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#he's just an old man and an uncomfortable old man
abiiors · 3 days
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persephone - matty x reader ˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧💌˚.⋆🌿
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a/n: this is kinda loosely based on the myth of persephone and also this is just one interpretation of it, obv several exists in the media :) and like matty's barely hades lmao, this is mostly just the connection of persephone, demeter and spring ♡ cw: this contains themes of parental neglect, dysfunctional families, emotional abuse/neglect and alcoholism, and they're very much PRESENT and DETAILED. this isn't angst but it's def bittersweet (emphasis on the bitter whoops) wc: 5.1k
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the first word she learns is “mama”. 
she has a faint memory of this—a woman with shining brown hair, smiling and cheering at her. everything is blurred around the edges and filtered in through a haze. everything has a foggy white quality to it but the woman’s eyes are crystal clear and looking at her, focused solely on her. she has a memory of others laughing and clapping along, encouraging her to say the word again and again. 
mama.
the brown haired woman looks tired—she’s young and, looking back, barely even an adult. but the woman smiles at her and coos along. “mama,” the woman says in an exaggerated baby voice and points to herself. 
“mama,” she babbles again at the woman she now recognises as her mother. the woman gives her a bland smile, playing with her almost absently. the woman even lets her grab onto her fingers and bite on them—not that it counts much as biting, she barely has teeth at this point. 
the next memory she has is of an older man with a freckled happy face and salt-n-pepper hair. he throws her up in the air and catches her until she’s giggling and breathless and light as air. he's often at their dining table, peeling pomegranates.
mama says she can't eat them yet—they're of course a choking hazard for a baby her age. but the old man peals it for mama, because mama looks happy when she sits next to him and pops the seeds into her mouth, sighing at the sweetness.
“these are delicious, daddy,” mama says to him and he smiles at mama with all the tenderness in the world.
when mama needs a break from her, he takes her to the nearby pond, and lets her touch leaves and rocks. he points at the tiny things in the water and says a word she barely recognises. 
fishies.
he clicks his tongue and waits for her to imitate the word, but she only claps her hands and says “mama” again. 
the man laughs. “let’s get you home to mama then.”
the younger woman gets mad at him when they get home though. mama grabs all the treasure—their entire day’s hard work—and puts it away somewhere where she can never reach it again. 
the man grumbles about it too but she’s far too young yet to understand words and tone, much less full blown fights. all she knows is a distinct sharp feeling of fear when mama snatches her away from the old man’s hands and puts her away in a room alone. 
there are white bars around her that she can’t climb, even though she cries and cries and screams for mama. even when a pungent smell fills the room and she feels uncomfortable wetness in her onesie. 
but mama doesn’t come. and the old man’s voice can’t reach her anymore. there’s only the sound of her cries and an eerie music box lullaby that plays on repeat as if it would ever be enough to pacify her.
mama doesn’t come for hours. 
years later, she’d know why mama can’t be bothered. 
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the last time she calls her mother “mama” is when she’s seven years old. 
it’s rained all night and the backyard is wet and muddy. mama grimaces the moment she looks out the window but for a seven year old girl, it’s the most fun thing to ever exist. mama makes a sound of disgust when she runs outside, whooping with joy and slipping and sliding in the mud. 
all she wishes for is a companion now—a sibling or a dog or a cat, she’s not picky. a friend works too, but she’s not entirely sure where someone gets those. 
“if you get mud on my carpets, i swear!” mama shakes her fist from the back door but she can’t care less.  
she’s drenched in mud and having way more fun than she’s had in days. so much so that she doesn’t even realise when mama shakes her head and goes back inside. 
the winter chill is almost gone, there’s even a few little saplings sprouting from the ground and she can’t wait for the whole backyard to be filled with weird little weeds and wallflowers. she can’t wait until it’s warm enough to sit outside in the afternoons and make her little witchy potions from mud and weeds and flowers and see if any butterflies would be curious enough to land near her. (or maybe even on her like they do in the movies she’s seen!) 
she forgets the movies for a moment, though. today is the best day a girl could have. 
her grampy—her grandpa—is supposed to visit too, and she knows he’s going to bring treats; sweet honey from the hive on their farm or tiny red strawberries that dribble juice down her chin. she knows he’ll sit in their kitchen and peel her a pomegranate (she can eat those now!) and tell her about the new calf on the farm. (she’s asked this story twice now but it only gets better each time) it’s all so exciting that she even forgets about her aversion to the kitchen for a bit, forgets how a pit opens in her stomach every time she has to be in the kitchen with mama. 
she can’t wait for the after, but right now she runs through her backyard again, whooping and cheering and smiling. 
she’s slipping and slipping, just like before. the fence comes closer, her little mind tries to calculate the distance, her feet try to slow down but the mud’s grown too slippery and she just can’t stop, can’t put her arms up in time. 
her jaw collides with the fence with a sickening crunch. pain flares in her mouth along with the sharp coppery taste of blood. it almost makes her gag and she tries to spit it out. something white falls on the ground, covered in blood—her first tooth, the one that’s been loosening for days. 
she stays curled on the ground, covered in mud, sobbing and spitting out more blood until her saliva runs clear, then she somehow shuffles inside, hoping mama would have a magic fix. 
mama’s eyes widen the moment she walks in, dried mud crusted around her feet, blood on her chin.
“what the fuck?!” mama yells, the glass in her hand jostles dangerously and the dark liquid inside almost splashes out. mama’s words also have an unnerving, slurred quality to them but she’s too much in pain to care. 
“what’s wrong with you?!” mama screeches again and gets up. through tears, she manages to splutter out what happened. she shows mama the tooth, (girls in school have told her about the tooth fairy) but mama only smacks her hand away. 
“i told you not to get mud on my carpets. who’s going to clean them huh? not you, you’re useless. you’re all useless.”
more tears fall on her cheeks and she looks at mama, horrified. but mama slams the glass hard enough on the table that a crack goes through it. she’s worried mama’s going to yell at her more, but mama only yanks the mop from the corner and waits for her to move out the way. 
she takes the hint, grateful it didn’t get worse. she tries not to get the mud onto anything else but a little gets on the bathroom tiles anyway. 
under the hot water, she finally lets her sobs free and scrubs her little body until the skin is all red and raw and stings from the temperature of the water. until each stream of the showerhead feels like a bb bullet. 
then she gets on her hands and knees and scrubs the bathroom floor clean, occasionally flicking her tongue over the now-empty spot where the tooth used to be. it tastes vaguely salty, and it still aches but not as much, definitely nothing in comparison to her jaw which is turning a nasty shade of purple. her tooth’s still safe on the counter, though—free of blood and mud now. gleaming white. 
at least that’s the saving grace of the day. at least she’ll get a visit from the tooth fairy. 
grampy cancels his visit—his knees hurt, mama says—but she tries not to be miffed about it. she’ll make sure to get grampy something nice with the money from the tooth fairy. 
that night she gingerly places the tooth on the bed, carefully places the pillow on top so that the tooth is protected from all sides. nice and snug. 
then she closes her eyes, dreaming of tiny fluttering wings and shiny pennies. but the tooth fairy never visits at all. 
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her mum ages rapidly in a decade. by the time she’s seventeen, her mum’s already gone grey—unravelling at the seams, fraying with each passing day. not that anyone’s seen her mum in days. or months even. her mum’s not coherent enough to hang out with people most of the time. 
she’s started spending less and less time at home. it helps to have a part time job on top of school—a place that delivers chinese food. a couple guys from her school work there too, not that she really knows a lot of them. except one. 
matty. 
he’s the one person she’s ever considered a friend. 
the one person who’s been worthy of that title. 
matty’s all casual smiles and laughs—he flirts shamelessly and kisses people on the cheeks when he gets drunk. he offers her fags and spliffs even though she always denies them. he nicks leftover chinese so they can eat it in his car, giggling and laughing, way prouder of their heist than they should be. 
the food tastes better when she’s with him. everything’s better when she’s with him—even the shitty, off-brand beer he keeps buying. with him it tastes like expensive champagne. not that she knows what champagne tastes like to begin with, but she imagines the bubbles settling on her tongue feel like his laugh spilling from his lips. she imagines it tastes like the sparkle in his eyes.
matty looks at her differently too—she’s not stupid, she knows what interest looks like. 
she’s been the object of fascination since she turned thirteen and developed boobs seemingly overnight. she shies away from attention most of the time—wears t-shirts twice her size, keeps her hair a bland brown. she barely even looks at boys or men who tell her she looks mature for her age. but when matty looks at her, it’s different. 
when matty looks at her, she wants to be seen. 
“you sure it’s okay for us to be out so late?” he asks one night when they’re sat in his car. the world around them has already gone quiet—it is a school night after all, she should be in bed too. but she sees the cigarette dangling loosely between his lips and for a second she forgets to respond. matty quirks and eyebrow and she realises she’s been staring at his mouth. 
“my mum won’t mind.” her response is a bit curt, but she leaves it at that. there’s no need to mention that her mum’s probably drowning in wine by now, tripping and spilling the liquid onto floors and sofas and carpet. 
“she must be chill,” matty hums to himself and takes a drag of his cigarette. she watches him hold it into his lungs, some of it escapes through his nose and curls around his face. 
she keeps quiet, unwilling to get into that topic of conversation. 
“i’m thinking of dropping out,” matty says quietly once the cigarette turns into a tiny stub. his voice is carefully neutral, monotonous. she whirls to look at him, jaw practically dropping to the (dirty) floor of his car. matty stares straight ahead, trying to look as nonchalant as possible, but the tension in his shoulders gives him away. 
images flash in front of her—walking the school corridors alone, eating lunch alone, doing her homework alone. working at her job alone. 
alone, alone, alone. no one but her mum around her again. that wretched fucking woman occupying every atom of her existence.
“did you h—”
“i heard you.” her voice has gone quiet now but there’s an edge to it that doesn’t go unnoticed by matty. 
“and?”
“and what? if i said no, would that convince you to stay?”
she doesn’t mean to sound so sharp, so bitter. certainly not so selfish. but an ugly feeling bubbles up so deep inside her that all the excitement from before just dies—all the butterflies from just a moment ago, now dead and rotten, making her feel nauseous. 
“no but—”
“i don’t want to tell you why it’s irresponsible, matty. frankly, i don’t know if i believe that myself but… it’s… it’s big.”
his face falls further and further the more she speaks. with each word she wants to press a hand to her mouth, wrap it around her throat so it would strangle everything else that’s about to come out. with every word she wants him to tell her to just shut the fuck up, that she doesn’t know what she’s talking about. but matty only looks at her and a different sort of quiet spreads around the car. 
“you think this… this thing you’ve got going on. music. you think that’s enough?! you play for fucking retirement homes, matty! you play for old people who probably won’t even remember what they heard twenty minutes later. and you want to–what? you want to leave your education incomplete? you want to leave a-levels and school and your job? you just want to…leave?”
which is the real problem. 
he gets the luxury of leaving. 
she gets the misery of staying. 
“thanks,” he says dryly, trying to roll his eyes. she catches the extra shine they now have, she catches the way his throat bobs. and suddenly the car is so stifling she can’t stand it anymore—can’t stand the taste of the nasty, cheap beer and the too-salty, too-greasy chinese they’re eating and she can’t stand the cliche, indie rock music playing at low volume. 
she can’t stand him anymore. 
“i need to go,” she says curtly, wiping her hands on her jeans and already halfway out the door when matty grabs her wrist. 
“wait—”
“what.”
“n-nothing.” it’s the first time she’s heard him stutter, first time he’s ever said something without sounding completely sure of himself. “let me just drop you home.”
it’s also the first time he’s offered to do that. 
“i have my bike.” besides there’s no need for you to see the state of the house right now, no need to come across that belligerent woman in case she’s still conscious. 
“it’s late.”
she can’t really argue with that logic. it is almost 11 at night and she might not live in a very shady neighbourhood but it’s still not the safest at this time of the night. still, she doesn’t want matty driving her around and dropping her home. that feels too vulnerable. besides, she just wants to be away from him.
he’s leaving anyway, she might as well start practising that from now on. 
“i’ll text you when you get home,” she mumbles and forces her wrist out of his hand. 
she’s out of the car and slamming the door shut before he can even protest. she’s marching across the empty road and to her bike before the absence of his warmth registers, before her body realises that she can no longer feel his skin against hers. 
before she really has a chance to let anything sink in. 
matty honks and she hisses. 
“what!”
“i’m following you home.” and then the little shit rolls up the window. 
she has half a mind to stubbornly wait him out, see how long he stays if she just refused to move but that’s a stupid plan. like it or not, it’s happening. he’s following her home. 
like it or not, she’s going to have to let him. 
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“i’ll only accept your apology on one condition.”
it’s two days later that they’re back in his car—her with a guilty conscience, matty with a smug smile. 
“ugh, if you’re about to be a boy about it!”
“you haven’t even heard me out yet!”
the pit in her stomach shifts, the hollow cavity catching in her throat until she has to forcefully clear her throat and blink rapidly. it’s not that she’s completely forgiven him for wanting to leave, she hasn’t completely given up on that yet either. but she realises the way she went about it was perhaps…a bit shitty (okay it was definitely a lot shitty) 
“spring dance”
“what?!”
the words jerk her out of her thoughts so violently that she almost forget about everything else for a second. the spring fucking dance. 
matty healy, the boy who nicks chinese food and drinks cheap beer and wears ripped, skinny jeans wants to go to the spring dance. 
“right don’t look at me like i’ve asked you out to a strip club—”
“that’d be more in character—”
“oi! just… let me speak!”
and so she shuts up, puts her hands under her thighs so she won’t impulsively chew on her nails while her crush is…trying to ask her out. 
matty rolls his eyes at her and the fond smile on his face takes her breath away. 
“i want to do it. i want one last cheesy school experience before i…” he trails off, maybe not wanting to finish that sentence for her sake. or maybe because it affects him more than she thinks. “and i want to do it with you.”
“me? ooh like i’m special or something.” she tries for it to be teasing and playful, but the words come out sounding so hopeful that it knocks the breath out of her. 
“don’t pretend,” matty’s voice goes all quiet then. serious too, and suddenly he can’t meet her eyes. “don’t pretend like you don’t see it.”
“see what…”
there’s a lot in her life that she pretends not to see—half the things at home, sometimes her failing marks, sometimes the way other people look at her and whisper. but he is the one person she can’t pretend with. can’t pretend to not see the way he looks at her and acts around her. can’t pretend to not notice the way his touches linger and his smiles last longer. 
even now, she can’t pretend like he’s not looking right at her lips, leaning in a smidge at a time. wishing she’d close the gap. 
involuntarily, her eyes flutter shut. anticipating. 
she wants to feel it so fucking bad—his hands on her waist, his fingers on her skin. she wants to feel his faint stubble against the palm of her hand, his lips on hers. most of all she just wants to feel him close, to feel his breath on her skin. 
matty jerks away and a loud horn of a car breaks the spell. 
“fucking dicks!” matty rolls the window down and yells at the retreating figure of teenagers in a car, one of them even flips him off and next to him she seethes. 
fuck this, fuck everything. why can’t she just have nice things. 
why must someone come and ruin it every time. 
it takes them both a minute to breathe and settle down and meet each other’s eyes again. even then there’s a slight pink tinge on his face that makes him look adorable. 
“sorry about that…” matty mumbles and taps his fingers against the steering wheel. “so…spring dance?”
“i’d love that.”
she hopes the smile she gives him is genuine. she hopes he sees it plain and simple all over her face—all the words she hasn’t said and cannot say. 
matty smiles wide. “then i forgive you.”
and it’s like a weight gets lifted off her chest. 
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“you look pretty,” her mum’s eyes roam over her body, eyeing her from head to toe, flicking over certain places again and again until she almost feels naked—like the blush pink fabric doesn’t even exist. like her mum sees right through her. 
years of this has taught her that it’s not a compliment. if anything, it’s just another trap, so she focuses on her reflection in the mirror and smiles with as much warmth as she can muster. “thanks!”
her mum reeks of wine already, maybe even a little weed but it’s nearly not enough today which is surprising. she would have expected her mum to be at some bar by now. 
“i’ll be a bit late. don’t worry i have my keys though.” 
then she scoffs to herself. when has her mum ever worried? 
“who’s taking you? to the dance.”
“wha–? oh. uh, just a few friends. only met them recently.” she winces, trying to get the last of the curls in place, trying not to be too cagey in front of her mum. she doesn’t want her mum to think she’s hiding something—mostly because it never ends well, and she can’t be arsed to deal with another screaming match right now. not when there’s a ball of anxiety and anticipation in her chest, wound so tightly that it’s slowly choking the air out of her lungs. 
she just wants to be outside. she just wants matty to see her, to call her pretty and maybe even kiss her. 
she just wants this one night with him. 
just one. 
her mum huffs and stumbles into the room. everything about this woman wants to make her shrink away—the days old stink of sweat and alcohol and cigarettes, the grime under her fingernails, her beady stare… 
even when her mum’s fingers twirl around her curl, she fights not to shrink back, to slap her mum’s hand away. 
“you look pretty,” her mum repeats. “prettier than i did when i was your age.” 
her stomach churns at the cruel edge to those words but her mum isn’t done yet. “huh–not so easy to be pretty with a seven month pregnant belly. like a fucking whale…”
and there it is. 
her fault that her mum was robbed off having normal teenage experiences. 
“right, mum,” she smiles shakily, “need to get going.”
it’s almost a miracle that her mum doesn’t say anything else. mum just backs away and lets her gather her things. she quickens her pace, heart beating in her throat, hands trembling when she picks up her small purse. 
it’s okay it’s okay it’s okay
“don’t spread your legs for that boy.”
she freezes in place, almost out the door.
“wha—”
“act dumb again and i’ll make sure you never see that boy again.” 
“mum…” she swallows harshly, prays that the tears pricking her eyes don’t spill down her cheeks. then she nods and books it out of there. better to go before her mum changes her mind. 
better to go before leaving becomes impossible. 
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matty makes her forget all of it. 
the moment she sees him, the shakiness in her limbs disappears, her heart thuds in her chest for all the right reasons. he’s in a suit. a fucking suit that makes him look all grown up and handsome but then his unruly curls go all over the place and suddenly she’s laughing with the boy she’s had a crush on. 
no matter what he wears and what he looks like, he will always be that boy.
the school auditorium is full of flowers—some fake, some real. all the girls around her look stunning, dressed in colourful pretty gowns. it’s all spring incarnate. 
all night he dances effortlessly, twirls so many people around him like he’s friends with everyone. and maybe he is—he’s certainly always been so much more popular than she has. she should be the one leaving. 
but she also can’t help but stare. she wonders if he is a daydream, something her lonely mind conjured up during hours filled with boredom or after long, exhausting fights with her mum. and suddenly, he is looking right at her. sweat makes his white shirt stick to his body in the most flattering way possible, makes his sweaty curls fall into his eyes until he can barely see straight.
stop ogling! 
“staring is rude, you know?” he walks—no, saunters—over to her. suddenly, there’s not enough air left in the giant school auditorium. 
“you’ve been staring too,” she counters. and she’s right. all night she’s caught his long lingering glances that make her feel like she’s coming alive. 
like a flower blooming in spring. 
“you kinda make it hard not to stare.” so does he, she thinks. but everything, from his half smile to his relaxed posture, tells her not to inflate his ego further. she stifles the faint blush creeping up her face and shakes her head bashfully.
“come on,” he says. 
at first, she doesn’t realise what’s happening. then he whisks her away to the dance floor and her shriek of surprise turns into one of delight. she has never danced like this before but that night they dance till her heart pounds in her ears, till she can’t stand straight anymore. then they sway softly, in spite of the rock and roll playing in the background. 
“you’re beautiful,” matty smiles at her, sincere and real. 
if she discovers anything about herself that early spring night, it would be her love for dancing. it’s a feeling she’s never felt before—something that almost feels like…freedom. it’s foreign at first, all the blood coursing through her body at the speed of lightning. she tries to keep track of how many times she shrieks and laughs and jumps in excitement. all of it until matty picks her up and twirls her around. 
round and round until she’s breathless and light as air and fucking free. 
somewhere after that, she loses count. at the end of the night, her dress clings to her and matty can’t stop staring. can’t stop letting his eyes roam all over her until he’s grinning himself. his smile is boyish. perfect. and just as she’s getting self-conscious, he pulls her closer. 
“you’re fucking perfect, you know that?”
next thing she knows, matty is holding her softly against the wall and kissing her bare neck. he softly caresses her waist through her dress and she shivers against the warm spring breeze. she can feel him shaking too, almost like he’s…nervous to do anything more. to actually kiss her and shatter the moment. she can’t have that, can’t let this moment slip through her fingers. 
“kiss me,” she pleads and matty moves in an instant, his warm mouth capturing hers. like he was only waiting for her permission.  
his lips are a little chapped. far from perfect and yet electricity zings through her all at once. if it weren’t for the wall, her legs might have given out from under her. she might just be a heap on the floor, surrounded by all the spring flowers. 
matty kisses with such reckless abandon that it steals her breath away. kisses her until her heart swells in her chest, ready to burst. her fingers tangle themselves into his hair and she kisses him back with everything in her. she can’t care less about how public this is, there’s only him in this moment. 
only the two of them on a warm spring night suspended in this one moment.
she almost whines when matty pulls back. annoyed beyond belief that he’d pull away now. 
“mat—”
“it’s late.”
“it’s not!”
“it is, love.” suddenly his voice has gone gentle, almost quiet. matty pulls his old phone out of his pocket (with the screen cracked and all) and holds it in front of her. the screen flashes with 11:17
shit where did all the time go?
matty makes no move to untangle himself from her arms, still pressed against her. in her ead she forms a childlike grudge against his phone. if it weren’t for it, they would have never known what time it was…
“i hate this.” her voice comes out thick with tears and something wet hits her nose. “i don’t want to go, i don’t want you to go. please.” but even then she knows how unfair it is to put him in this situation. 
matty’s caresses her cheek, wiping away her tears, smiling at her like she’s the most gentle precious thing in the whole world. 
and maybe she is. in his world. 
“you’ll finish school too,” he says, voice a low murmur, “and then you have a uni to attend. so much shit to do. god, you’re brilliant enough to get everything you want.”
but it’s you i want. still she doesn’t say it. not just yet. 
she nuzzles his palm instead, placing a soft kiss on it. “i hate spring. i wish it was autumn instead. i’d be starting uni at least.”
“and you will,” matty reassures again. “you’re going to do so many things.”
“you won’t be here to see them…”
and there it is, all the things she’s been holding deep inside laid bare. matty looks at her for a long time and smiles sadly. “who said that? i’d find you, we will keep in touch. isn’t spring meant to be about new beginnings and all that? so why don’t we start a pact?”
“that’s a silly idea,” she teases but even then she’s eager to know what he means. 
matty ignores it. “stay here for spring and summer, finish school. i’ll find you when autumn comes.”
“you’d really do that?”
“who’s gonna help you move into uni halls huh?”
through tears she laughs. only matty could make it sound so exciting. only matty could make her hate it so much less. 
she doesn’t trust herself to speak anymore so she kisses him instead. he tastes like peaches, mint and something sweet. the very first boy she’s ever loved. the boy she will always love. 
he’s leaving soon, she knows it. who knows maybe she will wake up tomorrow and he will be gone. she feels all that passes between them and she tries to send all her longing and all her yearning down that bond. for a brief second she is determined to make matty stay through sheer willpower. 
but that would be the most selfish thing she’s ever done. and so she smiles and lets him go. 
matty might be leaving but she’ll always have this one warm spring night. even as the clock inches towards midnight and a new day threatens to arrive.
for a brief moment she wonders if she can make time stand still. this one moment stretched into eternity. 
but the minutes tick by anyway. and tomorrow comes anyway.
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kneelingshadowsalome · 15 hours
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I am politely asking for a bit more on Königs son the angst is so yummy 🥺
König loves his baby boy... Until it starts to talk.
He absolutely adores the baby when it’s born, he can’t sleep at nights because he has to go and check if the boy is still breathing in the crib. König loves to hold him close and rock him in his lap, wants to give him baths and even changes the diapers, is so invested in the little chubby nugget that it’s a bit perplexing to see him so babbly cuddly towards someone who isn’t this poor Prince’s mother.
But when the boy doesn’t need him so much anymore, when he starts to show independence and express his own will, starts to walk and run and hide and talk back to him, it makes König uncomfortable.
He’s not in control anymore, he’s not needed. He’s the one who’s always away, he’s the unfamiliar face, the stern voice, the “strange man”, the one who makes the boy look angry or afraid. He becomes the bad guy.
It’s not bullying if his own son doesn’t prefer him, König knows it. But it still hurts to feel like an alien in his own home. It feels like a personal insult to be the last choice once again.
König’s son sees his father as a judge, a tyrant, a competitor because every time he’s home, mum’s all hearts and smiles. The parent who’s supposed to represent the whole world to our Prince suddenly becomes weak and clingy and needy.
And for what? For some big foreign man who stares him down as if he’s nothing but dirt under his boot. Asks him if he’s been nice to mum and if he’s helped her with the chores. When mum’s not in hearing distance, König tells him he shouldn’t trouble her with his crying and whining... If he’s nice and behaves, König will bring him toys from his “work trips”.
He rarely brings any because “he couldn't find anything”. Mum is the one who gets foreign delicacies, perfumes and the like. König’s son soon understands it doesn't matter how well he behaves because it will never be enough.
In his dreams, he tries to kill König every now and then. The old bastard only laughs. He laughs, even in his dreams because he’s weaker than him, not a threat at all, only entertaining when he gets mad… He laughs and just won't die.
Mum comes first, always. Whatever she says is the law. Whatever she wants, she shall have. The way his father worships this woman is eerie, disturbing, and invokes so much jealousy that König’s son is not sure who he’s even supposed to be jealous of. This stupid fucker or his mum who seems to lose brain cells every time this dick returns home and disturbs their peace?
Girls are both Madonnas and whores to him after he has watched this tyrant become a babbling, spineless mess over an upset woman. The world quakes everytime his mum is unhappy because her happiness is paramount. The only time he has seen König in tears was when his mum refused to talk to him one evening: the argument was about him, of course, and how König should apologize to their son, not to her. It takes manipulation and a passive aggressive lioness to make König say he’s sorry, but it does nothing to help the situation, quite the contrary. Who would give a fuck about a forced apology?
König’s son becomes a covert people pleaser who feels lonely wherever he goes. He’s a mama’s boy whose father seemingly hates him, an angel and a demon in one man, someone who believes his worth is measured by the things he achieves in life. How well he performs, how much money he makes, how independent he becomes. With women, another one always bites the dust, with work, he never seems to find his passion. And wherever he goes, whatever he does, nothing is ever enough.
The only way for these two to find a common ground is if the poor Prince manages to settle down with some patient, loving woman who gives him a child. A grandson or a granddaughter would make König fold and become a babbling mess once more; he's so pathetic and harmless with the baby that no one can be angry at him even if they wanted to. König would kill anyone and everyone who tried to hurt his family, even a blind man can see that.
Reconciliation happens slowly but surely, even if it's another kind of hurt to see the old man give this child all the love his son would've begged his knees bloody for. But beggars can't be choosers (and apparently a king's son has no crown), luckily König becomes softer in the head as he ages so a time may come when he thinks back on what he's done and finds the balls to wholeheartedly apologize. Might demand a touching family Christmas dinner and some whiskey though.
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ghouljams · 18 hours
Note
yo that villainous price giving fae!simon a gun made of iron is like giving regular soldier simon a knife with no guard but 1000% more. because the guardless knife means a chance of slipping and cutting his palm but that iron gun means the grip burned into his palm definitely
hurt comfort?? 🥺
Here's the fae!Price giving fae!Ghost a gun excerpt. Price hitting him with a "the experiment must continue"
The weight of it settles in Ghost's hands, the wooden stock keeps the iron he can feel worked into the metal from touching his skin. Still, his shadows whip around his hands to provide some form of barrier. He looks at Price, stares at the man he's trusted his life to, owes his life to really.
"What's the rifle for?" He asks, turning it over in his hands, inspecting the metal, steel. He can smell it, cold, made for killing things. It hurts his nose just to smell it.
"You're gonna learn to shoot it," Price tells him, setting out caps, bullets, and black powder on a nearby stump.
Ghost doesn't ask why, just follows Price's instructions. Check that the hammer is back, powder into the little brass thing, into the barrel, then the minie ball. His fingers flinch against the bullet, the iron cutting into his skin. He looks at Price, his heavy gaze urges him to continue. There's no room for argument, his is Price's life to risk. Ghost lets out a hiss, grits his teeth and grabs it again, pressing it tip up into the barrel. He shakes the burn out of his hand, inspecting the dark bubbling spot on his finger tips. Not as bad as he's seen on Price.
"Just enough human skin still on you then," Price mumbles to himself, as Ghost grabs the rod. He doesn't let the comment stick around, doesn't let it bounce through his mind more than it should. Still just human enough to handle iron for a short time, to not burn down to the bone.
Ghost shoulders the rifle like he's seen those military idiots do, pressing the little gold cap under the hammer. Price directs his stance, feet apart, brace your shoulders, eyes down the barrel, breathe in and out on fire. Ghost's finger hooks around the trigger, brass thank god, but the steel is starting to chafe uncomfortably. The iron is too worked up, too eager to burn and kill even the hands that hold it, cold steel can do the job if it's mad enough.
He hits a tree dead on his first shot, the explosion of smoke and crack in his ears striking the whole forest dead. Price looks at the tree trunk, the cratered wood and the iron lodged in it. "Good," He says, "Try to get your shadows around the ball, we want real deadly precision."
-
Ghost notches the long bullet into the chamber, sliding the primer back and forth, his skin still bubbling from the iron. No one makes 'em like this anymore, these bullets are special order. Just for him. Just for the fae that cross Price's path one too many times. Ghost watches down the scope, the way Price sits back in his chair with a smile while his target rants and rages.
His fingers still twitch against the trigger, testing the make of it. Even through his gloves he can feel the cold steel. More iron than it knows what to do with. He rests his cheek against it, his mask shielding him from the worst of it. There used to be a time he'd come out of these with marks, with new burns and frayed skin, he's learned better by now. Pain used to ground him, but now... he's getting too old to rely on that.
Price raises a hand and Ghost pulls the trigger. His bullet slices clean between the fae's eyes, the iron bubbling out and splattering blood over the table. There's not enough human skin left in him, not anymore, even steel is starting to do more than chafe, but it doesn't matter. This isn't his call, it's Price's. There's no room to argue, not when he's been doing it this long.
If he had a complaint he should have raised it in the forest all those years ago.
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lyrenminth · 2 days
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Quiet love 1/?
Hello, this is a mini serie of Justin Herbert. More than whole chapters are like meaningful moments in their relatioship. I hope you like it.
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You knew Justin since childhood, both of you were quiet souls that's why you got along. Despite some differences, your friendship was something stable until the last years of highschool when you move to another city. Even though, you still keep in contact with him. He kept you in knowledge of his family in Eugene, as well as your family. You talked to him about your career, you new friend, how cold it was during winter. Until he got drafted you messaged each other every day. Justin's life change a lot, and he was busy most of the time. He just sent you messages saying: "Sorry" "Meeting" "Sorry I'm busy" And you understood. You weren't a priority in his life. You saw him in person a couple of times before finishing your career, and he was bulkier, stronger and leaving the child-face you liked so much. Still, he was a freak clean, and avoided people like a plague. On the other hand, you were so introvert like you used to. He noticed and was happy for you but you could tell he felt uneasy about that. His childhood friend changed, and the woman talking to him was different. During a meeting between the two families because both of you were back in Eugene, you were almost finished with your career and a great job opportunity appeared in LA. So you were stressed out for the living cost, and talking about this with Mark and Holly they suggested to stay in Justin's house until you got on your feet and could afford an apartment. Justin who was listening in silence, gulped his food and raised and eyebrow. "I mean, she's your friend and you are never there" Holly argued, smiling "And you have extra bedrooms" You looked at Justin puzzled. He didn't look happy or mad about the idea, just pensative. Maybe would be uncomfortable for him? What if he has a girlfriend or fwb situation? You didn't want him to stop doing whatever he was doing. It was his house. For sure, you would struggle a little bit like you did in Michigan but you could cope. "I don't think that's..." "...yeah, sure..." you said at the same time. You looked at each other, and you giggled. "I don't want to bother" you replied, looking at Holly. Somehow looking at him was difficult. You were a single girl, you had eyes. You couldn't ignore how fucking big and handsome he was. During highschool he was somehow lanky, during college he started gaining muscle and fat but now? He was a wall. A strong, warm and nerdy wall. The way his back muscles move under that Nike shirt, his waist and pecs. His big calloused hands... You blinked those sinful thoughts away. Thinking that way led to nowhere. "It's going to be temporary" his mother argued. "Yeah, the house has an extra bedroom I don't use" he added, more convinced this time. You looked at your parents who were talking with Mark and his girlfriend on the other side of the table. They trusted Justin more than any other man in your life. "Are you sure?" you asked Justin. His slinted eyes under that light were blue. "Yeah, no problem" he said, but you noticed the way his throat bubbled.
***
The job was yours. And you cried and celebrate and cried again. Leaving your life in Michigan was the most difficult thing. You met wonderful people along the way and couldn't believe that chapter in your life was ending. Of course you cried when you arrived at L.A. According to Justin, it was the preseason so he could skip a meeting to go and pick you up. You refused arguing that you could take a taxi or Uber but he insisted. You were looking for the gate when you saw him. He was outstanding. He dressed casual, with his cap and sunglasses that belonged to a old man. You felt the urge to drop everything and ran into his arms like the movies but this blonde man was you childhood friend. Don't friends hug like that though? He didn't saw you until you were meters apart. Looking down, you saw the corners of his lips lift a little bit. "Hey" he said. "Hey" you smiled at him. And without thinking for a second you hug him tight. "I can't believe I'm here" you explained feeling emotional, you gave two step away to look at him. "I mean, I know I'm here but... it's been a long travel" A long time. A lot of change. A lot of everything. "It's seems. I'm happy you're here" he said, looking at your luggage. Three suitcases and your backpack. "Let's go" said taking your luggage from you. You didn't say anything more than thank you because you really didn't want to carry anything. You went to the parking lot and found his very nice car. He put the bigger suitcases in the back. L.A was sunny, looking like a beautiful day. You saw an airplane in the sky flying to who knows where. Surreal. You caught a glimpse of Justin who was looking at you. With his glasses on he was a mistery, so you just grinned at him. "You ready?" He croaked. "Yes, sir"
*** Justin house wasn't a mansion, but it was big for a man living alone. There was a pool, and the green doors and interior remind you to his parents' house in Oregon. Justin always needed something familiar around him to feel grounded. New places felt uneasy for him, and changed was something he always struggled as a child. You supposed that changed when he entered the league because every year was different. Apparently not. "This is your room" he said opening a door. It was spacious and the bed looked comfy "It has its on bathroom and closet" You nodded. "Thank you so much for letting me stay. I'll try to cause the least trouble possible" he frowned at your last words, but you ignore him. Looking at the window amazed by the sight of the pool and the garden. "The cleaning lady comes twice a week. I tell her you are here" he explained. "Can I use the pool?" You heard a "meow" and flinched. A bengal cat appeared between Justin's legs, purring. "Oh, sorry. This is Nova" he said fondly. The cat looked at you with her big green eyes and walked away, uninterested. "Yes, you can" he answered to your question. You lock eyes for a few seconds. "Thank you again" "No problem" he shrugged. "No, seriously. I'm invading your privacy and eating all your food" he snorted at you. "You're my friend" he replied, running his hand through his hair avoiding your gaze. "I'm happy to see you again" you stated. He didn't say a word. Only look at the floor for a few seconds before nodding. "I let you unpack. I'm going to order some sushi, it's that alright?" "Perfect" "Ok" He left, and you sat on the bed. You came back to live with your childhood friend. You couldn't believe it.
*** It was true that Justin was never in the house. He wake up early in the morning and arrived until seven pm. The season had just begun and he had to fly for the away games. You never noticed how erratic was his life style. Your job on the other hand leave you more time for you and your hobbies. In order to make friends you join a crochet club, and a baking club too. You video call your parents three times a week as well as your friends. You watched every Sunday game to see how the Chargers were doing, and Justin was an excellent quarterback. He succeeded at his position and was such a fun to see him play. You discovered so much about LA in your first month. Kath, a woman you met in your crochet classes was your personal tourist guide. She was very kind and chatty. One day, before going to sleep Justin knocked your door. He was wearing his pijamas, and looked tired. "Hello" you said from your bed. You were reading before going to sleep. "Do you need something?" "I- I want to apologize for being a terrible friend" he said. His eyes were sad, something your attribute to the loss last Sunday. "I haven't asked you anything about your job or how have you been" "Don't worry I know you're busy" you replied in a soft voice. "I never thought the NFL would be so rough" "Yeah, it is" he declared. "So you aren't not mad at me?" You frowned. "No, what makes you think I was?" "I just realized we speak less when we live in the same house" he pointed out. "I started my job, and I join two clubs" He raised his eyebrows, impressed. "Of what?" "Crochet and baking" "Well, I'm glad..." he pressed his lips together, insecure. "I'm going to try to be more in contact" "Don't bother, I know you don't even reply to your family texts during the season" you sighed. "I told you I'm gonna try not to be a burden... enough with you lending me a car" "You're not " he cut you off. "Don't say that" "I don't understand why would you take such efforts, Herbie" He looked at you for a few seconds. His posture was tense. You recognize his expression, he was unsure if tell the truth or not. "I think you believe you are less in my life of what I consider yourself to be..." he started, and sounded sad. He took a few steps until he was at the edge of your bed. And slowly sat down. He had fresh burns on his arms due to the turf. His hair was damp from the shower and he smelled incredibly well. "I realized that it would be alright if I have someone to talk to. Talk about things that are not work related. I know we have dinner some nights and it was great to talk to someone who knows me before all of this" he explained. "I would love to have more nights like that" "Dinner nights" you said, "ok, we can make that" "Yeah?" he said, smiling. "Yes! I can make something even though I'm not a MasterChef" "We can order...or I can cook too" "Not brisket..." He laughed. "Well, that reduces my options drastically" "You can always make a sandwich" He was smiling again. His bad mood disappearing. You stay in a comfortable silence until he looked at you abandoned book and grabbed it. "You still read" he says, reading the cover. "Yes" "It helps you to sleep" it wasn't a question. "Yeah" you said softly. "You can talk to me about your work too. You can talk to me, Justin. It's not good to keep the things for yourself" He didn't say anything. Only looked at you with those beautiful eyes of his and nodded. "I'm going to sleep" he declared "Yeah, I should too" He stood up, and walked to the door. He stopped and lingered a few seconds. "Good night" "Night" The butterflies in your stomach indicated trouble. It wasn't a good sign.
*** Justin: Dinner with the boys. Imma arriving late. There's still spaghetti on the fridge I think
You: Alright Nova and I are having a girls' night
You took a picture of Nova sitting comfortable next to you on the couch. He liked the picture.
Justin: Looks good
That was the last message he sent you. He arrived quite late, stumbling a little bit. He was giggling at his keys because he couldn't put them in the key-holder. You watched the show in silence, holding your laughter. "Mmmm mmm" he started mumbling the Star Wars theme and you completely lost it. He got scared and jumped on his place making you laugh harder. "Shit, what are you doing?" He hissed. "I-I thought..." You sneezed trying to catch your breath. "Nevermind. Are you...drunk?" "No" he replied shortly. "Oh, Justin. I know you, you are all pink" you said. "You are wasted" "I'm not" "Yes, you are" "No, I'm not" "Walk in a straight line then" "Nah" You turned on the lights of the hallway to see him better. You completely forgot about how you were dressing; a big shirt and panties. Nothing else. You caught him staring at your legs and boobs for a few seconds before you help him to get in the kitchen. "Drink lots of water. Why did you get drunk? You have to work tomorrow" you scolded him. He sat and drank a full watter bottle in three gulps. "We can arrive at midday. Since the team is performing well the coach want us to relax a bit" he explained, not sounding so drunk, his eyes wanderer again to your boobs. You felt a little exposed so crossed your arms. "Well, I'm going back to sleep" you said, making sure he was fine "Don't fall on the stairs, please. I can't carry you for dear life" He chuckled. "Okay" You walked pass him, but he held your wrist. That single touch set your skin on fire. You looked up to him, confused. His expression was serious, bright eyes full of determination. You stomach flipped and you were ready to do anything... anything he wanted. If he would look at you like that forever... You waited for him to say something, but he only stared at you. The mood shifted and you could feel the air changing around you. "Justin..." you whispered, one step closer. Then he blinked and all the emotion vanished from his face. He let you go quickly. "Sorry, I'm kinda drunk. Good night " You stared in disbelief for a few seconds. But he wasn't even looking at you. You felt your throat closed, and recognize the sick feeling. "Good night" Sometimes Justin could be so mean. You remembered the times were he would make you cry as kids, but now it's different. You went to your room, feeling sad. Why you were so sad about this? Justin was your friend, not something else. He was being polite. Besides, he was drunk. Maybe he was thinking about other girl. What keep you awake was the painful question: Am I falling in love with my best friend?
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irkimatsu · 9 hours
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hi!! i love your husk works <3
something wholesome (or maybe it turns smutty… 🫦). husk making biscuits. y'know, how cats do.
this idea has been rotting my brain. ☠️
How about smuttily wholesome? It's not full on NSFW, but Husk does get a little handsy in this one. It's all out of love, though - that nice balance of sweet and spice. Inspired by another kneading post I saw in the tag; damn it I wish I could remember who posted it so I could give them a shoutout! 1k words, Reader has breasts but otherwise gendered words aren't used.
---
It’s a calming evening in, with you and Husk lounging in his bed at the hotel. Calming jazz music plays as the cat demon dozes on top of you, paws rested on your stomach and his chin settled on top of them.
You know he’s human and that he insists on being treated as such, and you’d never disrespect his humanity… but you can’t help but admit that his cat-like mannerisms are adorable. Ever since the two of you established a relationship with each other, he’s been immensely affectionate with you in private, even clingy. One of his favorite activities with you is napping, as befitting both a cat and an old man, with his favorite position being on your lap or otherwise over you. His weight over you is so comforting, and even though you aren’t in the mood for a nap yourself, you’re enjoying being pinned beneath him for the time being. He looks so peaceful there, his face relaxed as he quietly snores.
“Husk…” you whisper, smiling, as you reach down to gently scratch behind his ear. It doesn’t awaken him, but he still reflexively tilts his head toward your hand and purrs while you scratch.
God damn it, how are you not supposed to find that cute?!
“I love you, Husk,” you keep whispering as you cradle his face in your palms and stroke his cheeks with your thumbs. You’re glad he trusts you enough to allow this. He knows you don’t enjoy petting him because you merely view him as an animal; this is a genuine attempt to show affection and comfort to the man you care so deeply for. It’d break your heart if he ever believed your affection meant anything less than that.
He continues purring as you stroke him, allowing his scent to cover your hands just as he enjoys. He’s so into the affection that his claws begin to flex against your stomach.
“H-hey!” you say with a surprised laugh, trying to be quiet enough that you don’t startle him. “Watch your claws!”
He doesn’t seem to hear you as he keeps flexing, his nails slightly poking at the skin beneath your shirt. Is he… kneading you?
Despite your instinct to laugh, you know you should take it as the highest compliment that he’s comfortable enough for that instinct to take over. It doesn’t hurt like you’d think it would, given his strength and the size of his claws. Even when asleep and acting on instinct, he knows how to treat you gently.
God, what is a man this sweet doing in hell? (Okay, you know why he’s here. But still…)
He grunts slightly in his sleep and starts moving, slowly easing his way up your body. Once his paws are on your chest, he settles in again, shifting his weight so that the pressure isn’t uncomfortable. Once he stops moving, you start rubbing his cheeks again.
You’re not thinking about the current position of his paws until he starts kneading again.
“Hey!” you can’t help but yelp as his claws dig into your breasts. The noise immediately awakens him. His yellow eyes snap wide open as he jolts upright.
“Ah! Shit!” he says as he pulls his paws off of you. “What happened? Did I hurt you?”
“Your claws,” you say. “You started, um…” You know he prefers for you to be honest with him about his instincts, so there’s no sense in being cagey about it. “You started kneading me.”
Husk holds his face in his palm and grumbles. “God damn it…”
“I enjoyed it!” you clarify. “You just got a little rough with my breasts, that’s all.”
“Huh… well, that explains my dream,” he says.
“What were you dreaming about?”
“About you. Who else?” He’s taken his paw away from his face and is now giving you one of his standard, charming grins. “You were cradling my cheeks and kissin’ me, doing a good job of it as always.”
You blush slightly; you still haven’t gotten used to the idea of someone liking you enough to have such intimate dreams about you, not just physical, but loving.
“While ya kissed me, I was running my hands over your body, just how I know you like it, marvelin’ at how damn good ya feel.. I was just getting to the good part when I woke up.”
“And the good part was…?” As if you truly need to ask.
“Can I show ya?” he asks, still smiling. Once you nod, he nuzzles his head into your chest and rests his paws on your breasts, now more deliberate than earlier. “I was just about to start touchin’ here…”
You wrap your arms around him and hug him firmly as he lightly squeezes your breasts, inviting him to continue touching you. In tandem with his paws’ gentle rubbing, you start lightly scratching at his back. You start in the middle of his lower back, a good distance from two of his sweet spots, but you know what you’re doing as you drag your nails up to the spot just below his wings.
“Mmm…!” He moans as a purr rumbles in his throat, louder than ever. He nuzzles you again, and his claws resume their flexing. Since he’s awake this time, he can be more careful with his movements, not treating your breasts rougher than you like. Just rough enough.
“I’m sorry I disturbed you,” you say, a teasing smile on your own face. “I should let you get back to your nap.” Even as you say that, you keep scratching his back in a way that you know damn well has him too riled up to get back to sleep so easily.
He chuckles in response. “Nah, I’m not tired anymore.”
“But don’t you want to get back to your dream?”
He responds by lifting his head and pressing his lips to yours. His paws keep kneading at your chest as he pushes against your body and moans into your mouth.
“Why go back to my dream when I can have the real thing…?”
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jqhotchner · 2 days
Text
stars
six
aaron holds his wife close to him. she’s only just got home and he missed the smell of her lilac shampoo. yn meant everything to him! losing haley sent him in a dark path for a long time. in the divorce and when she was killed. it broke him over and over again.
aaron never thought he’d have the willpower to move on from his first love. he thought she’d be his one and only. he accepted that, for awhile.
but in comes this most amazing, breathtaking, beautiful, smart, kind woman who instantly stole his heart!
yn and aaron met during one of his cases. it had been in new york city and it turned out fashion week just so happened to happen during the time they flew in new york for a case. it was a happy accident.
aaron liked to call it faith. normally he’d be the first one out of the hotel, heading straight to whatever precinct the team had to be for the case. he’d deal with the crappy coffee they had and get on with figuring out who the unsub could be.
that day was no different. this time though, he wanted to treat himself to better coffee. plus, he had been craving a dunkins donut for awhile.
when aaron arrived to dunkin donuts he sighs at the long line in the drive through. aaron decided to just go inside.
walking in he sighs as he stands in line. aaron soon hears commotion outside and sees that some people stopped a woman and asked for photos and autographs.
aaron ignores the commotion. he orders his drink and a few donuts, before he heads out. he gets a small glimpse of the woman before getting back in his car.
aaron didn’t really think too much of it. that is until he sees her again later that night. the team had solved the case, arresting the unsub and finding the woman he kidnapped, bringing her home safely. the team wanted to celebrate.
normally aaron would decline the offer to come along, wanting to get a good night sleep before jetting off the next morning. this time he accepted. he didn’t know why, but his inner voice told him he deserved to go out and have fun.
they went to a small club derek had found. he watched as his team danced, laughing at derek’s smooth moves.
aaron takes a sip of his beer before excusing himself to the restroom. once he finished his business he heads to the bar. aaron sees a woman looking very uncomfortable while a guy tries to flirt with her. she tries to be polite, giving him a smile. aaron could tell he wasn’t really getting the hint. she politely declines his advances. the man grabs her arm a little to aggressive for his liking. aaron frowns before walking over to them.
“everything okay?”
“yeah, it is! back up buddy!”
aaron puts his hands in the small of her back. the woman looks at him with pleading eyes. aaron recognizes her from earlier that day.
“i wasn’t asking you.”
“listen, i was having a discussion with the pretty lady here! why don’t you leave!”
aaron grabs his badge. the guy raised his hands before leaving.
“thank you!”
aaron hums. “yeah, any time.”
the woman smiles at him. “that a real badge or are you an actor?”
aaron gives her one of his signature small smiles. “it’s real. fbi.”
“oh? how long have you been an agent?”
aaron scoffs. “i don’t even remember. it’s been so long.”
“you look oddly familiar. have we met?”
“saw you at dunkins. you were signing autographs. im assuming you’re a celebrity?”
she laughs. “you don’t recognize me?”
aaron shakes his head. “mostly listen to the classics. i am quite old.” aaron states.
“you don’t look that old mister fbi agent! but, yeah, i am! im barely famous though. have like three albums out right now. it’s one reason why i can walk freely in the streets of new york without being spotted too much.”
“you can call me aaron.”
“aaron, huh? very suiting for an fbi agent. i like that. my names yn. i go by my middle name though in the industry, rihanna.”
aaron smiles. “what brings you here in new york?”
“i was invited to a few fashion shows. since im up and coming people want me everywhere. it’s been a busy week for me.” yn states.
“i understand. traveling a lot, yeah?”
“mhm. you travel?”
aaron nods. “yeah, all the time. im a profiler! my job consist being in different locations all the time.”
“profiler? you’re in the big leagues then, huh? i heard you gotta be crazy smart to be considered.”
aaron laughs. “something like that. it’s mostly got to do with reading people, places, and things, you know? just looking a little deeper than others would. like studying it more.”
“okay mister profiler, let’s see how good you are at your job. profile me.” yn smirks.
aaron smirks.
“just by standing next to you i can tell you’re an amazing artist. you write music from the heart and release it for the world to know who you are and what you’ve been through. you underestimate yourself. you don’t think you’re good enough which is why you call yourself low leveled, yet you’re already being invited to big events, which means you’re getting way more attention than you’ve ever imagined.”
yn left speechless. she didn’t know what else to do or say. yn just stood there before blinking rapidly. “wow, you’re good!”
“it’s just from the few things you’ve told me. nothing major.”
“who’s underestimating themselves now?” she smirks.
aaron chuckles.
the two continues to chat for a while. they lost track of time. soon enough emily comes to find aaron, letting him know she’s taking derek and spencer back to the hotel. both of them drunk off their ass.
aaron lets her know he’ll be right behind them.
“it was great talking to you, yn.” aaron smiles as he goes to walk away. “aaron, wait!”
aaron turns around. yn hands him a piece of paper. “please, call me. i enjoyed talking to you.”
aaron smiles. he places the paper in his pocket before waving. the rest was history.
he was smitten that very day and continued to be smitten about her. he felt like haley brought them together.
they were perfect. his perfect little star.
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sleepy-gee · 3 days
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✒️ hooked - snowjanus week day 1 - based on this post
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✒️day one: first meet ✒️ in order to graduate, coriolanus needs to have a certain amount of community service hours on his record.. oh, brother. luckily, the ever generous plinth family is offering internships to students, giving them a glimpse of the wonderful world of business. each student is assigned a "mentor" who is supposed to show them the ropes. and lucky for coriolanus, he got the best of the bunch– the heir to the plinth throne himself. little does he know, this internship isn't as innocent as it seems.
✒️trigger warnings: none :]
✒️ a/n: i have no idea what this is. happy snowjanus week lmao. also please do read the post link on the far right, it gives some context 🙏🙏
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It was a field trip, really? A fucking field trip? Could there be anything more juvenile than this? The last time they had a field trip was in Elementary school, when they took a trip to Dr. Gaul's lab– To show off all of her amazing inventions for society. All they really took away from that day was a goodie bag filled with questionable candy.
The first day of Internship Week at the Academy. Students sign up to spend the week volunteering at a local business and by the end of the week, fill out a form saying whether or not they'd like to continue their service with said business. Most of them were cutesy bakeries or small shops, owned by women who surely were old enough to be considered fossils. Fabricia's store downtown even offered a position, but none of them caught Coriolanus' attention.
Coriolanus wanted a job in the government, which came to a shock to most others. Really? I thought you'd be a writer or something.. Clemmie told him when she found out. How dull, he thought. What good will being an author do him? No. That's not the life he wants.
Snow lands on top. And he'll do everything in his power to make sure he will.
So, he's interning at Plinth Enterprise's, a company that went big in the Dark Days. Supposedly, they sold weapons.. But the money they had accumulated couldn't have just come from weapons, surely. It was a big conspiracy.
The bus ride there was uncomfortable and rickety. Only a dozen roads had been fully patched up after the war, most still fill of potholes. The ones in Downtown– Where Plinth Enterprise's resigned– were halfway patched.
At least he was alone. Only maybe five other students chose to intern at Plinth Enterprise's, Felix Ravenstill and Festus Creed being the most notable.. Well, scratch that. Felix didn't interest him. Festus was a good enough of an acquaintance to consider a friend. But not good enough to sit with.
The bus came to a screeching halt, causing Coriolanus' head to slam against the window he was leaning on. Great.
He stepped off the bus, met with the towering sight of Plinth Enterprise’s, at least 30 stories tall. Do they really need this many floors? He thought, leaning his head back to try and get a glimpse of the top. They just manufacture weapons.. Surely they should be in a factory, or at least near one. The only things to be seen were skyscrapers and other various buildings, though. No factories or warehouses in sight... The windows all had a gloomy tint to them. Were they trying to hide something? Now that would be funny.
A funny looking man came through the glass doors at the front (“what is it with rich people and glass?”), and declared himself their tour guide. He gave a name but Coriolanus could care less. It was almost like looking in a mirror with the way the guide was dressed– White dress shirt that was clearly too tight hidden by a dark blazer to try and counter it. His slacks seemed to fit him just fine, though. Coriolanus envied that. He was squeezed so tightly in these clothes it felt like his head would pop off his shoulders any moment.
The interior of the building was just as elegant as the outside of it– Lush black carpets and leather seats, a basket of fresh fruit on every table. Coriolanus’ stomach rumbled at the sight, thankfully covered by the hustle and bustle of the employees in the lobby. Everything and everyone was dressed in monochrome colors. It was almost like stepping into a new world.
Their guide led them down a hall and up two flights of stairs. I really shouldn’t have skipped breakfast, Coriolanus thought with dismay. His head was already beginning to cloud and feel airy. Stay focused.
They were led through another set of doors into a giant, pale room with staircases sprawling out on either side of a landing. It had a railing and everything. This very place is the definition of "look at me! I have money!"
The guide then went into a clearly over-rehearsed speech about what they would be doing– Acting as assistants, basically. Messenger boys. Fucking fantastic. They were to be assigned a mentor of sorts who would give them their assignments and educate them on the business when they had the time.
The doors at the top of the landing opened, and a boy in a suit came out. Now he looked like he belonged here– Buff frame with curly brown hair, stubble coating his chin and cheeks, all wrapped up in a nice black suit.
Coriolanus' stomach fluttered. Now is not the time to get a crush. And his voice? Oh, just as heavenly.
"We're all very, very glad you're here." Smooth, low, but if you listened close enough, you'd catch some grit. Like a ripple in a pond.. The boy pulled out his hand from his pocket– Gloved hand, oh fuck– And unfolded a white slip of paper. "I'll be reading off your mentoring assignments. They'll be here shortly and we can get this show on the road.."
He cleared his throat. "Mr. Creed, you'll be with Athena." He glanced up. "Mr. Ravenstill.. Woo, what an honor. You'll be with Tiberus. Mr. Pennyworth, you're with Caesar.. And.."
The brunette stared him down with a gaze that was bordering on intimacy. Coriolanus felt himself start to sweat under the collar of his much too tight dress shirt. He didn't even know this boys name, and he was already thinking things that would get him fired on the spot.
The boy wet his lips, looking up from his paper wirh a grin before gesturing a finger at Coriolanus. "And you, blondie.. You're with me."
Oh, fuck. Just what I needed.
The mentors and their interns soon split up. Christ, did he look better up close. "May I ask for your name, sir?" Coriolanus asked, trying to keep his eyes focused on the boys face at least.
"Professionally?" He took a step forward, placing his gloved hands in his pockets. "Mr. Plinth." Oh, fuck. "But.. I've never been one for professionalism.. So call me Sejanus."
"Sejanus.." A sweet name for a sweet looking boy. "I'm looking forward to our time together."
"So am I." Sejanus smiled at him.
This was going to be a long week.
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taglist: @officialelioperlman @on-plvto
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lying4sport · 21 hours
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WIP
Hi everyone! First time posting something I'm writing... how scary... hope it's good! I've been reading and writing in the Thunderbirds fandom for over 10 years and thought now's the time to actually get my work out there.
This is just the start of a long piece that I'm continuing, to get some thoughts/comments! Ignore the timeline wonkiness - I haven't overly accounted for canon dates etc. Set in Virgil's university years - all the ages/dates/facts in this au will be explained later I promise. For now, enjoy some words.
TAG
Paper Planes and Band-Aid Brothers (WIP)
If there’s one constant in the Tracy universe, it’s that Virgil will always be Virgil.
Virgil’s no Scott, no highflier in Yale, no math genius in the GDF and a star-studded career in flying dizzying new crafts. Virgil’s no Gordon, no sun kissed 15-year-old inhaling so much chlorine it’s impossible he won’t swim to golden glory. Virgil’s certainly no John, tall and fit and studious to the letter and 22 with a fucking master’s degree. Virgil wishes he was Alan, all 12 years old and blond and headed for the title of Dad’s Favourite Son.
No. Virgil is Virgil, and he’s the shorter, bigger version of Scott that everyone gets along with. Except Scott’s realizing he’s not anymore – the jovial little brown-haired artist is gone, replaced by black hair and baggy shirts and a scowl so deep Scott’s pretty sure he’s burned a hole through his forehead. He’s still got his mother’s eyes and a persistent cowlick that he can’t seem to tame the way that John always can, but he’s added a desperate, burning desire to be anything but himself.
“Hey.” Virgil’s standing at the door of his apartment, slightly awkwardly bouncing on the balls of his feet as Scott hauls his suitcase up the stairs.
It had taken a lot of begging and convincing and peddling to people far more important than him to be able to jet off to Australia for a week to come see Virgil in his relative solitude. Although – Scott’s first GDF Air force call sign had been Daddy’s Boy, for goodness sake – the name Jeff Tracy held a lot of weight in military circles. It hadn’t been hard, considering Jeff was in talks with Colonel Casey to have Scott honourably discharged to join his merry band of hush hush need to know basis top secret stop fucking laughing Gordon this is serious rescue whatever the hell their ambitious father was doing with that engineer. Yes Dad, I’ll join, yes Dad, the hat fits, Gordon, shut your mouth before I shove it up your ass.
The begging, however, hadn’t been to his superiors. It’d been to his brother, the very same one who now stood in front of him like he would rather be anywhere else in the universe.
“Hey man, you gonna just stand there and watch?” Scott sweeps Virgil into a brief, one armed hug that he hopes will graduate into two once he’s accustomed to the presence of an older brother again. Virgil is stiff, unyielding into his touch, and pats his back in the way that only deeply uncomfortable people do.
Scott forgets just how much taller he is. Over Virgil’s head, he takes his first glance into his apartment. It’s well furnished, comfortable and cool, a harsh departure from the sweltering Melbourne heat outside. Scott’s practically dripping, so he gently pushes Virgil aside with his suitcase, dropping himself unceremoniously into the first chair he sees.
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thefiery-phoenix · 21 hours
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YANDERE BAKUSQUAD HEADCANONS
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You were a really determined person. You always put your best whenever you did something, and didn't worry about the result and that was something the Bakusquad admired about you, however, you were incredibly naive and trusting of everyone around you 
You had met the Bakusquad on your first day. As usual, Bakugou was yelling at you about something, and suddenly, you snapped and asked him to shut up. Everyone around you gasped and soon, the Bakusquad looked at you with immense respect. Ofc, Bakugou wasn't too happy about that but eventually he let you join the Bakusquad since he was actually impressed with your quirk and courage to stand up against him which most people can't do without breaking at least 5 bones 
You loved hanging out with the Bakusquad and they loved hanging out with you. They didn't do anything that made you feel uncomfortable 
Whenever someone tries to bully you, they immediately stick up for you with intense threatening looks in their eyes like they're about to murder them. Pretty soon, their overprotectiveness for you had turned into a CRAZY OBSESSION and they realized that they all liked you 
However, they didn't like how innocent and trusting you were. What if someone takes advantage of that? What if someone hurts you? What if they do something bad to you? They talked about it when you were absent from school one day 
''Man... Y/N is really cool and I think we're all in love with her but....'' said Sero but stopped in the middle. ''But what?" asked Mina. ''She's so trusting of everyone around her and not to mention really innocent'' he said. ''Yeah, well someone has to show that little nerd that not everyone can be trusted'' growled Bakugou. ''That's right.... after all, we ARE becoming pro heroes and what sort of heroes will we BE if we can't save our friend?" asked Kirishima. ''Kiribro's right. We NEED to take action for Y/N's own good and keep her safe'' and everyone agreed
Soon, they even started getting clingier and possessive of you than usual and finally, you started trying to avoid them, but that was a HUGE mistake
''Y/N WHERE THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE GOING!!??" screeched Bakugou as he tried running towards you but you just waved back at him and shouted, ''Sorry... I need to go'' and ran off in the other direction. When it soon dawned upon them that you were avoiding them, they were hurt at first, but came to the conclusion that you were just shy and scared and confused. But don't worry, they're going to take care of everything for you 
You were tied to the headboard of a bed with a few ropes and you had a quirk cancelling cuff around your ankle after you blacked out due to them bonking you over the head. You then saw your old friends, the Bakusquad come in and you said, ''Guys... this isn't funny, let me go'' you snarled. ''Why would we do that when we worked so had to take you away and try to keep you safe?'' asked Denki. "Guys, if this is about the time I declined your offer about going to the arcade, I said I was sorry since I had somewhere else to be'' you said
''It's all right.... From now on, you're going to be ONLY with us since we all love and care for you'' smiled Kirishima as you yelled, ''YOU GUYS ARE PSYCHOPATHS!!" Bakugou just laughed and tried stroking your cheek but you attempted to bite his finger off. ''Ohh...she's feisty'' squealed Mina. "None of this would happened if you were so naive all the time...dumbass"
''We'll undo the ropes for you when you can prove you can be trusted. It's just that we don't want to see our darling in any form of danger now do we, Mi amor~" said Sero
You wished your life would go back to normal and you regretted being friends with these people who claimed all they wanted to do was keep you safe. They DID treat you well, and they never raised their hand at you. Of course, they had to stop Bakugou from literally MURDERING you when you act up while Kirishima and Denki and Sero calm him TF down and Mina tries comforting you. They actually treat you like royalty once you develop Stockholm Syndrome and cuddle sessions with them are a MUST! Maybe it won't be so bad 
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vesrin · 1 year
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I’ve seen so many fanarts with similar idea but I just listened to the Colony again and couldn’t help myself. I am certain Miss Prentiss wrote a winking emoji after writing ‘keep him’.
Bonus under the cut based on this post that @sparkzstar​ tagged me in <3
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skitskatdacat63 · 4 months
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2023 Las Vegas Grand Prix - Qualifiying - Fernando Alonso
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43sol · 2 years
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like the dynamic duo, i too will be insufferable
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carefulfears · 11 months
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I hate when people dismiss the Phoebe thing as Scully simply having been jealous. She was his best friend first, and she did what any good friend would have
yeah it's pretty reductive, honestly. scully has been very protective of mulder since the pilot; the first 3 episodes of the show are literally her committing to him, holding a man hostage at gunpoint to find him, and cutting ties with her friends who make fun of him.
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this was largely her arc in squeeze, after only having known him for a couple of weeks, as she defends him to colton multiple times
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and, in the end, concludes that she would rather be “on the side of the victim” with mulder than climb the ladder with her classmates, and tells colton to fuck off the next time he’s rude about her partner
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in ghost in the machine, she's disapproving of jerry from the moment they meet, knowing literally nothing about him except that he used to work with mulder
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and she instantly recognizes the profile that jerry presents as mulder's work, whispering to him to ask if that's his, to which he replies "forget it, no" and then later fibs and says that jerry apologized for stealing it (once you tell your best friend you can't go back lol)
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all of these examples pre-date her behavior in fire, and are episodes where she's put in situations navigating mulder around other men
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y'all remember the first time she met krycek and just flat out refused to shake his hand lmao
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i touched on this a little bit in my post on fire, but scully really was just so enthralled by him from the very beginning. she grew up on a military base with her navy captain father and two brothers, and her only relationships have been with older men in power.
she instantly is so aligned with mulder and that there's something different in him than she's used to, but she's aware that the openness and softness that she's so drawn to in him makes him more vulnerable, and she's desperate to protect it
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in beyond the sea, the very next episode after fire, she screams at boggs that if mulder dies she'll gas him into hell herself, and boggs tells her that he's tasted the afterlife.
that it's a cold and dark place, and mulder's looking in on it now. she replies, "it might be a cold dark place for you, but it's not for mulder"
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she knows him, and she's so moved by him and what he wants to do in the world. these are the values that she left medicine to follow.
"jealousy" honestly doesn't even compare to the kind of ferocious protectiveness that she feels towards him from the very start, she really doesn't trust anyone around him for anything. they can't possibly get it like she does, if they treat him that way.
he may not care if people call him names or steal from him or try to make him walk through fire, but he really is just her best friend. and she can't stand it.
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spearxwind · 3 months
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feeling solidarity these holidays with everyone not allowed to talk about their partner with the family
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just-an-enby-lemon · 10 months
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Okay, I just found out that historically Mary was between fourteen and fiteen yo when the archangel Gabriel gave her the pregnancy news. My whole Jesus is somewhat real on Good Omens so how did THAT conversation went made me actually more curious now because it's not only Good Omens Gabriel gives bonkers news to a human but Good Omens Gabriel gives bonkers news to a teenager.
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wastelandbabyblue · 1 year
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some of you have lost the plot istg
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