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thebadboyfanclub · 1 year

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Welcome To Our Family (Daemon x Reader)

Hey everyone, so as I mentioned before I wanted to write a throuple thing with Rhaenyra and Daemon although even on this request there was some drama involved but it was interesting to write nonetheless. Also I don’t know why but this song inspired me the most especially the part “where you go I go, what you see I see” that was the vibe I was trying to pass for our reader with daemon

Most would say that the war in the stepstones had no place for love to blossom, the reeking stench of death had overtaken and most men had no life in their eyes, the majority prayed in gratitude that they were alive while others cursed the gods for keeping them on this forsaken realm when their friend of even their kin had been killed.

That did not even grace Daemon, who was lucky enough to spend every night in the arms of his beloved (y/n), the sister of one of his soldiers that had been wounded, (y/n) had marched in and demanded that her brother will come home.

“I will be damned if I allow you to give more than an arm for this, you are coming with me”

Her brother had obeyed her, she was as fragile as a rose but her thorns stung more than anything, right then and then Daemon had become a mere slave to his emotions, something that had never occurred before.

“I wish I could stay in your arms forever”

“That would be a dream, my love, however, we are counting the days until you depart, your wife probably awaits you”

Daemon was deeply offended by the jab his lover had thrown at him, slowly he rose up and away from her arm reach to look her straight in the eyes, the fireplace burned bright and the light shined against her glistening skin.

“You are questioning my feelings for you”

“I am questioning how strong they are, you are a prince, a husband, your life seems to hold no room for me”

“Is that how you think of this? That I just wanted to bed you?”

“Do you truly wish for me to answer that?”

Silence took over them while the only sound came from the crackles of the fire, Daemon was aware of how badly this could look, she was a commoner, a mere lady, and the realm would never accept her even if Daemon had not wed another.

“You and our daughter mean everything to me”

“But nothing to the king, he will ask for my head once he finds out I am carrying your child”

“I would never put your lives at risk”

“How do you plan on keeping us safe my love?”

“Do not worry about that, I will take care of everything”

(Y/n)s belly was starting to show, it wouldn’t take long for the king and his little whisperers to demand answers, the easy route was to declare his kin a bastard but Daemon was flying on cloud nine when (y/n) announced that she was with child, no he must do right by her.

He flew with her to Pentos, far away from Viserys and people that cared most about titles and crowns than love and compassion.

“Twins, my prince, two sons, praise the mother”

“What about (y/n)”

“The lady is a warrior, she is tired but healthy”

Daemon did not speak another word to the maester, he simply passed by him and into the room to find his beloved laying in bed, a faint smile on her face as she held one of her children while the other was being held by a midwife.

“You owe me 3 dragon coins”

“It is a bet I will happily pay, how are you feeling?”

“Sore and gross but happy, why don’t you hold him?”

“I-“

“Come on love it is merely a babe, like… so”

Slowly (y/n) passed one of her sons to her lover, instructing him to hold it carefully but securely, then she reached for the midwife so she can have her other son in her arms, both of the babes were quiet in their parent's arms.

“What should we name them?”

“I was thinking of Orryn, and mayhaps… Baelon?”

“Baelon and Orryn, the two princes”

Daemon and (y/n) had grown inseparable much to his brother's dislike Daemon had scoffed at his previous marriage and took his place next to his most endearing (y/n) that had blessed him with not just two children, but with passion, and comfort, she created a home for him, without her there was no warmth, no color.

Viserys was only finding out the milestones his brother was achieving with his mistress via ravens that Daemon dared to send, the birth of his sons had scratched a wound in Viserys that was not quite healed yet, so naturally when Rhea had passed due to fever, Daemon had even dared to invite Viserys to his wedding that took place in Pentos.

(Y/n) had just given birth to another set of siblings, Alyssa and Arren, two silver-haired princesses that slept peacefully through the night and would only stay quiet if (y/n) or Daemon held them, (y/n)s parents and brother had traveled to Pentos to finally meet the children and also attend the wedding.

“You look dashing sweetling, I see the prince has taken good care of you”

“How could I not? What is more important than the happiness of my lady wife?”

“We must admit we had conflicting thoughts over you my prince, I am happy that you proved us wrong”

“I do not hold it against you, she is your daughter you want what is best for her, also you were not the only one, (y/n) was also very skeptical over my intentions”

“I had every reason to do so”

“I have made peace with the fact that you will never admit you were wrong my love, you do not have to find excuses for it”

Daemon and (y/n) were wed in Valyrian traditions, something that infuriated Viserys, how dare he wed a commoner with the sacred paths of old Valyria, it was distasteful and utterly disrespectful, Viserys had only sent a one-sentence raven scroll back

“You disgust me, never come back”

Daemon had only rolled his eyes at it and threw it in the fire, he couldn’t care less about Kings Landing, they could eat each other for all he cared, (y/n) and their children were all that mattered ever since he met with the beautiful hues of hers, he treasured everything about her and worshipped the ground she walked on, he would always hold her close and shower her with gifts.

“We received a raven, I have taken the liberty to open it”

“What is it?”

“Laenor Velaryon has passed, and your niece is requesting our presence, well yours to be specific, she said “I need you, uncle”

“You are jealous, I have never seen you get jealous”

“Is this the one you told me about, that “spur of the moment” girl?”

“Indeed, we do not have to go, besides, my brother banished me”

“No, it is the first time our presence is requested”

“My dear, you are with child and the flight is long”

“I will be fine, I know it”

Daemon was certain he could not sway her, once something was on her mind there was nothing that could turn it around, he was also aware that the reason she was so adamant was a side of hers that felt threatened, there was a ghost of his past that was requesting attention and (y/n) was not willing to walk away from this without putting up a fair fight.

At a day (y/n) and her 8 children stood next to her and her husband all dressed in black, everyone rubbed their eyes at the sight of such numerous children, (y/n) always knew she was meant to be a mother and that fact that she had Daemon as her husband made it so much easier.

Until it didn’t, they were summoned by the king after the ceremony, (y/n) felt her stomach drop as soon as she walked in the room, instinctively her one hand went over her growing belly, yet she mastered the strength to place a smile and curtsy before the king.

“What is the meaning of this brother?”

“I was hoping we could agree to some sort”

“Over what?”

“I wish for you to come back, I… will legitimize your children and wife as she has proven worthy, bringing forward 8 children with another on the way is no easy task”

“The gods have been generous to us that is correct, we are grateful for this offer but forgive me to ask, since you mentioned an agreement it seems you want something in return”

“Correct, there is no smooth way to say this but as a parent, I hope you understand that I would do anything to protect my daughter”

“No”

“Daemon”

“If you are asking us to wed Rhaenyra then you have lost your mind, I will not involve my wife and children in your scandals”

“Pardon my husband, I think you can understand the reason behind his outburst”

Daemon was left confused over (y/n)s composure that attempted to cover for his utter refusal to hide his brother's plans, he turned to observe his wife, she was calm, and her hand went to find his as their fingers intertwined (y/n) gave him a slight squeeze of comfort.

“The legitimacy of our children and our marriage is something that we are interested in, however, you can see why we might have some objections over accepting Rhaenyra in our marriage”

“You are trying to negotiate?”

“Yes”

“What else would you like to accept, please speak freely”

“I want my children to be given dragon eggs as well as meet any unclaimed dragons, they are Targaryens, they should have the pick of their dragons as well”

“Done”

“I shall also be considered Rhaenyras wife, if we were to wed I shall have the same rights as my husband”

“You are suggesting the realm accept you as the future queen's consort?”

“As you mentioned I brought forward 8 children and another on the way, the crown shall accept them as future princes and princesses, if not then there is nothing for us here”

Daemon chose to observe his lady wife than speak up, she took initiative and strived for the best option, something he admired in her but he had never really witnessed how far she was willing to go to secure the future of her family, now she was sacrificing a spot in their marriage for a seat at the table, Viserys had been outsmarted by what he used to frown upon.

“Very well, we accept your conditions”

“Well then… welcome to our family Princess Rhaenyra”

(Y/n) and Daemon wed Rhaenyra as they had once done while their children and the rest of their family watched, Rhaenyra had underestimated the lady, (y/n) and might not be as assertive or rebellious as Daemon but her wits and calculated movements showed a woman that walked with her head held high and every step was thought after.

The days turned to seasons and then years, everyone was holding their breaths as they took a front-row seat to one of the most important marriages and alliances within the Targaryen Dynasty.

(Y/n) was held in the best light by the small folk, “the realms mother”, and “the Alyssane reborn” as her fertility kept thriving, blessing Daemon with another set of twins soon after Rhaenyra was wed, the two beautiful baby girls were named Megaera and Valera, the first of their family to receive dragon eggs on their cradles a gift by Rhaenyra who picked them herself then came Aegon, Viserys, and Visenya, overall (y/n) had the castle of Dragonstone filled with children, 13 to be precise.

Rhaenyra was painfully aware of how those babies came to fruition, Daemon's thirst for his wife was evident and he did not even consider giving Rhaenyra the courtesy of hiding, Rhaenyra had lost count of the times she had walked in on (y/n), and Daemon lusting after one another at all hours of the day and any room that was close to them, she sometimes wondered if the legends of Rhaenys being the favorite wife of Aegon made Visenya go through what Rhaenyra was also experiencing, is that mayhaps the reason behind Rhaenyra identifying with the warrior queen?

As (y/n) and Daemon stood by Rhaenyra at court, defending her and consulting her on important matters, painting the picture of a happy marriage with two spouses that supported her revolutionary claim, the realm expected Rhaenyra to bare a child as well, (y/n) was producing heirs one after the other, Rhaenyras womb laid empty since Daemon did not spend not even one night in her chambers.

It was the first time in years that the three of them had stepped foot in kings landing, Vaemond had called the court to usurp Lucerys from his claim at the driftwood throne, naturally, all 13 of their children were present along with the three boys from Rhaenyras previous marriage, (y/n) insisted that it would show how United they are and having that strong of a number on their side would scare off any other accusations.

A solid plan, until Ser Vaemond decided to protest against the king affirming young Lucerys as the successor for the driftwood throne.

“You run your house as you see fit, but I would rather die than let that boy take over my family’s name, parading around because you are too blind to see the truth”

“You dare question the decision of a king?”

“Look at them, all thirteen of them hold the characteristics of old Valyrian, true born heirs that I would happily accept as mine even though they came from a womb of a commoner, and you ask me to accept these three boys as Velaryons? It is blasphemy”

“You are certainly bold Ser Vaemond, you have the nerve to call me a commoner when I hold the future queen and the brother of the king as my spouses, my children are not thirteen, but sixteen, and all of them hold their names with pride, it saddens my heart to see that the thirst for recognition has turned you to this low of antics”

“Her children are BASTARDS! and she. Is. A. Whore”

“Pity, you had such great potential”

As (y/n) finished her sentence Daemon had taken the liberty to end Ser Vaemonds life, a clean cut through his head right above his tongue with the great sword dark sister, causing most people to gasp while (y/n) smirked and watched the body fall on the well-polished floor.

“No one disrespects our family”

“Disarm him!”

“No need, my love”

Daemon stretched his hand to his beloved (y/n) who only turned to pinch Lucerys cheek before she took her husband's hand to walk away, only to halt and turn around again, looking back to the rest of her family members.

“Rhaenyra”

Rhaenyra was grateful for (y/n)s graciousness, there was nothing that she could hold against her, she was loving and caring to her three boys, she would listen to Rhaenyra about any concerns for hours and even now she defended and included her in front of everyone.

She should be satisfied with such, still a thorn stuck in her heart and pride making Rhaenyra feel second best when it came to Daemon's heart, it has always been (y/n), (y/n) carried his offspring’s, he gave up everything for her, took her away and gave her a life full of gifts and love, the finest of any kind was reserved for (y/n).

“Pardon my intrusion, the princess is requesting Prince Daemon in her chamber”

“It is late, can it not wait?”

“Sweetling, the poor girl cannot know, go to her, I will be waiting for you”

“Fine, take your nightgown off for me, I want us to get straight to it when I get back”

Daemon whispered deviously before he planted a passionate kiss on the lips he most adored, reluctantly pulled away with an audible gruff and followed the servant girl silently, wondering what was so important that he had to leave his precious bed and his lustful wife right in the heat of the moment.

Rhaenyra paced back and forth with impatience written all over her demeanor and face, Daemon always had an influence over her, making her feel like a little girl again, though this was a different type of anxiety, once Daemon entered the room and the servant gave them their privacy Rhaenyra took a deep inhale through the nose to ease her nerves.

“I hoped to confront you over our marriage”

“What of it?”

“Do you truly think everything is fine or are you just blind?”

“I and my wife have honored our vows”

“That is the problem, you and your wife, it has never been just your vows”

“When you wed us you were to understand your place when it came to me and (y/n), I never used her as a surprise, you called for our aid and we generously offered it”

He was right, Rhaenyra had never been blindsided by them, (y/n) was a staple of their marriage, (y/n)s strive for the legitimacy of her children was the only reason Daemon allowed their wedding to happen, (y/n) had drank for Rhaenyras cup just as daemon had, binding their hands together and swore loyalty and devotion to their future queen.

As a woman Rhaenyra felt cast aside, this marriage was an insult to her pride, and having to bare through a birth of a child one after the other with a smile on her face was a twist of a knife in her wound, while her womb lay empty.

“You refuse to spend time with me, alone, you only show up with your children-“

“Our children, (y/n) and I call your sons our sons”

“At court yes”

“Are you questioning our actions? I did not have you to be as dim-witted as you seem right now, (y/n) called Lucerys her trueborn son in front of everyone, I took a man’s head for insulting you and our house and yet you stand before me and claim it is not enough for your liking?”

“I stand here to remind you that we have yet to produce a child, you can kill as many men as you wish, and (y/n) can scream it at the top of her lungs but that does not change that everyone sees her parading her belly and call her the realms mother while my womb rottenness under this wedlock”

“Rotten? Alright then, let us entertain this and say you bare my child, a silver-haired beauty that the realm will welcome, has it crossed that brilliant mind of yours that this will be more of a scandal for your three boys?”

“My sons are Targaryens”

“No doubt about it, but certainly they do not look like the part, in comparison to their brothers and sisters they look more like (y/n) than you”

“You are not refusing to lay with me to hush the rumors, you simply do not have the urge for it, I remember a time that you did, mayhaps it was the image of a gullible girl that kept you going”

“Listen and listen well, wife, (y/n) is my eternal love, the woman that took me in her arms and showed me life, you are my blood, I protected you, I defended you, I offered you sanctuary just so you can once again have something to complain about, well that is it, if you dare to summon me again for such idiotic matters I will grab my brother by the neck and force him to annul the marriage do you understand?”

Daemon was furious, as he spoke he started taking steps towards her, to the point that her back found the wall and Daemon was inches away from her face, hissing out the threat of annulment like a snake that released poison to its prey.

Rhaenyra had never experienced such hostility from Daemon, to say she was shocked was an understatement as her eyes frantically tried to find focus on his, daemons eyes were filled with fury, Rhaenyra had crossed the line in his mind, (y/n) had been kind and honorable to the princess, doing her duty like a proper lady wife and Rhaenyra scoffed at her, at his (y/n).

“Alright”

“Wonderful, now you must excuse me, I have some urgent matters that need my attention”

Requests are open!

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nikkeora · 9 months

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High Enough (Without the Mary Jane)

summary; 'in every other universe, gwen stacy falls for spider-man. and in every other universe, it doesn’t end well'. you don't want to be a mary jane anymore.

or, in which you were the mindy s. mcpherson to miles's prowler

pairing(s); e-1610! Miles Morales x fem!reader, e-42! Miles Morales x fem!reader (r is referred to with she/her pronouns, no physical description.)

warning(s); fem spanish terms are used ('hermosa' etc.), reader’s hand is smaller than Miles’. author can’t write action sequences for shit.

may be ooc but we haven't seen a whole lot of p!miles yet so there isn’t really much to go off of

implied/mentioned parental issues with reader, not proofread, written (mostly) at ao3 hours

a/n; according to google the sinister 6 of e42 are doc oc, vulture, electro, rhino, sandman and scorpion, although i've seen some other ppl say that the eastereggs are vulture, rhino, scorpion, sandman, shocker, kraven and electro. i'm going w the google one, maybe kraven and shocker are their own thing. also they're prolly rich aholes since their signs are on buildings n stuff, so that's what i went with.

also reader was sent to earth 42, but like, a few days before 1610 miles arrives, kind of like how gwen was sent to 1610 a week before she found miles

Miles — or, who you assumed was Miles, anyway — took you back to his place, going out of his way to avoid alleys where there weren't many people around and sticking to the bigger streets. You found it kind of weird. Back home, you and Miles used to cut through backstreets and even some sketchy buildings all the time to make it home before curfew.

You felt him steal glances at you the whole walk, and you’d be lying if you didn’t do the same.

This version of him just felt so.. different.

Once the two of you reached your destination, he let you up the stairs first before quietly calling for you to stop once you reached his floor. You hesitated for a moment on the steps. It was a higher level than Miles’s flat back home, and the building had looked a lot different from what you’d seen just half an hour ago, even if it still felt familiar. You’d chalked it up to the multiverse doing multiverse things at first, but he was starting to act a little off.

Having been around your Miles for years, you knew all his tells. You could see how his weight shifted on his feet as he unlocked the door. You could see he was overall standing straighter and more tense. You could see the hesitation before he turned the key.

Miles was lying to you. And he felt guilty.

But what were you going to do?

This universe was new to you. Sure, everything seemed just about the same, but it was all so foreign at the same time. There where skyscrapers you’d never seen before, new graffiti on the streets of the same couple people over and over again - all of whom you were sure you’d seen somewhere before but couldn’t quite grasp where. The sight of buildings blocked by yellow tape and more in the process of repair after seemingly being burned down or blown up were common in this world, like it was an active war zone or something.

You really didn’t have a choice but to follow along.

He opened the door and waved you in, closing the door rather hastily after the both of you.

You took a glance around the room. There were metal bars on the windows, to keep people out or trap them in you couldn't quite figure. There was a DJ setup near them that looked awfully familiar. Hooks hung down from the unfinished ceiling, some holding chains and others oddly shaped items haphazardly wrapped with what looked like brown lunchbag paper. Wires and ventilation just about everywhere, most of the wires leading to either monitors or gadgets you assumed were in the progress of being built. An old, beat up couch and some gym gear by the wall, an open kitchen-slash-workshop area straight ahead.

The only source of light was the neon red from the signs outside the window, and even then the farther bits of the apartment remained a dark purple hue.

Then someone came out of the other room.

“What's this?”

The hell—?

From the shadows, Aaron Davis emerged.

His beard was more grown out then you'd ever seen, and his features looked sharper, almost rougher. His shoulders seemed more broad, though maybe that was the heavy jacket he wore making him look bigger than he actually was.

“¿Tío?”

Miles had taken you around to his uncle's a couple of times, which you now realized was why you recognized this place. Aaron raised an eyebrow at you, surprise flashing across his face before it was quickly wiped out. He looked over you, taling in your appearance.

“Miles.” He asked again.

“I dunno,” the boy replied, stuffing his hands deeper into his pockets and avoiding his uncle's gaze. “Just found her on the way home.”

“Found her?”

Aaron glanced at you, then back to Miles, then back to you, his eyebrows furrowed in either confusion or frustration. He finally looked back at his nephew, the two of them having a silent conversation you couldn’t read.

“…Fine.” Aaron sighed, turning around—

You felt like you were dying, or being born, or possibly both at the same time. For a split second, you were nothing but particles, your skin and bones and just about everything being ripped apart then sewn back together. Your vision was a mix between TV static and rapid fire neon colors, and it was about the same deal with your hearing (which was concerning, since you couldn't usually hear colors).

Miles had taken a step forward, letting you grab his arms to keep you from falling over as he said something you couldn’t quite hear. Aaron had whipped around so fast you wondered how it didn’t give him whiplash, fists at the ready in case he needed them.

“What was that?” Miles’s voice finally got through to you, the high-pitched screaming in your ears dying down. You blinked at him as your mind went blank.

“I don’t—” You cut yourself off. Wait, was it..? Had you just..?

“Complete cellular decay.” You recalled Miles’s countless retellings of the multiversal mess that had happened just about two years ago. “I’m glitching, aren’t I?”

“Right, and you know this because..?” Aaron asked, his hands now at his sides but not eased yet. He eyed your face as if he was expecting you to grow a third eye or something. Honestly, you couldn’t blame him.

“Okay, so, this might sound crazy,” You started, “but I’m from another dimension.

“We had something like this happen back home a while back — except, y’know, people came into our dimension rather than people from ours going somewhere else.

“The people that came, they were glitching, too. Their atoms were displaced and decaying.”

“So you’re saying,” Miles spoke up, his grip tightening around your forearms just slightly. “If you stay here too long—”

“I’ll die, yeah.” You said, the reality of the situation hitting you like a KTX. “Disintegrate, to be more accurate.”

Silence filled the flat as all three of you processed the information. Miles was frozen, his gaze fixated on the spot where your hands grabbed onto him as if he was scared you’d disappear if he looked away. Aaron crossed his arms, his eyes darting from left to right like he was reading some invisible text.

As for you, you felt unreal. Your body didn’t feel like your own anymore, your vision more like looking at the screen of a first-person shooter. Were you going to die here? You didn’t want to die yet. What would your dad think? Would he file a police report? Would Miles’s dad send out a search party to look for you? And Miles—

You hadn’t even said goodbye to him at the party.

You hadn’t said goodbye to anyone.

I don’t wanna die I don’t wanna die I don’t wanna die I don’t—

“Hey,” Miles says, his voice softer than earlier, snapping you out of your spiral. His hands slide down your forearms and slip into your own, giving them a firm squeeze. “No vas a morir.”

You’re not gonna die.

“Te llevaré a casa.” The boy said, his deep brown eyes bore into yours, slowly bringing you back from feeling like you’re looking at a video game to feeling more like you’re lucid dreaming. It wasn’t a total fix, but it’s a start. “I’ll get you home, I promise.”

You took a deep breath, trying and failing to ground yourself more.

“What’s five things you hear?” Miles asked gently, tilting his head and leaning ever so slightly closer to you. You just blinked, overwhelmed with everything.

“Mi vida,” he said again. “Five things.”

You paused for a moment.

Sirens outside.

Yelling from the streets.

Chains clinking in the breeze from the open window.

Aaron shuffling around in the other room. When had he left?

The buzzing of the lights overhead.

“Good.” Miles said encouragingly. “Now, four things you see.”

Miles.

A pan on the kitchen stove.

The DJ table by the windows.

Tio Aaron pulling out the couch to make a sofa bed.

“Three things you can touch here.”

Miles.

The ground if you bent down, you guessed.

Some trinkets on the table just over there, but you’re not gonna touch that.

“Two you can smell?”

Rusted metal. There’s tons of it around; on the walls, the ceiling, tables, even on the shelves. What was that chest plate doing back there, anyway?

That pool smell, which is kinda gross since it came from the chlorine in pool water mixed with all the gross stuff that came from human bodies.

Miles smiled as you said that. “Vuelves a mí, mi sol.” He squeezed your hands again. “One thing you can taste.”

“I dunno, soda? We had a ton of it at the party.” You wiggled your fingers. It was like you were stepping into your body for the first time — nothing was a perfect fit just yet, like a pair of knitted gloves with too much room at the ends of the fingers. You’d have to get used to it again.

It’s then that Aaron called Miles over, the boy reluctantly leaving your side and following his uncle to the other room. He told you to make yourself comfortable on the couch before he went, though, so that’s exactly what you did. The spring cushions feel oddly comforting under you, the familiarity of home twisted just slightly out of proportion.

There’s really nothing to do alone here. You tapped your fingers on your leg. Thankfully, Miles and Aaron came back after just a few minutes.

The first thing the boy said to you, “I’m gonna get you home.” A firmer, more certain repetition of his promise from a minute ago, albeit there’s a bit of a strain in his voice as if it physically hurt him to say it. In a clumsy yet swift motion, he quickly leaned down and kissed your cheek before making his exit rather hurriedly.

You felt the heat rush to your face, your hand coming up almost immediately to touch the spot.

Aaron chuckled and shook his head.

“So,” he said. “You as smart as she was, too?”

You tinkered with the gauntlet of a prototype suit that Aaron had dug out of storage somewhere, the man himself working on the main body. The helmet — or was it more of a mask? It was a bit bulkier than Miles's Spider-Man mask, a bit more tech-y. Probably more similar to an Iron Man helmet, now that you think about it, albeit lower in its level of advancement — was plugged into one of the many monitors strewn about the flat.

You'd managed to pry a couple bits of information out of him for the past few hours (during which you hadn't glitched again, thankfully) in exchange for some of your own. So far you knew that this universe’s Jefferson Morales had passed away a few years ago, prompting Miles to take on the mantle of the Prowler to avenge his father’s death — the details of which he stayed frustratingly vague on — and, later on, to keep the city as safe as he could.

“Wait, wait, who’s your Spider-Man, then?”

“Who’s Spider-Man?”

You blinked in confusion. “What? You don’t have a Spider-Person?”

“What, like, a part-spider guy? Nah. Scorpion’s mostly bug though, that count?”

This dimension didn’t have a Spider-Man. That was why the city was so overrun with bad guys.

You gave him a general rundown of the whole ‘radioactive spider’ thing and moved on.

Your own variant, who was Miles’s best friend and had helped make a lot of his gear, had disappeared a while after the Prowler started taking out some bad guys that were a step above villain-of-the-week, the ones who had all sorts of shady connections. Hearing about your presumed death was a strange experience.

“We know they took her,” The older man had said, jamming his screwdriver into a faulty part of the suit. “But the cops are all in on it ever since the Cartel bought ‘em out. Declared her dead after less than 24 hours.”

Oh, speaking of, apparently there was a team of villains bringing Gotham to life in New York, Brooklyn being the heart of it all. How fun.

The Sinister Six Cartel, as the Bugel had dubbed them, was the one Aaron and Miles believed to be behind your variant’s disappearance. The two were certain that the Cartel had worked out a connection between you and the Prowler. The nail on the coffin was when they sent a body double of you in the Prowler’s direction to mess with his head just a couple months ago, complete with some sort of Face Off style mask that made it possible for the fake to look exactly like you. It was only a day or two before Miles figured out it was a setup, but it had shaken him up pretty bad.

“I thought you were another one.” He’d admitted. “But then you did the whole glitchy thing. Looked horrible, by the way, real nasty. It hurt much?”

“You have no idea.”

In return, you told him about home. You told him how Miles’s dad was up for a promotion, practically Captain already. You told him about your Miles’s art and how he made a mural of him after his death. You didn’t go into too much detail about the ‘death’ part, focusing more on the peaceful aspects since it was so clearly missing from his every day life. You couldn’t really read this Aaron Davis that well since he was more guarded than he had been back home, but you could tell he appreciated it; especially the parts about his brother.

You also told him how Miles and the other Spider-People who were sent to your dimension had worked out a solution to fix their situation, and gave him a brief summary of the whole ordeal, the details of which he texted Miles since he hadn’t given you a chance to tell him about it when he left so hastily. He said something you couldn’t quite make out as he did — you caught the words ‘lab’ and ‘property’, but that was pretty much it. He only waved it off as nothing when you asked him about it.

“How’s my dad?” You asked, pushing your hand into the gauntlet to test if it worked right. It was a near perfect fit, which made you wonder who exactly it was for, since Miles’s hand was bigger than yours. “Is he doing okay? After the whole ‘declared dead’ thing?”

“He’s holding up, just like the rest of us,” Aaron replied, checking on the monitor. “Your mom — her mom’s been sticking around. Grief brings people together and all that. They’re trying therapy.”

A weird feeling bubbled up inside. While it was good to know at least one version of your parents were trying to reconcile, it bothered you that your absence had prompted it. Was that what was happening right now back home? Had your disappearance magically brought your parents back together? Had it even been long enough for that to happen, or did time flow equally throughout the multiverse?

…

Would it be better for them if you just didn’t go back at all?

“Oh.” You said, nodding slightly as you flexed and wiggled your fingers in the gauntlet, watching the way it moved. It was a lot thinner than the claws that adorned the Prowler’s hands from what you’d spotted here and there in the flat, built to be stealthier in the way it functioned. There were no clunks or clinks, just soft whirring noises that sounded almost like a cat’s purr. “That’s good, I guess.”

It was worse this time around, which you didn’t even know was possible. You felt yourself being split in a billion different directions, parts of you re-atomizing not quite in the right places. You’d never known the feeling of having space between where all your joints were supposed to connect, but now you did, and it honestly made you want to die. Not really. Well…

Miles came back sometime before dawn. You heard the door opening slowly, almost like he was trying not to wake his parents up as he was sneaking in past curfew. Not that he used the door ever since he could climb walls, but still.

He crept into his uncle’s flat, even leaving his shoes at the door so he wouldn’t make too much noise. He was making his way to the other room when he looked at you on the couch, only to flinch in surprise when he saw your eyes were open.

“¿Qué haces despierto?” He whispered, his shoulders tenser than earlier from the split second of adrenaline. “It’s late.”

“What are you doing that you have to sneak in?” You whispered back. The boy just shrugged.

“Oh, you know…” He trailed off, looking around to avoid your questioning gaze. “…Stuff.”

You rolled your eyes. “That has gotta be the lamest excuse I’ve ever heard.”

Miles huffed, shuffling over to you and sitting down on the floor in front of the couch, facing you. “Yeah, well, I asked you first. Why’re you up, hermosa?”

You sighed. “Can’t sleep.”

“Why not?”

“Oh, I don’t know, the thought of my impending doom, maybe.”

A couple beats passed by without a word from either of you, a bit of awkwardness hanging in the air, though it was accompanied by a familiar sense of comfort.

“Do you trust me?” Miles asked, his hand reaching out to gently grab a corner of the blanket draped over you.

“Probably.” You replied. You hadn’t known him long enough to trust him just yet, as much as you wanted to. The corners of his lips tilted up just a bit in an almost smile.

“Then trust that I’ll do whatever it takes to get you home.” He said. “I already lost you once, I’m not letting that happen again.”

The next day was pretty uneventful. For the most part, anyway, if you don’t count the random glitching throughout. You were advised heavily against going outside since the Cartel had eyes everywhere, so your area of activity was limited to the flat. Miles had evidently snuck back out after your little talk the night before, which made you feel a tinge disappointed since you wanted to get to know him better. Fortunately, Aaron said you could help with the suit again.

The TV played in the background as you tapped on the keyboard, giving the helmet a few final touch-ups as the sun set outside the window. J. Jonah Jameson jabbered on about this week’s biggest disasters and lamented about how ‘if only there was a hero to save this city’, which made you snort.

“He’s gonna switch up real quick if a hero does show up,” You remarked to Aaron, who looked at you questioningly. “The guy hates Spider-Man back home.”

“What, Jameson?” He said, raising an eyebrow. “Nah, he’s the biggest Captain America fanboy out there. Loves heroes an’ all that.”

He thought for a moment. “Pretty sure Miles saw him at Comicon that one time too.”

“What’s a Comicon?”

Unfortunately, you never got the answer as you heard the lock on the door slide open. You spun around in your chair to greet Miles as you knew he was supposed to be coming by sometime in the evening, but your friendly smile quickly faded as his expression turned to one of shock, catching a glimpse of what the two of you were working on.

The boy froze as he stared, wide-eyed, at the suit. “Tio,” He said, looking at Aaron as he clenched his jaw. “What’s that doing out?”

“She needs a suit.” The older man answered simply.

“What?” Both you and Miles asked, though you could tell it was for vastly different reasons.

“We need to get into Alchemax to get her home, and we can’t do that unless she has protection.”

“Which is why I came here to make a plan!” Miles shouted, his hands moving animatedly, the way your Miles's always did when he got upset. “Eso, eso no le pertenece. ¡No es para ella!”

They had a back and forth as the pieces came together as to why Miles was so upset.

The suit was supposed to be for you.

His you.

You were, essentially, fixing up a dead girl's clothes to wear.

“The Cartel isn't stupid, Miles,” Aaron tried to make the boy see his point. “Even if we somehow made a distraction big enough for the big ones to leave base, there's still gonna be someone left to guard it. Would you be able to live with yourself if she got hurt? Or worse—”

“Don't.” Miles's nails dug into his palms, leaving dark cresent moons in their wake. Aaron sighed.

“If she got hurt, you'd feel like that's on you. If you got hurt protecting her 'cause she doesn't have anything to protect herelf with, then I'd feel like that's on me.” He said, his features softening as he reasoned with his nephew. “This is the best bet.”

“We could build her a new suit—”

“And take what? Couple days? A week? Two weeks?”

He glanced at you, Miles following his gaze towards you as well. You knew what was implied. The only people you knew this happened to had gone maybe over a week before the glitching became a real problem, and they were superhuman. Who knew how long you had?

“She can wear mine. We have a ton of old ones, I'll just take one of those—”

“I'm not gonna let you get hurt for her, kid.”

“Don't call me that.”

They went back and forth for a while, and eventually Miles went to the other room to cool off and think things through. Aaron sighed, wiping a hand across his face.

“No offense.” He said to you.

“None taken.” You replied, not really knowing what to do. It felt wrong for you to be tinkering with something that was so clearly not meant for you, even if it was for a variant of yourself.

You could hear Miles pacing the other room, muttering to himself.

“Maybe I could...” You trailed off.

“You could try talking him into it,” He suggested. “He'll listen to you more than me right now.”

“...Should I, though?” You couldn't even begin to imagine what Miles was feeling. All this multiverse shit was too damn complicated.

“Look, kid, I know it's weird.” Aaron said, shoulders sagging just a bit. “But this—” he pointed to the suit— “is the best way to make sure no one gets hurt. Trust me.”

There was something he wasn't telling you, but he didn't have to for you to know what it was. Miles thought you were alive, somewhere out there. You knew it was entirely possible that he blamed himself for your disappearance, as it was your own version of him's go-to for anything and everything that went wrong. The shadows under his eyes, that look whenever he saw you... you wondered how many nights he'd spent outside, looking for some trace of you, a new lead to follow. Especially since your arrival.

Aaron thought this was the best chance Miles would ever get to let go of you. To get some sort of closure by sending you home.

“…I'll try.” You finally agreed, getting up from your seat and shuffling to the other room. You hesitated before going in, but the lack of a door made it awkward to linger, so you just bit the bullet and walked inside.

The room in question was more of a faux-veranda (which explained the no-door thing); a long, narrow space separated from the main living area by a sheet of drywall, with one of the wider walls filled with shelves of CDs and albums and the other decorated sparingly with old band and movie posters along with Miles-brand stickers.

“So...” You said, fiddling with your hands as you took a look around the area. You gestured at one of the stickers on the wall. “Did you make that?”

Slowing to a stop to face you, Miles nodded, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his jacket.

“Cool.”

You both stood there in silence for a moment, you working out what to say and Miles trying to come up with some other solution to the problem. The boy had an unhealthy obsession, that much he knew, but he just couldn't bring himself to let go of it. Not when you could be out there, just waiting for him to find you.

“I don't want to push you,” You started hesitantly. “But.. I think your tìo may be right.”

“I know that.” He looked at his feet as if the dirt on his shoes was suddenly the most interesting thing in the world, the sight of him reminisent of a little kid getting scolded by his mother. “I know that.”

“I can't say I understand.. whatever's going through your head right now,” You said, taking a step towards him. “But he just wants what's best for you.”

“What's best for me is finding—” He cut himself off when his eyes met yours, frustration and confusion and stubbornness and sadness and who knows what else all mixing into a big mish-mash of conflicting thoughts inside of him. He clenched his fists, tilting his head up as he tried to think clearly. To his dismay, his throat closed up, the familiar sting of tears pricking at his eyes.

“I need to find her.” He muttered, putting a hand over his eyes in an attempt to stop his tears from falling. It didn't work. “I need to find you.”

“And you will.” You were sure of it. Aaron and Miles were both so sure that their you was alive... she had to be. “But right now? Right now, I need you to help me out.”

He looked at you, his gaze almost spaced out for a moment. You wondered if he saw her in you — if she had the same haircut, the same eyes, the same accent...

You could tell he was frustrated by the way that the scrunch above his nose wouldn’t go away. Hesitantly, you reached out, wiping away the tracks stray tears had left on his cheeks. He stiffened for a moment.

“...Fine.” He finally muttered, a hand coming up to grab your arm, though he seemed unsure if he wanted to push it away or pull it closer. So he just held it in place, his thumb brushing over the inside of your wrist, the edge of your palm. His posture relaxed, just a bit. “Okay.”

Two days later, it wasn't too dark when the plan set into action.

Security at Alchemax — once belonging to Kingpin, now in posession of the Sinister Six Cartel — was thinnest sometime around six to seven pm, when dinner breaks, shift changes and the checkout of regular scientists were prominent.

Miles and Aaron had each set up time bombs at multiple smaller warehouses the Cartel used for storage, each coordinated to go off within minutes of each other. With little to no heroes or police in the way, the Cartel had no reason to keep their lesser important stocks well-guarded, which made it easy to sneak explosives into some of the shipments, support beams and pipes.

Once the explosions were set off, Aaron would use some rip-off Mysterio tech to make projections of some new vigilante gang, with each fake member leading the forces of the Cartel away from Alchemax. During this went on, Miles would sneak you in and to the Super Collider (which, surprisingly, had not been scrapped since its change of ownership) through the vents—

“Wait, wait, isn’t there like, a tunnel that can get us directly to the Collider?” You’d asked, remembering what Miles had told you when he first told you how he became Spider-Man.

“It got sealed off.” Aaron had said. “Some sort of supercharged electromagnetic thing. They did that with all the major underground entry points. Can’t shut it off without blacking out half of Brooklyn.”

“Or getting fried.” Miles had said. “The generators powering each point are all hooked up together a single system, como una mente colmena. You attack one of ‘em directly, all the others shoot a billion bolts of energy into you. And we don’t have time to hack into and get past the firewall to shut the thing down.”

—which you would navigate by memorizing a blueprint of Alchemax that had been conveniently leaked in a mass Cartel server leak a couple months ago. Miles would then plug in the goober he, Aaron and you had made using information gathered via Aaron's 'friends', and send you home.

It was a simple mission. Maybe a bit too simple, but you didn't really have much a choice when you were on a time crunch with limited information. Besides, Occam's razor.

“Copy?” Aaron's voice asked from your earpiece.

“Copy.” You answered, followed by Miles from his own communicator.

“A-6 is a go in 3.. 2...”

Boom.

A couple blocks away, a cloud of dust shot into the air. The building you and Miles were on the roof of shivered slightly as storage unit A-6 blew up.

“A-27.”

Boom.

“C-15.”

Boom.

From your vantage point, you had a clear view of what was going on at Alchemax without the risk of anyone down there catching a glimpse of you. You could see the non-combat scientists scrambling to get to their cars and the armed guards being led by weirdly dressed villains in the direction of the explosions. Although you supposed you weren't quite qualified to comment on the 'weirdly dressed' part at the moment, since you and Miles weren't much better in your respective suits.

Speaking of, Miles hadn't talked much ever since he first saw you wearing the suit. His responses were short if he even gave one, although you could feel him sneaking glances at you when he thought you weren't looking.

Miles fixed the gauntlet on his hand one last time before shuffling closer to you. “Ready?”

His voice sounded strange to you, his actual voice coming through your earpiece overlapping with the voice coming through his modulator.

“Mhm.”

“Going in.”

You hooked your arms around his shoulders and his arm wrapped around your waist, holding you tight as a grapple shot out of his gauntlet. He used it almost exactly like how Miles used his webshooters, although his actions were a bit more... forceful? Rougher around the edges, if that made sense.

As your feet left solid concrete, the city sped by underneath the both of you, a pretty blend of neon and gray. Your suit prevented you from actually feeling the air whipping by, but a fraction of the wind managed to seep through the cracks, sending a chill down your spine as your stomach dropped at the sudden decline.

For a moment, gravity seemed to disappear. The laws of physics no longer felt like they effected you in any meaningful way. Anything and everything that had been weighing down on you — this whole situation, Miles, demanding schoolwork at Visions, your parents and their myriad of problems — no longer held you down.

It was exhilarating.

Your 'flight', so to speak, was over almost as soon as it started. You tucked your legs as you reached the roof of the Alchemax building, separating from Miles and rolling to lessen the impact. Surprisingly, the move came quite naturally to you, even without practice. You chalked it off as something you'd learned when you were a toddler, when your mom used to sign you up for all sorts of extracurriculars. You were pretty sure martial arts or something had been one of them; maybe you'd learned it there.

Your heart pounded as the sudden rush of adrenaline faded away, and you found yourself wishing it didn't. The thrill was addicting, as was the freedom that came with it. It was like a rollercoaster, or watching How to Train Your Dragon in 4D for the first time, only a hundred times better.

Miles had never taken you swinging. He'd never exactly told you why, always brushing off your request with something like a 'maybe later' or 'I can't right now', but you knew why.

Swinging together was a him and Gwen thing.

And you were fine with that.

What, like you were gonna be jealous about something as small as that? Pfft. No way. Nope. Nada.

“¿Estás bien?” Miles asked, pulling you out of your thoughts. You nodded in confirmation.

The two of you pried open a vent using the gloves of your suit, which was easier than you’d expected it to be. To your surprise, the claws that extended from them were very useful.

“We’re in.” You muttered as you crawled into the duct, hoping Aaron wasn’t having any trouble on his end. He’d been awful quiet… Then again, no news is good news on a mission, right?

Miles crawled in after you. “You remember the way?”

“Yeah.”

Together you made your way to the underground levels of the building, miraculously avoiding any possible dead ends or mouse traps. That musty smell of mold and concrete reached your senses as you reached the deeper parts.

There weren’t many people at the Super Collider, thanks to the diversion and timing. Miles gestured for you to stay put as he swiftly dropped out of the vents, knocking out the few guards there one by one with relative ease. It was strange seeing him fight; so similar to yet completely different from him. You were doing as told and observing from the vents until you saw one of the last three people — a scientist, by the looks of it — sneaking up on Miles from behind while he was preoccupied with the two other guards.

You quickly dropped down from your spot, landing behind the guard and catching him by surprise as he whirled around with his weird-techy-science gun. Dropping to the ground, you swept your leg under his, toppling him over and knocking the weapon out of his hands. You were about to knock him out when—

“Peter Parker?”

Are you kidding me?

You were certain it was him. This Peter was scrawnier, his hair more sandy blond than Peter Parker’s back home (before he passed, anyway), and he wore thick, black-rimmed glasses that perched awkwardly on his slightly crooked nose. But the ID that read ‘Peter Parker’ in big bold letters around his neck was a pretty solid indicator.

“…Yes?” He almost squeaked out.

Meanwhile, Miles had dealt with the two guards, stepping over them to get to the console. “Sácalo y entra ahí.” He called, fumbling a little as he tried to figure out which buttons to push to fire up the Collider.

“We have a bit of a situation..” You said, pulling Peter up by his arm and dragging him to the console as well.

You gave him a hushed explanation of your unwillingness to hurt the guy, and how you believed he was genuinely a good person. After all, this universe was almost the same as yours, right? Peter Parker couldn’t be that different here…

“And besides, he probably knows how to work this thing. It’d be helpful.”

Miles sighed. “…Fine, I won’t knock him out,” He agreed. Turning to Peter, he asked, “How do you start the Collider?”

Peter gulped, everything in his body language screaming ‘I want to run away’. “You- you need codes,” He stammered out. “Approval codes, from—”

“Don’t care.” Miles cut him off, giving him a brief glance at the goober. “Just start it. ¿Lo pilla?”

Peter nodded hastily and got to work, pressing buttons and switching levers as you made your way down to the Super Collider. There was a catwalk that ran from one side of the machine to the other, connecting the two mechanisms. If you got to the middle of it, you could jump off and into the portal once the Collider was at full output. Sure enough, its huge metal plates clinked and clattered as they slowly sprung to life.

This was it. You were finally going home.

Just then, you heard a thunk along with some choice words in Spanish, and looked over to the source to see Peter out cold on the ground.

“He got to the panic button!” Miles said, scowling to himself as he plugged in the goober, praying that this plan would work out in the next minute or so. Bubble-like particles appeared at the two points of the machine that faced each other, the noise it emitted now making it so that you could only properly make out what Miles was saying through your earpiece.

The Collider whirred and sputtered as the bubbles grew bigger and brighter, eventually bursting into two beams of light that met each other in the middle, creating one big sphere with a bunch of little bubbles going in and out of it and surrounding it. The sphere grew larger and larger until it collapsed in on itself, sprouting thin, curvy lines.

The thing grew bigger and bigger until it was about the size of a person, you could feel it starting to pull you in. You just had to wait for Miles’s go ahead—

Ow.

What the hell?

You were suddenly sprawled on the ground, something having tackled you at what felt like a hundred miles an hour. That something — or rather, someone — skid to a halt just a few feet away from you, dragging a hand across the tiled floor and leaving… scratch marks?

Scrambling to your feet, you crouched in a defensive stance as you looked over the newcomer.

There wasn’t a single inch of skin showing, their suit covering the whole of their person. The suit in question was mostly white, with some gray sprinkled in here and there. It reminded you of Eve from Wall-E or a Stormtrooper, maybe a mix of both. Strangely enough, the mask was just a blank slate; a sleek, white panel with no features or details, kind of like one of those LED face masks.

Overall it was kind of… boring? It didn’t inspire fear nor did it seem very imposing or something of the sort, which you’d think would be a priority for a villain organization. If anything it was bland, the only thing that stood out from the suit being its hands which donned gauntlets that looked similar to yours, but slimmer and more polished, more accurately described as gloves rather than gauntlets. They had claws just like yours, albeit they looked sharper, a bit more gnarled.

“Miles?” You called, your heartbeat quickening. “What’s going on?”

You heard a grunt from his end. You didn’t look to see what was happening, not daring to take your eyes off of your attacker, but you guessed that backup from Peter’s panic signal had arrived.

“What’s going on?” Aaron echoed, his voice slightly fuzzy. Before you could answer, your attacker lunged. You managed to doge a full on body slam, but they grabbed your arm instead, using it to flip you over their body and knocking the wind out of you.

You writhed as you hit the ground, managing to rip your arm out of their grasp and landing a kick on their ankle, causing them to stumble. You took the opportunity to get up and put some distance between the two of you, though you didn’t get far before the lunatic started chasing you. They jumped at you again but you turned around at the last second, and as you were pushed back with their claws digging into your shoulders you kicked both of your legs out into their stomach just as your back hit the ground, sending them straight over your head.

“Tìo, get your nephew, now!” You shouted, rolling away just in time to avoid a punch that landed on the floor where your head had been just a second ago. “It all went to shit, get him out!”

The pull from the Collider was getting stronger, tiny scraps like bolts and papers flying through the air and towards the beam of light. You raced back to the catwalk but were once again stopped by the 29th century Stormtrooper. You yelped as you felt something grab the back of your neck, sharp claws piercing through your suit and digging into your skin as your head was thrown harshly against a metal beam.

And just like that, you were on the ground. Again. What was this, like, the third time? Fourth? Great. Just fantastic.

I’m not even supposed to be here, you thought, grabbing at your opponent’s wrists as their hands wrapped around your neck, slowly choking you. They were stronger than you were, faster, clearly more skilled. What were you thinking? You’re not a fighter — you couldn’t beat them, not like this.

Why was the universe so intent on making you miserable? You were just trying to get home, maybe not die. Not dying would be nice. But no. You couldn’t have nice things, could you? Not your own life, not Miles, your own damn parents were happier in a reality where you weren’t in the picture—

A sudden surge of anger made you lash out. The universe could go fuck itself. You weren’t dying like this. Not when your ticket home was right in front of you.

Your gauntlet caught your attacker’s mask, knocking it off.

You knew that face.

It was the same face that looked back at you every time you looked at a mirror.

Well, not exactly, you supposed. There was a certain roughness in her features, the same as how Miles looked different from Miles. But you’d know those eyes anywhere. But they were… what’s the word, fuzzy? Unfocused? It was like her body was on autopilot while her brain was off in Hawaii or something.

The thing you did next could’ve won you the prize for ‘smartest dumb decision of the year’.

In all your oxygen-deprivated brilliance, you retracted your mask.

It might shake her, was your reasoning. It would confuse anyone to see a doppelgänger in a fight.

Or, you know, it could go totally wrong and she could punch your face in. But you were already getting choked, so, what was there to lose?

And it worked.

Her eyes shifted back into focus as her grip slackened, and you quickly shoved her — or is it you? yourself? — off, gasping for air. You could vaguely make out the outline of a giant scorpion-guy going one-on-one with Miles, who seemed to be holding out pretty well. He was favoring his left hand though, when usually he used his right.

“I— wha—? Where—” You heard from your left. Your alternate universe counterpart looked around the lab, her eyes wide and movements jerky like a wild animal on drugs.

You were about to say something when a loud buzzing came through your comm, which had evidently been damaged in the whole head-beam connection thing. Miles’s voice came through in broken pieces.

“Col— get..t— ov-rload—”

The Collider. The goober could only force an incomplete system to run for so long. Your time was up.

Wonderful.

A flash of blinding light came from the machine as it malfunctioned. The goober could only make an incomplete system work for so long. You were just able to get your helmet back on before everyone in the vicinity was pushed back in an explosion. Was that Aaron—?

After your temporary blindness wore off, you made out the aftermath, a high-pitched ringing in your ear as you dazedly looked around. The glass that separated the control area from the Collider had been shattered, the Scorpion twitching as he tried to get to his feet — did he have feet? Now’s really not the time — There was no sign of Miles or Aaron anywhere, which was either very good or very bad. You decided to believe it was the former for your own sake. A short distance away from you was another you, that one unconscious but still breathing, from the looks of it.

Grabbing your variant, you ripped open a vent on the wall before the Scorpion could take notice of either of you, shoving her in before following suit and placing the vent cover back on. You had to get out of here. Fast.

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acupofqueercoffee · 3 months

Text

“Fires of Fidelity”

Rhaenys Targaryen x Female Reader

wc : 4800+

cw : ambiguous relationships // description of violence which i wouldn’t call graphic but it depends i guess // there’s smut towards the end, also not very explicit but then again, it depends :’)) // i am OBSESSED with her hair, so it would only make sense that my reader is also obsessed

rook’s rest doesn’t exist for me 🥰 fuck rook’s rest, and happiest of birthdays to my absolute badass of a queen 🥳🎂 but fuck her too (affectionate)

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

The market is teeming with hustle and bustle of common folks. A cacophony of vendors shouting and shoppers strolling around, alongside an undertone of your lady’s heeled boots kissing gravel throbs inside your ears, softened only by the cloak that you are currently shrouded under.

Overhead, clouds hang heavy, a grim portrait of gloomy greys and ivory whites, the sun but a vague presence in the silver-lined edges. No shadows paint the ground aside from you who is hot on your lady’s heels. Everywhere she walks, you follow, akin to a shadow perpetually casted on the ground.

Meanwhile, a few children scamper around you, shouting, laughing, and one comes astray, collides with your lady before she continues scurrying on her jolly little way, blissfully unaware. The sudden jostle has the precarious effect on the body in front of you for you notice the break in rhythm of the feet that are taking graceful steps. All at once, you are directly behind her, the gentle sway of her body braced by a stable palm across her back.

“Careful, Prin-” Eyes, a milky-way of green and brown, render you quiet. You are, after all, accompanying your Princess on her covert little trip to town.

Nevertheless, a token of her gratitude follows in the form of the tiniest hint of a smile that beautifully graces her features. Disguised beneath the cloak though her head is, given the close proximity of your bodies, you are granted an audience with wisps of moon-kissed locks caressing the delicate plane of her forehead.

“Walk next to me.” She says, and donning a playful smile, you drop a whisper directly into her ears. “As my lady commands.”

Aloofness shrouds her mien, lips a firm line, although it is not lost on you that there is a twinkle in her eyes, the cause of which dawns on you as soon as a sly hand disappears into the privacy of your cloak. Two of her digits waste no time in pinching your flesh through the fabric of your cloth. Pain blossoms, bringing with it a small wince to your face.

When her fingers remain unrelenting, a grumble flies past your lips, “I jest. I jest.” And only then does she relent with a hum, feet never faltering as you walk abreast, her body the very picture of cool and collected save a smile touching her lips.

“I have promised gifts for my granddaughters. What do you think would delight them?”

“Well, I’m afraid I’m the worst person you could have turned to for such suggestions.”

“Indulge me, then. Go on.”

Ever the woman of queenly manner, even her cadence oozes charisma. It colours your cheeks rosy, bringing forth memories from which the delightful utterance has graced your ears under more intimate circumstances.

“I don’t know.” You begin by clearing your throat, a shrug on your shoulders as you walk. “Perhaps a kiss on their cheeks would suffice? I know for a fact that it would delight me greatly.”

Being both a Princess and a Dragonrider, your lady looks every bit the epitome of poise and gravitas. Seldom does she wear her emotions on her face, head held high and spine ram-rod straight, always an enchanting enigma except to trained eyes which, as a matter of fact, are few and far between, although an aura of authority is effortlessly, perpetually crowned on her Targaryen head. However, having spent a better part of your years by her side, during formal as well as more personal occasions, you have mastered the art of unravelling the subtleties of her features and nuances of her words.

It is how you find yourself now, raising a hand in faux surrender along with a defensive arm across your waist by merely a slight tilt of her head and a gaze to your face.

“Again, I jest.”

In the vicinity of the place where you currently stand, a ruckus suddenly arises, a heated argument between two vendors, it appears, which quickly fans the flames of a full-blown uproar. A crack of thunder is a prelude to the heavy drizzle that descends upon the crowd as fists are thrown, and like a carcass attracting vultures, the fight lures those who have an innate thirst for violence.

While the chaos unfolds, your sole focus is solemnly fixed on the Princess by your side, all the more so because a plethora of people are darting around in panic. You do not know, have no time to seek what your lady’s wishes are as instinct forces you to act. Taking her waist in your arm, you tuck her body into a nook as delicately as possible.

A desperate attempt on your part to narrowly escape the wagon that whizzes past leaves your bodies fitted together, your lady’s back pressed against the wall with your hand behind her head softening the impact. Her breath caresses your face, and the perfumed air is tentalising, fruity with sweet floral notes alongside something that is entirely her.

Meanwhile, the downpour has become more merciless, and you commit to memory the way raindrops cling to her lashes like tiny diamonds.

“Have anyone ever told you that you have such beautiful eyelashes, Princess?”

An arch of an eyebrow accompanies the dainty little rain-soaked lips as they curve into a dizzying smile.

“Evidently, I have.”

“So it seems.” You chuckle, step away, although not before you have adjusted her cloak in such a way that it will offer her face more protection against the rain. “I’m afraid you’ll have to cut your trip short, my lady.”

“It would appear so.”

“Shall we return to the castle then?”

Rivulets of rain travel down your cheeks, and your lady invites herself into your space, mirroring your movement from a while ago as fingers fix the hood on your head, supple in their movements.

“Yes, let’s return home.”

Home.

Home to you is not a place, but rather, a person. A person to whom you have sworn loyalty, to protect, to kill for, and should the need arise, to give your life for. Simply put, your home is by your Princess’s side, and hence, the subtle admission that the castle is as much a home to you as it is to her becomes the culprit behind the joyful little swell of your heart.

The short journey back to the castle is taken by way of a detour, in which you lead your lady through quiet alleyways, except that they are too deserted, almost suspiciously so. Once you reach the town square, you guide your lady to the exit on the other side, a hand on her back as you match her pace.

Beyond the archway, a hooded person is looming out of the darkness, and no sooner have you registered their dubious presence than your hand is grabbing your lady’s waist to urge her behind your body.

“Well, well, look who we have here.”

You recognise the voice to be that of a person from your life before your Princess, a thug who has had unsavoury history with you.

“I don’t have time for your tomfoolery.”

Mockery drips from your lips as you turn, taking your lady by her arm to leave through another archway, but to your vexation, you find that more hooded hooligans have obstructed your path. Hidden beneath your cloak is a sword attached to your hip. Closing your fingers around the hilt of it, you scan your surroundings with a surreptitious move of your eyes. There is a total of five people, six if you include the man standing behind you.

“Don’t you mean, you have no time at all because you see, me and my boys, we’re about to end you right here.”

He taunts you with his words, his insufferable tone grating on your nerves, and irked, you unsheathe your sword, just in time to swivel on your feet and parry his slash, a clang echoing through the alley when your blades collide. At the same time as you hold your stance, a strong kick is unleashed to his chest. The force of it sends him sprawling across the ground, and you let loose a snicker.

“All bark and no bite, eh?”

From your left and right, two of his lapdogs charge at you, and your blade effortlessly cuts through the air in a blur of sharp counterattacks and swift manoeuvres. You make quick work of them, one stab through the abdomen, another through the chest, and they are nothing but marionettes severed of strings, drowning in a pool of their own blood. Following in the wink of an eye is a shower of three more swords that descends upon you in full force, and you block them with your blade, raised horizontally above your head. No matter how well-trained you are, the combined strength of three against one is proving to be a little beyond your endurance.

Your knee has barely braced against the muddy ground when all of a sudden, one of your opponents drops dead, the Velaryon seahorse adorned hilt of a dagger which is embedded in his back letting you know that it has been a product of your lady’s great finesse.

Until now, all of their attention has been fixated on you, but now that your lady has divulged her capabilities, the two lapdogs disperse, one rushing towards your lady with a cry while the other swings his blade at you with renewed vigour. Every inch of your body screams at you to rush to your lady’s side, but the wretched little demon in front of you is giving you no leeway, lavishing you with onslaughts upon onslaughts of attacks, one of which, in your desperation to end him quickly, manages to catch you in your cloak.

“Stay focused, tigress.” As if sensing your distress, your Princess calls out to you. “Don’t worry about me.”

One touch of her voice and fire meets gasoline, the flame within you burning so fiercely that you let out a loud roar.

“Come on! Come at me, you cunt of a coward!!”

Having his feather ruffled by your gibe, he charges at you once more, but when the blade comes, rather than avoiding it, you catch it between your arm and body, trapping the sword and its wielder in place as you push your blade through his chest so hard that a good few length of it escapes through his back. Blood pours out of his sorry little mouth, and retrieving your sword from his body effectively drops him to the ground.

Your lady’s strikes, not as refined though they are as yours, can easily withstand a vermin whose attacks are disorganized at best. Furthermore, she is swift on her feet, wielding the agility of a crane whereas you possess the strength of a tigress, or so your Princess has whispered into your ears, your strikes always heavy, deep and precise.

Speaking of the Princess, your gaze catches her in time to feast your eyes upon her magnificence. The vermin has swung his blade at your lady, but she has gracefully swept down, and before he can recover, her dagger has made his stomach its temporary case, a snug fit. You watch, morbidly fascinated, as blood spills forth the hole once she pulls out her weapon before bestowing another swift stab upon his neck.

Out of five lapdogs, two lie dead at the hands of your lady, and three at yours which leaves only the old hound who at present, is eyeing you with contempt. When he starts advancing however, instead of lunging at you, he opts for your Princess, but having predicted his dirty, old tricks, you easily intercept, swift and light on your feet as your blades clash. You dance around each other in an exchange of onslaughts until once again, you are forced to maintain a firm stance to keep his sword from bearing down on you.

The rain has thinned and through the clouds, the sun’s rays has spilled across Driftmark. In the corner of your eyes, you discern a glint. You notice it a second too late though because one moment, both of his hands are keeping a firm grip on the blade, and the next, one hand has disappeared into his cloak to retrieve a hidden dagger. Nevertheless, his strength barely wavers, and so engrossed in keeping the looming threat at bay you are that you have not been able to stop in time the dagger that stabs you.

Although its sharp tip has scarcely pierced your flesh before you lock your fingers around his wrist, the struggle that pursues leaves a crimson slash across the plane of your stomach. Gritting your teeth, you swallow the pain in fear that it will upset your Princess who apparently has seized the opportunity to deliver cuts to the backs of his knees. Immediately, he falls to the ground with a grunt. Meanwhile, you waste no time in kicking the dagger away from his hand and throwing his blade across the square.

“Bagged yourself another degenerate like yourself, huh? Or did you whore yourself out?”

You are not as perturbed by him making a ridicule out of you as you are livid by his insults towards your lady, but when you have poised to throw a punch to his face, a gentle hand on your arm stops you.

Pulled free of the hood and kissed by sunshine, a waterfall of liquid starlight almost appears to be glowing.

“Lady wife of the Sea Snake.”

She remains silent at his observation, staring him down, but something about him not addressing your lady by her individual title rubs you the wrong way. Still, you will not interfere, for after all, you dance to your lady’s every desire.

Entwined hands resting just below her waist, your Princess has donned intimidation as though it is regalia, a goddess to be worshiped oozing effortless allure.

“I- I didn’t know. Have mercy.”

“I can be merciful if I so choose, but I can’t in good conscience have a vengeful man pouncing on my sworn shield at every chance he gets. And what’s more, you have thrown insults to my face. I could have your tongue for it.” She blinks, sly and languid, slow and deliberate, alongside a small tilt to her head. “So, what do you propose I do, hm?”

“My tongue. If- if it would appease you-”

The old hound in the face of the dragon is like a lamb to the slaughter, grovelling at the feet of the exalted creature who slowly approaches him.

“Insults are insignificant.” So, she drawls, and before he can register a word, a dagger has been plunged so deeply into his throat by way of his mouth that blood gurgles. “Keep your tongue.”

A squelch accompanies the recovery of the dagger. While she wipes it clean off blood on his cloth, you carry out your own retrieval of her other dagger buried in the back of another body. It, too, is wiped clean before being sheathed on her hip.

“Are you alright, my lady?” Your question is answered with a query. “Are you?”

Her gaze, beneath the dapple of daylight, holds the warmth of sunlit amber, flecked with whispers of forest green, and when it caresses your body from head to toe in silent observation, the wound hidden beneath your cloak throbs in harmony with the beat of your heart.

“I am.” You say, and your lopsided grin garners a small smile in return. “It’s high time we returned home then.”

It is only when you have escorted your lady into the safety of her castle that your false bravado comes to light. Your fingers touch your stomach and they come away wet, viscous, and overwhelmingly red. While you are lost in your head, the voice that caresses your ears comes in the form of your name, and you look up to find your lady standing in front of you.

Stickiness clings to your palm as you curl your digits into a fist, but your sorry excuse of an attempt is proven futile when lithe fingers lock around your wrist. A tug coupled with a look from her is all it takes for your fist to pour open. You can almost pinpoint the exact moment when realisation dawns on her, in the delicate lines on her face that have all but calcified into rocky plains.

“Uncloak.” Her tone harbours an icy ring to it by the time she speaks, releasing your hand at the same time, although when you stand unmoving, she demands instead. “Now.”

Pulling your dark cloak open reveals to your lady the cut across your stomach in all its scarlet, grisly glory. There is a twitch to her jaw as well as a tiny tilt to her head, and when she looks at you, a tempest brews in her eyes, but beneath the blaze of storm-tossed sea, dark and churning with a blazing anger, you find a shadow of concern.

“Pay a visit to the Maester, get it treated, and by nightfall, I want you in my chambers.”

And so, that is how you find yourself in your lady’s chambers after getting the crimson slash properly cleaned, stitched and wrapped in fresh linens at the masterful hands of House Valeryon’s Maester.

The door shuts with a soft click, and a greeting falls past your lips.

“Princess.”

You have crossed paths with her handmaiden in the corridors leading up to the chambers, and she must have helped your lady get ready for bed, you conclude, for the Princess is now comfortably clothed. Oddly enough however, her braids are not yet unwoven which is how you find her now, sitting in front of her vanity desk, a waterfall of white silk flowing down her back.

As if possessing a mind of their own, your legs carry you towards your lady before depositing you directly behind her back. Immediately, reverently, your fingers make a descent onto the intricate little bun perched atop her head, during which the Princess regards you silently through the mirror’s reflection. With much delicacy, you unbind the thick braid that is keeping the bun in place, and doing so spills another layer of those silken locks in an effortless cascade down her back.

“You would do well to remember-” It is amidst you undoing one of the smaller braids that her voice graces your ears for the first time since you have set foot in her chambers. Meanwhile, her gaze finds yours in the mirror. “-that your fealty to me is to no avail should you lie wounded and are unable to fulfill your duties.”

“But what good is a sworn shield who cannot…well…” With a sigh, you drop your gaze to your hands before seeking her eyes once more. “…shield?”

“And what good is a sworn shield who cannot stand?”

“I am perfectly capable of standing though.”

“Are you?”

And then, she is turning on her seat, a lock of her star-kissed hair slipping through your fingers like liquid silver, as she seizes you by your tunic. In the wink of an eye, dainty lips collide with your own, all but sucking your soul out of your body, and your witty remark, which you have been intending to let loose, dissolves on her tongue altogether.

Such marks the epilogue to your little repartee.

While one hand holds a fistful of fabric, another wanders, ghosting along your thigh to then settle on your stomach, fingertips dancing across the gauze before it grabs your waist. A wicked pad of a thumb presses onto your side, and the outcome is just shy of agony, a whimper being fed into your lady’s mouth as your knees very nearly fail you.

“Kneel.”

With a mere touch of her murmured breath branded so deliciously onto your lips that are presently bearing the fruit of her ardent assaults, you are instantly reduced to a puddle at her feet, eager to worship your goddess.

“Hmm, I thought as much.”

“Well,-” Your tone is tinged with a whine, whereas a smile blossoms on your face. “-that was unfair.”

“Are you questioning your Princess?”

You tuck your face into her stomach, dropping a little kiss onto the spot where you think her navel lies.

“I wouldn’t dare, Princess.”

In the meantime, fingers trace patterns on your cheek, caress the outline of your jaw, and closing your eyes, you revel in the luxurious sensation up until a palm that cradles your face coaxes you out of your sweet sanctuary.

“It would be cruel of me to have you remain kneeling.” As she speaks, her thumb maps each curve and contour of your lips, which, swollen by now, speaks of whispered words and the heady waltz of fervent kisses. “I believe improvisations are in order.”

“Strip.”

And strip, you do, for at present, you stand only in your loose trousers.

Gracefully, tentalisingly, your lady arises, and even though a few braids remain in place, her hair, now freed from its confine, flows freely past her hip, a cascade of luminous waves shimmering like moonlight upon a still lake. Her gaze, on the other hand, is fixed on the linen that is entirely wrapped around your waist. The seepage of blood from the wound paints the white fabric in a vague vermillion which offers a glimpse into the extent of the injury.

“It will heal in no time, my lady.” Your attempt at soothing your lady is received with a gentle threat. “I do not tolerate imprudence. Nor deceit. It would do you well to remember that.”

“I will, Princess. But it doesn’t mean I won’t do it all over again if it concerns your safety.”

“Stubborn as ever.”

“My Princess likes me stubborn though, doesn’t she?”

“With that bold tongue of yours, count yourself lucky that I do.” Although she has leveled you with a glare, the blaze of which can very well put the sun to shame, you smile a cheeky little grin, looking every bit the picture of a cat that has eaten the canary, or rather, a tigress who has eaten the dragon. “That I agree. My tongue is capable of doing unimaginable wonders after all.”

You feel her hands move, and fearing that her fingers are once again going to subject you to those ruthless torments, you quickly raise your hands in surrender. She proves you wrong however by snaking her fingers into the waistband of your trousers.

“These need to go too.”

Your Princess has said her command, and like the very devotee that you are, your hands make swift work of getting rid of the only piece of clothing that is covering your body. Meanwhile, what enters your line of sight is a heap of white fabric that pools at your lady’s feet.

A breath catches in your throat, your heart beating with an awe so profound that it borders on reverence. She is a nymph of old tales, a creature of myth sung by the bards, born of the elements and graced with the beauty of the divine. Her presence, lucid and otherworldly at the same time, seems to draw the very light towards her, bathed in a halo of celestial radiance.

Your lady’s bare frame, delicate and strong, speaks of both grace and power, a goddess in her own right. It is a sight that will never tire you, and despite having seen it before, you are awed anew by such glorious vision. Your gaze lingers, admiring the soft curves and the rise and fall of her chest, enthralled by the sheer wonder of her existence that stirs the deepest corner of your soul.

Fascinated, you go to take her hips in your hands, but a push from her, and pliantly, you let yourself fall onto the mattress, for after all, a dragon will always be a dragon no matter the circumstances. You have not so much as blinked when she climbs atop the bed to straddle your body, toned thighs, befitting a dragon-rider of her caliber, on either side of your ribcage.

Your lips collide.

Amidst the clash of tongues and teeth, your hands find home on her waist, flesh supple and soft beneath your fingertips, as you move to sit up, lifting your lady slightly to reposition her on your lap, a special throne fit for your Queen.

Wetness oozes, and as soon as you feel the heat of her core on your thigh, you moan, but given that you are locked in place by a hand grabbing a fistful of your hair and an arm around your neck, it tumbles directly into her mouth. There is a sway to her hips, her essence coating your flesh, and all too eagerly, you encourage the dragon-rider to ride your thigh to her heart’s content, hands sliding into the delicious little dip of her waist as you help her maintain the rhythm that she has set.

Her lips part from yours with a delectable little mewl. Those delicate buds, once dainty, now beautifully bears the bloom of passion’s visit. Each swell hints at the fervor of love’s embrace, leaving them a charming, rosy hue, a testament to moments of rapture. Coated in a layer of dew, they glisten softly in the warm glow, as if kissed by dawn itself, promising the sweet ache of desire.

Like a siren’s call, they lure you, and enchanted, you give in, raising a hand to gently trace the curve of her lips beneath your fingertips. A gasp escapes your lips once your wrist is caught in her hand. Another catches in your throat when two of your fingers are sucked into her mouth.

Every ridge and bone is visited by a velveteen tip of a tongue, licking, prodding, and by the time she guides your hand between her legs, your fingers are as equally soaked as her core. They slip inside smoothly to be enveloped in luxurious softness. Curling your fingers into a cruel, little curve seems to drown your lady in sweet suffering if the way her forehead falls atop your shoulder to muffle the sounds, that very nearly spill out of her, with a bite to your flesh is any indication.

Beneath the soft folds of her belly, you can see muscles straining, hidden little pearl, hard and sensitive, grinding against your palm to seek friction. Meanwhile, your love-struck gaze is busy admiring the lovely little freckles that are scattered across her chest, a spillage of stars, and upon chasing them with your lips, syrupy sweet kisses blossom in their wake.

The sight of her trembling frame as she rides your fingers is a scene worthy to be immortalised in art form, but at the same time, you frankly doubt that bards and painters all across Westeros can truly do your lady’s ethereal beauty justice. Swelling to near bursting with adoration, you hold her to your chest, fingers doing their job in the warm cavern of her core, and in doing so, you earn yourself a nibble to your neck, lips closing around your pulse point, sucking, kissing.

Hot air escapes your mouth as you bury your nose in the healthy mane of her hair.

“You seem awfully fond of my hair, tigress.” She pants, whereas you smile, nuzzling her silky strands that are not only smooth but also addictively fragrant. “Fond is an understatement, Princess.”

“What is it, then?”

“Love.”

“You love my hair?”

You abandon your happy, little haven in favour of taking her face in your hand. Tiny pearls of sweat blooms on her forehead while her lips are slightly parted. A knit occupies the space between her eyebrows while her eyes, usually an intense hazel brown, are now hazy with hunger.

“I love you,-” It is into the delicate lines forming at the corner of her mouth that you breathe your admission. “-and everything you have to offer.”

She says nothing, but you doubt even a thousand spoken words will be capable of touching you the way you feel deeply touched by being made aware of the effect it has on her in the fluttering of her folds as they clench your fingers. Your lady has died that sweet little death in your embrace, head collapsing onto your shoulder. It is only when her muscles have relaxed, and her core has released its grip on your fingers that they can finally slip out.

“And my dear tigress.” Fingers lazily toy with your hair. “Yes, Princess?”

“Don’t you dare hide your wounds from me ever again.” Your arms wrap around her body to hold her a little closer, a little tighter, into which she happily melts, rare moments where you can witness her softer, more affectionate side.

Nevertheless, you must have taken too long to her liking because the delicate flesh of your neck falls victim to her teeth.

“Do I make myself clear?”

Although she has left you throbbing in pain, the happiness that swells inside your chest easily prevails over anything and everything, burning so fiercely that you feel as if you can conquer the Seven Kingdoms to offer it to her on a diamond platter. Suppressing your silly little urge, you content yourself instead with a delicate press of a kiss to her bare shoulder.

“Delightfully so, Princess.”

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#house of the dragon #rhaenys targaryen x reader #rhaenys targaryen velaryon x reader #rhaenys velaryon x reader #rhaenys targaryen #rhaenys velaryon #rhaenys the queen who never was #hotd s2 #hotd fanfic #hotd season 2 #hotd #asoiaf #character x reader #eve best #fanfic

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enkays-den · 3 months

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Hermits as birds from where they live/were born!

note: my knowledge is centered around North American birds, so sorry if the european ones aren't super accurate

Bdubs: Northern Saw-Whet Owl. He's just a little guy with big eyes. Small and evil, love him

Cub: Common Starling. Skulk like-iridescence, incredibly friendly. Plus, with Cub running the horn store this season, he NEEDED to be the bird that can imitate pretty much any noise it hears

Doc: Bonelli's Eagle. Large raptor found in Germany. It's straight "brow" and hunched posture remind me of Doc

Etho: Common Loon. THE! CANADIAN! BIRD! Despite being "common", their pattern is simply EXQUISITE Plus, it has a red eye! Also listen to the noises these things make, it's literally stock nature sounds all in one bird. Also, I'd put Etho on my one dollar coin.

False: Barn Owl. Very elegant owl, I just feel it suits her, that's all. Very stately posture.

Gem (Season 10 specifically): Great Blue Heron. It's a fisher, it's blue, it's menacing, what more could you ask for?

Scar (Hotguy): Double-crested Cormorant: A waterfowl bc scar did competitive swimming, it's got a slightly funky shape which I feel suits scar's personality. It also has the Hotguy colors!

Grian: Eurasian Bullfinch. Parrot Grian will not reign supreme. Look at that little guy. He's mischievous, he's red, I do not trust him.

Hypno: Stellar's Jay. My provincial bird! I just think both have very chill and cool personalities

Jevin: Lazuli Bunting. Just a little blue guy!

Impulse: American Goldfinch. Black and yellow, need I say more?

Iskall: Booted Eagle. Something about a stout raptor just feels right. Look at that posture. Reminds me of when Iskall tries to copy the brits' accents.

Joe: Turkey Vulture. Although seen as odd or menacing, all vultures are integral to the local ecosystem and are in actuality, very elegant and gentle birds.

Keralis: Boreal Owl. Yes, I did make the two guys with big eyes owls, What of it? LOOK at him. Put a little hardhat on him, put a little hawiian shirt on him. Precious sweet face.

Mumbo: Avocet. It's basically a vibe check and a mustache joke.

Peal: Black Swan. Big 5AM Pearl vibes. Giant, beautiful, protective. Love that for her.

Ren: Giant Kingfisher. Obligatory King Ren joke, it's a South African bird, and it's kinda goofy looking. I think the speckled feathers look like a ruffled fur collar on a king's cape.

Skizz: Golden Eagle. Large, majestic, hella strong, and he's wearing pants :3

Joel: Tree Swallow. Very small, beautiful, agile bird. The swallow's wings remind me of Asian art styles.

Stress: Magpie. GOR-JUS and LOUD. Imagine her next to Iskall (they're very similar in size, bless them)

Tango: Swainson's Hawk. I fought every bone in my body to not make an Arizona Cardinals joke when I already made a Phoenix Coyotes one maybe half an hour before. The Swainson's hawk is on the smaller size, but still a deadly spitfire, which I think suits Tango

TFC: Brown Pelican. A solitary bird, definitely a rare sighting. TFC was always joking about how much he would eat, I thought a pelican was apt

Beef: Barred Owl. MY FAVORITE OWL. I literally call them 'round beefy boys' and they're just so sweet and I love them

Wels: American Kestrel. I LOVE these little guys. Simply the smallest, cutest and beautiful falcon there is. They're about the size of a pigeon. It's just got such a regal posture despite being a little cutie.

XB: Rock Pigeon. Despite being common and seen as a "dumb pest", they are pretty intelligent, there's a reason they were used to carry messages around. They're also a close relation to doves! The green collar also is like the jacket collar on his skin.

Xisuma: Semipalmated Plover. X and Mumbo were both chosen because of how those birds run on the beach. They're RIDICULOUS. This subspecies is exclusively because it look like he's wearing a little helmet.

Zedaph: Firecrest. Just the GOOFIEST little guy I found on the wiki of British birds. Look at that thing /aff. Also, Zed do be blowing up a lot

Cleo: Partridge. Beautiful bird, looks like they want to kill you in your sleep, just like Cleo.

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semisomnosres · 4 months

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I'll try to throw in a little bit of lore

A mysterious disease that only the Norisu clan could resist at the cost of their lives. Unfortunately, it was not possible to completely eradicate it and it terrorizes the city to this day, and only a ninja, thanks to the mask, can fight monsters without being absorbed by this filth. The disease is called the “Sorcerer’s Curse”; in ancient Japan it was believed that all illnesses and misfortunes were the fault of demons/yokai/punishment of the gods and other evil spirits. It all started with the fact that one of the first infected was mistaken for an evil sorcerer who cast a curse on everyone, which was completely wrong, but rumors spread like wildfire, and somehow, imperceptibly, this name stuck. (The First already has a shitload of things to do, he is one of those people who, if he could, would not blink so that he could work more, but coming up with an adequate name and then accustoming people to it is clearly not what he wants to spend his time on.)

Mutated beasts appeared just as unexpectedly along with the infection. Ugly, evil, hungry creatures, wreaking chaos and eating everyone they find. They usually live and hunt in their own territory, but at the same time they have the audacity to sneak into the city to hunt. The curse had a strong impact on the environment, poisoning the land for years and changing it over so many years so that some places resemble nightmares. (For example: Trees that look like a trypophobic hell, boiling swamps where even the steam burns to the point of pain, living pieces of meat growing straight from the ground and other delights that an adequate person would not want to see in person)

It’s relatively safe within the city, except for moments of monster attacks (which a ninja can handle) and shitty weather: hail of icy needles, acid rain season, etc. This is already common and people have adapted to such conditions over so many years. But there are also truly dangerous places where only a ninja or a complete idiot would go. (the level with the swamp from Dark Souls says hello)

From time to time, Randy has to go there voluntarily (forcibly), because only there can he get ingredients for some drugs (like those cones for creating smoke bombs) Infected people - It is quite easy to distinguish from animals - by preserved human features, personal belongings, hair, and the ability to speak humanly (but usually it turns out something incoherent, or the infected person repeats the same word) Over time, their consciousness and body will change more and more: they will begin to forget about themselves, become more aggressive and experience constantly incessant pain from body deformation and insatiable hunger (The speed of development of the virus depends on the person, some can retain their sanity and control over their actions to the last, while others They immediately break down and begin to attack those around them)

Although there are difficult situations, it will be possible to reverse the transformation, but there is an exception. - if they eat a person, or simply taste blood, then they are immediately classified as beasts and belong to extermination. (there is another point of infection, which I will talk about a little later). As in the canon, they are also called Abominations, but for a slightly different reason. In origa, their breath simply stinks, here the unpleasant odor appears due to the decomposition of cells by parasites. They smell like rotten meat in swamp soil and metal.

Logically, I decided to make changes in the approach to battles. (combat medics) They also use weapons/magic, etc., but in the original the ninja has a choice of how hard and how deep he will push the nunchucks into someone’s insides, there are more choices of poisons and types of heals.

Another idea is that it depends on the character of the ninja whether the treatment will be painless or even the feeling of an injection will be the same as being hit with a knife

And I will mention a person who has an important role in the city - McFist. As a true smart-ass capitalist, he managed to make money from the epidemic. (And more precisely, selling all sorts of devices for home protection, umbrellas against acid rain, alarms, etc. And his second profitable industry is the funeral home) Not to say that he is a straight-up villain here, he rather has the vibe of an annoying neighbor. It infuriates him that a ninja, in the heat of fulfilling his duties, can (accidentally) ruin some of his stores, and the ninja is annoyed that it’s up to him to clean up the consequences of some of his awesome ideas (for example, he will build a plant right near the borders of the city, where in the end the pipeline became for monsters highway directly to the city sewer system.)

#semisomnosres #rc9gn #randy cunningham 9th grade ninja #randy cunningham #randy cunningham 10th grade plague ninja au #rc10gpnau #again the translator does all the work #I can imagine Randy trying to pull a man out of the mouth of a mutant #like a dog owner when he saw that his pet was holding something in his mouth #rc9gn au #rc9gn first ninja #first ninja

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anonymousewrites · 5 months

Text

A Not-So-Disastrous Romance (Book 1) Chapter One

Kusuo Saiki x Reader

Chapter One: Girl Problems and Beach Woes

Summary: Saiki tries to avoid Yumehara since she has a crush on him and gets dragged to the beach.

“How do you get a girl to stop liking you?”

“I thought Teruhashi was just confused about how you don’t react to her,” said (Y/N). They weren’t offput by the sudden conversation. Saiki wasn’t one to beat around the bush. And, hey, it was nice to have people get straight to the point.

“It’s someone else.”

“Well, aren’t you popular!” teased (Y/N).

Saiki gave them a look. “I don’t want to be.”

“Alright, I understand,” said (Y/N). “The best way to get a girl to stop liking you is to stop giving her hope, get her a different guy, or get a partner yourself. However, there are some girls who will never lose hope. In that case, it’s pointless to do anything. Only time would solve that one.”

“So if her attempts to flirt with me or get to know me don’t work, she might lose interest?”

“Yeah, unless she’s a determined one.” (Y/N) shrugged.

I already know what Yumehara is planning, but I can’t let (Y/N) know since it wouldn’t be normal. “What might a girl do?” asked Saiki.

“Hmm, she’ll probably use classic tropes like bumping into you from around a corner. She might ‘drop’ books or papers to make sure you have a reason to stick around,” explained (Y/N), “She might use a slight variation of that by dropping something of hers by you and pretending not to notice.” They smiled. “Those are some of the common ones, at least.”

“Alright,” said Saiki.

“Good luck!” said (Y/N).

The day had ended, and (Y/N) stood out in the rain. The students passed by them with umbrellas, but (Y/N) paid them no mind. The downpour was rejuvenating. It made them feel alive. They spun around, feeling the rain on their skin. Was it a little manic-pixie-dream-person? Sure. But it was also “Singing in the Rain,” which is classy and not a terrible cliché.

Yare yare. They’re going to get sick from that.

They held their arms out wide, tilting their head to the sky and closing their eyes. At that exact moment, a beam of light struck the sky. A circle of light fell down, hitting (Y/N) at just the right angle. They seemed to glow.

If someone saw them, maybe they’d say “oh, wow.” If.

The moment ended as the sky cleared, and Saiki teleported down, walking out to where (Y/N) was waiting.

“Hey, Saiki, solve your problem?” asked (Y/N), pushing their damp hair back.

“You look like that and you’re asking about me?” Saiki deadpanned more than usual.

“What’s life without a bit of romance?”

“What does dancing in the rain have to do with being in a relationship with someone?” questioned Saiki.

“Romance is also about the feeling of excitement and separation from the everyday,” said (Y/N), smiling. “I like to enjoy the little things in life. Some people like to be serious—” they grinned at him teasingly “—but I like a little fun. And anyways, you haven’t told me whether or not you solved your problem!”

Saiki looked back to where Yumehara was standing under an umbrella with a boy and blushing. He could hear her thoughts, and she was already into the new guy (although Saiki was slightly insulted about how easily she got over him). “Yeah, it all worked out in the end.”

(Y/N) followed the pink-haired boy’s gaze and saw the pair. They found it strange that the pair were under an umbrella since it was sunny outside now, but it was sweet all the same. “Aw, what a nice ending. She has happiness, and you have one less bother.”

“Finally.”

A couple days later, (Y/N) headed over to Saiki’s. They were bored, planned to go to the beach, and wanted someone to go with. Coincidentally, Nendou had the same idea and was going to Saiki’s house. Together, they knocked on the door.

Yare yare. I can’t read either of their minds, so I didn’t realize it was them before opening the door. Saiki sighed inwardly.

“Hey, pal!” said Nendou, “Let’s go to the beach!”

“It’s so sunny and beautiful! You can waste tomorrow inside,” said (Y/N), knowing exactly what Saiki was up to. They put their hands on their hips and grinned. In their pink swim-shorts and white swim shirt, they weren’t very threatening.

“A-a-are they Kuu’s friends?” asked Mrs. Saiki in complete shock.

“He’s not my friend.” Then, realizing what he forgot, Saiki added, “Neither are they.”

“Wahh! This is the first time any of Kuu’s friends have come to our house to visit.” Mrs. Saiki was nearly in tears. “I’m so happy!”

“We’re best friends,” declared (Y/N) proudly, and Saiki deadpanned.

“To think that Kuu has finally gotten a best friend!” Mrs. Saiki dabbed at her eyes.

“Hey, pal, I didn’t know you had a big sister,” said Nendou.

“He thought I was his big sister! I’m so happy!” Tears continued streaming down Saiki’s mother’s face.

“Just how many times are you going to make my mom cry?” asked Saiki.

“Yeah, I’m starting to feel kinda bad, even if they are happy tears,” admitted (Y/N).

“What? What? You’re his mom?” Nendou was surprised. “Me and pinky here are off to the beach and came to ask him to join us.”

“Why am I pinky?” wondered (Y/N).

“You wear a lot of pink,” said Saiki matter-of-factly.

“Oh, that sounds nice,” commented Mrs. Saiki happily.

“Obviously, I’m not going. I’ll spare myself the pain,” said Saiki.

His mother suddenly had a scary look on her face. “Your friends went to all the trouble to come and get you. You’re going to the beach, Kusuo.”

“Oh,” said Saiki. He wasn’t going to argue with her. He may be a psychic, but she was still his mom and quite intimidating at times.

They had arrived at the beach finally. Along the way, the group had picked up Kaidou as well, who was now being teased by Nendou since he didn’t want to get in the water (it seemed he couldn’t swim, though he denied this).

Saiki sat down on his beach towel. (Y/N) spread theirs out beside him. They lay back and closed their eyes, basking in the sun’s warmth. A nice moment of peace was just what they needed before they started swimming.

“Kaidou’s drowning.”

“Huh?!” They sat up suddenly, and sure enough, Kaidou was floundering on his back in three inches of water. (Y/N) breathed a sigh of relief. “You almost gave me a heart attack, Saiki!”

“I’ll save you!” came an energetic cry. A lifeguard dove into the water, sliding on his stomach because it was shallow. Unfortunately, his swimsuit got stuck in the sand, revealing his bare bottom. It was, of course, Hairo.

“Oh, it’s you, Hairo!” said Nendou.

“Great job, Hairo!” cheered (Y/N).

“Why are you congratulating him? Kaidou wasn’t in danger.”

“Because it’s nice,” answered (Y/N). They were there to encourage their friend.

“Oh, Nendou, (Y/N)! You, too, Saiki?” commented Hairo.

Saiki didn’t answer. He was too busy reading.

“What’re you doing here?” asked Nendou after they were out of the water.

“I volunteer as a lifeguard,” explained Hairo.

“Ahhh! I’m drowning!” screamed a swimmer.

“I’m coming!” yelled Hairo. He dove into the water and swam out to sea.

“Volunteering when it’s this hot? That’s amazing,” said Nendou. “Hey, pal, pinky, aren’t you guys gonna swim?”

“Just forget I’m here,” said Saiki, not looking up from his book.

“I might in a moment,” said (Y/N), smiling.

The tall boy looked disheartened until spying a group of girls. “Okay, then!” He put on shades. “I’ll go hit on girls.”

“Do you have any idea what you’re saying?” commented Saiki.

“He lost interest in swimming pretty quickly,” said (Y/N), amused.

“Hey, have you ever looked in a mirror?” cried Kaidou from behind Nendou, “Why don’t you try walking on walker?! You have better odds of pulling that off!”

“Tsk, tsk, tsk. Guys’ looks aren’t important.” Nendou gave a confident thumbs-up. “It’s all about attitude.”

While Nendou walked off and was (inevitably) rejected by multiple girls, (Y/N) turned to Saiki.

“Sorry you got dragged here,” said (Y/N).

“Weren’t you the one who invited me?” questioned Saiki.

“Well, yeah…” (Y/N) rubbed the back of their head sheepishly. “But I wanted you to come by choice. I didn’t expect your mom to be so scary.” They smiled at the pink-haired boy. “So anyways, feel free to stay here and read. If you need me, I’ll be swimming.” They stood up and headed towards the water.

“Yare yare. The other idiots are just going to come bother me, so I’ll join you.” He glanced over to where Nendou was chasing after girls. “And I don’t want people to think I’m with him.” He took off his jacket and t-shirt, stole Nendou’s floatie, and began walking to the water.

“That’s fair,” admitted (Y/N), cringing at poor, clueless Nendou.

Soon enough, the pair were swimming in the ocean. No words were needed; both enjoyed the soft sounds of the waves (Saiki was plagued by people’s thoughts, however). Saiki decided to give (Y/N) a turn in the floatie so they could relax their muscles from swimming (and so he could swim down to the bottom of the ocean to try to avoid thoughts). (Y/N) was bobbing on the waves watching the shore, not paying attention to Saiki, when something caught their attention. A young girl seemed to be floundering in the waves.

“Is that girl in trouble?” they wondered, concerned and stressed now. There was no response. “Saiki?” They frowned and turned to where their friend should be, but he was gone. Worried for the girl, (Y/N) left the floatie and began to swim over. They tried to drag the device behind them, but it was cumbersome and slowed them down. They let it go and swam to the girl, who was already sinking. (Y/N) held their breath and dove under. They dragged the girl to the surface, gasping for air. Struggling to support the unconscious woman, (Y/N) started to pull her to the shore.

Luckily, Nendou, already carrying Kaidou, arrived and helped hold the girl. “All right!” said Nendou. “You doin’ good, pinky?”

“I’m fine,” panted (Y/N), relieved to have some of the weight lifted from them.

“Hey! What happened?” asked Hairo, swimming up to them energetically.

“Oh, Hairo! Great timing,” said (Y/N).

“Give us a hand!” said Nendou.

“Sure, I’ll h—Ahh! My leg’s cramped!” Hairo began to fall below the waves.

Oh, boy. (Y/N) sighed and pulled Hairo up. They and Nendou were now holding up three people between them.

“You, too?! Geez,” said Nendou.

“Sorry,” mumbled Hairo.

“It’s fine, let’s just hurry to shore,” said (Y/N).

Yare yare. They’re so high maintenance. Saiki swam up from underneath them.

“This is too much for you guys! Let go of me!” said Hairo.

“Shut up!” said Nendou, but he was starting to fall underwater.

(Y/N) wasn’t fairing much better. They had already been swimming for a while before doing this, so they were exhausted. “Crap…!” They fell below the waves with Nendou and the others. Nendou grabbed them, but they continued to sink. Suddenly, they were lifted above the waves. (Y/N) felt something was support them from below.

“A-Are you standing on water?” gasped Hairo.

No, I’m holding them up, thought Saiki. He began carrying them to shore but made it appear like Nendou was running across the waves.

“See? Didn’t I tell you that you could pick up walking on water faster than you could pick up girls?” said Kaidou.

Just as they were about to the shore, (Y/N) slipped from Nendou’s grasp and fell into the water. Nendou was close enough to walk everybody to the beach, so Saiki let go of him. He dove deeper into the water and grabbed (Y/N)’s wrist, pulling them up with him. Calmly, he carried them out of the water and put them down on the beach gently. (Y/N) coughed up water but seemed unharmed.

“Are you okay?” asked Saiki.

“I’ll feel better after some rest,” said (Y/N), smiling. “Thank you for saving me.”

Saiki sighed. It seemed to be a sound of exasperation, but it was really a sound of relief. He didn’t like his friends (acknowledged or not) being hurt. “It’s getting late. Let’s go.”

(Y/N) grinned at him. “Good idea.” They decided not to harp on Saiki helping them. They’d not tease him like that.

Saiki and (Y/N) gathered up their stuff and began walking back with Nendou and Kaidou, who had been talking to the girl who was saved.

“Knowing you, I thought you’d demand something in return for saving you,” said Kaidou to Nendou.

“Humph, I wouldn’t do something so lame,” said Nendou, “Of course, if she fell in love with me, well, I guess I’d have to live with it, right?”

(Y/N) sweat-dropped but was amused at their dramatic expressions. They doubted that in particular would happen. After all, just saving someone’s life wouldn’t make them fall in love. That being said, it was a rather nice thing to do.

And I guess it is a nice fantasy, thought (Y/N). And being saved by Saiki was fun, like a fairytale.

…Huh? That was a new thought.

“That won’t happen,” said Kaidou.

“What’d you say?!” demanded Nendou.

(Y/N) began laughing at their antics. They could put those thoughts on the backburner.

“You never got thanked by that girl, aren’t you upset that Nendou gets the recognition?” asked Saiki.

Huh, I thought he wasn’t around when that happened… thought (Y/N). They shrugged. “She was saved. That’s all that matters, right? I imagine that if you were saving people you wouldn’t care about recognition.”

Saiki blinked. Am I sure they aren’t a psychic?

Taglist:

@elaemae

@painstakingly-juno

@characterreaderwriter

@melovepurple

@sleep-7372

@w0mank1sser

@geminigengar

@noodleryworld

@leonardo-dabitchy

@janezee12751275

@xenop0p

@ex160-blog1

@futureittomainn

#a not so disastrous romance #x reader #gn reader #nb reader #x gn reader #x nb reader #saiki kusuo #the disastrous life of saiki k #saiki no psi nan #saiki k #kusuo saiki #saiki x reader #saiki kusuo x reader #saiki k x reader #kusuo saiki x reader #the disaster of psi kusuo saiki

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prof-peach · 11 months

Note

So I have this cubone, except he’s???? Missing the skull???? He seems fine behavior wise although I’m no expert, but I don’t know if I should like get him a hat or a helmet or something??

(Ooc but i found him at a convention like this and i needed him so bad my little baldy cubone <3)

So all cubone dont have skulls when they first hatch, again, the common dex suggests they do, this is not the case.

A mating pair have between 1-3 eggs on avarage per clutch, and usually either the last one to hatch and stay with them in their lifetime, OR the eldest that is still present in their lives will inherit the skulls of their parents if possible. This leaves a fair few cubone without one, and is perfectly normal and fine. Theyre more than capable of finding a new one in time, often earned in battle, from vanquished foe, so you see a lot of cubone with unusual skull helmets that dont match up with the dex's limited information.

I've lived with a cubone for years that activley swaps his skull helmet out depending on his mood, so i'd really not worry. You could certianly offer your little dude a cool hat, helmet, or even look into sustainably sourced skulls, people have to buy replacements all the time as they break during battles, or day to day through accidents. If your pokemon is a little bruiser like ours is, i'd also suggest checking in with rangers local to you to see if theres a mass outbreak of one pokemon type, if there is and your pokemon is interested, it could fell a foe and earn its own skull helmet, though this is not for the feint of heart, and can be a bit...full on for trainers.

Health wise not having one will not hurt the pokemon, they may be grouchier when it rains, and could do with some sun protection in the summer, but thats pretty straight forward with or without the helmet. I'd not encourage moves like skull bash or iron head without the missing part however, so perhaps it may come up later on, depending on how old and battle minded your cubone is.

There are options, but its not something you need to stress heavily over.

#i ignore the egg hatching in games its ridiculous #this is just my own little headcanon on them #take it or leave it #i do not mind hon #prof.peach #pokemon #peach talks

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mybelovedwoo · 1 year

Note

Cutie! I love your recent ateez headcannon of how they would act after an argument

and it just made me wonder, what type of arguments would you think the members would have or the most common topic

an example would be like “_ tend to get jealous”

Hi lovely! Thank u so much for your request and also for liking my last headcanon!!!!

I wrote a scenario for each of the members, maybe this isn't what you were thinking about, but I hope you still like it

argument with ateez - headcanon

being in cold waters with ateez members pt.2

headcanon, romance, angst

gn!reader x bf!atz

wc. ~ 1.3k

an: you can request headcanons if you want to!! if you want to be tagged in any of my fics you can apply here !! kinda a pt. 2 to after an argument with ateez

masterlist

hongjoong

-i feel like he couldn't hold back his jealousy, he tried his best, but when he saw how close you got to one of the members, although you were just friends, he could not hold it back anymore, or maybe he didn't want to

-he walks up to you when you're talking with seonghwa, he sees how happy you looked, you were laughing, but when seonghwa put his hand on your shoulder, he felt like he's about to explode with anger

-it wasn't anything serious, you knew it, seonghwa knew it and hongjoong knew it too, it was a friendly touch, but you knew your boyfriend can get a bit possessive, although never in a toxic way

-so he basically removes seonghwa's hand from your shoulder, he isn't saying a word, just grabs your hand and pulls you aside

-he's not going to mention it until you arrive home

seonghwa

-i think arguments with seonghwa are about just misunderstanding each other, because of miscommunication or lack of communication because neither of you wants to hurt the other, but it just causes an uneasy feeling in both of you

-one-night seonghwa asked you to do the dishes until he takes a shower, so you two can go to bed earlier, but you were on your phone and time just flew by, and you completely forgot to do them

-when he came out of the bathroom he saw you sitting in the same position just as he left you, he didn't wanna mention it because he's not one who will scold you for such a thing, but it hurt him a little how you ignored him

-after he finished washing the dishes, he went straight to the bedroom to get ready to sleep, you noticed that something is wrong when he didn't speak to you when you asked him a question, you genuinely forgot about your duties so you were hurt by his actions too

-the lack of communication caused an argument between you, so expect of going to bed earlier you two were up all night because of it

yunho

-okay this one is hard because I feel like it's really rare to have an argument with yunho, but when it happens it's mostly because of you (sorry not sorry, but this man is perfect)

-so you two went out to get some coffee in the morning, it was your usual routine nothing special

-the problem started when the barista at this new coffee shop you went to was one of his old classmates, you didn't want to see more into it, but you couldn't help but feel insecure, your boyfriend is literally THE PERFECT MAN

-when you saw that the girl was clearly flirting with him you didn't blame her, you would probably do the same in her shoes, but you felt invisible next to him

-yunho knew something is off when you refused to hold his hand the way back to your apartment

yeosang

-ugh so arguments with yeosang can be difficult because you never know what to expect from him

-it was literally the smallest thing, but you couldn't help but snap at your boyfriend, he knew he didn't do anything wrong and you knew it too, it was just one of those days you had to take your stress out on someone, and unfortunately he was the person who was there at the wrong time

-you didn't really want to cook dinner in the first place, you were very tired, but you started anyways because you knew your boyfriend is hungry and so are you

-you were confused when the doorbell rang, who in the hell would disturb you at this time, when you opened the door and saw the delivery guy with fried chicken in his hands saying this is for kang yeosang you just lost it

-yeosang didn't know you were preparing dinner for him, and was genuinely sorry, but you just needed some time to calm down

san

-san is a really sensitive guy, he loves you more than anything so it's rare that he hurt you, he is very careful to not do that ever, but sometimes it happens anyway

-yesterday he told you he would come pick you up after his dance practice since you finished at the same time as he, so you can go home together, you were so excited about it the whole day

-when you were waiting for more than anhour for san, you knew he forgot about you and he is not coming, for god sake he didn't even pick up his phone

-you weren't mad at him, you knew he is a busy man, but you couldn't help but feel disappointed, you would at least expect a text from him or something

- it was around 8 o'clock at night, he came home, three hours later

-he told you how sorry he is, and that he went straight to your workplace when he noticed that he screwed up, he said he forgot to check the time, you still weren't mad at him and he hated that the most, he wanted you to be mad at him because he was mad at himself

mingi

-do I really have to say it? he is upset with you because he feels like you don't give him enough attention, he just wants to spend every time he has with you, he feels like you abonded his moral loyalty

-you told him that you're gonna meet up with your friend since you both are free and you haven't met in a long time

-he wouldn't have any problem with this if he didn't have his day off today too, he planned that he would spend the whole day with you as he always does on these are occasions

-he told you about how upset he is that you are going out without him, when he is willingly giving you all his free time, and you are just leaving him here all alone

-you know how clingy is your boyfriend, and why is he upset, but you are literally spend every day together, either it's a workday or his free day, so you didn't understand why is this time any more special than the other

-he just got more upset of that, saying for him every time with you is special, and you knew that of course you felt the same way, you didn't mean it like that

wooyoung

-i feel like from all the boys it's wooyoung who's most likely to have a heated argument with, although it's never that serious

-you argue about stupid little things all the time, like you ate one of his snacks that he wanted to eat or he left his clothes all over the floor, but again it's never that serious, like it happens always every day you don't even notice it when it happens

-but one day one of these small arguments turned into something bigger, it shouldn't have been but it did, there was a lot of yelling and screaming at each other

-wooyoung raised his voice at you more than he planned to, and not just you got scared but he did too, he was really quick to apologize when he noticed how upset it made you

-it almost never happens again, you both are cautious about it from now on

jongho

-it started as a joke, it was funny to you too in the beginning, but with time you couldn't help but feel more and more insecure

-you weren't someone who couldn't joke about themselves, and it was the same for jongho, you often joked about each other, and it never caused any harm to oneanother because you both knew neither of you actually meant it

-but this one time you felt more insecure than ever, and one of jongho's joke hit home real hard, first you didn't want to mention it to him because you knew it wasn't something that he meant to hurt you

-so you moved aside, and let out all your emotions you cried for some time and unfortunately for you jongho found you, he didn't understand first what happened, but he never had the intention to hurt your feelings

-it wasn't really an argument because you never ever argue, you just sat down and talked about it, he pays more attention from now on to what he jokes about

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weebsinstash · 7 months

Note

Lucifer is getting the strap

I don't know if you've ever seen any of the theory posts but a lot of people have pointed out Lucifer's obsession with the circus and how his Hell is based off of a circus troupe. You've got him as the Ringmaster and he even pulled Charlie into a giant circus tent in "More Than Anything", Asmodeus with the contortionists, Bee is the animal shows, Mammon is... the musicians? Or the concessions lmao, although Bee does have cotton candy which is a common circus concession and she IS Gluttony so it could just as easily be her?

Anyways, I've been constantly thinking recently of Lucifer with a female Reader (obviously) but the other day some specific kind of clicked for me and like,

Lucifer is just watching Reader help out with the hotel construction and he's Trying To Be SO Normal as he's watching your arms flex when you lift things and the ways the muscles in your back move and MAYBE JUST MAYBE you aren't thinking straight when SUDDEN ACCIDENT and something is falling from above and, you just yoink him up off the ground and tug him back before something falls on him. It all happens so fast that you don't realize he could've defended himself totally fine and you're setting him down just SO embarrassed and meanwhile he's just looking up at you "so you're pretty strong, huh 😳👉👈"

I can just see Reader making some sort of joke later on, "well, don't most circus troupes have a strongwoman?" and Lucifer just looks up at you with the most 😍 ass expression because, you're basically like calling yourself a member of the crew, his daughter's crew really, but, he's part of it, so, like, you're basically saying you guys are great friends! And also feeding into his little... hobby obsession thing! He loves it ❤️

Of course then we have to have an incident where, Reader having freakish strength or not, you eventually need to be rescued. OR YOU STAND UP FOR LUCIFER AND IT DRIVES HIM WILD. Can you imagine being in a bar and some MASSIVE mountain of a dude starts giving you trouble and you're acting getting kind of scared and. Here's tiny Lucifer, "hey you shouldn't speak to her like that! Apologize!" And this guy just laughs in his fucking face and starts mocking him, talking down to him, Lucifer's face is turning RED--

and you just fucking slug the guy, "you can't fucking speak to him like that!!" Like imagine you're growling at this guy to get up and apologize to the King of Hell and it's like HE CANT YOU KNOCKED HIM UNCONSCIOUS and Lucifer's just, twirling a piece of his hair around a finger, "oh golly, you really gave it to him huh?" and grinning like an idiot

Tiny Lucifer loving when you wear heels and get EVEN TALLER or loving watching you work out or just DO things. No, please, by all means, wear those baggy shorts while you go for a run outside, he isn't drooling over your legs or anything! Maybe he's a little more sober when he "drunkenly" invites you to arm wrestle, just to feel your strength against him. SINGLE BRAINCELL BOTTOM LUCIFER WHO YOU SAVE FROM AN ACCIDENT SO HE INTENTIONALLY CAUSES MORE ACCIDENTS SO YOU SCOOP HIM UP MORE.

All I'm saying is that I work a manual labor job and I've been really slimming down and getting biceps and someday we're gonna enter our Muscle Mommy Reader era where she's just running around domming dudes and getting into bar fights and throwing cars at bitches. Vox or Val gives you some lip and you're grabbing them by the throat and pushing them down into their seat and telling him to stop being such a bad boy or you'll have to punish him, before suddenly remembering You're At Work and frantically apologizing before running off while they wonder when the fuck you got so strong and... also how much would they have to pay you to do that again--

#yandere x reader #yandere hazbin hotel #yandere hh #yandere hellaverse #sinprompts

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referrix · 6 months

Text

Dorm Floor Plan

"I have a floor plan I'm pretty happy with" I said 4 iterations in. This is... maybe seven eight. And three days later. I've just gotta fling this one out, I can't keep nitpicking it.

I'm still not entirely happy with the nook, I probably could have gotten the proper fit if I'd been willing to move the bathroom out (and mirror it over to the other side) but I need to be done with this or I'm going to send myself completely barmy.

fellow tumblrina @dagstar7 passed along a link to a copy they'd made of what may have been the official copy of the dormitory floor plan, unfortunately the source has been lost to the depths of the internet, so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

I was however pretty pleased to discover that my floor plan looked pretty similar, although their copy's nook was slightly more rupee shaped, and their bathroom was flat.

I've assumed a bit of mirroring in the dorm that should be just the other side of Stella's wall judging by the windows and balconies from the outside. (the windows and balconies that really don't work once you start measuring from the inside...)

My last edit was to slim the common room from 5m to 3.5m. I have previously calculated the balcony windows/doors to be at least 4m across, but looking at the space they have I realised it looked pretty similar to one of the main living spaces in my house which is also 3m (and change) across, and it's more than enough space for that.

*Edited the pics as I was typing, just greyed some step lines in the rooms and removed the outer stair line on the nook. The steps in the room are only two deep, but they do have a different colour than the rest of the carpet in the bedrooms, so the original step outlines included that, making it look like there was three steps per room.

Apart from the nook and the bathrooms, the biggest liberty I've taken is centralizing the window in Stella's upstairs room, because her bedroom window is mostly central in her room, the only window above it should be directly above it, and there's just not reasonably enough space between floors for the stairs to wind back and forth for them to come out where they do, unless the stairs are a ladder.

I was actually looking for a shot of someone falling down Stella's stairs when I found the bathroom, because I remembered it happening, and I feel certain I remember a shot looking down the stairs proving they go in a straight line, but the only fall down the stairs I can find is in episode 6.19, which is the new apartments, not the old dorm, and didn't have the angle I remembered.

Here are some older iterations, staring with the one with the "5m" wide common room on the left, and a more squared in version of the nook in blue.

Actually, it's a little weird/interesting, but for the last iteration I actually flipped which way I was viewing the map?

#winx club #winx #alfea mapping project #season 1 reference screenshots #alfea #alfea reference #alfea interior #winx club dorm #alfea dorm #winx dorm #winx stella #winx bloom #winx tecna #musa #winx flora

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accidentally-in-fictional-love · 3 months

Text

Maybe I’m Not Scared of What You’re Thinking Of - Simon Lynch/Reader

Prompt: Don't you know what you mean to me?

Warnings: Gender-neutral reader, no use of Y/N, friends to lovers, slow burn, growing friendship, angst, hurt/comfort, brief canon-related mention of violence, kissing, fully clothed grinding, kindness and praise makes Simon cry ;w;

Wordcount: 14270

Summary: It's a complete coincidence that you meet him, and even though he's a little weird and there's an anger in him fueled by pain, you know that you might be all he needs to be defused.

Notes: It's Simon's turn! I have a lot of feelings about Simon!! As soon as I saw his episode my heart went out to him a lot, he's so me-coded (aside from y'know the homicide lmao) and he really only needed someone to believe in him, so here's a whole ton of words about you doing just that QwQ I've also decided that this will be his own continued world like I did with Joshua, so any future stuff will take place during or after this~

You really regret accepting this blind date after the 30th straight minute comes and goes, your date still talking about himself on his side of the table.

He came highly recommended from your mother, the son of a friend of a friend of a co-worker, and it’s clear she did no actual research on him since you have nothing in common. You just keep smiling and sipping at your drink of choice, his words falling on deathly bored ears as he keeps trying to pitch his business to you, something about a private server for paying customers to get his advice or some dumb shit you haven’t seen a million times before. Sometimes you wished you’d been born in the past when things were simpler, because any idiot with a podcast and access to the internet always came to the same conclusion that they could be the Next Great Thing, and this guy definitely does not have what it takes.

He’s about to write down his contact info so you can check out his server right now, right in the middle of your date, his food cold in front of him as he just keeps choosing to talk instead of eat, and you just stare at him tearing off the paper to hand to you as you pray your souring expression isn’t giving you away too much. ‘Uh, sorry, I don’t have Facsimile,’ you lie as he holds it out to you, but it doesn’t dissuade him as he then says it’s super easy to sign up, he’ll help you. ‘No, I mean I’m not one for all these chatting apps, I prefer some good, old fashioned talking,’ you continue, another lie although not quite as much, for while you do prefer talking face to face, hence the date, you had so many chat apps on your phone to keep in contact with everyone that they had their own page on your home screen.

‘It’ll be worth it, trust me, I already have a bunch of guys giving their own presentations on my server, I’ll even give you a free week’s trial to check everything out, whattaya say?’ he asks, clearly more interested in expanding his brand than making any sort of actual connection with you, and this time you let your face scrunch up in pained awkwardness.

‘Yeah, it’s gunna have to be a no, sorry,’ you cringe, and his smile slowly falls as he crumples up the paper and stuffs it inside his expensive name brand jacket, obviously bought to show off to everyone how ‘successful’ he was.

‘Fine, no it’s fine, I just thought you were smarter than that,’ he grumbles just on the border of passive aggressively, your eyebrows rising as your opinion of him somehow manages to drop even lower. ‘You figure you give someone a chance to get in on the ground floor of something because you think you’re vibing, but I guess it was just me.’

‘Uh…’

‘How is everything?’ The small voice draws your attention from him as you look up to your savior, your eyes just going higher as the person towers over you, even when he’s hunched over a bit to take up as little space as possible as his co-workers pass by him to get to the other tables. Your mouth falls open a little bit as your eyes meet, long bangs just barely swept to the side to reveal dark brown irises that almost appear black focusing only on you as he ignores your date, and you forget to answer as the man across from you answers for you.

‘We’re doing great, just fantastic, thanks buddy,’ he growls, now eating his food as quickly as he can so he can get away from you. ‘If you could hurry up and grab the checks though that would be even better.’

‘Is there anything else you’d like? More water, or a refill?’ He completely ignores the other man as he focuses on you, which pisses him off even more, and you join in on that as you smile politely up at him.

‘Everything’s perfect, although I could go for a refill, thank you,’ you tell him, and he gives you a nod without once acknowledging your date, who’s already gotten out his wallet and is looking up the prices of the bar on his phone; he pulls out enough to cover the meal but passes over his beer and the tax, because that’s too much work to calculate it even with his phone in hand, and he gets up and sarcastically wishes you a nice life as he bails, the silence a nice change as you continue eating alone. Your server returns a short while later with a new glass and the checks, and when he sees the money left behind he puts two and two together.

‘I take it I’m not getting a tip from him,’ he figures, and you laugh into your glass, almost spilling the liquid all over the table as you try not to choke.

‘I doubt you would’ve anyway, he was a prick,’ you admit, which makes him smile, and you decide his smile is actually quite nice as he starts clearing the other half of the table. ‘Hey, uh, would you wanna sit with me? Just for a little, it’s kinda embarrassing to eat alone after that disaster.’

He glances at the freshly vacant seat before looking around, and he leans over to lower his voice, his eyes on the table as he speaks. ‘I should really get back to work,’ he whispers, but you gesture in front of you in a welcoming manner, and he follows your hands before sitting and hiding his apron behind his arms, the nametag of Simon just barely peeking out before it’s covered up.

You flash him another smile before getting back to your lunch, it’s amazing how listening to someone that incredibly annoying can really kill the appetite in the moment, and he tries not to watch you as he makes sure he’s not about to get in trouble. You finish off your first glass and start on the second since you did ask him for it, even if it was an excuse to ignore your date initially, and you catch the way his eyes watch your exposed throat as you tilt your head back; unlike the other person sitting there previously you don’t feel objectified, or like you were a piece of meat to devour after the sell was over. It’s refreshing, and you offer him your plate in case he might want something to eat before his break, but he refuses, of course he would.

He keeps his eye on his watch but never gets up, and as you pop a fry into your mouth you can’t help but want to talk to him as he meets your eye and looks away immediately after for the third time in a row. ‘You work here long?’ you ask to start, and it’s a lame start, but just the fact that you wanna hear about him has him leaning forward in his seat before he controls himself, sits back again.

‘Just a few years, this is actually my second job, I mainly work with Data Waste,’ he tells you, his voice getting away from him for a moment before he lowers it again; it’s obvious that no one asks about him often, just this small amount of attention enough to make his face light up in a way you don't see often anymore, at least not when you talk about work related things.

‘So, you waste all the data?’ you joke, and he leans in again, the plate pushed aside as he fights to keep his voice under control.

‘No, it’s really interesting actually, I get access to all the trashed data in the city, sift through it to find anything incriminating or important, things that were lost or gotten rid of, delete anything useless; my co-workers think it’s pretty boring, but you can’t imagine the things I’ve seen on some people.’ He stops, realizing he’s about to violate his NDA, and you chuckle as he looks around again like he expects his boss from his other job to suddenly appear and fire him.

‘Sounds exciting, you ever see anything on me?’ you can’t help but ask as you lean in as well, and there’s a slight dusting of pink on his cheeks as he sits back again.

‘I dunno, I’d need to look up your name,’ he answers honestly, and you smirk at his reply.

‘Pretty smooth way to ask for it,’ you tell him, and when he stutters out that he wasn’t you just laugh and grab the check so you can see your total. You pull out your card so you can pay, and you’re in the middle of reaching for your ex-date’s check as well so you can cover the rest when he stops you.

‘I’ve got it, you don’t have to deal with trash like him, that’s my job,’ he jokes back, and when he hands you his card reader you make sure to leave a large tip from the both of you. You hand it back and his eyes go wide, he can’t accept this, but you just flash him your most charming smile and hand him one of your business cards from your wallet, something you printed up years ago but rarely got to hand out since most people used electronic cards nowadays.

‘It’s for making me laugh, today would’ve been pretty shitty otherwise,’ you admit as you stand, and when he stands with you you can see that he really is tall.

‘Okay, well… if I find anything I’ll give you a call, then? Just so you know what people are deleting about you on the internet,’ he offers, and you hold out your hand to shake his as your expressions softens.

‘I’d like that.’

It’s been a week and a half since your lunch date gone wrong but also surprisingly gone right again, and you’re at home working on a project when an unknown number lights up your phone. You frown at it before clicking into the chat and seeing a bunch of strange messages before the stranger clears things up.

ur sqky clean no trash on u sry it took so long was busy this is simon sry from the bar from last week sry

You smile fondly as you type in a quick reply, your phone lighting up again as he answers fast, he must’ve been waiting with baited breath on the other side. You add his number to your phone and answer back, another quick reply getting you to decide to take a snack break as you bring your phone to the kitchen. The more you chat the more he sees that he doesn’t have to use shorthand, his words lengthening and becoming more proper until you’re wondering if maybe he’s trying to find the perfect mix that won’t annoy you. Eventually he settles on a mix like you do, and you get comfy on the couch with your snack as you turn on the TV and find something to watch.

It’s hard to find things sometimes, you’ve had this older model for years and it isn’t compatible with every streaming platform’s updates anymore, which you think is dumb, but the thing works and you don’t wanna shell out money just to be able to watch whatever new reality show everyone’s talking about as it airs. You stick to your playlist of favourite movies and shows again, settling on one you’ve already seen a million times so you can chat without needing to pay attention.

After a half hour you add each other to Facsimile so you can chat more openly without wasting data, his username of 4LM0ST-HUM4N making you snicker as you check out his profile, but it’s bare apart from his age, which is around yours, and his full name, his last name being Lynch. You can’t help but look him up since you already knew he’d done the same to you, and all you can find is a dating profile on a site you’d heard about but never used.

‘“Shy and looking,”’ you say out loud to yourself as you read his info, and you sink a little further into the cushions as his unfortunately off-putting but also undeniable cute profile picture stares you directly in the eye; you can tell he took it alone, he’s all washed out in the glow of his computer instead of from the room’s overhead or any natural light, and you almost want to call him out on it and help him try again, maybe he might get some matches that way.

You don’t mention the profile as you keep chatting, and before you know it the next movie is autoplaying, your battery low with how long you’ve been on your phone. You figure it’s about time you get back to work as you tell him about the situation, and he agrees, he’s also been putting off work, and you wish him a good night, adding in, ‘That data’s not gunna waste itself.’ He sends you a bunch of laughing emojis before changing his mind and editing the message so there’s only one, to which you give him one back, and he starts typing something else but stops. You wait but he never starts up again so you leave it be, your phone charging out of reach as you get back to work.

Now that you’ve been reminded that he exists and you find his company quite pleasant, you take a ride to the bar on your lunch break the next day, keeping your eye out as casually as you can until you see him clearing a table nearby. You wait until he’s done before waving at him to get his attention, and his smile is so big that it makes him self-conscious as a group of people pass him by, it faltering as he gets out of their way. He takes his dishes to the kitchen and quickly returns to take your order, and even though you’re sitting at a table and a menu is in your hands, you surprise him when you ask him when his break is instead of telling him what you want to eat.

‘My break?’ he repeats back to you, like he doesn’t understand the question.

‘I just figured you might want to eat somewhere you don’t work,’ you simply say, and he glances at his watch to check the time.

‘I get off in 15, but we can eat here, I don’t wanna take up your break by traveling,’ he offers, but you just shake your head and set the menu down.

‘I work from home, I can take as long as I want,’ you tell him, and it’s not exactly a lie since you do have some things to for sure finish today, but losing an extra hour to hang out with your new friend seems like a pretty good tradeoff honestly. He accepts your answer and goes back to work with a shy grin, and you patiently wait at your table until he returns, a brown hoodie slung over his arm and his apron left behind.

You get up and follow him out to the street where he gets ready to hail a cab, and thanks to your convo from last night you already knew he didn’t drive, but you don’t want him to waste any money when your car was in the parking lot. You direct him to it, and in your head you can hear your mother warning you about letting strangers into your vehicle, but apart from being a little weird he has yet to give you any red flags or warning signs, so you unlock the door and hop in.

‘There’s this place downtown that’s pretty good,’ he says as soon as he sits down, and you try not to giggle when you see how his long legs don’t really fit in the space as he tries to find the seat adjust nonchalantly. ‘They mostly do burgers, but their menu is loaded with stuff, you just need to know what to ask for.’

‘I take it you know?’

He glances at you, his hand stilling momentarily as it's wedged between the door and his seat, and when he does find the button he lets out a noise of surprise as his chair suddenly shifts backwards. ‘Yeah, yeah I go there a bunch, I think I’ve tried almost everything so far.’

‘Why not get a job there instead of here if you like it so much?’ you ask as you start the engine, and he looks down at his lap in response.

‘Cause I- I actually didn’t apply to be a waiter,’ he mumbles, your head turning towards him as you pull out onto the road.

‘Did you wanna work in the kitchen or something?’

‘I wanted to be a bartender, actually, but they needed a server, so that’s what I landed on,’ he explains, and when you go to ask for the name of the place he just directs you down the street, ignoring the GPS entirely. ‘It’s actually been a little dream of mine to open my own place, but starting a business is expensive, and saving up is a little hard even with two jobs, city living isn’t cheap.’

‘You could try for a loan?’ you suggest, but he just shakes his head.

‘I dunno… going that far would make it real, y’know? I don’t think I’m ready for it yet.’ He points to the left as he speaks so you hit your blinker and turn, this is a part of town you’ve never been to before.

‘You could always try, and if it doesn’t work out then I’ll keep cheering you on until it does.’ He’s looking at you like your words are about to make him cry, and he’s so preoccupied with you that he nearly misses the restaurant, your brakes screeching down the thankfully empty road as you back up and turn into the parking lot. You’ve never even heard of this place but the lot is almost full, and you manage to find a spot before he’s getting out and waiting for you, the chill of the fresh, spring air making you both shiver and hurry inside.

The place is warm and cozy, the smell of food instantly making you hungry even though you were feeling pretty okay just moments ago, and he smiles at you before you seat yourself and wait to be served. A large menu is placed in front of you and he was right, it is mostly burgers first and foremost, but as you turn the pages and see everything else available you feel your mouth water. You look up to ask what he recommends just in time to see his eyes disappear over the top of his own menu, and you grin and decide you can’t beat the house special, which is a double bacon burger with everything on it. He orders the same as soon as you tell the waitress, a big plate of loaded fries to split as well as onion rings added as well, and when you’re left alone again you rest your elbows on the table and get his attention.

‘How long have you been coming here? I don’t think I’ve ever heard anyone talk about it before,’ you admit, and again his eyes shine when you ask about him.

‘Most of my life, I used to live around here when I was younger so this was our go-to place when we wanted to eat out,’ he explains lively, and he looks around and gestures towards the decor. ‘It was different back then, they did a rebranding back in the early 2030s, changed the name and everything, but I still call it by its old name whenever I recommend it.’

‘What was the old name?’

‘The Hotel.’

You laugh, your hand covering your mouth as you try to keep it down. ‘I bet that might’ve caused some confusion,’ you chuckle, and he nods.

‘Oh yeah, I always have to correct myself,’ he agrees with his own laugh, the two of you still going even as your drinks are dropped off. You sip at yours, taking in everything and wondering what the place looked like back then when he stretches out and accidentally bumps your knee with his own; he quickly says sorry as he tries to retreat back to his side of the table, but you tell him it’s okay, and your reassurance makes him balk, like he’s been told off too many times for similar occurrences.

‘So, tell me, why do you wanna open your own bar?’ you quickly ask before he can shut himself off from you, his shyness returning and looking more like anxiety as he clearly gets in his own head about something so small.

‘Well, it’s just something I’ve always wanted to do, like I love the atmosphere, everyone coming together for a little while to share the space and a few drinks, it’s a good place to forget about your troubles for a bit.’ His eyes are on the table as he fiddles with the brown paper covering, your glasses creating dark rings where they’re set down on it.

‘You can say that about a lot of places,’ you add, and he agrees, but his eyes meet yours as he tries to get you to understand.

‘I know but there’s just something special about it, if your customers come there enough it can become familial, you can make bonds with people, offer them an ear when they’re sad, share in their laughter when they’re happy… I guess I’ve just always wanted to be a part of something like that.’ He looks back down again, the paper tearing and making him stop, now picking at his nails instead.

‘It sounds like you wanna connect with people, you don’t need a bar to do that,’ you say softly, carefully in case he might take offense to it, but he doesn’t, just shrugs.

‘I know, but… I still think it would be fun.’ His eyes meet yours again, and there’s something behind them as you look between them, something lonely that you haven’t seen in them before. You wonder then how long it’s been since he’s been here with someone, if his family still met up with him here, but based on his eyes you think you know the answer.

‘Well, if you do ever open that bar, then I expect free drinks for life as your first customer,’ you tease as you hold up your glass for a promising toast, and your faith in him makes his eyes look a little less lonely as he raises his own and taps the rims together. You drink as your waitress comes back with your food then, and it looks even better than the picture as you grab on tight and take a big bite. It’s the biggest burger you’ve ever eaten but it might also be the tastiest, the toppings sliding against your palms as you try to hold it all together, and you can see him having just as much trouble with his own. You laugh again and take another bite, your conversation moving onto more cheerful things as you eat, from family stories to complaints about work, bad dates to how your week was going, your overbearing but well-meaning mother to his absent father, but he isn’t as upset about it as he used to be as you sit with him and listen, he confesses.

You douse your half of the fries in ketchup as he dips his own in ranch, and he has more onion rings than you do before you realize it, and when your plates are empty and your glasses hold nothing but melting ice you finally look at your phone and realize you’ve been there for over an hour. ‘Shit, I need to get back,’ he panics as he stands, and you wave over your waitress as you both get out your wallets.

‘Hey, I got you covered, can you go start my car?’ you tell him as he searches for the card he wants to use, but he can’t accept that, even more so than the tip from last week. ‘I insist, this was a much better date than my last one,’ you say with a wink, and he fumbles his next words as you toss him your keys. He rushes out with flushed cheeks, and you instantly let your emotions show on your face as you mentally ask yourself why the hell you actually said that as you pay.

You run out as soon as you’re done and speed off back to the bar, the car quiet until you say your goodbyes, and you watch him go until he disappears through the double doors with a small wave.

It becomes a bit of a thing for you two as you meet up for lunch every Friday after that, with you trying something new at his recommendation each time, and after around 7 weeks of this he flashes you the biggest smile as you sit down at your usual table, Simon already seated and waiting. ‘What?’ you ask, his smile spreading to you, and he holds out his phone to show that he had an appointment with the bank on Monday. ‘Oh my god, are you-?’

‘I’m doing it.’ He’s practically bouncing in his seat, only stopping when he bangs his knee off the metal support and makes the table shake, his excitement so strong that you could probably start bouncing as well if you were to be completely honest with yourself.

‘That’s amazing! Do you need a ride? We can go together, it’s after your shift is done, right? Or should I pick you up at your place?’

‘I-’ His smile falters a bit but he pushes it aside, and it feels a little forced as it returns. ‘I’ve got a ride covered, but thank you. Maybe we can meet up at the bank when it’s over? I can text you, if you’d like.’

‘I’d love that, I’ll be sure to work extra hard so we can celebrate the night away.’

Everything goes quiet as you realize what you’ve said, since while you have been texting almost daily you still have yet to hang out outside of your lunch dates; you’re not even really sure if they could even be called that seeing as, apart from you calling the first time that as a joke, neither of you actually confirmed there was anything more than friendship going on between you. Still, you both take it seriously as your usual waitress approaches to take your orders, and neither of you bring it back up again after she leaves.

‘I’m really proud of you, Simon, this is a big step you’re taking,’ you do say to break the silence, and when he looks at you you can swear he’s about to cry again; it actually hurts in a physical way whenever you see that, and you curse whoever beat him down enough to have this be his default reaction whenever you give him any kind of compliment or praise.

‘I don’t think I could’ve done it if you hadn’t cheered me on, might’ve found more excuses to put it off.’ He looks so vulnerable in this moment, his hands clasped on the table in front of him, and you glance down at them and nearly reach out to grab one when he continues. ‘Actually, because of you, I kinda started paying attention to my old LoveMatch account, turns out I got some messages when I was offline.’

Your smile freezes on your face as you unexpectedly go cold, your reaction to his words catching you off guard as talking becomes hard. ‘That’s… that’s wonderful news, anyone catch your eye?’ you finally ask, and he goes pink as he shakes his head.

‘Not yet, I didn’t get many but I still wanna check them all out, see if maybe my soulmate is one of them. Wait, that’s kinda desperate, isn’t it? I don’t actually think my soulmate is on some random dating site but… it’s nice to imagine, right? It’s like you said, I- I just wanna connect with someone.’ He’s looking only at his phone as he talks, scrolling through the unopened messages still waiting for him, and it feels like you’re watching the conversation from afar as your ears start ringing, your hands shaking as you try to figure out why you’re feeling this way.

He’s cute, you can’t deny that, and you enjoy his company a lot, but you haven’t thought about an actual relationship with him until this moment, when it was made apparent to you that that wasn’t what he wanted. And now that he was considering someone else, picturing a life with someone else, you know that you wanted to be with him, not in a casual, Friday lunch date and daily chats kind of way, but in the way where you’d visit him on his off hours or you’d bring him to your place, where you could have a nice dinner, watch movies together, no more table between you as you curl up against him or have him lean against you. You could hold his hand, and he could tell you about how his day at the bar, his bar, went and about all the new people he met, and when he was done you could cup that enticingly strong jaw of his and angle his face up to yours.

‘Are you okay?’

You blink and your vision blurs, and you quickly sniff and search your pockets for your travel-sized bottle of emergency ibuprofen. ‘Yeah, yeah I’m good, allergies are just acting up again, gunna go blow my nose and take my meds real quick before this gets gross,’ you lie with a fake smile, making sure he can’t see the label before you run off, and he buys it completely before going back to his messages. You don’t let your facade crack until you’re safe in the bathroom, the weight of how much you had fallen for him without realizing making your knees buckle, and you lock yourself in one of the stalls as you desperately try to push down the fact that he would never feel the same.

You’d managed to keep it together as you finished your lunch get together - not date, never date - but you spend the rest of the weekend moping around your apartment after that, your eyes on your phone as you lay on the couch and watch some old favourites to cheer yourself up, but each time he leaves you a message you feel your heart ache and it always takes a while before you can answer back. You give him the excuse of being a bit behind on work so you can’t chat much, and he was fine with that because he was gathering up the courage to message a couple people back, see if there were any sparks, and you have to ignore your phone entirely as you bury your head in the couch pillow and yell.

Before you know it you’re waking up where you’d fallen asleep, the TV going through the night and the sunlight streaming through the wall of windows to the right of your couch, the brightness rousing you from your restless dreams. You reach limply for your phone but the battery died during the night, and you groan and stumble over to your desk so you can charge it. As soon as it comes back to life you see that it’s much later than you thought thanks to your alarm never going off, and you find a bunch of messages waiting for you.

‘Shit! Shitshitshit!’ you swear when you see that Simon had asked you to wish him luck before his meeting, and you’re already a half hour late to reply but you do anyway as you fully push aside all your feelings to wish him all the luck you possibly can. He doesn’t answer back, because he’s obviously in the meeting, and you end up too nervous about it to eat as you let your phone charge. Instead you skip straight to getting ready for the day, having a quick but much needed shower after your weekend-long mope session. As you dry your hair you then find something nice to wear that you secretly hope he might like, some part of you overcoming the misery to hope that if he’s ready enough for a relationship to use LoveMatch again then maybe you could have a chance, and that hope fuels you as you race back to your phone to see if he’s done yet.

you dont need to pick me up taking a cab home see you friday

Your hand reaches up to cover your mouth as dread fills you then, and you quickly call him, unplugging your phone so you can sit down. ‘Simon, where are you?’ you ask the moment he picks up, and all you hear is the sound of traffic before a small sniff is picked up by his phone’s mic.

‘Don’t come, I just wanna get home right now,’ he tries to tell you, but your body is moving when you hear his small voice, how broken he sounds, your keys in your hand and a pair of flipflops that definitely aren’t weather appropriate yet on your feet so you can be out the door faster.

‘Are you still at the bank? Which one is it, I’m heading out right now.’

‘Please…’

‘I’m already in my car, where am I going?’

The resulting silence to your insistence stretches on for so long that you’re about to just try every bank in town until you find him when he gives you the address, and you know the one exactly as you speed off towards it. You arrive about ten minutes later, and you’re scanning the area when you see him huddling from the wind in the alley, his hood up and people giving him cautious glances as they pass. You roll down your window and call out to him, and when he finds you through the gap you can’t help but let out a noise of pain when you see his face; he’s been crying, you hadn’t been able to see because of his hood, but now you can see that his cheeks are damp and his eyes are red, and you hurriedly unlock the passenger door and motion for him to come over.

He hesitates a moment before wiping his cheeks and jogging over, people bumping into him with how busy the street is, but he doesn’t do or say anything even as he gets a couple insults along the way. He opens the door, sits down, and as soon as you ask where he wants to go he hides his face in his hand and starts crying again. You reach out to touch his shoulder but he pulls away, he needs space, and you don’t try again as you drive back to your place.

‘I don’t know why I thought I could do this…’ he mutters to himself as you drive, and the lump in your own throat is so thick that it hurts as you try to swallow it down. You pull back into your parking lot and he finally notices that he doesn’t know this place, and you don’t shut off the engine as you turn back towards him.

‘You don’t have to tell me about it, but I’d like it if you came up with me, please,’ is all you say, and another tear rolls down his cheek before he’s nodding, following you to the front doors. Your place is pretty high up but the elevator ride isn’t awkward as he stuffs himself into the corner opposite of you, where you can’t see him as easily. You reach your floor before you know it so you lead the way to your apartment, and when the door opens and you set your keys back down on the small shelf nearby he takes everything in with an even sadder expression, which isn’t the way you were hoping it would go at all.

‘You- you have a nice home,’ he just says, and before you can thank him he’s already turning back for the door. ‘I shouldn’t have come up, I’m sorry, you shouldn’t talk to me anymore, I’ll leave you alone now-’

‘Whoa, wait, where did this come from?’ you need to know as you stand in front of the door, and he goes to move you aside before pulling back, he doesn’t even want to touch you. ‘Simon, I know I said you didn’t have to talk about it but- what happened in there? Why can’t I talk to you anymore?’

‘Because I’m-’ He flinches away from you as his voice rises, frustration apparent among the sadness, and he leans against the wall with a dull thud. ‘I was accepted into the police academy a few years back, before I got my job at the bar; I was training to be on the bomb squad, I thought my knack for technology could help save lives, and I practiced really hard, learned to disarm nonlethal devices I built myself to show them I could do it, that I could be useful to them.

‘But when they learned I’d been building things they thought I was doing it for the wrong reasons even though there was no danger to them, like I was going to learn how to build actual bombs next using the training I received; I was just learning how to cut the power without setting anything off, I was using fucking coloured lights to do it, there were no explosives on my devices at all! But it was enough to make them think I was a danger to everyone, and they forced me to take a psych exam which I then failed by their standards. I was kicked out of the academy, lost my job when the psych eval was sent to them the following week, even lost my apartment when my landlord got word of everything, this one mistake got me evicted in the middle of winter-!

‘And the guy I talked to today heard about it too, read about all of it when they researched me to see if I was deserving of it, do you know what I heard him say to his supervisor when he thought I was out of earshot? He- he called me “unstable,” and fucking “unqualified” when I told him how much I make a year, like he didn’t trust me to pay it back, like I was a failure before the bar even opened, and maybe he’s right, maybe I am a failure, I shouldn’t have tried, I shouldn’t have fucking tried-!’

He spins and punches the wall he was just leaning against and you tense up, your eyes shutting on instinct at the crash of his knuckles through the drywall; it’s the first time you’ve seen him angry like this and it scares you, but as he pulls his hand back and looks at his bloodied knuckles you feel no fear, just sadness.

‘I’m sorry, shit, I’m so sorry,’ he apologizes under his breath, hissing as he flexes his fingers, his hand shaking from the pain, and it would be so easy to end it all right there, kick him out too and never see him again after what he’s just told you, just done, but you can’t as you take him gently by the arm and lead him to your couch. You sit him down and go off to find your first aid kit, some big and overly full thing your mother made you buy when you first moved to the city, and you’re thankful for it now as you pull out the unsealed bottle of healing spray and spritz it against his torn skin a couple times.

For once you love the future as he heals, and while he’s fine now you can’t help but take out the gauze and wrap the area next just to make sure, your fingers resting over the fabric and the back of his hand as you hold him in place. ‘You’re not a failure,’ you murmur, and he tries to pull away again but you don’t let him. ‘What happened to you… it really, really fucking sucks, and none of it was fair, but… it doesn’t make you a failure, we can just try again until we find someone who can help you get that loan.’

‘I don’t even want it, not after today.’ There’s not a single trace of a lie in his words, he’s giving up, and you want so badly to hold him but you can’t. ‘It’ll just happen again, this black mark on my life will just keep following me, why even try?’

‘Because it’s your dream, remember? You told me you wanted to connect with people, no one should be able to take that from you.’ You’re moving closer to him, slotting yourself between his legs as your knees hit the bottom of the couch, he can’t run from you like this, but it’s like you’re invisible to him in his misery.

‘But they already did.’

You let go of his hand and get up, throwing your arms around his neck in a tight hug, and he lets out a sound somewhere between surprise and relief as he’s pressed into the couch; you’re practically in his lap like this, and you try to shift until you’re beside him instead, but your arms never leave him as you back up, your frown so deep it’s starting to make your head hurt. ‘They only will when you stop fighting for it, you haven’t lost it yet,’ you tell him in a hushed whisper, and something in him breaks as he crumbles into your hug, his head on your shoulder as he grips the back of your shirt as hard as he can, like he’s drowning at sea and you’re the only thing keeping him afloat.

You pet his hair comfortingly as he keeps talking into your shoulder about how it went, how he felt so worthless when he was rejected, how he tried to explain himself but it was all shut down, the man hadn’t even wanted to hear it because he’d heard enough, how he was so upset and hurt and angry that he was afraid of himself and what he’d do, and you just comfort him as he lets it all out. It takes a while but you never rush him, or interrupt him as he vents, you just keep holding him until he’s ready to let you go. You separate, and his eyes are so red as they avoid looking at you, but you just brush his bangs to the side before getting up and grabbing the tissues.

You hand him the box, and the smile he gives you isn’t as sad as he grabs a few, the lump in your throat easing up a bit at the sight. ‘I know you probably aren’t in the mood to celebrate, but if you just wanna grab some food and watch a movie anyway I could order something, or make something here? I think the Hotel might deliver this far, lemme see if it’s on Dumbwaiter.’ You’re already on your phone to check but he’s standing, his used tissues bunched in his hand as he looks for your garbage bin, his eyes on the ground again.

‘I’m not very hungry, thank you but I think I just wanna head home,’ he says after throwing them away, and your hand lowers as you take a step towards him, standing between him and the door again.

‘Please.’ You don’t mean for it to come out but it does, this is about him, not you, you have no right to ask him to stay when he needs space, but you can’t leave him like this, not now. Finally he meets your eye, and you can see that he wants to stay as badly as you want him to, and he opens his mouth to say something before he closes the gap, stands next to you and looks down at your phone. He taps your screen back to life and scrolls before he finds the Hotel’s real name in the list of places on Dumbwaiter’s delivery partnership, and he gives the name another tap before giving you the smallest smile, and it’s genuine and even less sad as his shoulder presses into yours.

‘Order the pasta today, all of their sauces are rich and they always serve too much, and get us the goat cheese spinach dip, it’s to die for,’ he says, his voice still wavering a bit after all his crying, and you just nod before adding it all to your cart, Simon taking off his shoes so he can get comfy on your couch properly this time. You pay for the meal and join him, offering him the remote but he has nothing he wants to watch, so you go to your favourites and pick the stupidest, funniest comedy you can find, needing something silly to lift the mood, and as the food is delivered and you both laugh with full mouths that almost get you to choke you end up wishing you could have this forever, that you could move to his side and hold him again.

You don’t, your phones on the coffee table along with your plates, the space between you feeling so much wider than it actually was as he stays with you until the sun sets.

Now that he’s been to your place your friendship only grows, your meetups changing from Friday lunches to properly hanging out, and it isn’t often he gets free time between his two jobs, but most nights of his are free and you’re always ready to drop whatever you can to see him when he asks. Because of your eagerness you’re slowly becoming a pro at keeping up with your own work, the need to procrastinate fading away like never before since being caught up meant you could go to him wherever he waited. You met him at both jobs, at the Hotel - which he got you to start saying as well since he never called it by its real name - and at the park, sometimes at the mall if there was something he needed to get and he wanted some company, but you’ve still never seen his place, and you’re starting to wonder where he lived.

You know it’s in town, since he got to and from work via Brougham and being outside of town would be hell on his paychecks, but you have no idea which part other than the fact that he used to live near the Hotel when he was a kid. You’ve tried asking before, but each time you do he just brushes it off, makes some excuse to why you couldn’t pick him up or drop him off there, and you’re starting to get a bit suspicious if you were entirely honest. You know he’s not homeless, he’s told you before how it took him a bit but he did manage to find someplace permanent and all his after his eviction, but this is getting ridiculous you think when he comes up with yet another excuse as to why you can drop him off on this random street you’re driving down, he lives nearby, he can walk the rest of the way.

‘Simon, you’ve got six bags of groceries in the back seat, it is literally impossible for you to walk home with them all,’ you say firmly as he just keeps looking out the window, and his lips purse as he tries something else.

‘It isn’t far and they’re not that heavy, I can do three per hand,’ he insists, and you step on the brakes in the middle of the road, no one coming or going as he jerks forwards in his seat at the inertia.

‘Why don’t you want me to see your place?’ you ask bluntly, no longer holding back, and he gets defensive, he’s more open with his anger around you now, but he hasn’t gotten as upset since that day, and you know it’s because he doesn’t want to lose control again, doesn’t want to scare you or himself like that again.

‘I never said I didn’t.’

‘You don’t need to; is it bad neighbours, or a bad neighbourhood? I don’t care where you live, or what your place looks like, I swear I don’t, so you don’t have to keep me away,’ you tell him honestly, and for a moment you think he might tell you when he unlocks his door and heads to the back. You just sigh as he gathers everything up in both hands and thanks you for the ride, but it really is close, you don’t have to waste gas going the rest of the day, he’ll see you Friday.

‘And… you don’t wanna know where I live,’ he mutters mostly to himself before the door closes, and he’s clearly weighed down by everything but he sticks with it, and you watch him just keep going further and further down the street until you have no choice but to take a U-turn and head home, and he’s still in your rearview as you hit a right and he’s forced to disappear around the corner behind you.

It’s a little awkward for you both after that, so you don’t bring it up again to make sure things even out, and it seems to help as you keep meeting up everywhere but his place, wherever the hell it is. He’s been to yours enough times now that you almost consider giving him a spare key so he can invite himself over, but it feels too personal for friends, and when you joke about it to test the waters he nearly spits out his drink in surprise. You clarify that it’s a joke as he sputters out that he’s never had someone’s spare key before, he’s never known anyone long enough for that.

‘You’ve known me for quite a few months now, maybe it might come in handle to have a spare out there in case of emergencies,’ you say next, instantly backtracking on the joke aspect of it with a little hope, and despite you initially calling it so he also looks a little hopeful at the possibility before his phone pings loudly. The moment is ruined as he stops your post-lunch walk through the park to see who’s messaging him, and his eyes widen as his smile grows and his face flushes. ‘LoveMatch, I assume?’ you ask, your teeth clenching in jealousy behind your smile.

‘Yeah, I’ve been messaging this one girl, Jeannie, a few days now,’ he tells you as he clicks in to see what she said, and his smile is so bright at her reply that you feel your stomach drop, your jealousy transforming into something that feels so much worse. ‘I think I’m gunna ask her on a date soon, when I can get an afternoon off so we don’t meet up too late, what do you think? Or should we talk a bit more first?’

The urge to tell him he should definitely talk more first arises because it’s true, you know what meeting too soon can do to a relationship before you can get a better feel for someone, but you also want them to meet before they’re ready; you want her to go in blind because you already know how to talk to him, know that there’s no way she’ll be able to get him out of his shell enough to consider a second date. You know he’ll be nervous, so he might say something weird like he did that first time you chatted over Facsimile, and if he does then there’s a good chance she might leave the date not wanting more.

You can’t do that though, you don’t want to see him rejected like that ever again after the loan, so you ball up your fist and give him a playful tap to the shoulder as he waits for your response. ‘Give it a little more time, get to know each other better, the perfect time for a date will show itself eventually, and if it doesn’t then maybe it’s just not meant to be,’ you suggest, and he nods before one-handedly typing out a reply back to her and putting his phone away.

‘You’re so good with this kinda stuff, I haven’t been on a real date before, it’s why I signed up for LoveMatch to begin with, so I never know where to start whenever I get a match,’ he confesses as you go back to walking, your fist still balled painfully as you hide it in your jacket pocket.

‘I’ve been on way too many bad dates by now, I’d like to think I’m a bit of an expert on it.’ Your laugh is strained but he doesn’t seem to notice as he looks straight ahead, his cheeks still pink now that she’s on his mind.

‘I can’t wait to meet her, she works at a flower shop nearby but I haven’t been in yet, I don’t wanna creep her out or anything,’ he says as his shyness crops up again, his expression cute until you remember this isn’t for you, it’s for her.

‘Just keep talking to her and it’ll happen, and who knows? Maybe she’ll like you as mu-’ You stop yourself from saying, ‘as much as I do,’ the words unable to come out as he turns to face you with a curious expression. ‘As much as I know she will,’ you finish, and he grins at the ground before taking another drink, your shoulders bumping for just a moment before he steps to the left to give you a bit more space, and you have to grip the inside of your pocket to keep from pulling him back to you.

About a week later he messages you as you’re working, your phone lighting up and buzzing energetically near your hand, and when you open the chat he tells you that she asked him on a date. Your face falls as you force a smile he can’t see, your thumbs typing him a congrats you don’t mean, not entirely, and when he says that he’s going to take her to the park you feel almost betrayed; you know it’s not your park, it’s just someplace you visit sometimes, it wasn’t like he was bringing her to the Hotel for lunch, that would hurt so much worse.

He then says he’s been thinking about packing a picnic since it felt more romantic, and that he was going to bring roses in her favourite colours since she told him she couldn’t decide between red or orange when they were talking about it, and you almost put down your phone as your chest aches. You want it to be you, you want him to ask you to the park for a picnic, you want to be able to pack your own favourites to share with him there now that the weather is nice again, you want him to bring you roses in your favourite colours even though you’re not even that much of a flower person just because they’re from him and he’s thinking of you.

You want to be her.

You tell him that that sounds like a great idea, she’ll love it, he should tell you how it goes afterwards if he wants to, which he does, since you’re his friend.

You’re his friend.

You send him a bunch of fingers crossed emojis and get back to work so he can start planning, the date is this weekend after all and he has things he has to do now, and when you go to bed that night your thumb hovers over the Sign Up button on LoveMatch’s mobile app until you fall asleep.

Three days later you find yourself lurking outside of the park even though you fought all morning not to, not knowing the exact time they were going to meet up and spending every second continuing that fight as you tell yourself to leave before you got hurt even more. You parked a block away so he wouldn’t recognize your car, and you’re wearing one of your thicker hoodies that you prefer to save for colder weather even though it’s making you sweat like crazy, the hood up as you walk around and see if you can find him. You’ve been there for hours now when you finally decide to go, this was stupid and petty and way too jealous to be acceptable no matter how you felt for him, and just as you’re about to leave you hear his voice echo faintly across the open area.

You look over and see him approach an unfamiliar woman, Jeannie, a big bouquet of roses in his hand and his Brougham waiting for him with an open door by the curb where he was dropped off at. He waves nervously at her, and she flashes him a big smile as he hands her the roses, she seems happy about them, and they chat for a little bit as you get a good vantage point behind a nearby tree. There’s people looking at you as they pass but you don’t care, you can’t leave now, and your jealousy turns to shocked offense as you watch her expression slowly fall.

She’s uncomfortable, he’s said something that she didn’t like just like you’d feared, and he picks up on it and motions for her to wait before he jogs back to the car, he’s still going to try and fix it with the picnic. The moment he’s away from her she puts the roses down on the bench they’re standing by and bails, her footsteps fast as she puts as much distance between them before his return, and your body moves on its own as you want to chase her down, demand to know why she did that. You lose her as you hear him come back to the bench, his voice calling out to her again but she’s long gone, and you freeze with your back to him as you hear him set down the basket, his car already driving off and stranding him there.

The lump is already forming in your throat again when you hear your phone go off, and when you pick up and turn to face him he’s already looking at you, having heard the ringtone you’d assigned to him from your short distance away. He looks hurt at your presence at first, then upset, then angry, and he leaves both the roses and the basket behind as he starts to walk away.

‘Simon, wait,’ you call out to him as you race after him, his long legs carrying him farther and faster as you quickly catch up, but you being there is just insult to injury and he does not want you to be there for him today.

‘You saw it all, didn’t you?’ he demands as he just keeps walking with no destination, needing to get away from you and his heartbreak as fast as he can, and you try to walk backwards in front of him but you can’t keep the pace, not when he keeps changing directions every time you catch up.

‘I’m sorry, I wanted to make sure it went okay,’ you confess before you can come up with yet another lie, and he scoffs at it bitterly.

‘Wanted to make sure I didn’t fuck it up like the loan, right? Well, sorry to break it to you, but I fucked it up again, I’m just one big fuckup!’ He takes another sharp turn to try and lose you in a dense crowd but you grab onto him, use him like an anchor as he tries to jerk away enough to make you let go, but your grip is strong and true as not even that works.

‘You aren’t a fuckup!’ you insist desperately in a too loud voice for being in public, a group of mothers with strollers giving you the dirtiest look at your language, but you just give them a ‘give me a break’ look back before turning your attention back to him. ‘She just doesn’t know you yet, what did you say? Maybe you can still fix it? Or you could try one of your other matches? She isn’t the only one out there, you don’t need her!’

‘I told her that I wanted to meet her at work,’ he says, and that’s not so bad until he explains why it upset her. ‘I told her that I saw her place of work in the trashed data and I wanted to surprise her by ordering the roses from her, and she didn’t like it.’

Yeah, that’ll do it.

‘She- she didn’t get that you weren’t looking her up to doxx her or stalk her or anything?’ you hurriedly ask, and he just shakes his head, his pace slowing as you exit the main road and head down a less busy street, somewhere more private, probably unintentionally on his part.

‘No, I tried to explain that but her expression said it all, and when I got back…’ He slows even more, you both know how it ended and his lip is quivering. ‘She didn’t even have to guts to say goodbye, she just wanted to leave me there like I could be thrown out like the roses, like trash, that fucking bitch!’ He kicks the trashcan you’re about to pass and it crashes hard to the ground, the contents spilling all over the sidewalk as he loses control of his anger again. ‘I’m a person, goddamnit, why does this keep…’

You step around the trash as the wind blows it into your path, creating a river between the two of you that you cross to get to him, and this time when you try to hug him he steps back, puts a hand up to keep you away.

‘Don’t, just- don’t, I can’t be touched by you right now,’ he says softly, and he isn’t crying but he looks about to as you obediently back up, the trash spreading around you and making the river swell. ‘I’m going home, I’m sorry you keep having to deal with me.’

You try to tell him otherwise but he isn’t listening as he pulls up his hood and heads back to the main road, a cab hailed before he gets in and drives away, leaves you there alone. You lower your own hood and unzip your hoodie so your body can cool a little as you walk back to your car, and when you reach the bench you see that there’s a small group of concerned people gathering around the basket, all of them clearly thinking that it might be something dangerous.

‘That’s mine, sorry, it’s just a picnic,’ you say as you approach it, and everyone can’t help but peer inside as you prove it to them. In that quick glimpse you can see that he worked hard on the contents within, he made a whole bunch and even grabbed a few different drinks as well as a bottle of wine to split, and you swallow as you relatch the lid and grab the handle. The roses are still there too and you pick them up, they’re the synthetic kind you can tell as their scent is muted compared to the real thing, he wanted her to keep them for a while without them dying, and you hold them close to your chest as you finish the trek to your car.

You don’t look at the items in your passenger seat until you get home, and when you reach your apartment you put the flowers in a waterless vase and spread out the picnic on your coffee table. You choose your favourite drink, of course he would’ve brought it out of all the possible options, and open up the wine as well as you enjoy the picnic by yourself, not wanting to let it go to waste as you try not to notice how large your couch was without him there to enjoy it with you.

He ignores your messages for a while after that, so you stop texting him to give him some space, but that doesn’t stop you from at least typing everything out and deleting it before the temptation to press send overtakes you. You look him up on LoveMatch and see that he’s offline, and after looking up Jeannie’s name you discover a recent post she made in the site’s forums section; you click in and see that she completely tried to ruin his reputation on the site, warning others to stay away from him, calling him creepy and a stalker and claiming that he would doxx any matches. Your heart races as the comments join in, insulting his picture and saying he looked like a creep, how some said they had messaged him but now they were going to block, thanking her for the warning and telling her how sorry they were for having to deal with that.

You nearly come to his rescue but there’s no point, they’ve already made up their minds, and you instead flag the post as harassment and pray that it got taken down before he saw it.

He’s seen it.

He sends you the link without another word, your request to remove it denied, and when you look for his profile you find it gone.

He misses your next Friday lunch, and you figure enough is enough as you decide that if he wasn’t going to talk to you then you were going to talk to him. You wait until he gets off work before parking across from the bar, and you keep your distance as he hails a ride and heads home for the night. Your hands are gripping the wheel way too hard the entire way there, and when the car turns into a large, mostly empty lot sans a bunch of trailers parked inside as well as a few storage containers and miscellaneous vehicles and construction things for the building across the street you just keep going and pretend like you weren’t just following him. You wait until his ride leaves as you park nearby, and you casually walk up to the one you saw him heading for and hope that he won’t kick you out immediately as you knock on the door.

There’s the sound of stumbling from inside until the door opens and you step out of its way, Simon just looking at you before a cacophony of emotions plays across his face. ‘Hey,’ you say when he doesn’t shut the door right away, ‘you stopped answering my messages, I wanted to make sure you were okay.’

‘So you followed me?’ He’s more surprised than angry, which is good, but you don’t know how long it’ll last so you talk fast, needing to get it out while you have the chance.

‘You never told me where you lived, I improvised, I’m not the one with access to trashed data here,’ you try to joke, but neither of you laugh as you just stand there on his makeshift porch, which is just big enough to hold a single lawn chair and nothing else, another sign of his isolation.

‘I never wanted you to come here,’ he mutters just quietly enough that you almost miss it, and when you lean in to listen his expression hardens. ‘Your place is so nice, you’ve got a nice view, everything is so open, you do so well for yourself. But me, even with two jobs this is all I can afford, I can’t save up for my bar when I have bills to pay, can’t get a loan because I can’t pay it off if it fails, you’ve got everything so put together and I’m-’ He stops, he’s been looking at the ground the entire time but when he falls silent he makes a point to purposefully not look at you, and you can see the shine in his eyes as he shifts from foot to foot, resists slamming the door in your face. ‘I’m a fucking loser.’

‘You’re not-’

‘I got kicked out of the academy, I got evicted, I got denied for my loan, I got dumped before my date even started and now every other match I made has me blocked, I live in a fucking trailer because I can’t afford rent in the city anymore and it’s cheap to live out this far, how am I not a loser?’ He quiets down when he starts yelling out all the reasons why he was worthless, his voice echoing over the lot, and he tries to shut the door when your hand shoots out and holds it open the second you see it move. ‘I just- I don’t understand why you keep talking to me after all that, why do you keep coming back? Why haven’t you left like everyone else? Why won’t you just- leave me alone…?’

You swallow and walk up the two-step stairs, Simon backing up until you let yourself in, the door shutting behind you and trapping your voices inside so they can’t carry anymore. ‘Because none of that defines you, it happened to you but that isn’t who you are,’ you tell him, and he’s hunched over now that he’s inside, the ceiling not high enough to accommodate him in his own home.

‘And who am I?’ he asked pathetically, but you don’t see him as pathetic, not even now as you see his home and how bare it is, the nicest thing he owns his computer over by the far window, the setup grand and expensive looking, and you fondly think to yourself that he probably built it all himself.

‘You’re smart, you’re so fucking smart, and you’re easy to talk to, and you’re a bit weird sometimes, and you word things kinda badly at the worst of times but you’re not a creep, and you’re passionate about what you want and it’s so unfair that no one’s given you a proper chance, or gotten to know the real you, not just what they’ve heard and assumed about you. You’re not a bad guy, you’re more than your black marks, you’re Simon.’

He blinks and a tear falls from his eye to the floor thanks to the angle his neck is forced to be, but he never sits even though it must be hurting him, and you wonder if maybe you’ve gotten through to him when he catches you completely off guard with what he says next: ‘Would you still think that if you knew the real me?’

‘What do you mean?’ You’ve known him for half a year now, there wasn’t any side of him you hadn’t seen yet, but apparently there was as another tear falls.

‘I killed someone, about five years ago now.’

You stagger back into the door, the wind knocked out of you at this revelation, and he shuts his eyes and looks away from your expression as one of pain takes over his own face. ‘What are you talking about?’ you ask quietly, your voice failing you the first time you try, and he flinches at your words like you’d just screamed them in his face.

‘Back when I was evicted I was looking for people to room with, just temporarily until I could get back on my feet, and this guy had answered my ad, invited me over to check out his place. I should’ve been more cautious but it was so cold I couldn’t wait, and when I got there he tried to mug me, take whatever I had left. I fought back in self-defense, but when I almost got away he started attacking me, wanted to keep me there until his actual roommate got home so he had help, and I-’ He sits down then, his hands shaking as he goes back to that time, and your back leaves the door as he looks up at you with such sadness that your chest feels hollow. ‘He tried to kill me, I was only trying to defend myself, I didn’t mean to hurt him so bad, I just wanted to find somewhere to stay, it was so cold outside…’

‘What happened after that?’ You think you might’ve just mouthed the words with how much your voice breaks, but he understands you anyways.

‘The roommate came home while I- while it was happening, called the cops, and when they saw me standing there covered in blood, holding the knife still, they instantly ruled it as a homicide and arrested me. I was able to plead not guilty but they took one look at my bad psych eval and thought I’d snapped, killed him outta malice or something, it was only by a miracle that the evidence was in my favour.’

‘And the roommate?’

‘They searched the place and found evidence of all the others before me that’d fallen for the con, he was charged and arrested and I made bail, but after that my mother never talked to me again, even though I was acquitted.’ It looks like a weight’s been lifted now that he’s said it, but he also looks so fucking tired, most of him taking up his small loveseat couch. You want to go to him but you can’t move, your body refusing to shift even an inch in case he didn’t want you to, and he looks you over before something in his eyes begs you please; you let out a small noise as you fall to the ground between his knees, your hand holding his just like you had when you’d wrapped him up.

‘Why are you still here? Why haven’t you thrown me out yet?’ he weakly asks you, and you can’t lie to him any longer as you hold his hand up to your cheek.

‘Don’t you know what you mean to me?’ you need to know, your voice so small that again you’re not even sure if any of it even comes out, and he lets out a breath that sounds so desperate and broken it makes you wonder just how long he’s been holding it: days, weeks, months, since the moment you met?

‘I didn’t want to hope- you… you’re my only friend, I didn’t want to ruin everything and lose you too,’ he whispers as he properly holds you, his palm so warm against your skin, and you lean into his touch as you let out the breath you were holding in return.

‘You almost broke my heart when you said you went back to LoveMatch, I wanted to tell you so badly,’ you’re finally able to confess, and when you do his other hand finds your arm, holds you with just enough pressure that you know he wants you there.

‘Why didn’t you?’

‘I didn’t want to ruin everything either.’

He leans forward until his forehead rests against yours, and when you open your eyes and look into his you can see everything you ever wanted again, all of it feeling so real and within reach as you brush his bangs aside, rest your hand on the back of his neck. His other hand comes up to cup your other cheek, and he’s shaking slightly like he’s afraid to touch you even though he already is because this time it’d be his decision to, his lips parting as he stares down at your own, and when he touches you you lean up and close the space between you.

He sighs against your mouth as you kiss him, it so full of relief and contentment and joy, and you wrap your arms around his neck again as you successfully sit in his lap this time. His lack of experience is apparent but you have no complaints as you deepen the kiss, needing more now that you could have it, and he lets you have everything you ever wanted as he leans back against the cushions until his head hits the metal wall behind him. He mutters an ow as he lets go of you to rub his head, and you laugh before catching his mouth again, which he eagerly allows you to do; he eats up all your attention, starving for it as he gets more into it, needing whatever you can give after so many rejections, and you’re happy to give it all back as you kiss his neck.

‘I was so proud of you when you told me you were trying for the loan, I really wanted to celebrate with you,’ you whisper into his skin, and you can feel him shiver as he lets out a soft moan and tilts his head to the side so you have easier access. ‘You’ve been trying so hard, please let me reward you, I want to be the first to…’

He moans your name as his hips start to move, try to find friction against you, and you shift until he does, his jaw going slack as he holds you by your thighs, perfects the angle even more.

‘When I saw you with her I wanted it to be me, I hated myself for wanting her to go, but she didn’t deserve you, I’ll never leave, and I want the next time we meet to be a real date, whether it’s at the Hotel or the park or my place or here, I want to be with you.’

He makes a noise of pure want, his Adam's apple bobbing as he tries to swallow back the sob that follows, he was always weak to your compliments but you need him to know how worth it he is to you, how much he deserves this after everything he’s been through.

‘You’re wonderful, I love spending time with you, you’re everything I want.’

A tear escapes between his tightly shut eyelids and you kiss it away before going to his jaw, pressing your lips along it before you find his mouth again.

‘I really like you, Simon, you mean so much to me, I’m so glad I got to meet you.’

He’s practically whimpering in your lap as he cries harder, his hips never stopping, he needs this so much but so do you, and you let him use you as the growing pressure wrenches a moan from your lips.

‘I love-’

You don’t get to finish as he comes apart underneath you, his body shuddering as he grips you tight and gasps out a series of choked out moans, your eyes fluttering shut as you feel it all travel from the top of your head down to the tips of your toes. You feel the heat between your thighs as he slowly catches his breath, his cheeks turning red under streams of tears in embarrassment for coming from just this much, but you just kiss the tip of his nose and rest your chest against his, let him feel how hard your heart was beating.

‘I love you,’ you whisper now that you can, and he looks at you like you’ve just given him the sun and the moon on a golden platter.

‘I’m so glad I texted you back then,’ he confesses against your cheek, his hands leaving your thighs to rest on your back, keeping you close, ‘I think I started to love you the moment you wanted to actually talk to me.’

‘Lucky for me your standards are so low,’ you joke, but it falls flat in the best of ways as he nuzzles into your neck.

‘It was all I needed, I just wanted someone to believe in me.’ He presses a single kiss to the space where your neck meets your shoulder, and your nails scrape lightly against his scalp as you let out a sigh at the feeling.

‘I told you, I’ll keep cheering you on until it works,’ you remind him, and he sits up straight so he can hold you even closer in his hug, your bodies fitting together perfectly as you hold him back and don’t let go.

The snow is falling lightly outside as you stretch in your chair, your back cracking as you raise your arms high above your head. You’re all done for the day, everything on your list checked off as you glance at the time and see that it’s almost 8PM, he’ll be there soon. You stand and bring the feeling back to your legs before grabbing the remote and turning on the TV, queuing up the next episode of the show you’re marathoning only one at a time each night. You let the recap and intro play and then press pause, it’s nearly time now, and you’re in the middle of grabbing the plates and utensils when you hear a knock at the door. You unlock it and open up to reveal Simon on the other side, all bound up in a large winter jacket, his scarf pulled up high enough to cover his nose and mouth from the cold.

‘You forget your key at work again?’ you tease as he walks in, trailing snow over to the mat where he can take his boots off.

‘Kinda hard to unlock the door with both hands full,’ he points out with a smirk as he then sets the food brought from said work on the table. ‘It’s busy tonight despite the snow, lots of people coming in to escape the chill, had to order these early to make sure they were done on time.’

‘You know I can always make something before you get back, you don’t have to keep bothering Elison over it,’ you remind him, but he won’t hear of it, he loves being able to bring you back something so you don’t have to stop working until you’re ready and you know it.

‘I convinced him to leave the Hotel to come work for me, might as well use him,’ is what he has to say to that, and you can’t argue with it as you both transfer your dinners onto the plates you set out. ‘Besides, it’s the only way I can get my favourites without having to drive across town, that’s a good enough reason to keep bothering him.’

You hum in agreement as you sit down together, the episode playing as soon as you’re settled, and when you’re done eating he curls up next to you, rests his head against your shoulder even though it hurts his neck. You take pity on him and adjust so he can lay more properly, his face still red from the winter chill, and you find yourself paying more attention to him until he feels your eyes on him.

‘You think we can do two episodes tonight before you go back? We’re so close to the season finale,’ you plead in that tone of voice that always gets him, and he looks like he really wants to say yes but he can’t, he doesn’t like leaving the place for so long as is even though his staff is more than capable of watching over things for an hour without him; outside of the weekend it’s the only time you can be together until he gets home at 2AM, when you’re already asleep most nights, and before he leaves again by 9AM, at least until the new year where he plans on hiring more staff if things keep getting better.

‘Not tonight, maybe tomorrow if it’ll calm down when the storm hits, I’ll call it early if it’s bad enough,’ he promises, and you smile and hold his hand as you rewind the episode back to before you stopped watching.

‘Should I be so jealous of a bar?’ you ask rhetorically, and he answers you yes before you playfully hit him and press play again. ‘Maybe I should start working for you part-time, I miss our Friday lunches, you’re too busy for me now.’

‘I’m never too busy for you,’ he reassures you so gently and genuinely before kissing you, the scene you just rewound to getting ignored again as you don’t let him go after just one. ‘I wouldn’t mind having you there, though, even if I think we might not get a lot done whenever you’re there.’

‘I’m just trying to make some C0NN3CT10N$,’ you say as slowly and as slyly as you can, drawing out the word as he just stares at you, ‘y’know like the bar’s na-’

He silences you with another kiss, this one a little more chaste as he laughs against your lips. ‘Yeah, yeah I know,’ he chuckles, and once again the episode is rewound so you can watch it, your arms around him for the rest of the hour he sets aside just for you each night, and in your head you make a mental note to thank your mother for recommending that son of a friend of a friend of a co-worker 10 months too late as he lovingly holds you right back.

#Ray's Readers #david dastmalchian #simon lynch #simon lynch x reader #his writing song was Bare by Wildes and it was so good I had to change the title halfway through #rewatching the end where the views go up and he's just crying at all the praise had me constantly like 😭 I CAN SAVE HIM YOU GUYS #the Hotel in this fic is real and across the street from me and I think me and my family are the only ones in town who still call it that!

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