change and people switch fandoms. right now i'm spending too much time daydreaming behind a screen, gambling on reader response, missing out on life experiences people my age are getting. i'm not happy with the way i've let fandom related worries seep into my real life. maybe i'm just shit at handling my priorities. i want to stop writing about the world and start living in it.

this really isn't that serious i'm just a dramatic bitch LMFAO there are lots of insanely brilliant, talented authors on here + ao3 waiting for you to read their work!! in the meantime, i can't wait to become a reader again. medicine is one of my biggest passions. i haven't been devoting time to it like i have my writing hobby and i'm feeling unfulfilled in that regard too.

thank you from the bottom of my heart to every single one of you i've met on here. i've only ever had the sweetest readers. i can't ever repay you for your kind words, but i hope you know each one made me scream and jump and happy cry. some of you have been here from the very start and i don't know what i did to make you stay, but it means the world to me. new faces and old timers alike, i love you.

and i wouldn't be who i am without my mutuals. you guys have broken my heart and stitched it up again with your prose, and i can't thank you enough for the hours of laughter we've had while separated by our screens. i look up to every one of you. more than the rush of writing, i'll miss this warm corner we made together on the internet most. let's get coffee if you're ever in town?

HOO BOY OKAY so that's everything that's been on my mind for the last few months. literally nobody cares and the world keeps spinning. i'll be logging out right after i post this otherwise i'd stay forever (and continue burning myself out to nobody's benefit). i still hope i cross paths with y'all again real soon :)

stay healthy, drink water, i love you <3

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mcflymemes · 2 years ago

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AS SAID BY DORIAN PAVUS * assorted dialogue from dragon age inquisition, updated version

i don't care what they think about me. i care what they think about us.

i like you. more than i should. more than might be wise.

discretion isn't your thing, is it?

all this dancing, politics, and murder makes me a bit homesick.

i suppose it really depends. how bad do you want to be?

living a lie... it festers inside of you, like poison.

i'm a man of many talents. what can i say?

the moment i saw you, i thought "there's a man who knows quality."

if you don't come through this, i swear i'll kill you.

i'm curious where this goes, you and i. we've had fun. perfectly reasonable to leave it here.

here is my proposal: we dispense with the chitchat and move on to something more primal.

i tease you too much, i know.

i'll have to find something we can do that doesn't involve teasing.

time to drink myself into a stupor. it's been that sort of day.

i see you enjoy playing with fire.

i like playing hard to get.

i'm not suggesting we venture into mutual domesticity.

if it's a trap, we escape and kill everyone. you're good at that.

talk to me. let me hear how mystified you are by my anger.

oh, i'm not arguing. just pointing out the ridiculously obvious.

if you choose to leave your door unlocked like a savage, i may or may not come.

now... what was i talking about? ah, yes. me.

i am apparently an incredible ass at accepting gifts.

i prefer the company of men.

would you prefer me bound and leashed?

sometimes the ones you love are also the ones who disappoint you the most.

you are the man i love, [name]. nothing will truly keep us apart.

the things you ask are just... very personal.

sometimes... love isn't enough.

there will always be an "us." we'll just be... farther apart, for a time.

i had no idea something like you was possible.

i'm imagining what you would look like in a dress.

i've never seen you smile so much!

i have no idea what you're talking about.

you stand there, flexing your muscles, huffing like some beast of burden with no thought save conquest.

you're shaping the world for good or ill. how could i aspire to do any less?

my footsies are freezing, thank you.

don't you ever bathe?

you're not suggesting we're similar.

watch where you're pointing that thing!

i'm not wearing a skirt.

it's significantly more impressive than hitting them with a sharp piece of metal.

i only meant to say i'm very sorry for your loss.

we can continue this dance forever, if you wish.

i'm saying we should be careful what we assume when it comes to such matters.

demons don't appreciate a man with good hair.

what i wouldn't give for some proper wine.

your outfit's entertaining. i'll give you that.

he had to leave early on account of assassination.

it's nice to know you have friends.

i'm here to do what is right.

come on, just answer the question.

they were asking me about you. personal things.

you said we'd be ass-deep in trouble. this is more like knee-high.

so what's your estimation? think we can win?

you can't call me pampered. nobody's peeled a grape for me in weeks.

you startled me. you're always so... nondescript.

you're a special and unique snowflake. live the dream.

i wanted to see you make flowers bloom with your song. just once.

you've done a lot less dancing naked in the moonlight than expected.

i've never seen anyone in this part of the world do it.

i realize there's more to you than that.

have i offended you?

for hating the outdoors, you sure seem to like bad weather.

i can't figure you out, [name].

you don't play their stupid game, they send an assassin or three your way.

i can't believe you're scared of magic.

i'm going to take that as a compliment.

still don't like me, [name]? after all this time?

[name], i owe you an apology.

i suspect people will use any excuse to hate us.

why be ashamed? power should be respected, not swept under the carpet.

maybe you're not a complete moron.

i just need to know you're capable of higher thought. for my own comfort.

it would take work. and soap. lots and lots of soap.

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ambiguous-avery · 2 months ago

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Moon Without Stars, Those 46 Days

Sam Winchester x fem!Reader/You | WC: 3366

Summary: Little snippets of what went on behind the scenes of the mini time-skip set in the Moon Without Stars series. This is not a necessary read to understand what comes next.

Tags/Warnings: Soulmate AU, sad Sam (that’s a warning all of its own), hurt no comfort, idiots fighting fate, strangers to enemies to lovers, slow burn, mutual pining, angst, no use of Y/N, no beta we die like men

A/N: This is just pining and stubbornness and kicking Sam while he's down. My apologies in advance. Also, I wanted to try writing a little differently for this because I was aiming for little snapshots rather than full scenes. But I dunno if I actually did it right or not. 🤷‍♀️ also, releasing this a day early because I realized that my tomorrow is very very packed. Might release chapter 4 early too since I realized that Friday is Sammy’s b-day, and I’ve got something lined up for that too! Moon Without Stars Masterlist

Day 1

You stared up at the water-stained ceiling, the hum of the neon motel sign bleeding through the curtains. Your wrist ached. Not from a wound, though. It was the slow, insistent throb of the thing you refused to acknowledge. You sat up sharply, threw the thin blanket off of you, and marched over your bag. The motel carpet scratched your bare feet. You dug through your bag, fishing for your phone. It was in there somewhere. Buried deep. Forgotten on purpose. Your fingers brushed against the plastic wrapper of the protein bar, and you grabbed it despite yourself along with your phone.

Seated on the bed, you tore into the protein bar. Honestly, you weren’t hungry at all, just eating for the sake of having something to do. As though food could quell the more profound hunger that gnawed at you. The phone screen lit up your face in the dark.

No messages.

You weren’t sure what you were expecting. You scrolled through your contacts, stopping over HIM in your phone. You couldn’t even put in his name. But you had those ten digits memorized. Forwards. Backwards. Upside down. In three different languages.

Your thumb hovered over the button to open up a message. What would you even say if you texted him?

Sorry I keep running?

Sorry you make me feel like I’m standing at the edge of something I can’t survive falling into?

Sorry you’re not the problem – I am?

You almost texted him. Almost.

Instead, you shoved the phone onto the nightstand and crawled back into bed, still chewing on your bite of the protein bar. It was dry and stuck to the roof of your mouth. But it was oddly comforting. You wrapped the bar back in its wrapper as best as you could before shoving it and your wrist under the pillow like maybe if you couldn’t see the mark, you could pretend it wasn’t there.

The ache didn’t go away.

Neither did the guilt.

Day 3

The plan was simple until it wasn’t. Sam crouched near the dilapidated barn, waiting for Dean’s signal. He kept his gaze trained on the crumbling door, shotgun steady in his hands. The wind kicked up, sending leaves skittering across the dusty ground. His mark throbbed once, faint and familiar, but he shook it off. It always did that. This wasn’t anything new.

A sharp whistle from Dean. The signal to go.

Sam surged forward – then froze.

A hand. He could feel it, a palm sliding over his arm, light and shy. You. It was so real. So unexpected. He twisted around mid-stride to try and catch sight of you. When did you show up? Why hadn’t you jumped into the case sooner?

No one was there.

The ghoul lunged from the shadows, kicking him off balance. Sam hit the ground hard, shoulder slamming into the packed earth. His shotgun slid out of reach. Dean’s shout rang out before a deafening blast from his own rifle dropped the thing just inches from Sam’s throat. The fight was over in seconds, but the silence that came after stretched on for far too long.

Sam pulled himself upright with a wince, dust clinging to his jacket. Blood welled up at a split on his forehead, and he bit back a hiss of pain as he moved his shoulder in just the right way to send an electric shock down his arm. Dean stalked over, grabbing his other arm and hauling Sam up the rest of the way.

“You good?” he asked, already checking him over for worse injuries.

“Yeah,” Sam grunted, brushing him off. Dean didn’t look convinced. His eyes narrowed.

“You hesitated.”

Sam didn’t answer. Dean turned away, pacing a few steps before rounding back on Sam. His voice cut through the cooling night air. “You hesitated, Sam. You could’ve gotten yourself gutted!”

“I said I’m fine, Dean,” Sam grumbled back, pressing his hand to his head. Unsurprisingly, he was bleeding. Head wounds always bled more. Dean huffed a bitter laugh.

“Are you? ‘Cause you haven’t been since she walked away.” He jabbed a finger towards Sam’s wrist, towards the mark that pulsed beneath Sam’s sleeve. “You’ve been mopey and distracted and acting like a kicked puppy.” Dean frowned. “Maybe she was right to bail. Maybe she knew this whole soulmate crap just screws you up worse than it’s worth.”

The words hit harder than the creature had. Sam just stood there, blood trickling down his temple, jaw locked so tight that it ached. He didn’t argue. Didn’t defend you. Didn’t defend himself. Because some traitorous little part of him wondered if Dean was right.

Day 5

You pulled your jacket tighter to yourself, the wind howling just beyond the windows of your car. You hated surveying. Hated the waiting game. Hated the cold. The apartment building you were watching was leaning sideways, like it might give up and fall apart when the next storm hit.

You jammed your hands into your pockets. Telling yourself you were just cold. Telling yourself that you were just tired. Telling yourself that you didn’t feel it. The ghost of a touch against your wrist. Warm and careful. Like someone’s fingertips were brushing across your skin. You knew better.

You clenched your fists until your nails bit into your palms and refused to look down at your arm. Refused to look at your mark. Because you knew what you would see if you did. You already knew who it was.

Him. It was always him.

You breathed out through your nose, slow and even, like you were lining up a shot that you couldn’t afford to miss. You couldn’t believe it. You wouldn’t believe it. It wasn’t real. It was a trick. It was the universe laughing at you. Again. Except...

For a single, blissful moment, you let your hand drift free of your pocket. Let your thumb brush your wrist the way you imagined he did. Light and tentative. Your mark warmed, chasing away the cold you had felt seconds earlier. For a moment, it felt right. Not cruel. Not some cosmic mistake. Right.

You pulled your hand away abruptly, like your mark had burned you, and curled your arms tighter around your chest, pretending that the shudder that ran through you was from the cold. You couldn’t go down that road. You wouldn’t survive it.

Day 6

Sam sat alone at the long table, a book about cursed objects laying open in front of him. Or was it about counterspells? It was supposed to be something useful. Instead, he kept finding himself flipping back to the pages about soulmates. Tiny black text. Faded diagrams. Words like”destiny” and “fate” and “meant to be.” He rubbed the heel of his hand over his chest absentmindedly. The mark on his wrist itched, the way it did sometimes when he thought about you too hard.

He picked up his phone. Just to check. Just in case.

No messages.

No missed calls.

He shook his head. He should’ve gotten your number before you left instead of just giving you his and Dean’s. You probably chucked it in the first trash bin you found. Sam leaned back in the chair, tipping his head against the wall behind him. Did you even think of him? He doubted it. He held his arm up and tugged his sleeve back, the mark you left on him clear as day.

He’d dreamt of this for years. A cosmic match. Two souls destined to be together. While he never had any illusions that it would be easy, – no relationship was – he hadn’t expected his soulmate to be so vehemently against the idea of it. He tried to tell himself that it was the whole soulmate thing you didn’t like. Not him. Regardless, your opinion of him shouldn’t have bothered him. He barely knew you.

So why did it hurt so much?

He glanced at his phone again. Hoping. Wanting. Waiting for a call he knew would never come.

Day 10

You sat in the corner booth of a diner, pushing the cold fries around on the plate in front of you. Across the room, a couple laughed softly, their heads pressed close together. Beneath their intertwined fingers, you could see matching soulmate marks. Unconsciously, you tugged the sleeve of your jacket down over your wrist. The waitress brought you a coffee you didn’t ask for. Smiled at you with a smile that was too kind as she glanced at the spot opposite of you half-expectantly, asking the silent question of whether or not someone was joining you. You smiled back because it was easier than explaining the empty seat.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket, and your heart leapt. God, you were pathetic.

You pulled it out, inexplicably disappointed to find that it was a text from another hunter getting back to you about a question you had asked the other day. You navigated back to your contacts, highlighting HIM. It was like a dare.

You could call him. You could let yourself believe in fairy tales again. You closed the screen instead and shoved it back into your jacket pocket. You couldn’t believe in soulmates. Not anymore.

You didn’t.

You left a crumpled twenty on the table and walked out into the rain, letting it soak through to your bones like it was all that you deserved in the world.

Day 15

It was another boring little town. Another boring little strip mall.

Dean had dragged him here because someone had mentioned a little bakery in the area that made a hell of an apple pie. And of course, Dean was never one to turn that down. The two of them passed a clothing store, mannequins on display. Sam glanced in without meaning to, his eye catching on one of the jackets hanging on the model.

The exact shade of gray-blue you had been wearing on the hunt in Nebraska.

And suddenly, it wasn’t just fabric. It was you – fierce and stubborn and bleeding – standing between him and the wendigo. His breath caught in his throat.

“Sammy, you coming or what?” Dean grumbled. Sam jolted, tearing his gaze away. He didn’t say anything. Just kept walking. Hands shoved deep into his pockets.

Day 17

The diner’s napkin was already half-shredded under your pen by the time you realized what you were drawing. It wasn’t anything useful. Just a looping, twisting mark you hadn’t seen in years.

It was dangerous. You dropped the pen, your hand pressing to the crook of your elbow as you stared at the napkin. The waitress came by and refilled your coffee with a sympathetic smile, mistaking your sudden stillness for artist’s block. If only it were that simple.

You crumpled the napkin before you could think better of it and stuffed it deep into your pocket. Like the trash it was. Like it was nothing. It was nothing.

Day 23

Somewhere between exhausted and half-awake, Sam dreamt of you.

Not you how you were now – guarded, prickly, always one step away. But a version of you that smiled when you saw him. A version that didn’t flinch away when he reached for your hand. A version that looked at him like he was someone.

In his dream, you didn’t run. You didn’t leave.

Sam woke with a start, a cold echo of the feeling of being wanted ringing through him. His hand was pressed to his wrist. He reached for his phone, something he had begun doing far more often in the past couple weeks. But he never found anything there. Never expected it. This time would be no dif-

1 New Message

His stomach flipped, all traces of sleep and weariness wiped away from his system. He navigated to it with shaky fingers, breath held.

You still alive, Winchester?

Received almost two hours ago from a number he didn’t have saved in his phone. But he knew who it was regardless. His breath stuttered as he typed a response. Then deleted it. Then typed another. And deleted that one too.

Yeah. Still alive. Feeling a little better hearing from you, though.

He hit send before he could rethink the message. The sun started peeking through the window before Sam finally drifted back to sleep. His phone was stubbornly silent.

Day 27

You stared at your phone, the notification on the screen taunting you. You should’ve known that sending that message several nights prior was a mistake. You did know. But in a damn moment of weakness, you had done it anyway. And now he had your number.

It was just a text. It didn’t mean anything. It wasn’t anything significant.

You doing okay out there?

It was a door you had opened and now you were struggling to find the willpower to close it. You didn’t have to answer it. You had read it, but that didn’t mean you had to respond. Just close the phone. It wasn’t that hard. You did it all the time. So why not this time?

You pressed the reply button before you could stop yourself.

I’m fine.

Day 30

Sam stared at the map in front of him, a pen spinning uselessly between his fingers. Another case pinned down to some godforsaken backroad town in Arkansas. Another hunt that hadn’t brought them any closer to you. He thought for sure that they would’ve run into you by now. Or had that wendigo case actually been a coincidence? At this rate, he couldn’t tell anymore.

He pushed the papers aside with more force than necessary, knocking several of them fluttering to the ground. Dean looked up from cleaning his gun but didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to. Sam could feel his brother’s eyes on him. He could sense Dean’s worry and concern, but Dean seemed to know better than to bring it up. Sam ran a hand over his face, as though the motion could scrub away the tired ache that seemed to settle into his bones.

Thirty days.

It had been thirty days since you had brushed past him with blood on your jacket and stubborness in your spine. Thirty days since he had watched you walk away, the raw heat of his soulmate mark still burning beneath the cuff of his coat. Thirty days since you slipped through his fingers again.

He thought it might get easier. That maybe the shock of finding your soulmate would wear off, and you’d come around to the idea of it. He thought that maybe you had begun considering things when you sent that text a week ago. He thought maybe you would’ve called by now.

You hadn’t.

Instead, the mark thrummed faintly every night. A steady heartbeat that he couldn’t shut off. Sometimes it was stronger. Sometimes it was almost absent. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table and staring at his soulmark like he could will it into silence.

“I don’t do soulmates.” Your voice echoed in his head, bitter and rough and wielded like a blade. Sam let out a long breath and squeezed his eyes shut. Maybe he should’ve known better than to believe in fate. Should’ve known better than to believe that the universe had given him something good for once. The pen he was spinning clattered to the ground. Dean’s chair scraped against the floor.

“You good?” Dean asked, though the tone in his voice suggested he already knew the answer. Sam forced a smile that tasted like rust.

“Yeah. Fine.”

Dean raised an eyebrow but let it drop anyway. Sam knew he would. Dean had given up trying to force him to talk about things years ago. Sam bent down to pick up the pen and got back to pretending he wasn’t waiting for a call that was never going to come.

Day 32

You sat at the edge of the motel bed that smelled like dust and something faintly sour. You had bought an entire box of those damn protein bars Sam had grabbed way back in Nebraska a whole month ago. Eaten one just about everyday. But it wasn't because it reminded you of him...

Definitely because it reminded you of him.

Had it really been a month? It felt like more. You were exhausted. The television flickered with static because you couldn’t even muster up the energy to pick a channel to pretend to watch.

Your bag was packed. Your keys were on the table. And you didn’t have a case.

You stared at your phone, staring at HIM in your contact list. You could text him. Could type out something flippant like “Still not dead. You?” and pretend that it meant nothing. But you knew better. You were tired of pretending. You dropped the phone onto the nightstand and crawled under the covers without turning off the light.

The protein bar was dry and crumbly, and you were probably leaving crumbs all over the bed sheets. You didn’t care. You weren’t getting any sleep anyway.

Day 37

Dean tossed a beer to Sam across the library table. He caught it without looking up, still burying himself in the lore books in front of him. Dean watched him for a moment.

“You know,” he began slowly. “It’s okay to admit that you miss her.” Sam froze.

“I don’t–” Sam started, but the lie tasted so wrong that he couldn’t finish the sentence. Dean just shrugged.

“Yeah, and I’ll take a salad over a burger. How many days has it been?”

Sam took a moment, pretending that he had to think about that answer. He didn’t. He was acutely aware of exactly how many days it had been since he last saw you.

“Thirty-seven,” he said before adding, “I think.” Dean made a low noise of acknowledgement before clasping Sam on the shoulder, hard enough to jostle the book that was in his hands.

“Just say the word, and we can go out and find her.”

“I don’t think she wants to be found, Dean.”

If you had wanted to be found, they would’ve crossed paths with you by now. Would’ve heard from you by now. Would’ve made an effort to reach out to him by now. At least... he thought you would. Dean walked off, and Sam spent the next twenty minutes staring at the same page.

Day 40

It was pouring down rain when you finally pulled off the highway. Your fuel light had come on about twenty minutes ago, and you were sure that if you tried to tempt fate any further, she would’ve had you broken down on the side of the road in a heartbeat. And would’ve sent the Winchesters to rescue you just to spite you. The gas station’s lights buzzed overhead, and the pump clicked as you filled up, the numbers ticking upwards too fast.

You glanced at the road. Then did a double take. You swore you saw the Impala. Long, black, unmistakeable. You dropped down behind your car, only daring to peek out after a steadying breath.

It wasn’t them.

It was some beat-up Chrysler. After a second look, you realized that it looked nothing like the Impala. You stalked into the convenience store, shoving down the ache in your chest. You weren’t disappointed. This was what you wanted. The mark on your wrist thrummed like it knew better though as you grabbed a handful of those damn protein bars.

Day 45

Another late night. Another night without a text. Another night without feeling those phantom touches. He hadn’t felt those since the hunt that went sideways over a month ago. Whatever it was, you had stopped doing it. Sam was up far too late, the light from his laptop illuminating his face in the dark motel room. The clock in the corner of the screen read 2:37AM. Outside, the rain tapped against the window like a heartbeat.

He traced his thumb over his wrist, feeling it pulse faintly. Like it was waiting. Waiting for what, though? He was tired of waiting. He might’ve been patient, but even he had his limits. A month and a half was pushing it. He was pretty sure he was on the verge of breaking. So Sam did what he did best when things were getting to be too much. He threw himself into research. Something. Anything to get his mind off of you.

Dean was snoring already in one of the motel beds. Sam clicked on an article about a series of mysterious deaths in Colorado. Each one of the victims were missing their hearts. The police thought they were ritual killings. Sam knew better. His soulmark flared.

He had found their next case.

---

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Part 3 --- Part 4

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manikas-whims · 1 year ago

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An Elusive Alliance

— a Rafayel & Xavier friendship mini fic with sprinkles of Rafayel x Reader and Xavier x Reader moments

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SINCERE THANKS TO EVERYONE WHO READS THIS FIC 🫶🥹this was supposed to be a silly chapter but somehow it turned into Rafayel and Xavier being sus about each other lol

Encounter 3: confrontation [AO3]

It was his first day off in 3 weeks and he would rather spend it sleeping till noon, and then grabbing a meal or two later on. But the minute you came by his apartment (ten o’ clock in the morning), and informed him about how you were going out with that artist guy again, Xavier bit the inside of his cheek, reluctantly dressed himself into more appropriate clothes for an outing, and smiled at you.

However, now as he stood inside a local pet store in Linkon, he found himself quite fascinated by all the adorable cat toys and supplies. Apparently they were supposed to buy stuff for the cats at that guy's home.

The said guy– Rafayel– was whining to you about how one of the little kittens had scratched up three of his favorite outfits, and you listened enthusiastically, almost as if fascinated by every word he uttered. You had an easy sort of body language around the guy, your hands involuntarily reaching out to muss his hair, your face gravitating closer as you chuckled over the things he said. And Xavier couldn't help his fists from clenching helplessly at his sides. He watched and wondered if that was how you and Xavier looked to others. Or if he appeared just as distant as he tried to keep himself– always hovering around you but never close enough.

You turned your head all of a sudden, your innocent smile now directed right at Xavier. “I’m going to check out the aisles over there. You two also look around and buy whatever’s needed!”

Xavier smiled back. So did Rafayel. But the minute you turned at the corner and disappeared behind an aisle, their faces waning into more aloof expressions.

“Listen here, asshole. Let's make one thing clear.” Rafayel declared. “I don't like you.”

“The feeling is mutual.” The words slipped out of Xavier's mouth before he could even begin to think of masking his annoyance behind a regular smile.

“And I absolutely don't trust you.”

Xavier had to scoff at that one. If they were to discuss trust, then he could easily say the same for Rafayel. The former prince couldn't put a finger to it but there was a strange otherworldly air about the guy. And despite there being no signs of hostility when it came to his interactions with you, Xavier simply could not bring himself to like the guy.

In the end Xavier chose to respond with a time-saving gesture that relied merely on him shrugging his shoulders.

“Wow! Showing your true colors now that Y/N isn't around.” Rafayel laughed, no mirth behind his gaze. “You know ever since I met you, I've been thinking a lot about you.”

Xavier felt a side of his lips twitching up in amusement. “That’s flattering.”

“Not like that, you smug bastard!” Rafayel hissed, causing a bunch of customers as well as the staff to flash them suspicious glances.

Immediately they both bowed their heads in unison, apologizing for the misconduct.

“Is that Rafayel!?” A girl gasped, nudging her friend to get her attention.

The said friend did look up from her smartphone, her eyes widening comically. “Oh my god! He does look similar!”

And then Xavier heard noises that felt far more detrimental to his ears than the screeching of some of the worst wanderers he'd fought till date. Two fully grown women, squealing and pointing in Rafayel's direction. And he had no issues with how people expressed their joy or excitement over their celebrity crushes. But thanks to them, more customers began flocking around the spot to get a glimpse of the (apparently very) famous artist that stood right next to Xavier. And it was in that moment of chaos that epiphany struck him as his mind flashed a grainy, old memory of a stained piece of paper– a poster actually, with a bounty on the head of a guy with features resembling that of Rafayel's.

Xavier sneaked a glance at the guy in wonder, only to find him ducking his face low, his usually confident shoulders sagged in discomfort.

Normally Xavier couldn't care less about the issues faced by celebrities. But he had been onscreen here and there, and he had a shred of understanding of what it felt like being in the spotlight. An experience he would not recommend.

Sighing, Xavier moved in front of Rafayel so as to block the people's smartphone cameras from taking any photographs. Then he scratched his cheek, his hand hesitant only for a moment before landing on Rafayel's shoulder.

The purple haired man looked up at him, an eyebrow raised in suspicion.

“Don’t assume anything weird.” Xavier clarified.

The next moment they vanished, leaving only fading wisps of light in their wake.

When Xavier removed his hand from Rafayel's shoulder, they had already teleported to a more secluded section inside the shop.

“My evol.” He muttered a quick explanation.

The gears seemed to instantly turn in Rafayel's head and he nodded. “Fine. But don't expect me to thank you for it. If anything, this makes you even more shady.”

Xavier’s eyes narrowed. He saved this guy's ungrateful ass for what? Maybe he should've left him on his own to deal with those crazy fans after all.

“An evol that allows you to come and go wherever you please. ” Rafayel continued analytically. “Hair that gleams silvery in the moonlight. And your public records listing barely any substantial information..”

“Get to the point.”

“Point is,” Rafayel squinted his eyes and scrunched his nose. “Your face looks suspiciously similar to someone I've seen. I just can't remember who.”

Xavier visibly relaxed his composure. He had dealt with such allegations numerous times in the past, and knew exactly how to divert people's attention away from himself. And in the present case, he didn't even need to think of a topic. He already had one.

“Speaking of familiar faces, I saw yours too.” Xavier watched Rafayel's expression slowly morph into one of irritation. “On a bounty poster in the N109 Zone at that.”

Rafayel scoffed. “At least I'm popular enough that people want me dead. Unlike someone who’s entire identity seems bot generated.”

Xavier didn't react negatively to that because that statement wasn't entirely false. And he grasped two things from Rafayel's words. One: the fact that this was actually the same guy he had seen on that poster months ago. Rafayel confirmed Xavier's speculation himself. And two: this guy was quite easy to rile.

Rafayel probably mistook his lack of response for arrogance. But before he could make any pressing remarks on that, both of them heard the sound of approaching footsteps, and looked back.

From behind an aisle full of catnip, your beautiful face emerged, and Xavier felt his lips automatically stretching into a soft smile. Rafayel’s did as well.

“There you are!” You jogged up to them. “You guys have been playing around while I did the whole shopping! What's the point of having two strong guys by my side if they're going to be useless when I need them?”

You had your hands on your hips and were pouting, too adorable to be taken seriously.

“What are you guys doing here anyways?” You asked, eyes swaying from one face to the other.

“Rafayel was telling me exactly how popular he is.” Xavier answered. Then after a beat, he added. “He also says he'd like to pay for all the expenses since the cats actually belong to him.”

“Awww~” Your eyes lit up in admiration for Rafayel. “You do like the kitties after all.”

“Nooo! I don't like those–”

Rafayel tried to protest but Xavier interrupted. “And he said he'll treat us to hotpot at that fancy new restaurant you wanted to check out.”

“Wow! Thanks Rafayel! You seem to be in a good mood.” You clapped your hands in joy.

In your excitement, you grabbed him by the left arm; Xavier by the right, and dragged the two men to the billing counter.

Behind you, Rafayel silently glared at Xavier. And Xavier could only smirk in return. This guy truly was so easy to rile.

not both Rafayel and Xavier having a bounty on their heads lol 😆

please drop some thoughts in replies or reblogs..Next chapter will be Rafayel pov again cuz i think i get a lil too serious with Xavier pov lol..and this fic is supposed to be light and silly but.. we'll see :)

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