#I'M CRYING LIKE A FOUNTAIN 😭😭😭

[cloudofbutterflies92]

When you're calm and don't expect @dickytwister drawing, I really don't know what to say. You are an extremely sweet person 🥺🥺💕💕💕💕. I'M HAPPY LIKE A CHILD 🥺🥺💕💕💕

[chrisbangs]

[cw vomit mention]

you tagging things as protectile vomiting is so fucking funny to me bc last year a friend of mine got so fucking wasted that after he fell asleep he /literally/ projectile vomited himself awake. we called him fountain for months. i will never forget that and it will always remind me of him. thank you

HWBDJDBDJSKDNDKDMD 😭😭😭😭 omg ... i'm glad that i can make you laugh .. ur friend tho 🫡 praying for this dude 😭😭 jsjsjsjsjd fountain......... that's so funny i'm so sorry for him HSBSJDNDKD but whhwhwhwhw now i'm p sure this is all i will think of too from now on HSJDNDKDKNDND

[noxtivagus]

yh the sorrow of werlyt's one of my favs fr :^)

[joaofelix70]

69 WITH JOÃO FÉLIX | a concept.

author's note: first of all, thank you for reading this and my first story that was boycotted by his ex's fans, lmao (i know joão's flopping here, actually) 💀

many people are not writing for him anymore and that's why i'm doing justice to him, so you're welcome, lol. please, tell me what you think about this work, polite feedbacks are VERY appreciated. i get inspired in the morning and wrote it kinda quickly. really random, but i need to say how obsessed i am with joão being religious, like this gif shows. the way he's crossing himself, kissing his hand and pointing to the sky 🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️

I'M CRYING, SOBBING ON MY KNEES AND BEGGING HIM TO HAVE A RELIGIOUS FAMILY WITH ME. also, my requests are open. i'm waiting for you to talk to me there <3

warnings: self-explanatory sex position. +18 content. smut, nsfw without context. plus, he's also fingering you here (our dream 😭).

words: 461.

"holy shit, what a good pussy. i missed it, princesa (princess). i missed you!" his fingerprints wrap in your midst of the hot, overflowing fountain: causing an insatiable thirst, to which no other substance would be able to succumb.

"i always need you so badly, gatinho (handsome). i fucking belong to you!" your whimpers exude despair in the name of pleasure, making joão laugh and his ego to inflate.

"of course you do! all this shit, all this is only mine. fuck, i'm such a lucky guy." your walls tighten and compress his beautiful bones, sending sinful sensations to his area of hardness and dampness. then, you're empty. his tongue curls around his fingers, appetizing you.

"so fucking delicious!" wet kisses are deposited on your neck and boobs: delighting his face on each, vehemently sucking and biting them.

"use my body to show it, joão. i'm yours!" your hands involve around the structure of his cock, lips swallowing the resplendent pre-cum from the head and witnessing it run down your chin. stroking and tasting the testicles, you lift your mouth and enter every inch of it into your throat, scratching his toned tights. your hair is pulled by félix and your head guided to have him deeper, completely.

"yeah! just like that! be the good and grateful girl that you are. i'm so proud of you, princesa." joão's destabilized, moaning in portuguese, echoing your name with his beautiful accent, while eyes are closed. however, he doesn't stop. his saliva spread throughout the shape of your torso, hickeys pigmenting the place below where you're most begging to be touched. his mouth explores your intimacy, painting formats and drawings, like you're his work of art: his nose rubbing your clit and offering continual instigations, the tip of his tongue persistently granting the beg leave in the entrance. so he persists, controlling your greedy movements against his face: firm pressure on your waist.

"let me know when you're close, ok? wanna take care of you!" félix grabs your ass, flattening and reddening your skin. tears are shed over your flushed face, your voice weakened after so many verbal liberations. you hold his dilating dick and slap it on your cheek, teasing it through licks and your light, sensitive touch.

"tell me how much you love me, gatinho. i deserve this for being your good girl who is about to cum on your face." you testify his acts getting intensified: ecstasy, along with sexual spasms, protruding from joão. his head goes back and, at this point, he's worshiping you. you're his religion.

"i fucking love you, y/n. gonna cum in your precious mouth and throat!"

"that's my man who i fucking love! please, come for me and i'll do the same for you!"

[lizzaneia-elizalde]

First off, love your writing, IT MAKES ME FEEL THINGS😭😭 but…

Can we please get more of yandre emo boy Ashton I JUST READ IT AND IM DROOLING SCREAMING CRYING GIGGLING AMD KICKING MY FEET😭🧎‍♀️🤪🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️

THANK YOU❤️❤️🤭🤭🤭

(If not that’s okay, ignore this bae🫶)

Yandere! Stereotypical! Emo and his beloved popular bitch

Ayo, thank you for the compliment! I'm glad my writings made you feel things (I don't know what though LMAO)

Actually, I'm not planning to follow up Ashton, but hey, at least it would break my writer's block (lol it's just laziness) so here ya go!

Sorry that it took days though 😔

FOR THIS ONE, I RECOMMEND READING THE FIC FIRST BEFORE THE DRABBLE (this one).

Read the yandere emo fic here!

💌Little Ashton was misunderstood a lot as a child. He never really liked the same things the other children liked, and he had this morbid curiosity with death and occult.

💌Of course, this undoubtedly scared his family, making him out to be some sort of psychopath.

💌This irked Ashton of course. He's just... That. He still loves his parents, and nothing would change that.

💌But the fact that they're so conservative that it's actually bringing Ashton down is what drove him over the edge to find a school far, far away from his family.

💌A small, quaint town, yet filled with teenagers. It was kind of a nightmare when Ashton found out, but he gritted his teeth and thought that maybe, with the current years, maybe they won't judge him. Maybe.

💌So, he indulged more in his Emo lifestyle. He religiously listened to green day, Panic! At the Disco, My Chemical Romance...

💌He even got into writing poems as a way to put out his feelings that he never got to tell other people.

💌 He's actually very sensitive with emotions and feelings. So technically, he should be a great friend candidate, right?

💌But once he got into the school year, that's when he knew, that his life would be living hell. Stereotypes left and right. Mean cheerleaders and jocks that ostracized his choice of clothing, snobby rich students that turn their noses on him just because he's not that rich, geeks and nerds that keeps getting in his way, thinking he's one of them.

💌"Fuck. Get me out of here. Nobody understands me."

💌He didn't realize himself, but he's also slowly being a stereotype. Always alone, writing poems, and being unnecessarily nihilistic.

💌Until of course, one day, you transfered. You, your pink rover, and your slutty little outfit.

💌God, just looking at you and your charming personality made Ashton hard fall for you.

💌He wants you. So bad.

💌So he dabbled back into the occults. He found an old book in an abandoned "witch's hut" that he went on a mad hunt for weeks. Apparently, the witch that lived there was a matchmaker witch, who gave love potions to those really desperate.

💌At first, Ashton didn't believe it. Especially that it involves sampaguita, a flower not native to his town. How did the witch even get the flowers?

💌But there he was, mixing and creating the potion under the moonlight and putting your hair and his in the pot. Creating a love potion that smelled like the sampaguitas he had to smuggle in.

💌He wrote you letters everyday, obsessing and hyper fixating on your allure and beauty. Confessing over and over again on paper that looks old and aged with writing that looks like it came from a fountain pen. With a spritz of the love potion, he would put it in your locker.

💌God, who knew that it would work?

💌Day by day, he watched you read the letters. At first, you were disgusted (much to his dismay) but slowly, you started to read the letters with a neutral face, then a smile, then with a squeal and then a desperate plea for him to come and fuck you already.

💌Maybe putting his... Semen on your love potion got you desperate for him carnally, rather than romantically.

💌But no fretting, he would just make you fall for him.

💌And as you moan and scream out his name as he pounds into your tight hole like the feral, fuck machine he is,

💌He was pleading to the moon to see his bleeding heart and bare soul to make you his.

💌And if the moon won't allow it,

💌Well, it's nothing more love potions won't do.

💌"my beloved, why don't you drink this sweet tea I made? Why is it pink and smells floral? It's a new tea from Japan. Sakura, from what I know. It's glowing? Nonsense, love. It's probably just the lighting."

💌"Now drink up, don't let a drop go to waste."

[sungbeam]

𝐜𝐢𝐫𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐬

nonidol!lee hyunjae x f!reader

6.7k words (my hand slipped, sorry), fluff, angst, low-key e2l, ex friends 2 implied lovers?, low-key rich kid au, swearing, drinking and drunk talks/crying, a shitty situation, a bitchy ex gf, uhh very low-key hurt/comfort?, lots of mentions of pizza and soft drinks, THE PLOT IS SO RUSHED IM SORRY I CRAMMED.

a/n: requests now closed! whew,,, what a doozy 😭 im sorry if it feels rushed bc it low-key really was such a rushed and ambitious plot on my part. to the anon who requested it, ik it's not exactly what u asked for and im sorry ><

The pizzeria was like your second home. Maybe it was your home, but you weren't sure if calling a pizza place your home was the best word. It acted as your bubble away from academic responsibilities, family obligations, and anything else you wanted to forget. For the past three years of your college career, you made this place your comfort spot, while also picking up some spare change.

Your friend and co-worker Dae bumped her hip with yours as she passed by you with her hands full of empty plastic cups to refill. "Your group of banshees just walked in," she mused, slipping past you to the fountain drink machine on the bar counter.

Your head perked up and watched the front door on the other side of the room open to let a wave of your friends in. Dae liked to joke that your friend group consisted of a bunch of "banshees" from how loud they could be. You couldn't blame her at all; it was hilariously accurate. On a bad night, the group's volume could reach levels of a nightmare baby being birthed from the Devil's anus.

"Yn-ie!" Chanhee and Jacob waved to you as the group of five made their way through the tight spaces between tables.

"Hey, guys," you greeted them. "You're so lucky a group just left." You nodded toward the circular table in the back corner where your friends often made their home. It was big enough to seat seven—ten, if you squished—but it was almost always for you and your friends.

The pizzeria's owner and your boss, Mr. Moretti, usually didn't mind your friends occupying the space. You were pretty sure he was glad your friends were hiding themselves away in the back. (Not because of the merriment, just because of the noise. Some customers just wanted pizza and a quiet night, and you could respect that.)

"Waitress! Waitress!" Changmin screeched, waving one of his hands around like a lunatic.

You came up to the table with an unimpressed look on your face, and Kevin wrestled his neighbor back into this seat. "Okay, so Changmin doesn't get to eat tonight," you drawled and braced your hands on the backs of Sunwoo and Chanhee's chairs.

"I was just wondering how long it takes for someone to get service around here," Changmin jested. He feigned one of those pompous brushes of his hair, mocking one of the rich pricks who had come in here last month thinking that the RIGHT TO REFUSE SERVICE sign didn't apply to him. Changmin broke into a lopsided grin at your arched brows. "What? I think I'm funny."

Your eyes widened in a silent 'Can you believe this guy?'

"He's sugar high because someone let him get to the cupcakes," Kevin directed his flat gaze to his counterpart, Jacob.

Jacob's hands lifted in innocence. "What? No one was eating them, and he said he was hungry."

"Okay, drinks, folks!" You clapped to regain their attention. You did, after all, have other customers. "What're we feeling tonight?"

A chorus of drink orders flew up into the air—coke, iced water, Sprite, lemonade—and you nodded, stepping away to grab them those very beverages. Your friends had all been here enough times to know exactly what was on the menu, so while you stepped away briefly for their drinks, they could deliberate and get back to you as soon as you returned.

Like a well oiled machine, you delivered them their drinks, and Kevin doled out the lineup for tonight.

"You know, I was thinking of painting my nails black," Kevin said as he finished off the order. He held his hand out in front of him, inspecting the state of his bare nails.

Sunwoo straightened in his seat. "We should do it together, hyung!—I mean… you could probably paint my nails. I dunno if you should trust me with one of those thin ass brushes."

"You're right," Chanhee chimed in, "we shouldn't."

You snickered to yourself as you left your friends to their own devices and pinned their order sheet to one of the clips hanging in the kitchen window. There was a set of plates set out on the window sill, the bill reading for table three, and you picked it up to take over to them. Dae appeared next to you, tightening her ponytail, and grabbed the dishes for table four right beside it.

With both your hands full, you departed to deliver your respective orders.

As you set the dishes off food down onto table three, you heard the telltale swish of the door opening, and night air flooded into the room. On instinct, you straightened with a smile to greet them. "Hi! Welcome—" your voice died on your throat, and when his eyes locked with yours, you stuttered, "—in. For how many?"

Lee Hyunjae brushed a hand through his blond hair, his other arm wrapped around the shoulders of a girl who was unfortunately familiar to you. A couple of the guys with him, you recognized, too, but he was the one who had made you trip over your words.

One of them with jet black hair and kind, feline-like eyes, lifted four of his fingers in a wordless signal.

You nodded, lips set in a firm line, and gestured to the open four-seater at table eight.

You tucked your empty tray beneath your arm, mentally thanking anyone who was listening that his party was seated in Dae's section and not yours. Thank god for odd numbers.

Dae was swift to chirp out her usual cheeriness to the newcomers, and you scurried back over to the register to cash a table's check. As you did so, your eyes flitted up toward Hyunjae's table. He glanced over at you periodically, looking away whenever you were already looking at him.

What the hell was he doing here? You wanted to yell, scream. Out of all the places, out of all the nights, out of all the times… how long had it been since you last saw him, you wondered to yourself as you let the bitterness seep into your bones and meld with the marrow. It was a feeling you knew all too well.

You strode over to table seven to set their check down on the edge of the table. Everything in the pizzeria was so close together; it was near impossible not to catch the words being exchanged at table eight.

"—don't understand why you chose this dump, Hyunjae." That was the girl, the one who's face made you want to throw something at it. Her name was Kyla, and the last time you saw her in person, she had just become Hyunjae's girlfriend.

Sometimes you questioned how they even managed to stay together so long, but then again, people like them deserved each other.

"Eric just wanted pizza, babe," drawled the blond, his arm casually draped over the back of her chair.

The two others seated at the table consisted of the man with jet black hair, and another with a medium-toned brown hair peeking out of a gray hoodie. The latter said, "You guys'll love this place! Their breadsticks are literally the fluffiest things in the world."

A smile curled onto your face at that comment. Now that you thought about it, you'd seen him around before.

You slid over to table one and began stacking the dirty dishes left behind by customers who had gone. Table eight's conversation continued.

"Is it normal to be able to see grease in the air?" Kyla gagged, her nose wrinkling in disgust. She soaked in the close quarters of the restaurant with little appreciation.

The other third wheel at table eight, the one with black hair, lifted his eyebrows. "It's cozy in here, Kyla."

"Yeah, just give it a chance," Hyunjae chimed in.

You brushed past their table to grab table seven's check and hustle it back over to the register. You met Dae at the counter, her hands once again full with cups that needed filling.

A grunt left her lips. "Table eight," she began.

"Yeah," you agreed. "Sheesh."

Her head turned to you over her shoulder. "You know 'em?"

"Unfortunately." You pursed your lips. "It's been awhile," you amended. "I only know the couple at the table—enough to say, good luck, girl."

Dae made a face, but she pulled her shoulders back to solidify her posture. You always admired her work ethic and her customer service skills. As fellow waitresses during many a dinner rush hour, you both had to deal with your own handfuls of difficult people. At this point, it wasn't difficult to sniff them out from a mile away. There were some days you just wanted them to yell at you and get it over with.

Just as Dae left to go drop off drinks, your friends' order hit the window sill. You tucked the finished bill for table seven into your apron pocket and grabbed the trays to set on the table for your friends.

"You look like you're about to gnaw my fingers off, Jacob," you teased with a twinge of nervousness.

The man grinned at you, with teeth. "I'm hungry."

"Valid." You backed away from the table, and the carnage began.

You laughed, ducking your head, as you left your friends to their feast. You arrived at table seven and wished them a good night—

"Do you not have cherry coke? Isn't that, like, a universal fountain drink?"

You glanced over to see Dae's mouth twitch just slightly, but gave nothing else away. "No, we only have regular Coke and Diet Coke; I said that earlier, miss."

Kyla stared at her as if she'd just gotten her puppy revoked. "But they both taste like ass."

"You can have a fruit punch instead," Dae offered.

"But I don't want fruit punch."

You saw that the other two boys at the table fidgeted nervously. They were making eyes at Hyunjae, urging him to do something.

He seemed to lift his gaze to yours at that exact moment and you wondered what he saw in them. Something shifted in him, a silent acceptance of surrender.

The next thing you knew, he was leaning into the conversation. "Ky, you can just get a water or something and then we'll go get a drink after this. How does that sound?"

She threw a look over at him. "I really just want a cherry coke, Hyunjae. If I have to be forced to eat at this place, then the least you could do is get me a cherry coke."

Okay, that was enough.

"Is there a problem here?" You asked, sidling up beside Dae. You saw her loosen up out of the corner of your eye.

Kyla opened her mouth to retort something, but she halted abruptly. Her head cocked to the side, eyes narrowing, like she was trying to figure something out. You knew the moment she recognized you. A slow smile curled onto her mouth. "Oh my god… Yn Ln. Mommy and daddy kick you out or something? Why are you working at this dump?"

You were certain your eye started twitching.

Hyunjae grappled her shoulder. "Kyla."

"This is gold," she chirped. "Wow, I didn't think anything good could come of this dinner, but—" she sneered, "wow. You look awful."

"Takes one to know one," you said with venom dripping from your words. "We have a right to refuse service, ma'am, so if you don't quit badgering my friend and me, then I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

She didn't seem to catch your drift. "No. Get me. A cherry coke."

You suppressed every urge to fuck this girl up. To Dae, you murmured, "Can you cover my tables?"

"For sure, girl," she said, giving you a reassuring clasp on the shoulder. "Should I call Moretti?"

"No, I think we should be fine—"

"Wait until I tell everyone I know about how absolute ass this place is," Kyla ripped you back out into reality. She had her phone out now, and Eric, the guy in the hoodie, was reaching across the table to stop her.

You weren't allowed to touch her, you reminded yourself. You could do this with just words. No matter how much it killed you to not sucker punch her stupid, pearly whites in. "I'm going to have to ask you to leave," you told her through gritted teeth. "Either you buckle down with your regular Coca-Cola, or you get out."

"How about—no."

All breath dissipated from your lungs when you felt the carbonated liquid dumped in your face, the blocks of ice just missing your eyes. The entire establishment seemed to freeze with you.

You scoffed, slowly wiping the soda from your eyes and shaking out your arms. You couldn't seem to form coherent speech.

"What the fuck is going on here?" You recognized Kevin's hardened voice behind you, his hand squeezing your shoulder to tell you he was here.

As Kyla and Kevin dueled it out, you found Hyunjae's eyes again. To his credit, he seemed horrified and apologetic, his mouth parted in shock. But then again, he didn't have much credit anymore in your book.

Your hands fisted. You wanted to yell at him to get out. It had been a decent evening, a good evening, before he and his like came in and threw a drink in your face.

You didn't want to address the burning bitterness that coursed beneath all the annoyance and anger—out of everything, why didn't he say anything? Why didn't he try harder to help you? Why was he with her when he could be with y—nevermind. That didn't matter.

Even now, your back still ached from when he'd last left it stabbed.

"Are you okay, Yn-ie?"

You realized that Hyunjae and his party had gone now, and the shop patrons were slowly going back to whatever they had been doing before. Chanhee appeared before you with a couple napkins from the dispenser on the table, and Dae rushed over with a massive roll of paper towels. Your other friends had flocked over, too, to help clean up and also attend to customers while you pulled your shit together.

You gave a nod, finding your voice to tell them so. Your gaze casted briefly toward the front door where you knew he wouldn't ever be stepping back into.

You told yourself that was a good thing.

It was late when you finally pushed out of the back doors of the pizzeria building. Your car was parked out back with many of the other employee cars; it was just a lot more convenient and a lot less traffic. It had been a couple days since the fiasco with Kyla and Hyunjae, and you hadn't heard or seen him once since then.

That was a good thing. It was supposed to be a good thing. After all, why would he suddenly reappear in your life now? What purpose or what significance did that have?

You were going to try and forget about him again. Your life was plenty good without him, and yet…

"Yn."

Speak of the Devil. You swore under your breath as you nearly tripped over the curb. His voice was haunting, as was his presence, his whole silhouette. You'd once found a home with all those things—with him.

You and he stopped beside your car. "What are you doing here?" You asked him.

Hyunjae had his hands shoved into the pockets of his leather jacket. "I, uhm," he began, "I wanted to say sorry."

"Sorry?" You parroted. The word was sticky in your mouth and it clung to all the wrong crevices.

"Yeah, for the other night." He clasped the back of his neck. "I… I broke up with her, by the way."

Your eyes widened at his words. He broke up with Kyla? A part of you wanted to pump the sky and jump up and down—finally. Fucking finally! But there was another part of you, the rational one, who yanked you back to Earth and smacked you in the head to think about it. Three years of dating that girl, and just now he decided to break up with her? What was the tipping point? There was no way he didn't know she acted like a spoiled brat all the time.

What was so good about her anyway? You thought you had understood at the time—she had more money, more connections. Her parents were old money rich, not entrepreneurs like yours. It was stupid to think that was the reason, and you couldn't afford to go down that rabbit hole of methodology again.

"So?"

Your singular word seemed to slap him in the face. "So? I—" Frustration flickered across his face for a split second. Now he knew how you felt.

You couldn't wait for him to say anything; you had so much to say to him. "Listen Jaehyun," you said plainly. "I don't know what you want from me. You broke up with your girlfriend? Good for you. You're sorry for the other night? Okay. I don't know if you expect me to grovel and praise you for owning up for once—"

"Okay, what?" He cut in. "First of all, I don't expect you to grovel or praise me or whatever. Second, what do you mean 'owning up for once?'"

"I mean it exactly like I said it." You clenched the strap of your bag in your hand. Crazy how your car was literally right next to you, but you couldn't get into it. Your feet were glued to the street, and a part of you wanted to know how this ended. "The last time I saw you, Kyla laughed in my face, and you encouraged her. You dropped me like our years of friendship meant jack shit to you. I don't know what you're trying to pull, Jaehyun, and I don't wanna know."

Hyunjae leaned his head back, eyes closed for a second. "Yn, it's so much more complicated than that."

You stuck your tongue in your cheek. "That's such bullshit, and you know it. You don't get to come back and tell me this." There was a shakiness in your voice now, and you knew you had to get going or risk yelling. "That's just not fair."

"I know it's not fair."

"Good."

"Fine," he bit out. "I don't even know why I'm here."

Your hand found purchase on the driver's side door. Say something. Give me a reason to stay. "Maybe your sense of guilt has finally returned and your brain wanted to make amends."

He rolled his eyes, and it felt like a stab in your chest. "I'm going to leave now."

"Thank god." The words tasted sour in your mouth and you realized that he hadn't given you a reason to stay; in fact, it had been the exact opposite.

You both went your separate ways again. When you clambered into your car and watched him walk away through your rear view, it dawned on you that the entire conversation had been one massive circle. You wanted to hear him out—of course, you did.

You used to know him, after all. You used to know him so well. And perhaps that was why you hadn't just now.

"We need to talk."

A pair of hands slammed down on your desk and you nearly fell out of your chair. You tugged your earbuds out of your ear to give whoever this was a piece of your—

You frowned. "Oh. It's you."

Hyunjae frowned back at you. He was wearing a jean jacket today, hair styled presentably. He didn't have to look so good in this lighting, but you supposed even the sun liked to favor him. "Yes, it's me. Can you get up so we can—" He nodded out toward the library window beside you, "—talk?"

"So you want us to jump out the window?"

"You are so annoying."

Your smile was saccharine. "Not as annoying as you."

It had currently been around fifteen hours since he showed up at the back alley to confront you with that sorry apology. You'd woken up this morning less mad and more sad… smad. Sure, you were smad. It seemed that a night of sleep hadn't deterred your ex-best friend from talking to you, and you couldn't decide if that was a good or bad thing.

"You don't even go to this school," you told him in a pathetic attempt to wave him away without actually waving him away.

"This is a public campus, Yn." He pulled out the seat across from you before you could protest. "I don't have to go to this school."

You scowled. The organ in your chest was beating awfully fast—you really hoped you weren't about to get in a screaming match with him here of all places. "What do you want, Hyunjae? You can't just show up everywhere I go unannounced."

"I don't do that."

"I'm starting to think you're obsessed with me, actually."

"Will you just—"

"Heya, Yn." Relief flooded through you at the sight of Changmin and Sunwoo walking up to your table. The former narrowed his eyes behind his dark-framed glasses. "Everything okay?"

You flipped your notebook closed and swiftly packed all of your items up. "Yeah, perfectly," you said. Hyunjae didn't follow as you stood up. "Bye, Hyunjae."

As you walked toward the library exit, Changmin and Sunwoo converged on either side of you. "What was that all about?" Sunwoo asked, his head peering behind you at the boy who was no doubt still sitting at the table. "Why is he here?"

You shook your head and pushed out onto the university grounds, propping the door open for your friends trailing behind. "Dude, I have no idea. He dropped by on my way out of work last night—"

"He what?"

"It wasn't even a productive conversation," you told them. You didn't know where you were going, but you turned around to face them as you walked backward along the path. Maybe you shouldn't have just left him there. "I don't even know how he knew I was at the library."

Changmin's mouth quirked downward. "Isn't this like… kind of creepy? What's with him anyway?"

"Yeah, Yn, how do you know him?" Sunwoo chimed in.

You sighed, face scrunching up as you thought about where to begin. Swiveling back to front, your friends clung onto you—both physically and to your words. "Our parents loathe each other, because they're business rivals, but Hyunjae and I went to the same schools when we were kids and we became friends."

It had been the two of you against the world—best petty friends. That first time his parents had driven him over to your house for a play date, the looks on both yours and his parents had been priceless. It'd been a wonder that they'd let you continue with the play date. From that point on, however, you both became friends for life, all despite the odds.

At least, that was how it had been.

Three years ago, just before both of you were going to begin your college careers, he had pretended that everything between the two of you was nothing more than dumpster fire. He ended up with Kyla, he became a jerk, and you'd spiraled. Had it been something you'd done? Had it been you? Did his parents open his eyes to your families' petty rivalry and get him to turn on you? That was what it had seemed like.

You'd survived, somehow. You had friends now—good friends, nice friends, un-petty friends. (But Hyunjae had been that person for you, too, once upon a time.)

You found yourself in your apartment at six in the evening the next day, staring at a half-drunk glass of wine and a crossword on your coffee table. You'd snatched up one of the newspapers in the lobby to busy yourself with in an attempt to take your mind off thrown cups of coke, bitchy ex girlfriends, and bitter ex friends.

It hadn't worked yet.

A knock on your front door drew your focus away, and you dragged yourself up from the couch to see who it was. Something panged in your chest at the face on the other side of the peephole.

You ripped the door open. "Do you want a restraining order?"

Hyunjae stood on the other side looking a little less put together than yesterday, but still more put together than you. "Yn, can we please just talk?"

"How do you even know where I live?" You asked him, not moving from the threshold, and thus, leaving him no room to come in.

"I literally helped you move in three years ago," he said, blinking. Oh. "Now, can I please come in?"

At least he was saying please, you reasoned with yourself. Begrudgingly, you let him in.

His shoulders seemed to deflate as he slipped inside, and he left his shoes on the show rack by the front door. Once you'd replaced all the locks, you swept past him to your kitchen area. "Want a drink?"

"Uhm, sure. Yeah, thanks."

You came back to the couch with another glass and poured him some of the red.

The two of you sat on the couch beside each other with a comfortable amount of space in the middle. He picked up his glass and chugged the entire thing, while you finished off your own glass and reached for the bottle. It felt so strange to be in his space again—or at least, for him to be in your space again. You didn't know if the jittery kick in your heart was from nervousness, excitement, or both.

What more did he have to say to you?

When you topped your glass off again, Hyunjae refilled his own.

"What do you want from me, Hyunjae?" You asked him for what felt like the hundredth time within the past week. You didn't have the heart to look at him now, the alcohol making your brain buzz and your chest heavy.

He nursed his glass, elbows braced on his knees. "I'm sorry," he said, clearing his throat when his voice came out rough. He fidgeted with the collar of his shirt. "You're probably so fucking tired of me, but I just… I knew I had to make things right."

You tugged your legs onto the couch and tucked them under you. "Why? Because you broke up with your girlfriend for throwing soda in my face?" For a moment, the thought amused you. Out of all the things to break up with Kyla for—out of all the things—it'd been over Coca-Cola.

Hyunjae swallowed down his wine. "No, that's not—that's not why I wanted to break up with her. I mean, part of it, of course. She'd disrespected you and your friend and the workplace."

His words and their sincerity drew your eyes to him on your left. His head hung, but you could see the glazed look in his eyes, dulling out those pretty, mahogany irises of his. He looked like your Hyunjae for once, not the one who had appeared in the doorway of the pizzeria with his arm around a girl who didn't appreciate him or anyone.

"And I'm sorry for that," he continued. "I'm sorry I didn't do more to prevent that from happening."

You stared down into the dark stillness of your wine glass. "Well, it wasn't exactly your fault," you said quietly.

You heard him huff, "Yeah, sure." He lifted the glass up to his lips again, and you did the same.

"The little altercation was recorded and posted online," Hyunjae suddenly said. "And when my parents saw, they pretty much backed out of the partnership between our company and Kyla's parents'. They didn't let me break up with her before because of the contract or whatever, but after that PR nightmare, they pretty much cut ties for me."

He took another swig, and you found yourself really looking at him this time.

"I was and have been an asshole to you, Yn," he said. "And it's no excuse, but it was… I was just trying to make it easier for both of us."

The wine was penetrating your defenses. Or maybe that was his story. But either way, the stinging in the corners of your eyes led to a watering of your vision, and everything was getting blurry. The lights, him, your whole view of the situation. His parents hadn't turned him, but shackled him instead.

"I thought," you began, lifting a hand up to wipe your eyes dry, "you hated me."

Hyunjae raised his head, shaking it, then hanging it again. He drank. "I couldn't hate you. I tried—I tried to make it easier to see you differently, but… Yn, you were my best friend." His voice broke at the end and he swallowed. "I thought about you so much these past few years, and it was so hard to get through it without you."

Your heart was sinking fast into your stomach and you could feel it hammer against your bones. You'd thought about him too much, as much as you loathed to admit. The man who you felt had simply thrown you away… how pathetic was it that you couldn't stop caring? But now, the lens was widening. Maybe your feelings weren't so unique.

Both you and Hyunjae moved at the same time, arms raising to drain your glasses of the last bits of wine.

You told yourself it was the wine that was making you want to cry, but when you and Hyunjae looked at each other, his eyes were lined with silver. He sniffled, setting his glass on the coffee table. "I'm sorry," he whispered, biting his lip when emotion made him screw his face up and turn away from you.

You put your glass next to his and clambered over the sofa to wrap your arms around him. He turned his face into your chest and sobbed, the sound coaxing a crest of emotion out of you, too, and you held him and rocked him through the oncoming waves.

It was the wine, you thought. God it was the wine. It had to be the wine.

But your best friend was here in your arms, where he belonged, you liked to think. He was home.

You curled your hand over the back of his head, your cheeks damp. "'m sorry they forced you into that relationship," you rasped. The bitterness was sweeping back in a different color. "I wish I knew."

He sniffled. "They threatened to do something to your parents' company. I couldn't—I couldn't let you and them get involved."

The confession stabbed through you. You had no idea what his parents had told him, and made him do, for the sake of business. You had no idea how unhappy he was, and god—you wished you'd known. Maybe things wouldn't have come to such hurt.

Hyunjae pulled himself away from you and wiped his eyes. "I think after all that shit, I'm a little fucked up."

The both of you shared a watery laugh, the space that had originally been left between you, nonexistent.

You cupped the sides of his face. "You made it though, and you've been so strong, Jae."

His bottom lip trembled. "Can you ever forgive me?"

"Yeah," you nodded. "Yeah, I forgive you." How could you not? And it was the wine—you swore it was the wine—that had you leaning forward and pressing a kiss to his hairline. His eyes fluttered shut as he leaned into you, his hand reaching up to cover your hand with his own.

"I like you a whole lot better than her," he murmured.

"I'd hope so," you mused, patting his cheek. "You deserve to have someone so much better than her."

He gulped, eyes searching your face. "You think so?"

"I know so."

Your heartbeat stuttered when he leaned forward slightly. You could smell the wine on his breath as it fanned over your skin. It felt as if the world slowed in that moment—the lights were dimmer, his eyelids low, lips shiny and plush.

And then he blinked, energy and alarm and… something else in his expression. He pulled out of your hold and his ears turned bright red. "I should go."

Your lips parted. "Wait—"

He practically leapt off the couch and banged his knee against the wall as he hobbled into his shoes. "Damn—I—" he opened the front door, pausing over the threshold. You didn't know why he was leaving; you wanted him to stay. Why, why, why was he leaving? "I, uhm, I've overstayed my welcome."

The door rattled as he closed it behind him, as if to tell you to not follow him out. You were left on the couch alone again, two empty glasses of wine, feeling stripped.

What the hell was that?

"And he just… left?"

You nodded, sweeping the apron around your waist over the hook in the back room of the pizzeria. It was late when yours and Dae's shift ended, as per usual. The shop was pretty much closed, leaving the two of you and two of the cooks who usually closed up the establishment when you both left.

For the entirety of your shift, you had been turning over yesterday's events over and over again. "I don't know what I did wrong, y'know? Maybe I crossed a boundary or something? I dunno."

Worry gnawed at your stomach as you recalled what happened to Dae. You both stepped out of the back of the building to head to your respective cars. It was dark out, as it usually was, with a few street lights along the road that you and Dae stuck to while walking.

As you approached your car, you noticed Hyunjae standing beside it with his hands tucked in his pockets and his head turned toward you. Rather than the sourness you'd felt for him at the beginning of the week, the feeling twisting in your chest was sweeter, but bitter still.

"I'll see you tomorrow then," Dae said to you softly with a gentle nudge of your arm. She walked ahead of you and passed by your car to get to hers, leaving you to confront the man plaguing your every thought for the past week.

You swallowed as you made your way over to the driver's side door where he was standing. "Hey."

Hyunjae gave a slight bob of his head. "Hey."

"Did I do something wrong yesterday?" You asked him, earnestly, searching his face for any hint as to why he had left so abruptly.

"No, it wasn't your fault—it definitely wasn't your fault," he told you. He sucked in a breath, carding a hand through his hair. "I had an epiphany of sorts."

"An epiphany?" You furrowed your brows.

His cheeks had flushed slightly, and he couldn't exactly meet your eyes. "I thought it was just the alcohol clouding my judgment, and in combination with all the emotions, and I just—" he shook his head. "It's probably not important, but…"

You bumped your elbow with his. "Jae, you're here. It probably is important."

A small smile curled up onto his face. "Y'know," he began, finally lifting his head to look you in the eyes, "she would have agreed with me and brushed me off."

You knew who the "she" he was talking about was. You frowned. "She was never good enough for you, Hyunjae."

"I know." He sighed. "I just wanna be enough for you though now."

Surprise lit across your face, and you could feel the butterflies in your stomach start to take flight. You couldn't think coherently with his words, and you were probably reading into it too much. The two of you had been away so long that you probably forgot how to read him; there was no doubt that something changed over the past three years, right?

When you failed to find a reply, he shifted slightly, his body facing straight toward you. "I've had a lot of time to think, and the whole time I was with her, I just kept comparing her to you." He stepped closer to you and his hand reached out to tentatively take your fingers with his. "She never measured up; maybe that made me even more bitter for ruining our friendship."

You met his eyes. There was that glimmer of the rich brown like what you'd seen last night. (Your Hyunjae was present and accounted for.) "What… what are you saying?"

"I'm saying that I," he said, fully taking your hands with his, "would like to start over on a slightly different note. But if you don't feel the same, we can start wherever you're comfortable with."

It would be different, you realized. But it would be a good different, right?

You found your voice, curled your fingers around his in the space between you. "Okay."

His smile slowly widened, his eyes squinting into upturned crescent moons. "Okay?"

You nodded, returning the expression. "Let's start over on that different note."

The pizzeria was as alive as usual. It was warm, smelled like tomatoes and cheese and bread, and it was still your home away from home. You had just finished your break and were tying your apron back on when Dae bumped her hip against yours as she passed by with a tray of dirty dishes.

"Your banshees just got in," she said, before disappearing through the kitchen doors.

Your gaze went to the door where you found your five friends, and the additional three, who were filing in altogether. You made eye contact with one person in particular, his smile softening into something fond at the corners of his mouth. He lifted a hand in greeting, grabbing everyone else's attention as they said their hellos to you.

The eight of them made their way over to the round table in the back corner, piling into the chairs around it.

"Waitress! Waitress!" The hyena-like sound set off an alarm in your head and you came over to the table to give Changmin a stink eye. He grinned innocently. "Oh yay, it worked."

You gave him an unimpressed look. "You sound like a chihuahua."

"Joke's on you, I think chihuahuas are cute," he huffed, leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed over his chest.

You braced your hand on the back of Hyunjae's chair, the other one gently patting the top of his head. He acknowledged your greeting, his hand reaching up to cover yours on the chair back. "What's to drink, y'all?"

A chorus of beverages rang out, and you mentally counted the few repeats and the singles. You promised to be right back, and left to go grab them. As you went, you could hear your boys start up a lively debate about the multipurpose properties of the lemon. You wondered if that was what they had been bickering about on the car ride over here, and you heard Eric say something about lemons for cleaning; Juyeon just said lemonade; and Changmin said for inflicting "more pain." (No, you didn't want to know.)

When you returned to their table to pass out your drinks, you went around, leaving Hyunjae for last. You set his cup of coke in front of him and he passed you a smile.

"You're not gonna dump that on me, are you?" You asked, eyes narrowing playfully.

He grinned. "As long as you don't dump me, we're good."

Sunwoo made a face from across the table. "Yuck, get a room!"

Chanhee smacked him upside the head. "At least they have someone to be yucky with."

"This feels familiar somehow," Kevin pondered aloud. "Like déjà vu."

Jacob shrugged. "Maybe in another universe. I dunno, it seems like something we would have said to Sunwoo at some point."

"Hey!—"

You were halfway through a laugh when Hyunjae caught your attention, twisted around in his chair to smile up at you. "What's up?" You asked him.

His eyes, you could never get sick of his eyes. They glistened in the lighting here. "Nothing," he said swiftly, "I'm just… happy to be here." With you.

You understood, and you caught his hand on the back of the chair and gave him a little squeeze. "I'm happy you're here, too." It seemed that some things were just meant to come full circle.

tbz m.list

permanent taglist: @flwoie @vatterie @seomisaho @hqrana @ja4hyvn @tinkerbell460 @kaaimins @hyunjaespresent-deobi @otterly-fey @zzoguri @floatingpluto @winterchimez @ethereal-engene @gyulfriend @polarisjisung @jaehunnyy @shakalakaboomboo @loveliestfelix @bless-311 @zhaixiaowen @leaz-kpop-life @amourdsr @pxppxrminty @kqyutie @sseastar-main @kxthleen14 @fluorescentloves @mosviqu @justalildumpling @jaerisdiction @super-btstrash-posts @jundundun @http-gyu @mvvnsseul @outrologist @vernonburger @maessseongs @kflixnet @ericlvr

[lionlena]

Remember me… (Oberyn Martellxreader) ANGST - one shot

Warnings: ANGST, really angst, suffering, canon character death, mourning, suicide...

I don't know why I did this to myself...😭🥺🤧

Remember me

The first thing you remember is screaming. But not yours, although apparently you screamed too. That's what Varys told you. Supposedly it was the mournful, piercing cry of a broken heart, but you can't confirm that. Instead of your own screaming, all you heard was ringing in your ears. But not before Oberyn's scream was drilled into your head. A scream full of unimaginable pain and suffering. A scream that haunts you almost every night.

You don't remember much after that. You fainted and everything else became an incoherent blur.

You remember clinging to Oberyn's cold, stiff chest and sobbing. His face was covered with a red cloth and you were tempted to reveal it, even though you knew it was the worst thing you could do to yourself.

Your hand involuntarily grabbed the edge of the fabric and suddenly someone grabbed your wrist. You looked up to see Varys' sad face as he shook his head.

"No…" he said gently. "You don't want to see this."

He was right, so you moved your hand back and grabbed Oberyn's stiff hand. The hand that held the weapon. The hand that gave you pleasure. The hand that wiped your tears, combed your hair… The hand that firmly held the reins of the restless horse you were riding. The hand that could have killed you, but instead gave you life.

"Can I do something for you?"

You heard Varys' gentle voice again and shook your head. There was nothing in this world he could do for you.

"Can you turn back time? Bring the dead back to life?"

Varys just sighed. There was no need to answer your questions.

After a few moments of silence, you spoke again.

"What about Tyrion?"

Varys tilted his head to the side, surprised by your concern for Lannister. But you couldn't help but like this dwarf.

"He waiting in a cell to die…"

You sighed heavily.

"I hope he escapes."

There was a strange gleam in Varys's eyes as he replied:

"Maybe his fate is not yet decided."

You didn't have the strength to ask for details, but you were counting on it. Not only because you liked Tyrion, but you didn't want that bitch Cersei to win. You had pure hatred for her and believed that she was partly responsible for the death of your loved one. *

The journey back to Dorne seemed like a never-ending torture. You saw the same places where you two stayed.

You remembered how Oberyn cared about your comfort all the time. Those evenings by the fire when you sat between his legs and he pulled you to his chest.

"My queen." He whispered into your hair and kissed your neck. "You should sit on the iron throne. You are more beautiful and intelligent than all the women in King's Landing."

You started giggling and shook your head and he started nibbling your neck.

"Don't laugh. I'm telling the truth." *

You didn't remember much about Oberyn's funeral. You heard the others sobbing, but you weren't crying anymore. You had no more tears.

After the funeral, you heard Oberyn's eldest daughters planning revenge, but you didn't care anymore. You were like Doran in that thing, although you had different reasons. The prince wanted to keep the peace at all costs, and you… You simply lost all will to fight. *

Three months after Oberyn's funeral, you decided to leave Dorne and return to your homeland.

You loved Dorne. You loved the warmth, fountains, palm trees, deserts… You loved the freedom that this land gave women.

You remembered Oberyn bringing you to Dorne and laughing merrily at your enthusiasm.

"My desert flower, you look like a child at a toy stand."

The prince grabbed your waist and pulled you towards him. He kissed you passionately and looked at you with shining eyes.

"Are you really that impressed with my home?"

You nodded eagerly and smiled happily.

"Oh yes… I love Dorne!"

Oberyn smiled and kissed your forehead.

"You haven't even seen the half of it yet. Wait until I take you to the royal gardens and…" He leaned in and whispered in your ear. "I will show you my favorite place, where no one eyes can see what I'm doing to you."

His hand went under your dress and he started stroking your thigh. You moaned softly and nodded.

"I never want to leave Dorne."

Oberyn's hand grabbed your buttock.

"Then you have nothing to worry about because I will never let you leave Dorne. It's your home now." *

"I am leaving Dorne… I am returning to my homeland."

The prince shifted uncomfortably in his wheelchair. He had a fondness for you that was surprising even Oberyn in the past.

"You can stay in Dorne."

"Dorne is not my home."

Doran looked at you surprised, even hurt.

"Is anyone here treating you badly?"

"You don't understand me, prince. Dorne is no longer my home, nor any other place in the world. Oberyn was my home. Without him… I have no home."

Doran sighed heavily and looked at you sadly.

"I'm sorry I can't heal your heart."

You gave him a soft smile.

"It's not your fault, prince. There are just too many memories here."

Doran nodded.

"Remember that despite everything, Dorne will always welcome you with open arms." *

Your homeland was nothing like Dorne. Cold sea, steep cliffs, common trees, barren land, and a constantly cloudy sky.

And that was what gave you the slightest bit of relief. Because that's what your soul looked like, cold and inaccessible.

And in this unpleasant place, you found the perfect place to bury your memories of Oberyn. You created your own grave. You dug a hole and into it, you threw Oberyn's robe, which still smelled of him, the scarf he wrapped around you, his necklace, and the ring he gave you. And you planted forget-me-nots on the grave.

They didn't sprout the first year, and neither did the second year. In the third year, leaves appeared but there were no flowers. And you centered your entire life around them. Every day you looked after them and talked to them, asking them to bloom. You didn't care what was happening in Westeros. War, dragons, Stark's bastard… You accepted this information without blinking an eye. Only the news of Doran's death caused some reaction in you. Besides, nothing could break you out of your melancholy…

And finally! You looked at the small blue flowers with emotion. You stroked the green leaves with motherly tenderness. Your friend was surprised at your obsession.

"What's so special about them?"

"They are for Oberyn so that I will always remember him."

Your friend looked at the small flowers skeptically.

"But why forget-me-nots? Wouldn't sunflowers, tulips, or yellow roses go better with Oberyn?"

You shook your head and sat down on the ground.

"No. I know they are small flowers, but if you look closely at them, you will see that their yellow center resembles the sun and the blue petals are like water." You sighed and touched the flowers with your finger. "Like the sun dying in the sea."

Your friend looked at you with concern.

"I'm worried about you. You seem happier lately… since you saw those flowers, but…"

"Everything will be fine." You interrupted her statement. "Everything will be better now."

You looked fondly at the forget-me-nots, your friend just nodded. *

Like the sun dying in the sea.

With this thought in mind, you went to the cliff, holding a bouquet of forget-me-nots in your hands. You stood on the edge, remembering your last conversation.

"I'm begging you, Oberyn… This is not a human, this is some kind of monster… A giant!"

Oberyn smiled at you and brushed the hair away from your worried face.

"He is a very clumsy and slow giant and I will kill him."

His calmness didn't soothe you at all. You were terrified and placed your hands on his chest.

"If you die, I swear I will end my life by jumping off a cliff!"

Oberyn put down his wine glass and looked at you gently. He cupped your face in his hands.

"If I die, plant forget-me-nots for me in the barren land to remember me. If they bloom, then you can jump off a cliff." He rubbed your cheeks with his thumbs. "But that will never happen, because today is not the day I die." *

"But you died…" you whispered, standing over the edge and clutching the forget-me-nots to your chest.

Tears began to flow down your cheeks and you felt a warmth on your back, as if his spirit was hugging you. The wind from the sea blew warm air over your face, drying your tears and brushing your hair away from your face, and you heard a whisper: "I'm sorry…"

Then you took a step forward into the open and waiting arms of your loved one… *

"I'm with you Whenever you tell, my story For I am all I've done Remember, I will still be here As long as you hold me, in your memory Remember me"

Josh Groban - Remember

Pernament tag list: @harriedandharassed

[andromythical]

PJO EP 4 / BOOK SPOILERS

ANNABETH BACKSTORY TIME!! also Grover my beloved!!! "Follow up stupid question:" "Dude 😒" PAN MENTION?? SEARCHER MENTION?? the cabin scene is WILD. "Are we under arrest?" god I love Leah's acting. "Of course they're like me, they are my children." + "This has always been a family story." OH? MY? GODD?? ANNABETH STABBING THE CHIMERA??? this is just making me even more of an annabeth stan. THE ST LOUIS ARCH!! "just because we're prey doesn't mean we're helpless." I love how they made Grover more of a protagonist in the series, him being a 'side character' always irked me. The fountain scene is killing me I'm crying 😭 "It embarrassed her, now she's angry!" oooh no, oh shit oh fuck ohhh. "I never would've made it to Hades, but you can, and now you will." percy my boy :( oh ouch that's gotta hurt.. yikes.. THAT WAS SUCH A COOL WAY TO REWRITE THE ST LOUIS ARCH / RIVER SCENE??? "Just breathe." ohhh no I can feel the obsession creeping taking over me like an invasive plant species

[angel-of-the-moons]

We gotta give Spider-Medic a raise 😔 With all the work he does he deserves it

ahaha spidermedic x Reader when ??? 👀

-💐

Anosnlsnlxnlsnlxnlnelnd 💐💐💐💐 ILYSM

I am vibrating and bouncing off the walls and going feral and losing my mind because Omgggg I'm glad you guys like the relatively faceless Spider-Man enough for this I originally only intended to use him as a filler character so I didn't have to make more 😭😭😭

AND FUCK YEAH *cracks knuckles* I'MMA DO IT

Make Love, Not War

Spider Medic x Spider-Woman!Reader

TW/CW: PTSD, Nightmares, Angst, Pining, Reader does some stupid shit™ just to get alone with him, injury mentions, flashbacks, War PTSD, blood, SMUT, NSFW, oral sex male and fem!Receiving, fingering, unprotected sex (Don't be fools! Wrap your tools!), semi public sex(Does the medical bay at HQ count?) Lyla being a smartass

MINORS DNI: I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR CONTENT YOU CONSUME

A/N: Once again, header does not indicate Reader's race, but a story focused on my poor traumatized boi deserves its own header qwq Also this is just a fucking angsty, mindless, horny mess have fun asdfghjkl

⛑️⛑️⛑️⛑️⛑️🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖

The first thing that hit his nostrils was the smell of churned earth, gunpowder, smoke, and blood.

So, so much blood.

His superiors let him stay enlisted, even after he got bit by that crazy spider, developed his super powers.

If anything, they made him a better medic.

Having your own almost-infinite supply of "bandages", and medical knowledge tends to make you an asset on the battlefield.

He learned how to stitch up wounds and glue them shut with lightning precision, knew how to dodge bullets and mortars, shoot webs and pull soldiers away from grenades or punji board traps... and the pitfalls. Those are always a hit or miss.

In Vietnam there was no such thing as quiet on the battlefield.

The quiet was unnerving. The quiet was bad.

The quiet meant something horrible was about to happen.

One minute he was in the trenches patching up a private who had his shoulder shredded by a sniper round, the next minute his CO who was barking orders at him had half his head blown off.

His brains got everywhere.

On his uniform, on his kit, on the rookie... his blood soaking the ground, watering the disturbed earth like they were a part of a macabre aqueduct.

That's when the gas was deployed.

Not by his allies, but the canisters were tossed into the trenches.

Mustard gas. Of course.

They had mustard gas.

The blisters, the yellowing skin, the coughing, and the burning in the lungs... gas masks were useless.

Shrapnel had hit the kid he was patching up...

All he could do was try and pull the kid he had in his arms to safety, carefully slinging some webs around his midsection to stem the tide of blood threatening to roll from him.

Other soldiers ran by. Young. Not much younger than him, but still...

So young.

Bodies were already lining the trenches as he carried the boy over his shoulder, fleeing into the treeline with what remained of his unit.

He set the bleeding soldier down, feeling blood soak through the silken bandages he'd made for him.

"Fuck." He muttered, digging around in his pack for something, anything to help him.

"Am--am I gonna d-die?" The young man gasped, choking around a mouthful of blood.

"Not if I can help it, keep your eyes open, alright?" He growled, frantically digging in his far too empty bag.

"Please don't let me die. Please don't let me die." The kid begged.

His jaw set tight, he gripped with shaky hands around the tube of glue. A pitiful amount was left.

The boy's eyes got frantic, wide, darting around to the other soldiers who created a semi-circle perimeter around them.

He kept coughing, crying, gasping.

"Please, I wanna go home. I want to see my mom again, I want to see my mom--"

He made the most horrible croaking noise, his chest contracting, before his eyes glazed over and he went silent, crimson dripping out of his mouth like he was a bloody fountain.

"Damn it!" He frantically pressed his fingers over his neck, checking for a pulse.

He pulled him down on the ground, and began chest compressions, his mind going into tunnel vision as all he could think about was getting just one more gasp from the limp body beneath him.

"Parker." The lieutenant sighed, touching his shoulder.

Not again. Not another one. Not somebody's baby.

"Parker." He said, shaking him.

He shook his head, shrugging the arm of his last commanding officer away, fighting to get the kid's heart beating again, his fingers slipping with blood.

The boy couldn't have been more than 19. He should still get the chance to marry the girl he had a picture of in his pocket, the girl who wrote the letter and left a lipstick stain on the bottom of the page telling him how she couldn't wait for him to come home.

He should get to go home, hug his mom. Kiss her cheek, watch her grow old.

He deserved to live.

He deserved to go home, alive. Not in a box, riddled with bullets and shrapnel. Not with a folded up flag, and battered tags.

Not like this.

"Parker!"

⛑️⛑️⛑️⛑️⛑️🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖

He sat up with a start, breathing heavy and eyes wide as he frantically scanned the room, instinctively reaching for the pistol he no longer carried.

When he saw nobody there, he fell back onto the bed, a heavy sigh leaving his chest as he stared at the ceiling.

Right. He was in HQ.

He was in the med-bay.

He wasn't on the battlefield anymore.

He wasn't elbow deep in viscera anymore.

He wasn't watching somebody's child die in his arms anymore.

He draped an arm over his face briefly, before getting up to trudge into the attached bathroom to pull off his mask and stare at his face for probably the first time in days.

It was hard to look at himself, sometimes.

The one who lived. The one who got lucky, possibly at the cost of some kid fresh into his boots.

Survivor's guilt, some called it.

He pulled his gloves off next, splashing some nice cold water on his face to wake himself up, to pull him back to reality.

Once he dried off, he pulled his mask and gloves back on, walking out to grab his helmet before securing it and buckling it safely back in place.

It had a red spider with a white cross on the abdomen.

He wasn't a medical corps-man anymore.

He wasn't some useless PTSD-ridden veteran that they paraded about to showcase the horrors of war.

He was a medic. A damned good one.

He had friends, his job was cushy, he had a purpose. He didn't have to stew in his own madness anymore.

But it was when it was quiet that it got hard.

27 years old, and he felt like he'd lived decades in those trenches. Like he'd lived there his whole life.

Like he was born there. Like he was going to die there.

But, he didn't.

He was here, he was now. Part of something far bigger than he ever could have imagined.

He almost exclusively lived at HQ at this point, not seeing a reason he was needed in his universe anymore.

Miguel assured him there was no risk of an inter-dimensional anomaly, that his universe wouldn't collapse.

Thankfully, he could stay as long as he wanted and his universe wouldn't collapse.

Maybe he was a special case.

He didn't really care. Going back to post-war America was not something he looked forward to.

Going home to an empty house wasn't something he could stand, being left with his own thoughts was torture enough.

"Hey, Med." Lyla chimed, her tiny holographic image appeared above the watch on his wrist.

"Yeah? What is it, Lyla?" He asked, forcing the exhaustion from his tone, to little avail.

"So uhhh... you know the Spider-Woman from 18906?" She grinned.

"Oh dear God what did that woman do now?" He groaned, facepalming.

Lyla leaned on his head like he was a brick wall. The gesture wasn't really necessary, he couldn't feel her do it, but it was for effect.

She checked her nails and hummed.

"Sprained her ankle. Or somethin'." She smirked slowly, her body glitching until she was in front of him, hands now in the pockets of her large coat.

Her eyes glimmered almost, behind those large heart-shaped glasses.

"Just thought I'd give you a heads-up before she limps on in..."

"Ugh, thanks for the warning." He sighed as he changed the bedding and pillowcase with fresh sterile replacements, tossing the blankets he slept in into the bin.

"Tell 'er to come in here. I'm sure it's nothing."

"Want me to make sure nobody interrupts the lecture you're gonna drill into her brain?" She asked, eyebrows waggling.

"Lyla..."

"I'm goin', I'm goin'! You're acting more and more like Miguel every day!"

Before he could retort, telling the little AI she was wrong, she disappeared and he was left alone.

"Ugh."

He groaned and dug out a first aid kit and checked the supplies in this particular suite

The medical wing of HQ was much like a hospital ward. It had ICU suites, private suites, an emergency room where beds were separated by curtains, x-ray...

Everything a respectable medical professional would need.

Respectable. Yeah, right.

His thoughts were interrupted when the door to the suite slid open, and he turned, crossing his arms at you.

You drove him up the walls with your shenanigans, and how you shrugged your injuries off like they were a drop of sweat. Even the time he had to practically scoop your guts back into you.

You were the bane of his existence in the medical wing, you and Hobie. But moreso you, as you found your way under his hands in some way or another constantly.

"So..." You started bashfully, leaning on the doorframe for support. "Don't get mad..."

⛑️⛑️⛑️⛑️⛑️🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖

"You mean to tell me you were trying to... to skateboard? While playing a goddamn guitar?" He growled, the eyes of his mask narrowing as he examined your bare, slightly swollen ankle.

His fingers were gentle, turning your foot this way and that, gauging your pain, checking the bruising...

But he had no idea how his touch was affecting you in other ways.

You got made fun of, by some of the other Spiders. Ben Reilly the most. He even outpaced Hobie with how he poked at how down bad you were for this Peter Parker. The one everyone called Spider-Medic. Sure you almost never saw his face, except on a few occasions. Sure, he looked like half the other Peter Parkers; but he had his own "look" that set him apart from the rest, a rugged appearance that made him look unique.

"You probably hurt yourself just to get his attention at this point! Not a good way to spend time with the guy you like, toots." Ben clucked. "You need a better icebreaker."

He wasn't... entirely wrong.

You were accident-prone as hell. You got injured in training, on the job... doing stupid shit with Hobie.

"Well... er. It was for a bet, so--"

He cut you off. "Don't give a damn what it was for. Doing reckless shit like this is childish."

His tone was firm, but not unkind.

He hadn't looked up at you once, and thankfully you were happy you still wore your mask. It hid the blush that crept up your cheeks.

"R.... Right." You mumble, squirming.

"Stop moving, you'll only make this harder." He grunted, reaching into his kit.

You do as he says, letting him wrap your ankle with some gauze and his webs.

His hands were warm, even through his gloves.

"Good girl." He says quietly.

You worked hard to suppress the shudder that went up your spine at that.

"It's barely a sprain. You're lucky. Don't do that kinda shit again." He told you.

"Y-yeah..." You mumble as he stands, crossing his arms and looking down at you.

God, why did you find this man so hot?

He sighed and set the kit down on the bed next to you, sorting the contents neatly again, grabbing excess from the cabinet nearby to restock it.

"So, um..." You try, clearing your throat awkwardly.

"Spit it out, kid. Don't have all day." He says, focusing on his task, meticulously organizing the kit on muscle memory alone.

"I--I am not a kid! You're only like, two or three years older than I am!" You retort.

"Yeah well, I've seen and experienced enough to get you beat by a few decades." He narrowed his eyes at you.

"And doing shit like this? Getting hurt like this? Pretty damn childish if you ask me."

You wilted a bit, twiddling your fingers in your lap silently.

He wasn't wrong... but you weren't the only Spidey that didn't take things seriously all the time.

Like that one who had that Deadpool guy shoved up his ass.

Literally, you sometimes joked. It never ceased to make the guy blush, much to your delight.

Like you were blushing now, red as the parts on his suit...

"I don't mean to... not all the time, I just--"

One of his eyebrows shoots up. "What do you mean all the time? You get hurt on purpose?"

You jolted, realizing how you just let that slip.

"I, uh--I just--what I meant was..." You fumble for the words.

"What the hell are you thinking?!" He snapped, his voice turning as stern as... well, what you assume a drill instructor sounded like.

"Hurting yourself on purpose? What kind of logic goes behind that? What, you trying to get yourself killed?!"

You flinched under the onslaught of words.

"Because kid, if you think that getting yourself hurt will get you out of missions like cutting school, then I don't want to see you in my med bay at all!"

"I--"

"What kind of reckless bullshit is that? If you do this shit intentionally, then you shouldn't be in the Spider Society at all, kid--"

"I do it to come see you, you asshole!" You snap back, unable to take his criticism.

He falls silent, wide-eyed as you continue.

"And stop calling me kid! You think that shit doesn't piss me off? I've tried getting your attention, but the only way you ever look at me is when you're treating me!" You say, everything you've kept bottled up for the past six months reaching its boiling point.

"You never leave the med bay, and when you do--once in a blue fucking moon--is when you go get food from the cafeteria or go talk to Miguel! You never do anything else! Franky, it worries everyone! Not just me! It freaks out fucking Lyla, Med! Lyla!"

You continue to blow it all out. He could swear he could almost see steam coming off of you, like an angry kettle boiling.

"You never talk to anyone other than Miguel or Lyla, except when you're fucking treating someone! I just--I wanted to--You--"

Your shoulders slump and you suddenly deflate.

"You don't... I don't... I can't just--"

He sat silently, staring at you as you reached up, digging the heels of your palms into the lenses of your suit, as if that really did anything to help the tears that wanted to come out.

Fuck, you were one of the emotional ones.

For once, the word "kid" didn't come out of his mouth. Your name did.

And when he said it, he was... gentle. His tone fragile.

"If you've seen what I have... done what I have... you'd understand."

"I may not understand it all, but I want to! I just don't know how to talk to you if I'm not bleeding from somewhere!" You retorted, slapping your hand on the mattress for emphasis.

"You won't even look at me." You say quietly. "Not unless you're patching me up."

He listens to you now, and... shit. Fuck.

He was feeling things.

Feelings. Feelings he hadn't realized he was even feeling until you fessed up.

Feelings he hadn't felt since before he was shipped out.

Before...

Shit, is that why you annoyed him so much? Is that why his skin prickled when he touched you?

This wasn't... he couldn't...

He didn't deserve this. He didn't deserve... someone like you. Plucky, happy, so full of life.

And here you were, pouring out everything that's been on your mind, everything about him. And it was breaking his heart.

His hands were moving before either of you even realized it.

He helmet and mask were ripped off and tossed to the floor, the metal clanking a bit too loud. Your mask joined his on the tile, eyes as big as saucers as his mouth found yours, desperate and hungry.

God... you wanted to keep yelling at him but having the mouth of the man you've been pining for for months on yours threw all sense out the window; your hands pawed at each other greedily.

His hands slid around your waist, down, gripping your ass and pulling you against him, grinding his hips into yours with a groan.

Fuck, he was already getting hard. It's been so long...

He rolled the bulge in his pants against your throbbing heat, earning a weak moan from you as his mouth moved down, biting at the skin that shielded your leaping pulse, lips placing frantic kisses at the curve of your jaw, beneath your ear as he continued to grind into you, coaxing himself to full mast as fresh pulses of arousal ping around your stomach like a pinball machine.

His hastily tears his gloves off and drops them on the bed, fingers fumbling for the zipper on the back of your suit.

He tugs it down as you arch yourself against him, pressing your chest against his.

He peels it down to your waist like he's done it a hundred times; and groans deeply when he sees you weren't wearing a bra.

"Fucking hell." He growled, reaching out to pinch and roll your nipple with one hand, while groping your ass with another as your mouths crash together again, all teeth and tongue and just sheer desire.

His kisses were almost like punches, ripping the air and moans from your throat.

If his kisses were punches, you really were feeling punch-drunk right about now.

"Peter." You gasp when he bites at your bottom lip.

He stills for a moment, his mouth at the curve of your neck and shoulder.

"Say my name again." He growled, his voice heady with lust.

He bites down on the soft skin, sending sharp jolts of pleasure arcing through your bloodstream.

"Peter!" You moan breathlessly.

He leans you back, moving to place open-mouthed kisses to your collar bone, licking and nipping as he went, one of his hands groping at your left breast as his teeth close around the nipple on your right.

You moaned out loud as his mouth greedily latched on, his tongue swirling and his teeth pinching your nipple ferociously, trailing his lips across your chest to your other neglected nipple.

"Fuck--" You squeak, feeling his hand reach down to cup your clothed sex.

He could feel the heat there roll off in waves right into his palm, a slight dampness sticking through to his skin.

He groaned into your tit before popping free.

"Lift your hips for me, sweetheart."

You comply, letting him pull your suit down the rest of the way, careful of your bandaged ankle, even if it wasn't hurt that badly.

He hissed out a sigh between his teeth when he laid eyes on your wet and puffy sex, glossy from your arousal; the hair just above cut into a small heart.

God damn, you weren't wearing underwear, either.

Did you always wear your suit like this? One bad rip away from bearing it all...

The thought of you fighting like this, your suit getting torn juuuust right had his cock leaking at the mental image.

He didn't waste any time, his mouth immediately went in, his tongue stroking your folds before thrusting and twirling your clit.

He reminded himself of the things he'd done before.

'Same old song and dance, remember what you learned...'

And damn did he like how you were squirming.

His hair wasn't long enough to grip, a short, military buzz cut that he kept out of habit. His eyes glazed in the most gorgeous way as they locked glances with yours as his mouth devoured you like he was a starving man.

He lifted his mouth off of you, his chin shiny and slick.

"Fuck, you're so wet. D'you always get like this?" He hissed out, gliding his fingers through your folds, before plunging into your depths and curling in the most delicious way.

You nod, whimpering needily. "C-can't help it... ah--always g-get like this..."

"You're like a goddamned fountain. All this for me?" He breathed, kissing the little dip of your hip bone as he continued to fuck you with his hand, kneeling between your legs like a man kneeling before his god.

And, hell, you were already so close, his long thick fingers worked wonders inside, stroking that little spot inside that had your vision going dark at the edges.

You clawed desperately at him, at the sheets, gripping your hair as you cried out, your orgasm rapidly approaching.

Any woman dumb enough to pass this Peter Parker up was a fucking dumbass. They were missing out.

"P-P-Peter--" You babble out, whimpering pathetically.

"That's it..." He urges you quietly, shifting his body so his mouth was at the shell of your ear, his hand not moving from out of your cunt.

He pressed the heel of his palm into your clit, rolling it in time with your hips and the crook of his fingers as your orgasm crested.

"Good girl... let it out."

You whined loudly, ripping at the green uniform he wore over his suit as your climax slammed into you, your muscles squeezing his fingers so tightly he swore you could probably break them; more of your juices gushing out and soaking his hand and the sheets below.

He breathed heavily into your skin as he slowly moved his fingers, helping you ride out your orgasm until you were calm.

"Fuck." You panted, dropping your head onto the mattress.

"Oh, it'll happen." He sighs, giving you a smirk that creases the corners of his eyes.

You watch as he palms the bulge in his pants, and your hands tug on his shirt.

"Ah, I... c... can I..?" You blunder.

"Sure can, sweetheart." He all but purrs. "Be mindful of your ankle."

You give him a wet hungry kiss before switching places with him, helping him undress and kneeling between his legs.

And the sight that greeted you sent a fresh throb to your cunt.

His cock looked about seven inches, and the girth was enough to make your head spin. Veins swirled up the shaft, his tip vivid and leaking as you gripped it, your fingertips barely touching.

You give him a few pumps, your toes curling at the sounds he let out.

"You ever do this before? I should have asked..." he panted down at you, eyes locking with yours as you kissed his weeping tip.

"Yeah. I've done it a few times." You say.

You're worried about how he'd take that, knowing you weren't exactly innocent. But the look on his face and the way he bites his lip quashes your worries.

"Shit. Alright, babydoll. You lead on this one." He groaned.

You shove down the grin you want to make, instead settling for swallowing his cock as deep as you could, your jaw already straining at the stretch of him. You were really happy you didn't have a gag reflex, right now. Your exes were more than happy to abuse that fact.

You shake of the thought when you hear his voice grow shaky, his fingers gripping in your hair as you bob your head.

"Oh fuck..."

You stroke with your tongue, jerking him with your hand each time you pulled back, the salty taste of his precum coating your tongue.

You weren't afraid to get a little messy, letting saliva drip down to help lubricate your fist, the sounds of you sucking him off and the noises he was making filling the suite rivaling only the raunchiest of porn videos you've perused on the internet.

You weren't the best at blowjobs, but you liked to think you were pretty good.

Your hand cupped his balls gently, as you kept pulling your head back and pushing back down, feeling them tighten in your palm.

"Ah, fuck--" He moaned. "I'm gonna... fuck!"

He tried to pull you back, he really did, but you were a woman on a mission and he just couldn't resist your drive and focus on the task at hand.

He emptied his cock down your throat, his teeth gritting tightly as he tipped his head back, eyes screwed shut and sweat dripping down his brow.

He was stupid as fuck for not noticing how you were looking to him these past few months.

You pull off of him with a lewd pop, and kiss his tip one last time before resting your chin on one of his knees.

You batted your eyelashes and smiled up at him.

"You still alive?" You teased.

He looked down at you and shook his head, petting your hair affectionately.

"You're a little shit. C'mere."

You squeak and giggle when he pulls you up, pressing you down into the sterile-smelling bedding as his mouth finds yours again, tongues dancing as you card your nails through his short hair.

He groans again, a noise you wanted to hear a lot more often.

You part your legs for him, grinning into his mouth as you feel his cock pressing against you, still rock hard and ready to go.

"Aww... you're pent up, huh?" You purr, licking the pulse in his neck.

"Keep it up and I won't give it to you." He growled.

You instantly lay back and bite your lip, looking up at him with a glimmer in your eyes that made his heart flip, being obedient.

His good girl.

Damn, he could get used to calling you that.

He could get used to seeing how your eyes rolled back as he sunk his cock into you with a slow grind of his hips.

"Fuck..." You moaned, the girth of his cock felt bigger inside you than it did in your palm, the stretch toeing the line between painful and pleasurable as you felt the drag of his shaft inside your velvety walls.

He bottomed out inside of you, holding there, his hips flush against yours as he moans deeply in your ear.

"So fucking tight." He grunted, one of his arms next to your head, fisting the pillow as his other hand gripped at your hip, his fingers probably leaving bruises in their wake.

"I... I'm not gonna lie. Fuck, I don't think I'm gonna last long."

It made him feel a little inadequate, sure, but he wasn't gonna lie to you. It had been ages since he'd last had sex with somebody, and the feel of your mouth and tight pussy were enough to drive any man insane.

"Don't care. Keep going..." You whine, your nails digging into his shoulders as you kiss his jaw.

His eyes rolled back and he turned his head so his mouth could meet yours as he pulled himself out almost entirely, before slamming into you, knocking the breath out of your lungs.

He set a rough and brutal pace for himself, burying his nose in your hair and breathing deeply as he gets lost in your cunt shivering at your nails scratching down the muscles in his back, leaving angry red marks.

You felt tears prickle in your eyes as his cock punched you mercilessly, gliding in and out of your slick walls as he grunted and panted in your ear with wild desperation.

"Oh god, oh fuck--" You squeak out as he takes your hips in both of his hands and pulls you up, pistoning in and out of you like a machine.

He's all but bent in half as he says things to you in your ear, filthy praises about how good you feel around him, how sweet you are, his good you taste, how much better you feel wrapped around him than his own fist.

It was enough to send your head into a tailspin.

"My good girl." He grunted, biting softly at your ear lobe.

You shudder, your muscles clenching around him at what he said, and he makes what can only be described as a whining sound as he slaps his hips into yours, almost disoriented as he pumps you full, fucking you through his orgasm as he paints your velvet walls a sheen of white.

You're both breathing heavy, sweaty, and hot as his cock twitched with the remnants of his almost mind-numbing orgasm.

"Shit." He hissed. "You didn't--"

"I'm fine." You mumbled, brain still fuzzy from the ferocity in which he fucked you.

"Uh-uh." He sighs, keeping his softening cock sheathed inside you as he brings his fingers to your swollen clit, desperately circling the swollen bundle of nerves.

"Wan' you to cum on my cock. Come on, babydoll." He said through gritted teeth, feeling your walls flutter around him.

Your thighs squeezed against his hips as his fingers worked feverishly at your clit, his hips rolling into yours lazily as he dragged his barely half-hard cock in and out, adding extra stimulation.

Your second orgasm came harder than the last one, your whole body almost seizing up as you clawed at his shoulders, your hands falling to grip at his biceps as you babbled incoherently, mumbling his name as you gushed around him, his eyes rolling back at the sensation.

"That's it, sweetheart..." He praised, watching you come undone beneath him.

He dropped down on his elbows, his arms on either side of your head as he caged you in, giving you soft kisses, his lips spelling silent "I love you's" all the way down your neck and back up again.

He rolled off of you, pulling out and tucking you against him as you both basked in the afterglow, feeling small bits of his cum dripping out of you.

"Hey, doc...." You say affectionately, your fingers trailing circles lazily on his chest.

"Hm?" He hummed, his hand toying with your hair.

"What am I gonna do about my sprained ankle?"

"Hnh." He grunted softly.

"Gonna need some bed rest, I think. Here in the med bay, to be safe."

"Oh? And you're gonna take care of me?" You giggle innocently.

"Somebody has to make sure you don't exacerbate your injury."

[dootznbootz]

Hiiii! It's time for me to ask you about the Ithacan family :333

3. Trick question: Least favorite canon thing about Penelope?

14. Assign a fashion aesthetic to Telemachus.

18. A character Odysseus has a relationship with in canon that you admire? (it's easy to say his family but surely there are other people who don't hate him??)

sjadlkf sTHANK YOU SO MUCHH!!! ❤

3.) Ohoho, you asked a question that hit a bullseye >:)

Everything about Penelope is my favorite BUT while I love Athena, I REALLY HATE THAT ATHENA'S GO TO METHOD TO HELP PENELOPE OUT IS TO JUST KNOCK HER OUT >:( I was getting mad after a while because WHY?! Yes, if she's crying or she needs to relax then sure. I mean I LOVE how Athena appears to her as her sister to calm her down... BUT WHY IS THAT YOUR SOLUTION EVERYTIME?!!! klsfj lksjfd

My interpretation is that that's just the "Narrator's POV" as I know the Odyssey keeps Penelope "mysterious" on purpose (she's that cunning 🥹). So the narrator just THINKS "She's probably sleeping" when actually she's scuttling around the palace doing shit of her own >:D. kind of secret passage style (except not. I love writing Penelope as the lovely half-naiad she is (sharp teeth, breathes underwater, slightly pointed ears, catches fish with her mouth. HOT WIFE SHIT 🤤) so it's more like there are a lot of fountains/small canals/waterways in the palace that she makes use of as Odysseus built it with that in mind, knowing how much she loved that in Sparta (he really wanted her to be at home in Ithaca since it's so different 😭)

14.) I think he'd be the type to want mostly casual clothing and I headcanon him as someone who lowkey hates the feeling of jewelry. Also, while he's basically only a QUARTER Nymph, he has SOME naiad traits (Basically he's kind of like Her but it might be hard to notice at first. his ears are not as pointed for example.) so he ALSO likes clothing he can just jump in the water in and not have too much "drag" (When Odysseus comes back with a fear of water, it's very nice to have a water wife and son who can help you through it 🥹)

Modern day? This boy has little to no fashion sense. Are you kidding me? He's all over the place. Maybe he gets his fashion act together but as a teenager? NO! Cringey boy (affectionate.) but he's pretty so he makes it work!

18.) I'm really weird in that I really love the trio of Odysseus, Menelaus, and Agamemnon. I actually love it more than his friendship with Diomedes they have Spartan wives, and love their kids. and just?? idk. I really love the possibilities to explore. Plus I really really love Older brother Agamemnon. During the Suitors of Helen, Odysseus was panicking about "falling in love" with Penelope and "WHAT DO I DO?! Is it normal to feel like you're going to throw up but like, in a good way?!" as let's be honest, this woman knocked him on his ass in under 10 minutes and after that he was LOVESICK. And Agamemnon is being supportive and helpful but also laughing behind his hand because "the smartest man alive is also the stupidest"

[nacrella]

Okay I just woke up into another chaos and I need answers WTH IS GOING ON ARE YOU SERIOUS SVU?? 

I've been crying since I woke up and I'll keep crying for some more time. Did Muncy actually leave? And your reason is that fans hated her?? Fans just started to like her!! Have you seen the hate for churlish? And what will happen to my dear veluncy 😭 I was expecting them to end up together. How could they do this to us? At the end of the day, all the bensler fans are happy... but we'll never get more scenes of our ship again. I'm sooo mad and sad at the same time. Veluncy was the only reason I kept watching svu but now I'm done with it. I didn't even watch the episode. And frankly, I'm not planning to watch it bc I know I'll cry AGAIN. The only thing they care about is bensler... I think bensler was Dick Wolf's tactic to keep fans hooked on the show for years. I thought that the fans would get what they wanted in the season finale and that veluncy would be paved the way. We didn't deserve this ending... I won’t believe it until Molly explains. I want muncy back! I want my veluncy back 🥺

And the terrible things don't stop there. Whelan's dead? Is he really? I can't get over how they write terrible endings to all my favorite characters. Duarte, Whelan and now Muncy... Whelan didn't deserve such an ending and so much hate. Most of the fans have so much hatred for the new characters and don't give them a chance. Then they say they're glad they're leaving and it drives me crazy. I think we would all be happy if a separate series for the bensler and a separate series for the side characters 🫠

What about those deleted scenes? I don't really care about the deleted scenes after Muncy's departure and Whelan's death, but they deleted the scene with Velasco working with Reyes. Everything I was excited about about this crossover has turned out so badly. Looks like I will keep crying for a while 🤧 Depression mode: on.

I just want to wake up again and see that it was all a nightmare. I’ll never be ready to watch these episodes. Unless Muncy comes back next season saying "hey I'm back", I won't be in a good mood. What will Velasco do without her? She was the only one who really trusted and loved him. As he said, Muncy was his “only real friend”.

I’m also sad about Jet and Jamie… they could make a cute couple 🥺 There might be an open door for Muncy but Whelan is gone forever now. I still don’t want to believe. He was baby Stabler. My tears will become a fountain when I watch the scene he dies (if I can watch it) Svu writers are really good at ruining good things…

I think it’s time for Benson and Stabler to retire.

Let's talk about what's on our minds. None of us seems to be able to get out of this depression for a while. I’m open to any comments 💔

[sparkagrace]

Ohmygod both of my favorite series from you show up multiple times in your wip list 😭😭😭 how am i supposed to chooooose???

If you're up for it, I would love to hear more about dial u 👀

Hope your week's off to a good start, tej!

Bri, my sweet! 🌻 I'm well, thank you. It's been a rough and busy couple of weeks and I'm looking forward to some time away soon. I hope you're having a good week so far 💞✨

Thanks so much for asking! I am more than happy to provide you with a sneak peek into dial 'u' for uncles.

It's a weekend of Bucky (and a reluctant Steve) babysitting Becca's son which goes a little bit haywire and disrupts Steve's aspiring DINK-lifestyle.

Steve’s head is pounding. The minute he gets back to his apartment, he wants to grab a beer and hide out in the bathroom. He has Matty’s backpack, a plastic bag of wet clothes and a headache as he holds the door open for Bucky and a screaming Matty to enter the apartment. Matty’s cries are piercing and he hasn’t stopped sobbing since they left the zoo. Apparently Matty did not want to leave the zoo, even though it was closing time and he practically goes there monthly. He didn’t cry when he fell into the fountain and Steve fished him out. Bucky had to buy an entire new outfit for Matty so he looks like a walking advertisement for Brooklyn Zoo. Plus, Steve bought Matty an ice cream to be nice, but which evidently unlocked a dairy demon who subsequently kept demanding ice cream every time they passed by a cart. But the moment that Bucky told Matty to say goodnight to all the animals, all hell broke loose. The entire thirty minute subway ride home, Matty was inconsolable, clutching onto the stuffed giraffe that he refused to leave the gift store without as if his life depended on it. Steve was useless. He could barely do much more than just give people apologetic looks (and he’s ashamed to admit for five minutes he did try to pretend that he didn’t know Matty). Bucky snapped at him, he snapped back, all the while Matty cried the entire time, oblivious to their turmoil.

[ask me about my wips]

[vlovebug]

Currently having an epposide of something so I'm putting all my symptoms onto Kieran Valentine.

• He's a yapper with certain people but when he goes mute he can only make noise and always wants to cry because others can understand what he's saying and he's frustrated because he cant get them to understand.

• he has to use google translate in the same language it he really has too (90% of the time he has to wip it out 😭)

This:

• his eyes literally don't focus and it makes him want to cry everytime

• if he's in school he turns into a bat and stays in spelldon or whisps pocket cus he literally can't do shit

• every texture that touches him that he's not good with makes him Want to rip his skin off

• he just wants to lay in bed wrapped like a burrito bc wtf is life 🥲

• if someone tells him to “ use his words” he will be bursting out crying

• if he starts crying there is no way to get him stop, he's like a fountain

• no one can touch him or he bites them and will NOT, I repeat NOT, let go

• ( one above) if HE touches someone or an animal then they have to ask him if they can touch him back, ex: put their arms around him. ( animal doesn't count for this cus they can't speack)

• put one of his favorite songs or show on and he will be fine on his own

Might take a nap 🙂‍↕️ this is so shit of my brain to do rn ( I was driving when I started to not be able to function so thank the lords for my mom being in my car with me to take over)

[them-bo-dacious]

Songs that I think could have been written by the Wyld Stallyns:

• The entire Blink-182 discography (it's just... so them, you know?) But especially M+M's in their early years as a band, when it was just Bill and Ted.

And in an alternate universe where Ted had been sent to military school, no doubt would have written San Diego (just change it to San Dimas) in their few spare moments, missing Bill (ok, I'm gonna cry 😭)

• Ignorance by Paramore. I feel like they would write it in their late twenties/early thirties, once they had fully deconstructed and accepted their queerness, but since their record label wouldn't let them freely express their sexuality/gender they had to write their slightly more ambiguous (but definitely angry and unapologetic) queer anthem.

• Bad Blood by Taylor Swift. Death wrote it when he was kicked out of the band. Death confirmed it to me himself 🤫

... has also composed the entire discography of Lana Del Rey.

• Feel Good Inc. by Gorillaz. All I know is that Liz and Ted wrote it, I can't elaborate more because I don't know more, but this song is their energies merging. I said.

• To Love a Boy by Maya Hawke. I've tried not to include it but it's impossible. IT'S SO JO. I think she would write it after she realized she could only see Bill (and any man) as a friend and not a romantic interest. She would hide it and not show it to anyone until Bill discovered it years later by chance. By now everyone knew they were queer and didn't hide it (not from each other, at least) but that's when Bill would decide to tell their homophobic record label to fuck off "Jo, have I never told you before that you have too good a voice to just do backing vocals?" he'd will ask her with a smile and the lyrics in his hands. It would be Jo's first song as lead vocalist (which would also give them a sales hit 🤭)

• Stacy's Mom by Fountains of Wayne. It was written by Jo and Liz as a joke on Bill and Ted... although perhaps there was some truth to their joke 🤣

• Gives You Hell by The All-American Rejects. Ted would write it out of spite after a phone argument with their father, fed up that despite being an adult and having made it in music (without his support) he believed he still had the right to push them around. The next day they was ready to throw it in the trash, feeling guilty that they'd written it in the first place, but Bill wouldn't let them, assuring them it was going to be a hit and (secretly) proud that Ted finally had the confidence to send their father packing.

• Nya Cat. It was the band's first hit, going incredibly viral. Composed by Station's mastermind, of course.

• Finally, I think Liz wrote almost all of Miley Cyrus' discography.

This is silly but I don't rule out making a second part in the future lol

[gamergirl929]

No, I'm not crying because of the cute fic with Kristie. I'm actually spewing a fountain of tears.😭

Awwwwwwwww! No tears! But I'm so glad that you liked it! ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

[kpopfanfictrash]

Hi Shanna! I know that you are on hiatus and probably won't see this in a while, but I don't know anybody here that likes SHINee and I've seen you posting about them and I need to scream to someone and you're the one that came to my mind first. I saw SHINee live yesterday for the first time and I cried so much...I never considered myself a shawol, but I like them and I've been following them since I started in the kpop world in 2009 (yeah I'm ancient in kpop years) and I started sobbing even before they were on stage, just with their video introductiong I was like a freaking fountain...I never imagined I would see kpop legends like them singing live in my city and I still can't believe it happened. It was such a special moment T_T♥ in a few days is my birthday and they were one of the most special birthday presents ever. (I'm tearing up writing this). Anyways, have you seen them? Do you have a kpop group that you don't follow as a fan but would go crazy or would cry like me (lol) if you happen to see them? xxx

Omg you saw SHINee?? RECENTLY?! So you saw Body Language LIVE?? 😭😭😭 No wonder you cried, you were in the presence of greatness. I saw SHINee in march 2017 in Dallas and it was honestly such an unreal experience. They're a ridiculously talented group. I completely get your feeling of being in the presence of kpop legends 🥺 I get that feeling at a lot of bts concerts and honestly, I'll always regret that I didn't see VIXX when I had the chance in 2016. I wish I could see them live! If exo or got7 go on tour again, I'll probably cry LOL also, when bts comes back in 2025. I'm just going to lean into the waterworks at this point 😂 but anyways, that's so, so amazing. HAPPY BIRTHDAY To you!! I hope you had the most wonderful time and are enjoying the memories 💞