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soapoet · 9 months

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A letter from your future spouse

like & rb if it resonates ♡

01.

Hello,

You must be up to something, because I cannot get you off my mind. Day and night you haunt me. I type away on my computer, answer phone calls, and I could swear I saw you in the corner of my eyes. At night as I begin to drift, I hear your voice and jolt up, only to be met with an empty room entirely void of you. When you're really here with me in the flesh, I look at you only when you look away. Will I be punished for these stolen glances? You and I, are we forbidden, and if so, who will be the judge?

I thought my life was stable, and in many ways it was. Though it was painted grey, dull. I lived dreary mondays every day of the week. I chased after new experiences, new achievements, new opportunities, new things. New, new, new, new. But it was not until you walked into my life that I truly felt the warmth of the sun and the rain on my skin. Was I colour blind all along? Because you show me colours I never even knew existed. You were truly new. A new light in my life that shines so brightly, but never hurts my eyes. Still I look away. It's not proper, is it? I've been caught up in the crossfire, amidst a battle between head and heart. You're in my heart, you have it in your hands, but didn't I say you are constantly on my mind too? It seems then, my dear, that this battle has a victor, and now I must prcoeed to gather up the courage to speak what I've so carefully kept hidden.

Oh, but you're so observant. You already know. You knew all along, didn't you? You so innocently sat there, knowing I'm a moth to the flame, and that come hail or shine I would find my way to you. You're a mastermind. An architect, the keeper of the blueprint to our tale. I am in awe of you. You were supposed to be a problem, a silly crush I could get over and never act upon, but now I'm thinking of things borrowed and blue. The first day that I saw you lightning struck. It marked the beginning of the end for many things in my life which I had kept around because it was fine. Not perfect, just fine. Suddenly I saw all the cracks and flaws, saw that which I would tolerate, go along with, even when I really didn't want to. You shook me to my core. In many ways, you ruined my life. For the better, I am sure. But for a moment there I wondered what horrors you had unleashed upon me. With your face so sweet and innocent I thought surely you would be unable to trigger earthquakes. And that even if you could, surely you were much too sweet and much too kind to do such thing.

Yet here I stand, amidst the rubble of what I used to call my life. Everything came crashing down because none of it was as stable as it should've been. I'm rebuilding, slowly, and could use some guidance or inspiration. What's your favourite colour? Would you like these tiles for the kitchen? I want to build my life up to look like the perfect home for you. I wish to keep you safe. You've weathered storms just as I have. Had to grow quickly, like dandelions through concrete. You're tired, and I don't want to see you quitting so I am building you a shelter. I promise to keep watch while you get some rest in my arms. When you're healed and strong enough I will provide you the space and time so you can chase your dreams in peace. You can use our home as the foundation for your castle. I know the power you hold, and I will be there to help you wield it.

Sincerely, your future spouse.

02.

Hello,

Coincidentally that is exactly when I knew. "You had me at hello" is such a cliché, but I swear that it is true. I always know trouble when I see it, and you are quite the nightmare indeed. I hope you take no offence to my words. I say what I mean and mean what I say. That typically results in problems, but to me it's another one to toss onto the existing pile. I have a lot of baggage, but if you don't mind, I won't mind yours. Maybe we could get a big storage locker and shove all our baggage in there, lock the door and toss the keys, skip town and never return. It'll all be auctioned off one day for somebody else to deal with. Wouldn't that be nice?

Where was I? Right. Hello. That's when I knew. I always do. I fall very quickly and passionately. Really I leap off into free fall all by my own judgement, sometimes perhaps lack thereof. I know a pretty thing when I see it, though pretty isn't enough, is it? I've learned that the hard way. As I've learned most things. Behind me lays a trail of burnt bridges and broken hearts, though most of those pieces are my own. Most people are unable to tell. I have a reputation, but I think the judgement is unjust. Wholly unfair. I have developed trust issues. Betrayal cuts deep. You know that, don't you? I keep people at bay, and guard my territory fiercly. I am very loyal and I am known for my equal bark and bite. I want to be your guard dog. I swear I will lunge for the jugular if anybody dares cross you. I am protective, albeit a little reckless. I have a lot of scars to prove it.

Little birdies may warn you of me. Tell twisted tales of my exploits. I've been called toxic. Perhaps there is truth to some of it. My love burns bright and hot, but it never wavers. I crave closeness, and wish to crawl into the heart and mind of my target of affections like a spider trespassing into your home to weave its webs in the darkest corners. I want to know you better than anybody else. Know your body, mind, heart, and your soul like it is my own. You will never be left wanting reassurance, because I have known doubt, and doubt is my enemy and I will fight it on sight. You will always know that I am yours. With me you have nothing to fear. Least of all me or my commitment to you and us.

Perhaps we both had to scrape our knees as we crawled through painful loves before we found each other. Together we'll be powerful. A dynamic duo, partners in crime. Those closest to me would come forward as witnesses to my ride or die nature, and you as my life partner will be my biggest testament to this part of my character. You're not too different, are you? You would die for your people, fight with your bare hands if you had to. Together we will face the world. I'll have your back and you'll have mine, a 360° of the battlefield. We can tear down and build up whatever we want. We can build an empire, or bring them down. With you by my side, everything is possible. I would move mountains and part seas for you. Your love is an enchanted rose and I am a beast, and I will wait for you. Come to me quickly.

Sincerely, your future spouse.

03.

Hello,

I hope my words don't bore you with their simplicity. I also hope that you've been well. I have so many questions, but let us not rush. There is no finish line in love, correct? I've been alright. Y'know, ups and downs. I've kept to myself a lot. Self improvement has become akin to an occupation. I always strive to do and be better. I may not seem the kind, but I have a soft heart which I guard closely. I like old timey romance and watch sappy things when I am down. Please don't tell anybody! I am a rock, but for a long time I was but a pebble, kicked around and misplaced. I have moved around a lot and all I want is to grow roots. Would you mind sparing a little spot in your garden? I just need a little sunlight and a fall of rain to grow. I promise I won't waste your time and do my all to never disappoint you.

My affections build slowly. Too slow for many, but I hate accidents and mistakes, at least my own. I strive for perfection, though people tell me it does not exist. I see it in you, though, so they must be wrong. Sure, you have your flaws, but the glue between your cracks glisten in the light and are still beautiful to me. I really do enjoy the simple things. Do you stop to smell the roses too? I have a gentle love to offer. A kitchen bathed in morning sunlight and the smell of pancakes in the air. I'll eat the first pancakes, because the ones I bring to you in bed should be perfect, and the first one never is. You deserve so much good, and I really hope I can provide a lot of that good to you by my own hands.

I am shy, and don't always have a way with words. I will tell you through music how I feel, or paint you on a canvas in all your favourite colours. I'll help you sculpt your dreams and wishes. I'd make a great assistant. I would love to follow you on your way up ladders and mountains. I believe in you like some believe in a higher power. You can put your faith in me too. Love is a choice, and I will make the choice to love you every morning when I rise. You are the kind of fun that doesn't make me ill. The adventure I am unafraid to embark on. We can play our own roles and support each other. I'll be of service to you at every step if you need me. In return I only ask that you hold me close and never let me go.

I fear abandonment, and have known a life without guidance. I've become rigid, and hope that you'll help me bend without snapping and show me the wonders of the unknown. With you by my side I won't be afraid. My skepticism will not be a hindrance because you lead me into uncharted territory as though you have a map, and I trust that you know where we're going. And should uncertainty rise, well, I have dealt with that beast plenty, and I can tame it and send it on its way should it bother you. I will always stand by you so that never again will you need to face challenges alone. You are a promise I will keep forever if you let me.

Sincerely, your future spouse.

04.

Hello,

Have you eaten? Taken your meds? Keep yourself hydrated. Take even just a sip. I apologise if I'm fussing, but I've always been a caregiver. People depend on me. At home, at work, even my friends. I get taken advantage of pretty easily, and I try my best to keep my boundaries. Though I am admittededly prone to a bit of a saviour complex. It's not so much that I don't think others cannot get up on their own, I just think they shouldn't have to. A helping hand is often rare these days. For many, even just the day to day grind is unbearable, so any chance to take the load off another's shoulders and let them rest and catch their breath I'll happily take.

I try my best to be fair, but often lose sight of what's best for me. I want to help and support everyone who needs it, but in my quest to save everyone, I have often abandoned myself. My care is often expected and thus taken for granted. Nobody seems to understand how much it hurts. Well, until I met you anyway. You're a little fire cracker. You have a great presence despite your size. You're honest and so very clever. I was instantly in awe by your radiance, your willpower, your resilience and your strength. You taught me important lessons. I'm older than you but sometimes I feel like a student listening to my teacher preach. You're opinionated and steadfast, and have such a strong sense of justice. You call it like it is, and have called me out aplenty. Always well-intentioned. You get worked up easily, and I find it rather cute. You scold me like a parent their child when I don't take up enough space, don't hold my head high, or when I give away too much for free. You are objective and fair, never tell me I'm right or wrong unless I really am. It's refreshing. You're like a breath of fresh air.

It pains me to hear of your past. How you've been to hell and back. You face struggles even when you really can't or feel like giving up. You always get back up again, always try to find another way around when an obstacle sits in the way of where you're going. You've lived life on hardmode, and now I yearn to make things easier for you. You if anyone deserves my devotion. I know you are much too just to take advantage of my kindness and return my love in earnest. I trust you, and that says a lot as I've only ever been able to trust myself.

Would you let me be your safe space? We can build you a nest and make sure you have the nicest, softest things and plenty of snacks. I wish to provide you the space and time to really relax and let your guard down. You can safely get in touch with your inner child and heal them from all their past wounds. I will guard your sanctuary and let you be free and able to go wherever your heart desires. Let your curiosity guide you, and I will follow and keep bandaids in my pocket should you stumble and fall. You don't need to be strong all the time, and you need not be ready for battle at all hours of the day. I will take the wheel and take us in the direction of your choice whilst you rest safe and sound for as long and as much as you want and need.

Sincerely, your future spouse.

05.

Hello,

Speak of the devil and the devil shall appear, ay? Am I late, or were you just early? It seems as though you've been waiting a long time. Wasted your time kissing a whole lot of frogs, huh? Settled for good enough? Jumped from ship to ship like a pirate looking for the best loot? Well, congratulations! You made it. I'm here now! I'm just kidding, but I am, in fact, very happy now that you found me. Lots of hurdles to get over, had to crumple up many plans and ideas and kick yourself into gear on the career front. I'm far from your finish line, I am merely a little prize for a job well done. And now you'll have me by your side for the next chapters. Oh, the adventures we will have! How exciting, I can hardly wait.

Something important you had to learn before you got here is beating the status quo to the curb. You always did struggle with fitting into a neat little box and following orders, didn't you? Yet so many fools tried to bend your will and make you follow a nice little step by step pre-determined program. Hah, as if you'd ever be happy giving up your freedom like that. And I adore that about you. To hell with the status quo. I never do what is expected of me unless I myself set or agreed to those expectations. This is my life, and your life is yours. Wanna dance? Because I'll choose to court you on sight, and I hope you don't make me look like yet another fool because truly, I tell you, our dance will be an exhilarating one. We can both lead, because screw the rules!

Do not mistake my arrogance and my eleutheromania as purely egoic and a sign of wavering commitment. Though I have my admirers and my comrades, I am fiercly loyal. I do intend to flaunt you, because you are a dream come true worthy of the spotlight. I hope you're not shy, and if you are, then well, it'll be that much more entertaining for me to see you flustered by all the attention and applause. So learn to take a compliment, kiddo, because you just hit the jackpot and the prize includes a lifetime supply of praise. Along with a steadfast support system, as not only will I be at your beck and call, I fully intend to introduce you to my network of friends in higher places. Fret not, because your wildest dreams will soon appear mundane as together with some found family we will get where you are going so much faster than you've been going before.

Speaking of family, I'm not very close with mine. Perhaps neither are you, so you will understand the feeling of always having to do everything yourself and not having the kind of safety net that a family can provide. This is why I have collected friends over the years to whom I serve as family and they the same for me in return. In my anxieties of abandonment and neglect, I do everything in my power to help and support my loved ones because I know what it feels like to be without as much as encouragement on this journey of life. If you ever need some kind words, I'll be sure to whisper them in your ear and shout your name from the rooftops. You deserve the world, so pack your bags. We have tickets to explore it all.

Sincerely, your future spouse.

06.

Hello,

I pray you did not hear me talking to myself. I cry out into the void often. My mind, always abuzz with what ifs and wonder, has its way of driving me mad. Often I feel like a mad scientist, fixated on something so long I fail to take care of all my human needs. Before I know it, the sun has set and made way for the night. I recognise the passing of time only when I notice it is dark and the only source of light is the screen right on front of me. I have so many tabs open in my head I don't always notice what goes on around me. But you startled me. Admittededly I did not notice right away, but when I did I was shocked. It must've been weeks before I zoned out, watching your face as I thought of absolutely nothing. I waited for you to finish whatever it was that you were occupied with, and then it hit me. You're beautiful and I like you.

It feels easy to be around you. I can't say the same for many people, if any. I have had plenty of offers, but competing against my solitude is difficult. A race few finish, and none truly come out of as the victor. I get bored easily, and I must be honest and admit that though I may be quickly intrigued and glue myself to my newest interest, my attention is hard to keep. I enjoy the rush of newness, and yearn for a love that stays fresh and full of intrigue. And I found that in you. For you lead your own life, explore your own paths, then report back to me your newest finds. We pick apart things and situations like mechanics figuring out all the parts of a new machine. Then we go and find new things to inevitably share, and sometimes we journey together too. There is always something. I no longer feel like I am the only one keeping the conversation going. No longer the one in charge of every who and what and how and why and when and where. You pull your own weight. For once I, too, feel fascinating. And not only do I feel interesting, I find you equally interesting. It didn't drop for either of us.

Some may look at us strangely, but good heavens, are some people so easily lulled into a boring and mundane routine. Every time I would cry out my woes, I was called childish. Told that love will and should settle into a comfortable and steady routine. That it is normal for the excitement of newness to fade as you get to know someone. I refused to believe every relationship was doomed to become such a snooze. And I am glad you did too, because you keep growing as I grow and our vines they intertwine and part ways and cross again in this intricate web of possibilities. To know you is to be a student of law or medicine. Doctors and lawyers practice their craft, they're not fixed by a mere degree because neither law or medicine is fixed. It is ever-changing and developing. I pinch myself because I can hardly believe I found another student like me.

Never fear I will leave you feeling stupid. I am aware of my own merit, but never wield it against anyone, unless needed. You are very clever and you have strengths and skills that I do not. I promise to be there to listen, especially in times when nobody else will. I have known loneliness and neglect. My curiosity is a form of escapism as I run away from the eldritch horrors of my past. Please be direct with me. Within me lives a tired old hopeless romantic, whom I locked away in shame as I was told it never plays out like in the movies. But you've proved to me that it actually does. And for you I'll do anything. Though you sometimes leave me tongue tied and flustered, you stabilize me. As thanks you'll have my loyalty and devotion. I'm used to taking care of others, and I know my care won't be misplaced on you. I read people easily already, but please allow me to study your face and note down every micro-expression so that I will always be able to tell how you are feeling even when you feel unable to put it into words.

Sincerely, your future spouse.

#pac reading #tarot reading #energy reading #intuitive reading #pick a card reading #pick a card #pick a pile #pick a picture #love reading #love pac #tarotblr #soapy.post

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mmavverickk · 8 months

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The children of the big three are painfully beautiful.

beautiful as poisonous flowers.

One touch and you're dead.

they are though—they’re venomous creatures, poisonous flowers, forces of nature. the world itself runs through their veins. gods treat them with caution; mere humans don’t stand a chance.

Percy is a riptide. he’s the calm of ocean, moments before its rage. he’s the sun on the beach, the warmth of the sand, the calming, constant crash of the waves. he’s the smell of the salt in the air and the cold of the water against your skin. you can swim, you think, you’ll be fine. he smiles and it’s more beautiful than a sunset over the shore. and then the pull starts. in seconds, you’re farther from shore than you’ve ever been before. trying to swim back tires you out and sees you no closer than before. in fact, now you’re even farther out. the water pulls you under, still as beautiful as it was from shore, and you can’t find your way back up.

Thalia is the eye of the hurricane. the deceitful calm at the end of the storm, luring you out from your shelter. there is nothing more peaceful, more still and tranquil. the sun peeks out from the clouds that surround you from all sides. the wind and rain have died. there’s a rainbow in the sky. the storm is over—except it isn’t. one moment is all it takes, and the hurricane is back with a vengeance. the wind tears at you, rain lashes at you, thunder shakes your bones in place. you walked too far from your shelter, and you might not be able to make your way back.

Jason is hail. the rain is beautiful. it’s a breathtaking storm: impressive thunder, streaking lightning, howling wind. the house shakes around you and the lights go out. the concussive sound of the rain on the roof is soothing, until it isn’t. until it isn’t rain, and the roof isn’t whole. now, the storm is invading your home. the hail is punching its way into everything it can reach. car alarms spring to life outside; those who were watching in awe are now fleeing in terror. it only takes one hit, after all—one lucky piece of hail—to end a life.

Nico is an earthquake. the planet is ancient; the ground was old before you were here and it will be old after you go. it’s sturdy, and supportive, provides life and food and shelter. long ago, when the ground danced, when it shook itself free and sent cities tumbling to the ground, they called it the gods’ wrath. now, it’s called plate tectonics. no matter what it is, no matter why it happens, it is lethal and dangerous and uncaring of those it affects. nowhere is safe when the world turns on you, and if it decides you and your shelter should fall, you will.

Hazel is a sinkhole. the appearance of stability, of rock-solid ground and firm foundations. nothing is wrong, will ever be wrong, she’s the rock that holds everyone up. and then that rock is gone, and you’re falling, down, down, down—your home collapsing around you, your belongings claimed by the morbidly hungry earth. there’s a light at the end of the tunnel, but is it sunlight, far, far above you? or is it magma, far far below?

#sorry it took so long to answer i forgot my password lmao #dark percy jackson #mav.ask #thalia grace #jason grace #nico di angelo #hazel levesque #children of the big three #the big three #powerful percy jackson #percy jackson headcanon #percy jackson #pjo #heroes of olympus

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myosotisa · 1 year

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there are bones in my closet - s.h.

Steve Harrington x Reader

‖ summary: You can't control what your scars have done to you, but you can control what you're going to do about it and who you're going to trust with them.

‖ tags: hurt/comfort, post season 4 volume 2. contains content referring to anxiety, depression, ptsd, unresolved trauma, and their symptoms. you comforting Steve and Steve comforting you. written all in one sitting and unedited, so sorry if there are mistakes. i'll go back and fix them at some point.

‖ word count: 3.8k

You both had scars; seen and unseen.

Some of his were physical. Puckered pink and tight scar tissue on either side of his torso, a smaller section on one shoulder. A straight, light line of discoloration across his throat. The special glasses he had to wear and the pills he had to take to keep the migraines at bay.

The rest were less obvious. A tensing of his shoulders whenever something flew by him and he wasn’t expecting it, even if it was as small as a bee. White knuckle grips, and sometimes a full body flinch, at the crack of thunder or flash of lightning. An uneasy feeling that led to irritability when he had to go outside while it was foggy. Wide, panicked eyes when he woke up in the middle of the night with a scream in his throat. His protective nature morphed, shifted, grew into something that could sometimes feel stifling. The anxiety that accompanied the fear behind the protection.

When you first got closer to Steve Harrington, it was easy for you to tell he had ghosts following him wherever he went. You knew because you had them too.

A tendency to jump or freeze at a loud noise or when someone raised their voice. Hints of subtle pain hiding behind your eyes around the holidays, your birthday, when people talked about their family and you forced a smile. How you could go from the life of the party, talking and laughing and helping everyone, and start to go quiet so quickly, sometimes entirely without warning. The way it wasn’t unusual for you to disappear for days at a time, no one knowing you were simply buried in your covers and unable to emerge. And sometimes, even when you were right next to him, right next to anyone, you would still feel so far away.

Steve was haunted by things that had long since died and you were too.

The first time you saw the signs in him was early April 1986.

You’d barely known him then. Both of you had known of each other in school but that was pretty much it – orbited different planets in the same solar system. When you met him again, or for the first time really, at the donation drive at the high school, he wasn’t at all what you remembered. King Steve was wearing a little name tag and folding shirts, pants, towels, and anything else set before him and then organizing it into piles just like one of your colleagues had asked him to.

Although pretty busy trying to wrangle a few other volunteers who seemed to have bitten off more than they could chew when it came to washing the bedding on the cots lining the gym, you couldn’t help but catch glimpses of him. How he had a heated but whispered argument with Robin Buckley from a year behind you, and then smiled like a proud father as she made peanut butter sandwiches. Turned into an absolute mother hen when a curly haired brunette walked by him with a limp, leaving his station to usher him over to a set of chairs and gave him what looked like a finger wag before ruffling the boy's curls. He only went back to folding when an older man, who you recognized as one of the people staying here, came and sat down next to the boy, waving Steve off with a shaky hand.

A few other preteens came by and talked to him, the only one you recognized being Nancy Wheeler’s younger brother Mike. He spoke with all of them with what could only be described as fond annoyance – like how you would talk to a younger sibling or a best friend. It intrigued you, for lack of a better word. An earthquake had shattered Hawkins and here was Steve Harrington: folding an endless number of fabrics that just kept growing, greeting anyone who tried to talk to him with a charming smile, and looking out for a select group of what appeared to be his friends.

After a particularly long conversation with two local moms, you noticed it. The smile was more forced, his responses less enthusiastic, shoulders rolling forward and eyes closing with a deep breath when he thought no one was looking at him.

He looked exhausted. The kind of tired sleeping can’t fix.

When another local came and chatted him up, carrying most of the conversation as Steve replied politely, and then clapped him on the back – he choked. A tightening of his chest, his neck, his eyes squeezing shut as he let out a few coughs. The man looked worried, asking him if he was okay, if he had hurt him. Then brown eyes blinked open wide again and flickered around wildly. His shoulders started to fall and rise faster, a flush creeping up his neck.

Your bleeding heart cracked a bit more as you stepped inbetween the man and him.

“Hey, sorry to interrupt,” you glanced back at the man, who gave a hesitant shrug before making an escape, and you returned to the wild eyes of Steve. “Volunteer coordinator here, do you think you could come help me with something?”

There was water collecting in the corners of his eyes as they glanced from you to the room like he was looking for a way to escape. His voice was slightly hoarse when he tried to respond, “I… I, uh-”

Lightly pressing the tips of your fingers to the clenched fist of his hand, you lowered your voice as quietly as you could. “Just come with me.”

His eyes squeezed shut, a single errant tear sliding down his pink cheek, before he gave a stunted nod.

You could feel eyes on your back as you walked with him off of the floor and into the swinging door of the kitchen.

Struggling with the weight, you pulled open the heavy metal door to the walk in fridge and motioned him inside. He didn’t question it as he stepped in and you followed behind him.

The space was small but not claustrophobic, large wire shelves on either side as the heavy door softly closed behind you. Eyes searching, you landed on a long plank of what looked like frozen pork ribs.

“Hold this please,” was the only thing you said as you thrust it into his hands. His eyebrows were drawn together in confusion but he took the slab, the ice cold object ending up nestled into his chest. Perfect. “Thanks, now just wait here a minute,” you inched past him, both of you having to rotate in order for you to get past without touching each other, “I have to grab one more thing.”

You didn’t. You didn’t need the ribs either. But you opened up the faded white ice chest in the back of the walk in and started digging through it, looking for nothing. Your companion didn’t say a word in the enclosed space, but you could tell the cold was doing its job as his breathing started to slow down. After pretending to dig for another few minutes, you stood up straight again and let the lid fall closed before hopping up to sit on top of it.

Steve was standing there dutifully and holding the frozen meat close to him just as you’d asked. The flush rising up from his chest had been replaced with pink nose and cheeks from the cold, dry air, and his chest rose and fell at a more reasonable rate. The panic in his eyes had abated and the tears blinked away as his head slightly swiveled to look around the metal container you both were in.

“You can put the meat down now if you want.”

He startled a bit, gaze returning to you having not realized you were sitting there watching him. “I’m sorry?”

“I didn’t actually need your help,” you offered plainly, motioning to the pork he was basically hugging. “The cold helps the panic go away.”

His head drops to look over the plastic bundle in his arms. “The…? No, I wasn’t-”

“It’s okay, Steve. You don’t have to explain.”

A few moments passed as Steve’s grip on the meat shifted before he set it back on the shelf you had taken it from. Now free, his arms crossed over his chest and he shifted on his feet slightly. You took your own few moments to slow down, to breathe. To let the cold air recover you as much as it could before you had to go back out there.

Go back to grieving widows and broken families and people suddenly without homes or possessions. People crying, screaming, trying to make sense of something senseless. Some looking out for ways to help, some desperately seeking help no one could reasonably provide. You would keep going until your heart bled dry and then just a little farther, just to go back to your empty apartment and do it again the next day.

But it was what you could do. It was something you could do. A way you could help.

Rescuing Steve Harrington from having a panic attack in a crowded school gym was a way you could help even when you felt like you were falling apart at the seams.

His voice is gentle when he asks, “how did you know…?”

That he was panicking? That the cold would help? That he needed help?

“Guess when you know what it feels like, you know what it looks like.”

He seems to quietly consider your answer as he quietly considers you. Eyes searching, posture guarded, energy unsettled. You want to show a kind smile, open palms, telling him sweet words that will settle him, do the job that you’re supposed to be doing here.

But you’re so exhausted. The kind of tired sleeping can’t fix. And you just need a few more minutes before you put the act back on.

Whatever he was looking for, he seemed to have found it, because his arms fell from his chest, one lowering to rest on his hip as he leaned the opposite shoulder against the shelf beside him.

“Do you, uh, have any other tips and tricks?” He hesitantly asks, his gaze locked on your dirty sneakers.

“Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

The first time he saw yours was early June 1986.

The two of you had spent a steadily increasing amount of time together as he continued to volunteer to help at the makeshift shelter and you continued coordinating. When it was possible, the two of you would end up on a station together and you’d get a few more clues into what exactly were the skeletons in Steve’s closet. Hushed conversations about a friend in the hospital, about a friend they’d lost, about one they’d gotten back. Stories like you heard every single time you worked, but these felt different. The more you watched, the more you saw the string that tied all of them together. How it wasn’t just Steve looking out for his people, but them looking out for him and each other too.

A group of people that made no sense to be together but bonded in a way that couldn’t have happened peacefully.

Sometimes he would be talking to one of them – one of the preteens, or Robin, or Nancy Wheeler, or Jonathan Byers, or Joyce Byers, or the newly revived Sheriff Hopper – and would nervously glance your way like they didn’t want you to hear. You pretended not to.

If you could have stopped listening, you would have. But you heard and processed everything around you whether you wanted to or not.

Regardless of some of the strange things that floated into your ears, you never said a word about it. Never talked about the scar on his neck, or the scars on his sides you had gotten peeks at when he reached for something up high. Never asked why sometimes his whole body would start to react as if he was in a life or death situation, never questioned what triggered those moments. Never mentioned that when you weren’t working together, you could feel his eyes on you like a hawk, like you were one of the people he looked out for now too.

Never admitted how terrified that made you.

In return, he never asked why you would suddenly disappear for an hour and re-emerge with frozen fingers. Never pressed when you told him you were fine even though you couldn’t say it convincingly. Never forced you to talk when you fell silent or made you feel like you had to act a certain way or fulfill a certain need for him.

He just needed someone. Someone who knew, but didn’t know. Who saw the weight, saw the string that wound tight to him and his friends, saw when the mask started to crack and needed to be whisked away from prying eyes, and didn’t ask to know anymore than that.

You needed someone too. Someone who knew, but didn’t know. Who could see past the performance, see when the shadows drew in tighter and started to choke you, see that you were trying so fucking hard all the time. You needed someone who would understand that you were going to fight tooth and nail against the idea of needing someone – a trapped animal lashing out at anyone who tried to get close because they didn’t know if they were going to set it free or make the killing blow.

You didn’t know Steve could be that person until he proved it.

The day had started off shit. You’d woken up in a haze and debated if this was one of the days that would make you bury your head in the sand and wait for the storm to pass. Your first mistake was deciding to get up and go back to work anyway.

Your second mistake was putting Butter Handy Andy on dish washing duty.

You’d been talking to Vickie McAdams about the supplies you all had available for making dinner tonight when a huge crash came from inside the kitchen. Completely unprepared for a sudden noise that loud, you couldn’t hold in the yelp, couldn’t mask the way your entire body tensed, couldn’t help the way you immediately stopped in the middle of your sentence. Frozen, heart stuttering an uneven rhythm in your chest, the contents of your stomach kicking up, and people were staring. People were staring. Everyone was looking at you and thinking there was something wrong with you and you’re weak and broken.

Sweet, sweet Vickie, with a concerned furrow to her brow and a calm smile, asked, “Hey, are you okay?”

It took 75% of what you had left to put the act back on.

“Yup, just spooked me a little.” You laughed and then she laughed and then it felt like you had saved it, fooled them, protected yourself. It felt like the eyes were off of you.

Well, all except 2.

Your third mistake was stepping in between two men who had started an argument by the missing persons board.

Already running on fumes, you really should’ve thrown in the towel an hour ago. But giving up wasn’t a skill of yours and all that awaited you at home was silence and skeletons, so you kept the engine running. The disagreement had started quietly but quickly escalated into a screaming match in front of everyone in the room. Having forgotten yourself, gotten lost in the role you were playing as a coordinator and a leader, you’d immediately approached and tried to talk them down. Neither paid any attention to you and more people were starting to gather, either to watch or concerned they needed to do something. A baby nearby started to wail and the murmur of the gathering people grew and all the noise continued to grow into a tidal wave that rushed in your ears.

One of the men raised a fist like he was going to throw a punch. You rocketed forward, putting yourself between them with your hands out to try to stop him. And you did – the forward motion of his fist stopped. But then his other hand fisted in the fabric of your shirt near the collar and he tossed you away like you were nothing. You stumbled and then fell, gasping out in pain and shock as your tailbone made contact with the shiny, wooden floor.

The crowd descended then; pulling the two men apart before either of them could come to harm. People rushed for you, throwing out questions of ‘are you hurt?’, ‘what were you thinking?’, ‘are you okay?’ as hands you didn’t know forced you back to your feet. There were so many eyes and so many questions and so many hands and everyone was so close and everything was so loud and you couldn’t see and you couldn’t breathe and you couldn’t move and you couldn’t talk.

You ran.

Pushed your way through the small circle of near strangers that had formed around you and settled into a run toward the swinging kitchen door. Through the door, past where Andy was still dropping pots and pans into soapy water without a care in the world, past the walk in fridge, and out the back doors. The sun was setting but the air was still hot and humid and choking you as you kept fucking running. You didn’t know if anyone followed you, you didn’t even try to look. You just listened to the frantic beat of your heart that told you to keep going or else it would be the end of you.

Your feet carried you to a familiar place that you hadn’t seen in a few years. You ran out of breath and had to stop just as you reached the bleachers along the mile track behind the school. They were coated in shades of orange, making the dusty track beyond them look even older as the sun carried down toward the horizon.

Despite your lungs and legs not being able to run any further, you were still thrumming with adrenaline, muscles tensed, chest tight, heart and mind racing out of control. You couldn’t focus on anything, couldn’t stop, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t get back in control.

A hand lightly tapped your shoulder and you swung.

Steve Harrington dodged your fist like a man who had taken more than his fair share of punches.

“Woah, hey, just me,” he offered calmly, hands coming up in a surrender gesture. The wire rim glasses were a recent addition, only a month or so old. You’d overheard one of his friends joke that maybe if he had taken one less knock to the noggin he wouldn’t need them. Hurt eyes or not, they flickered over you, caught sight of the heaving of your chest, the blood shot eyes, how you panted out between your teeth and arched your back like a cornered animal.

You certainly sounded a bit like one as you barked, “What the fuck do you want, Steve?”

He instinctively stepped back at the venom in your tone, eyes widening slightly in surprise. His mouth opened, closed, opened, and said nothing. The fear in his eyes quickly abated and then his expression fell. Not into one of pity or worry, like you normally expected. No, Steve looked at you like someone who knew, but didn’t know. Someone who understood. And it broke you.

Denim covered knees hit dust as you fell on them hard enough to hurt. You didn’t feel it, the physical pain, too distracted by the agony of your bleeding heart cracking your chest wide open. A sob tore from your throat as you buried your face into your sweaty hands and shook with the force of your tears. Gasping in a few sharp gulps of air as the cries continued to force themselves out of your mouth.

Firm, warm arms circled your shoulders and forced you off your knees and onto your ass and thigh, legs off to one side as your upper body made contact with a solid chest. His grip around you was tight, almost bone crushing, and despite the way you thought it would trigger you more, it was grounding. Something solid, something real, something physical while everything else felt like sand running right through your fingers. Despite the unexpected comfort offered, your sobs continued.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured into your hair, barely audible due to your crying. “You’re safe.”

The word ‘safe’ made your bleeding heart shatter into pieces, another sharp wail leaving you as your nails started to dig into the skin of your face. Almost like he knew, Steve momentarily released one of his arms to force your hands away from your face and press them into his chest, encouraging your fingers to fist in his shirt instead. You obliged subconsciously, hands twisting in his loose t-shirt as you pressed your eyes into his shoulder instead. Satisfied, he returned both arms to his tight circle that held you pressed to him.

You don’t know how long you both sat there on the track behind Hawkins High School. Long enough for the automatic lights to flick on over the field and the sunset to dip into golden reds and purples as night crept closer. Long enough for your ass to fall asleep and for your crying to stop and for your breathing to return to normal and then even longer than that.

He didn’t pull away until you did, and even then it was with reluctance.

Making eye contact for the first time, you didn’t think before the words tumbled out of you. “I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for,” he replied, like it was the simplest thing in the world. Like his shirt wasn’t damp with your tears and he hadn’t followed you out here while you ran like your life depended on it.

Wanting to argue that you had plenty to be sorry for, instead you shifted gears to the part of you that desperately wanted to give some kind of excuse or a reason to what had just occurred. “I swear, I normally don’t-”

“It’s okay,” he interrupted you with a kind smile, one hand giving your knee a soft squeeze before returning to his own lap. “You don’t have to explain.”

The shattered bits of your heart that lay in the wasteland of your chest thumped once, twice.

“Thank you,” it came out of you as barely a whisper.

“I’ve got you,” he repeated, eyes warm and gentle. “I’ve got you and you’ve got me.”

Thumped once, twice beneath the fear.

“I’ve got you and you’ve got me.”

thanks for reading!! if you liked it, please give it a reblog and leave a comment, as they make my day <3

#steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington hurt/comfort #steve harrington comfort #steve harrington fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things x reader #steve harrington angst #stranger things hurt/comfort #myos ideas #myo4harrington

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runawaymarbles · 1 month

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9-1-1 fic recs

because if I do nothing but read 9-1-1 fic for a month solid I feel like I should. Since my bookmark notes are all spoilers. Buck/Eddie unless specified otherwise.

to your front door by hammersmiths | G | 3k

Buck and Pepa are bridge buddies and Pepa is happy to arrange everyone's lives.

i'm headed to the mountains by hammersmiths | 8k | G

a.k.a. Abby Clark does deserve rights

pick me, choose me, love me by trysetmeonfire | T | 9k

It is some kind of hell, it seems to me, to be forced to choose one irreplaceable thing over another. Buck and Chris get stuck and Eddie has to get one of them out first.

brick by spqr | E | 10k

9-1-1 fic I read and loved before I knew anything else about 9-1-1. Post lightning strike, Buck and Eddie are not at all on the same page.

i love you, ain't that the worst thing you've ever heard? by rarakiplin (gmontys) | T | 10k

"Because, Evan" is actually a love confession, but Buck's with Taylor. They handle it great.

the stick-around by derryfacts2 (winchysteria) | T | 10k

Buck is bleeding out. It's surprisingly funny.

Ace of Hearts by glorious_spoon | T | 10k

The poker night was a date but Buck doesn't realize it until later.

darlin', i'm just tryin' to tell ya by archerincombat | T | 10k

The station adopts a dog that has cancer and Ravi has some feelings about it.

still by brewrosemilk | T | 10k

Eddie is standing on a bomb.

the light's been out though, baby by hattalove | M | 15k

There's a video of the shooting.

like a hole in the ground by clytemnestra | T | 15k

Buck shares his feelings but they still don't know how to communicate.

maybe love won't let you down by sibylsleaves | M | 15k

Buck tells Eddie he loves him; Eddie thinks he himself is terrible at relationships and so he dodges the question. Things are OK until they aren't.

False Start (timing’s everything) by Morgane (smilla840) | E | 16k

Buck and Eddie hook up, and then Buck gets back together with Taylor. Ouches all the way down. It's great.

i would like a place i could call my own by maybeamystery | E | 17k

Buck and Eddie hooked up at the end of season 3. It does not make things better.

find a way to you (if it kills me) by foxwatson | M | 20k

Buck doesn't realize he has feelings for Eddie until Eddie lets Linda set him up. They both suck at coming out.

stay soft; get eaten by eddiediass | T | 20k

Ramon Diaz is dying.

every time we stop talking (the universe starts screaming) by withmeornotatall | M | 20k

Buck is being reckless, Eddie's pissed about it, and Natalia is asking a lot of questions about everybody's trauma.

where there's smoke, there's fire by wakeupnew | T | 24k

You're really not supposed to be secretly dating your coworker. Luckily, they have a union rep.

into the fire by brewrosemilk | E | 27k

Cheating fic (complimentary); Buck and Eddie sleep together. It's messy.

Tick Tick Boom by ChasetheWindTouchtheSky | 30k | T

Buck's having a breakdown; he's not talking to his parents; he doesn't tell Maddie this but he does go to drag brunch.

I Kinda Fell Half In Love (And You're To Blame) by orphan_account E | 33k

Eddie is dating Ana and Buck can't figure out why he doesn't like it. Also, Chris is trying to return to school after COVID and they're really stressed about it.

the going water and the gone by trysetmeonfire | T | 30k

Eddie is lost at sea and presumed dead. The logistics of death are complicated and custody isn't as easy as saying you want your platonic bro to raise your kid without telling anyone.

i don't swim and you're not in love by hattalove | T | 30k

Eddie is dating Ana, Buck tries to get over himself, and there's a sewer leak at Abuela's.

listen to you breathing (is where I wanna be) by Yavilee | T | 40k

Buck goes down in an earthquake and is missing, presumed. He and Eddie leave each other voicemails.

everything (nothing) has changed by bizarrestars | E | 50k

Buck goes to therapy, tells Eddie that he's in love with him but he's going to get over it, and Eddie has a meltdown for 50,000 words except this is from Buck's POV and Buck's an idiot.

across our great divide (a glorious sunrise) by catchingpapermoons | M | 50k

Buck and Eddie go to couples therapy in s5 and I? Cry.

a blaze in the dark by woodchoc_magnum | E | 117k

Buck gets caught up in Natalia, Eddie starts dating someone else, it goes about how you'd expect. Hurts in a delightful way.

tell me about despair by hattalove | M | 150k

THEEEEE Eddie Diaz fic.

just to be with you by woodchoc_magnum | M | 150k

Buck and Eddie keep their relationship secret for months and it turns out it's hard to come back from that.

The things we lost in the fire by SunSpell80

Buck's uncle molested him when he was a kid. Buck's relationship with his parents is complicated in a way that doesn't villanize them, but is still messy as fuck. I am rotating it in my brain. (Note: the author presumably wrote this before we met Buck's parents in canon, but got tired of changing the names a couple chapters in.)

#buddie #911 show #fic rec #evan buckley #eddie diaz #op

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delopsia · 1 year

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About Last Night | Rhett Abbott x Reader

Word Count: 6,700 Cross Posted on AO3 Warnings & Notes: 18+, AFAB!Reader, Virgin!Rhett, shameless childhood best friends to lovers trope, unprotected sex in a hotel room, loss of virginity, first kisses, reader teaching Rhett how to eat them out, and a lazy morning after snippet. A self-indulgent take on Rhett's best friend coming back to Wabang and surprising him after his final rodeo.

Someone's gone and replaced your flowers with cement replicas. Hundreds of pounds each, weighing heavier and heavier with every moment that passes. Brittle stems threaten to slip out of your sweaty grasp and shatter into a million tiny pieces.

"What did you say?" His wavering words are so weak that you almost don't hear him speak at all.

But you do.

And repeating yourself is just as hard as it was the first time you opened your mouth.

"Congratulations."

Even from so far away, you can feel his gaze drop down to the colorful mess in your hands. Vivid hues of red and yellow, the dainty little petals still glistening from the sudden onset of rain. In hindsight, an umbrella would have been a good idea.

"You..." his head tilts back up, still not moving, "for...me?" Why is it that you already knew he would look behind himself, like someone better, more deserving, would be behind him?

You're glad you chose this spot to surprise him. Where it's dark, and the blinding stadium lights can't cast a spotlight on your contorting face as you scramble for words. Specific sounds that each carry their own unique meaning; all you need to do is open your mouth and make a noise.

But you can't.

Maybe you don't need to, though. Because Rhett's feet are moving, boots audibly scuffing against the dirt because he's not picking them up high enough. Albeit, moving very slowly, as if you're not real, just a ghost of the past that'll turn into mist if he isn't careful.

His heels dig into the ground a mere foot away from you. Like he's met the end of an invisible leash. Eyes back on the flowers, then you once more. "Sunflowers?"

"And tulips," the words spill out of your mouth so quickly that you hardly know what you said, "you...told me a long time ago that sunflowers were your favorite."

The red tulips only made their way into the bouquet because the florist had a shortage of sunflowers. It was either hand him an absurdly tiny bouquet of flowers or spruce it up with the same color tulips he gave you after graduation, way back when. Before you left.

Thunder rolls in the distance. Lightning flickers. Lights up the sky for the briefest instance. One fleeting shot of Rhett's face. Eyes so wet they shimmer. Dirt on his unshaven jaw. He reaches out. Doesn't take the flowers when you hold them out for him. No, he just...touches them. Like he's unsure if they're real.

"You told me that you were never coming back to Wabang," it's almost strange to hear his voice this clearly. No longer muffled by a cell phone speaker.

"I did," licking your lips, "but I never said I wouldn't come back for you."

That... maybe you shouldn't have said that. All it's taken is those few words for this cowboy to go still again. Doesn't even blink. All he's capable of is staring back at you. Blank. No easy-going smile. No childish teasing. Hell. He doesn't even breathe.

Again, lightning flashes across the sky. Veins of light scattering and disappearing in the blink of an eye. Even so, you catch the upturn of the corner of Rhett's lip. Lopsided. Fighting its way across his face.

His hand is traveling. Across the petals. Down the stems. Right across your boiling hand and up your arm. Feather-light, never vanishing. Doesn't stop until those wandering fingertips brush across your cheek.

All of a sudden, he's taking that last step forward. Closing the gap between your bodies. Thunder booms. Shaking the ground beneath your feat. Feels like a goddamn earthquake. But you can't think. Can't acknowledge the storm. Because Rhett's leaning in and. And. And—

"Just for me, huh?" His hot breath fans out against your lips. Noses bumping together. You've known this man your entire life. And yet. You don't recall ever being this close. But this. This.

You've waited a lifetime for this. "Yeah."

That smile breaks across his face. The last push you need to lean in.

You could never have imagined that Rhett Abbott's lips taste like strawberry chapstick.

It's only for a second, parting just as quickly as you'd met, eyes fluttering back open, even though you don't recall shutting them. But one kiss isn't enough. Not when Rhett's taking his hat off, pressing the brim of it flat against your shoulder blades, drawing you impossibly closer. Your arms find themselves winding around his neck as you meet him again, flowers draped haphazardly against his shoulder, long forgotten.

The storm is beginning to rage again, but all you're capable of comprehending is Rhett's mouth. Rhett's bitten lips and the barely there divot in the bottom left corner of them; remnants of a scar with a story that pains you to recall. Warm fingers grasp at your jaw, careful and delicate, keeps you grounded between every fleeting kiss. Each beginning before you've realized it; fleeting, too quick for your liking.

Maybe it's the kiss-drunk frustration that has your free hand moving, or maybe it's moving on its own; seizes that scruffy chin all the same. Two-day-old stubble scrapes against your palm as you hold him still to kiss him proper. The way you've been yearning for years.

Tiny, hard bullets strike at your exposed skin, bringing with them a rain so cold it stings. Your once quiet world dissolves into mind-numbing noise as hail bounces off of tin roofs and cracking pavement.

"Hang onto me," Rhett murmurs against your lips, so close but so hard to hear. He's stepping forward, carting you backward, leaving you with the choice to cling to his shoulders or fall. Doesn't stop until your back is hitting a cold building wall, your body shielded by the overhang of the roof.

"But the hail is still hitting you." Your lips are moving, but you can't hear what you're saying, not under this metal roof. There isn't enough room under it to cover him, too, not in this position; sleet striking against those broad shoulders, hail bouncing off his backside and landing by your feet.

He's tilting his hat back up, settling it right atop that soaked, tangled mop of hair. "Don't care."

Oh, how his mouth fits against yours so perfectly. A surging tide of warmth in this mind-numbingly cold rain, the only thing keeping you from being whisked away by the howling wind. Teeth nip at your lower lip with gentle tugs that have you gasping into his wickedly talented mouth. Even the stubble that scratches at your skin can't stop you from leaning into it; discomfort be damned.

Rhett's hands are everywhere, running up your hips, pressing into the space between your shoulder blades, curling around your jaw, tightening around your waist. So frenzied that you're distracted by their roaming until that hot, wet tongue laps against yours, and all of a sudden, you can't breathe.

"Fuck," he gasps; it's hard to feel so guilty about needing air when he's open-mouthed, panting like a dog in the summer sun.

Even the trembling that's settled into your hands can't stop you from trying to pull him closer, not a centimeter of space between your panting bodies. And God is Rhett trying his best to give you that; presses you flat against the wall, heaving chest bumping against yours whilst a wayward leg steps between yours—

"Ah."

Fuck, was that you?

Rhett's thigh shifts, has another one of those sounds boiling up in your throat as it unintentionally grinds against your core. A soft pressure that you're fighting the urge to grind against; barely there but enough to have your heart rate spiking.

"Shit," Rhett's eyes have gone wide, the whites of them flashing in the poor lighting. "Did I hurt you?"

Oblivious.

Completely, utterly oblivious.

"'m sorry," his muttering barely audible, already beginning to reel backward, "I didn't...did I overstep?"

Words would work just as well, but instead of opening your mouth, you find yourself stepping forward. Clinging to his wet shoulders for balance as you slot your thigh between his and raise it. Just high enough to press against that hardness that's formed in his jeans, straining against its confines.

Those eyelashes of his flutter, eyes rolling back for the briefest second. "Oh."

As the thunder rolls once more, his thighs flex, muscles contracting beautifully as he draws your leg harder against him. You're not even getting any attention, and yet the sensation of him grinding down against you is enough to have a shiver rattling down your spine. He's leaning back in, still panting as your lips brush together once more.

A siren pierces the air. A steady wail that has your skin prickling. Rhett's arms tighten. Drawing you into his chest. As if he can protect you from a potential tornado.

"'ve gotta hotel down the road," he starts; between the storm and the siren, you're lucky you hear him at all, "do you maybe..."

He doesn't need to finish his sentence before you're nodding your head.

Your back hits the door so hard that the frame rattles. A sound that should be so quiet and yet sounds like it's being blasted through a megaphone, echoing down the hallway. You should be opening your eyes, looking around to see if anyone's heard it, but it's so hard to focus when Rhett's teeth graze your lips like that.

He hardly expects you to chase him when he retreats, eagerly nipping at that thin bottom lip, gently tugging. You're not sure if it's meant to be a warning or a tease, but he's gasping into your mouth all the same.

Next to you, his hand fumbles with the lock on the door, plastic card bumping into everything in its path on its way to swipe through the reader. Slides through once. Twice. Three times.

No dice.

"Are you sure it's the right key?"

"Well," drawing away, he looks over to the card reader. Tries again. Same result. "...It worked earlier."

A shrill beep cuts through the air. And all of a sudden, you're moving backward. Treading blindly through unfamiliar territory. Unnatural gait making it hard to keep your lips on Rhett's for more than a second at a time. Broken with every step. Teeth clattering together. Feet tangling. Shoes coming off. Landing God knows where.

The backs of your knees hit the edge of the bed, but Rhett's still moving; all it takes is the slightest collision of bodies, and you're falling back onto the mattress. Not as gracefully as you'd like, but thankfully, Rhett can't see it. Eyes closed as he reaches behind his head, hooking his thumb under the collar of his shirt and tugging it over his head.

You need a drink.

Or five.

Because since when did Rhett Abbott look like he was hand sculpted by the Gods? From the moment you catch sight of the hard lines of his stomach, you know you're in trouble. And that shirt just has to rise higher, slowly revealing the swell of his chest. The biggest part of him; wide, with muscles that look big and pillowy until they flex.

And the dull, golden lighting from the bedside lamp does nothing but cast deep shadows against where he's most defined; the fruit of a lifetime of manual labor. Built for purpose rather than appearance. Moving back out to Wabang suddenly doesn't sound so bad, not if you get to see this every day.

"I know I'm..." Rhett's reaching up, pawing a hand through his unruly hair, poorly conceals the redness that's blossomed in the tips of his ears. "Not much to look at, but..."

"I'd beg to differ." It's out of your mouth before you can realize it. Now it's your turn to sheepishly look at the wall, unwilling to let Rhett catch the horror flaming in your eyes, gaze trained on the wall.

The bed dips as he sinks down onto it, knees settling between your parted legs, slowly but surely crawling up until your faces are mere inches apart once more. Even the flexing of muscles in your peripheral cannot bring you away from your sudden interest in the tacky floral pattern the hotel has chosen for its wallpaper.

But the kisses being peppered across your cheek definitely threatens to break your resolve.

"Hey." Kiss. "D'you wanna look at me?" Kiss. "Hm?"

You're turning to meet that next kiss, neck straining as you twist to catch those swollen lips of his. In the back of your head, you have a sneaking suspicion that yours must be in a similar state. On their own, your legs are rising, thighs hitching over his hip bones like they're meant to be shelved there.

Thunder strikes the ground with a heavy fist, but even the earsplitting noise can't distract you from the way Rhett's hips grind down into yours. Jeans doing little to stop you from feeling the length of him, hard against your clothed cunt. Has you whining into his mouth, rising to meet him on the next roll downward. A wayward hand toys with the hem of your shirt, fingers delving just far enough to brush against skin before retreating as if you've burned him.

"It's alright," Without a second thought, you're reaching down, taking hold of his wrist, guiding it back, "You can touch me."

"'S this my ol' shirt?" He says it as if he doesn't already know the answer, words vibrating against your lips, whilst his hand cautiously smooths up your side. Blunt nails dragging against your skin, stopping just short of the swell of your breasts. Shy.

"No," you giggle, "I just happen to have a shirt identical to the one I hijacked from your closet." Funny; it feels like it was just yesterday. Two dumb teenagers ditching prom to go joyriding around town because their dates sucked, their clothes were too stiff, and the music was one step away from Kids Bop.

"Looks good on you," He's humming, thumb swiping back and forth at the sensitive skin beneath your breast; not stepping that line yet, but debating. "'M sure the fella who gave it to ya was a lot more fun than the noname who got his knickers 'n a twist 'cause your dress didn't match his tie."

You're sure you'd remember that guy's name if your attention wasn't already preoccupied with the feeling of endless muscle beneath your palms. Smoothing up Rhett's chest, stopping short of a tattoo and a scar.

"You can touch me, cowboy," you say, and it's almost a little ironic that you're giving him permission to touch your breasts, considering the heavy cock languidly rolling against you, "I don't mind."

Lightning flickers outside the window, just bright enough to cast a little more light on the way his eyebrows raise. "Are you sure?"

All it takes is your shallow nod, and finally, his big, rough palm is gliding over your chest; he's not even done anything, and you're gasping. So distracted that you're caught off guard by the lips that catch yours, swallowing down your noises as a thumb swirls over a rapidly hardening nipple.

On its own, one of your hands delves into those messy curls resting at his nape, tangling in them, pulling him down into you. His insistent mouth draws yours open, drowns you in remnants of strawberry chapstick and the vanilla candy he sucked on when he drove you here. Doesn't stop, even when your head is spinning.

His tongue meets with yours; such a sudden appearance that you both startle as if you've been struck by a bolt of lightning for crossing such a boundary.

You shouldn't be here; you shouldn't be beneath Rhett Abbott, shouldn't have your legs hitched over his hips, but kissing him is so natural. Easy. Like you were always meant to be wind up here, your hands in childhood best friend's hair and his disappearing beneath the shirt you so shamelessly took from his closet all those years ago. Maybe there was a truth to those undying rumors that once followed you like a plague.

There's a tug on the edge of your shirt, and it's a damn miracle you're able to tear your mouth off of his long enough to get it over your head.

"Fuck," Rhett's eyes downright sparkle at the sight of you, "ain't you just beautiful."

One kiss. Two. Three. Before he's nibbling at the junction of your jaw, working his way down to the soft spot beneath your ear, and all you're capable of is twisting your fingers in the waves of his hair. Silky soft, still damp from the rain. It's all you can do to keep yourself from floating out the window, feeling those wandering lips kiss their way down to your collarbones. Teeth nip at them, threaten to leave a mark, but never quite do.

"This okay?" He murmurs, somewhere in between kissing, licking, his way to the valley between your breasts.

There's more to that statement because he's still talking, but you're already answering him, "More than okay."

Fuck, his mouth is boiling. Tongue like lava as it tentatively laps over your nipple, saliva threatening to burn right through you. It's all you can focus on, sinful noise rolling out of your throat long forgotten. Back and forth, he rolls that delicate skin between his teeth until he's retreating to shower his attention on the other.

"Rhett," gasping, tugging at his hair, "fuck, Rhett."

"You make my name sound like sin, sweetheart," his chuckle vibrates through your bones like the thunder that rattles this old building, "y' gettin' impatient on me?"

Impatient? Fuck, you think you could die happy just with this.

But he's taking your needy huff as a yes, and you can't complain, not when his hands are sliding down either side of your waist, kissing a trail down your belly. Only interrupted by the waistband of your pants, but those thick fingers are quick to curl beneath.

When you don't tell him no, he tugs. You've hardly got the strength to raise your hips off the mattress, too preoccupied with the wet spot that's long since formed at the forefront of his jeans. Don't get to see it for long because the moment your pants hit the floor, he's thumbing open his belt buckle, the old metal rattling as he tugs those tight jeans past his thighs and down his legs.

You don't recall him having so many scars littered across those long legs of his, pale white with age. One of those things you've missed out on, you suppose.

As he settles back between your legs, running a palm up your thigh, there's a different air about him. Hesitation in his breath, bottom lip caught between pearly white teeth. Those eyes flicker up to you, almost...bashful. "'S this a bad time to admit I've never done this before?"

Huh.

"You mean to tell me that you look like that," you're reaching up to flick your thumb over his dusky pink nipple just to see him jump, "and nobody has tried to jump your bones yet?"

"I...yeah, but...I only," he stammers, cheeks ablaze, can't meet your eye, "wanted...you."

The power flickers while you curl your hand around his cheek, feeling the roughness of his jaw under your palm as he leans into it. In the back of your head, you know that you'll have to talk about these feelings eventually; the ones he's so shamelessly brandished in your absence, the same ones you've avoided, fearing the heartache of unrequited love.

But right now, all you're capable of is smiling dumbly as you lean up to kiss him. "I'll teach you," murmuring against his lips, "but you'll have to promise not to share those new skills with anyone else."

Rhett's sudden grin has your teeth clacking together. "I can work with that." He's got a pretty good start, already toying with the hem of your underwear by the time you lay back once more, obediently pulling them down your legs when you lift your hips for him.

"C'n I...?" Deep blues trained on the sight between your legs, teeth worrying that poor, abused bottom lip.

You think he's about to start drooling.

At your encouraging nod, one of his hands falls onto your bare knee, parts your legs the slightest bit. Slow, as if you'll stop him if he moves too quickly; he leans down to press his lips to the inside of your knee. Kissing, down the delicate flesh of your thigh, unafraid to leave a shower of faint marks in his wake. Marks who have the potential to blossom into dark bruises come morning.

Long hair cascades into his face the lower he goes; it's so easy to reach down and run your fingers through it, tangling as your hand comes to rest on the back of his head. Seems to be the only thing encouraging him to move on from your inner thigh.

Hot breath fans out against your cunt, his mouthing hanging open, but doesn't quite have the nerve to move yet. "And you'll tell me if I do something wrong?"

For a moment, you think you catch a glimpse of that old, shy kid he used to be. The one who preoccupied himself with drawing circles into the dirt with his boot because he couldn't handle making eye contact with you. "Yeah."

This old hotel room is so quiet that you can hear the wet, barely-there sound of his mouth opening, pink tongue poking out. Then he's leaning down, licking a tentative, fat stripe up your cunt. Pauses right above your clit, and when you don't voice any complaints, licks back down. It's not much, but you're sucking in a deep breath anyway.

He's trying. Eyebrows furrowed as he maps you out, lapping gingerly at your entrance, the only thing he seems to be generally familiar with. He's a little more confident as he nuzzles closer and slips that careful tongue inside of you. The tip of his nose brushes against your clit, such a soft contact that has you whining.

Fuck, you can't tell if the quickening of your heart is from his mouth or if it's brought on by how he blinks up at you with those curious ocean blues. Knows he's doing something right because he's rising back up to where his nose was just bumping into you.

"This shit's hard when you can't see what you're doing," he chuckles directly into you, doesn't seem to realize his lips are brushing against your clit as he speaks.

The hand in his hair reaches down, taking hold of that scruffy jaw of his, "Right..." lifting him just a smidge higher; fuck, now he's found it, "here."

Humming, Rhett's eyes flutter closed, pressing lazy, wet kisses to your newly-located clit. Takes it between his lips just to delicately roll it back and forth, sends a delicious shiver right up your spine.

"Rhett," whining his name. Fighting the urge to squirm against the mattress.

Maybe you made a mistake by helping him. Because now that he's found your clit, he's not giving it a moment's rest. Drawing intelligible shapes into it with his tongue, ventures away just long enough to make you think he's done, then returns with a surprising, sloppy vengeance. Downright drooling into you, drenching you so thoroughly that the fingers nudging at your entrance slide in with ease.

Albeit muffled, the sound of your name meets your ringing ears, "fuck, you taste good." Soft noises rumbling out of him, eyelashes fanned out against his cheeks so prettily.

It's as if that initial shyness has completely melted off of him, downright collapses against the bed. Free arm hooking around your thigh and grounding you doesn't let you squirm away from the two thick fingers sliding into you. Deliberate in the way they hook, massaging against your walls in search of something he knows is there.

Your hips twitch.

"That it?" Lord, he really has no issue speaking into your pussy, doesn't he? Doesn't care that his deep voice sends a wave of tingles burning up into your chest. All he's focused on is laving his dumb, hot tongue over that swollen bud and teasing that sweet spot he's found.

Abrupt hail beats against the window, wind screams as it whips around the building, so loud that your gasp is rendered inaudible. There could be a tornado outside your door, and all you can care about is prying your eyes open to look at Rhett fucking Abbott. Tongue hanging out, curls framing the sight of him buried between your legs.

Heat grows in your lower belly. An invisible coil winding tighter and tighter. Fuck, you're, you're—

"Please," struggling for air, your voice strained, "stop."

Everything goes black.

But your eyes are...open.

"Fuckin' hate this town," Rhett mutters under his breath, the faintest whisper of his voice; your giggle is louder than his words. "Hold on, think I got a light."

The bed rises as he clambers off of it, taking with him his ever-so-warm presence. Leaves you to shift against the bed, blinking dumbly as your eyes adjust to the darkness. Oh, how you have not missed the joy of Wabang power outages.

Something small hits the bed, rolls until it bumps against your naked hip. Feels like some sort of tube, not the flashlight you were expecting.

"Did you get lost?" You croak, twisting your head to look in the corner next to the bed. Where the hell did he go?

"'m down here." It's hard to catch, but there's sudden movement down by your feet. That old belt buckle chimes as Rhett riffles through his jeans. The sound stops. And then. Light.

"Forgot this dumb phone had a flashlight in it," he's yet to outgrow that sheepish grumble, light bouncing as he meanders to the bedside table. The phone doesn't create much light at all, hardly illuminates the room when he places it down, but it's enough. Even if it casts heavy shadows across Rhett's body, right down to...

"Good lord."

Rhett's attention snaps back to you. "What?"

But you...will be keeping your thoughts to yourself. Maybe the light is playing tricks on you. Because there is no way he's that well endowed. Thicker more than anything, cock leaning to the left, flushed red tip shiny and leaking against his hip.

The lube resting against your hip is about to become your best friend here in a minute.

"What?" He repeats, the corner of his lip rising as he settles back down on the bed, back in his place between your legs. God, his chin is dripping from you. Shimmering in the light. "'s there a monster lurkin' in here with us?"

"Yes," and you will not be elaborating.

That halfway smile explodes into a dopey grin. Seems to know what you're referring to as he reaches for that neglected bottle of lube.

It's not a trick of the light. The size of him never miraculously changes, even as that big hand of his strokes a generous amount of lube over himself. Explains why he drizzles more over his fingers, pushes them back into you once more with a sickly wet sound.

"D'you need more, first?" He asks. The both of you fully aware that even though he's got three fingers in you now, pumping into you in slow, careful strokes, it may not be enough.

It takes you a moment to decide, "I think I'm alright."

One of his hands falls down by your side, muscles rippling as he braces his weight on it, while the other...

The first kiss of his cockhead against your pussy has you gasping. Doesn't quite jump into pushing into you, instead pushing upward, spreading your lips around him as he rubs against you.

Your mouth opens, ready to hurry him up, but he's already heard what you're going to say.

"I know," he chirps, eyes rolling, "I know."

There's a newfound pressure between your legs, the thick head of his cock nudging against your delicate, dripping entrance. Pushing past that twitching ring of muscle, a pair of gasps dancing through the air, can't quite tell who made which sound.

Rhett's swearing under his breath, little incantations of filthy words that somehow don't measure up to how obscene it feels to stretch open around him. Lube audibly squishes as you struggle to relax and take that cock of his.

"Fuck," he's barely got the tip of himself inside of you, and he's already crumbling. Unable to sit upright anymore, forearms bracing his weight on either side of your head, muscles downright shivering. "'re you okay, doll?" His hips stalling.

"Keep moving, cowboy." You don't know when you started reaching up, but your arms are looping around Rhett's neck, drawing him down to meet your lips. Short. Messy. Can't close your mouth for more than a second at a time.

It's hard to recall what gave you so much confidence to begin with because it's long since washed away by the drag of his blunt head against your walls. So thick that he rubs right past that sensitive bundle of nerves, you don't recognize the sound it draws out of your bitten lips. Thighs fluttering, clamping down on those strong hips of his, unable to so much as squirm. All you can do is whimper and take it.

"C'n feel you flutterin' 'round me," he grunts against your lips, voice breathy. It's hard to even voluntarily clamp down around him, all to watch his head jolt backward, eyes falling closed. So, so sensitive, and he's only halfway in you. "Fuck, sweetie."

His head drops into your neck, breath warming the skin there, unintentionally gives you a picture-perfect view of his back. A myriad of smooth muscles flexing under the effort of keeping himself up as he pushes into you. So captivating that you hardly realize he's long since quit moving, hips flush with yours.

It's hard to breathe. As if you can't get enough air into your lungs. Nerves wound so tight you fear they'll snap if Rhett so much as twitches inside of you.

"You okay?" His voice sounds so different, an octave lower, gravelly, unruly hair hanging low in his face as he lifts his head.

Involuntarily, you clench down around him. A little flex of muscle that has the both of you closing your eyes. "I think so."

By the time he works up the courage to draw back, the arms bracketing your head are shaking. Maybe you'd have the nerve to tease him if that first shallow thrust into you didn't effectively erase every thought from your head. You can't tell if it's beginner's luck or an advantage of being so thick, but he massages against your sweet spot so nicely.

Your hands are sliding down his pale back, nails biting into the muscle there, "just like that."

"Yeah?" You've forgotten how wonderful that cocky tone sounds on him. He's drawing back a little further this time, albeit slow on that second, careful push back into you. Like he'll break you if he moves too quickly.

Countless times you've pictured this exact scenario in your head; two of you tangled up in a hotel room bed, crossing the one line you were told not to. Steamy dreams depicting a man who fucks you up against the wall, unafraid to take what's his, and whistful daydreams of a cowboy who treats you like royalty as he makes a mess of you.

Never once did this manifest in your thoughts.

His lips ghosting over your features, unable to stay in one place too long. Shamelessly fucks you slow on this thick cock of his, works his way up to deep strokes that make your nails bite into his skin, drowning in the wet drag that makes you feel every inch of him. Outside, the storm rages on, a chaos of noises that these old walls fail to muffle.

But it's still too quiet.

Lightning flickers outside. Lights up the room as you reach out to pry his lip out from between his teeth.

"I wanna hear you," you murmur, squeezing your legs around his hips.

Rhett's eyes avert; can't look you in the eye, despite being so deep inside of you that you can feel his heavy balls pressing into your skin. "Shits embarrassin'."

"It's just me, dummy," as if to emphasize your words, you're leaning up to catch his lips in your own. Unwilling to let him stifle his noises any longer, swallowing down the reluctant whines you draw right out of him.

Such a simple sound that has you clamping down around his cock, downright shivering around him. Only serves to illicit a breathy whimper of your name, starts a downward spiral that you don't think you'll ever come back from.

Your dominant hand is reaching down, fingertips finding your swollen, nearly forgotten clit. A particularly hard thrust has you breaking away from his lips, head hitting the mattress with a soft cry. That initial slowness is starting to fray at the seams, and you don't think you're going to survive it.

"Rhett," your voice is strained, barely there.

Deliberate, he repeats it. A wet noise tearing through the room. Once. Twice. Until he's finding a rhythm, strokes punctuated by his breathy gasps for air and pitchy noises. You don't know if it's the sound of him or the delicious way his fat cockhead kisses that little bundle of nerves, but a familiar heat is blooming in your belly regardless.

"'M sorry, I can't help myself," Rhett sputters, words nearly lost to the obscene squelch between your legs. Lube and your own wetness creating a downright mess. "Feel so fuckin' good 'round me."

Every thrust has your body rocking against the bed, almost can't keep your fingers on your tingling clit. It's a fight just to find your voice."Fuck you like you mean it, Rhett."

When you said that, you hadn't expected him to lean back onto his haunches, big palms splaying around your hips, as he fucks into you with purpose. This cheap mattress is starting to squeak, loud enough to be heard in the room next to yours, but you're so preoccupied with the sight between your legs that you can't be brought to care.

His cell phone light casts just enough light for you to catch sight of his thick cock disappearing between your legs. So wet that it's shiny, catching in the light and drawing your eyes back to it every time you go to look away. Powerless to stop him from fucking you how he wants, bullying those sensitive nerves until you're lightheaded, head rolling backward.

"Close," Rhett warns. If you knew where your voice went, you'd be muttering much of the same.

You find yourself fluttering around him again, heat tightening in your belly as he all but collapses on top of you. Face buried in your neck once more, deep, guttural sounds spilling into your skin as the rhythm of his hips begins to falter. Twitchy. Thrusts shortening. Rhett's name is tumbling off your lips. The fingers on your clit growing shaky. Legs clenching around him.

"Rhett," supposed to be a warning. Something. Anything.

But it's too late. Pointless. Without further warning, your body goes taut. Back arching, shaking, as that heat spreads and washes over you, cumming around Rhett's spasming cock with a strangled cry. Can feel his hips stall against yours, his whimpered cry muffled by your shoulder.

Distantly, you're aware of how full you still are. Know that he hasn't pulled out in the slightest, cock twitching as his sticky, hot cum fills you. That's probably another line you weren't supposed to cross, but to hell with it.

The darkness behind your eyelids suddenly isn't so dark anymore. And as you pry them open, you find yourself nearly blinded.

Seems the power came back.

Rhett's already beginning to peel his sweaty body away from yours, albeit at a snail's pace. Fixated on the obscene sight of where your bodies connect, so wet that one of you will likely need to change the sheets after this. The light of his phone was decent, but the bedside lamp properly illuminates him. Cheeks pink, lips so bitten you're surprised he hasn't drawn blood.

"Didn't mean to..." he pants, voice barely there, "didn't mean to cum inside you." Those and of his are moving your legs on their own, parting them, gives himself a better view as he slowly pulls out of you. "I think can see the appeal, though."

And as his eyes flick up to drink up your expression, corner of his lip rising, the thought of cleanup doesn't sound so bad.

You don't recall your bed ever being this warm.

Or...lumpy, for that matter.

This isn't your bed.

But even so, opening your eyes is a tremendous task that you take on as slowly as you can. Taking a deep breath, feeling the stiff sheets move with your body, nose catching a hint of coffee and something fresh, crisp. Identical to the Autumn breeze that filters through Wabang every year, used to nip at your skin as you waited on that slow school bus to pick you and Rhett up.

Your eyes snap open. A switch flipped.

This isn't your bed.

And this isn't your childhood bedroom, either.

This hotel room is familiar, though. Tacky, from the wallpaper to the choice of decor. Bed frame built to appear as if it's been constructed by scrap pieces of chopped wood, an iron sign of a momma bear and her cubs hanging on the wall behind your head. So painfully trademark of Wabang that it hurts.

There are flowers on the bedside table. Familiar red tulips and vivid yellow sunflowers precariously placed in a thin, plastic cup. A second cup sits on top of the first, upside down, the bottom crudely cut out for the stems to fit through it. A makeshift support. You recognize that craftmanship. As if your thoughts have manifested his appearance, the bathroom door squeals open.

There he is.

Severely lacking a shirt, in nothing but his old, sun-bleached jeans, the longer ends of his hair tied back into a small ponytail. His left-hand nurses a cup of coffee, and the right, carefully supported by an off-white brace. That wrist never really did heal the same, another one of those free rodeo trophies.

"Mornin, sleepy head," he chirps, and the roughness in his voice suggests he hasn't been up for long, "thought you'd never wake up."

"My dignity can't take dying in a tacky hotel room," you don't recognize your voice. Strangely raw.

Sitting up requires some effort. Body still half-asleep, limbs downright useless as you drag yourself up from the mattress to take a better look around the room. Are those...your clothes on the floor?

Images flash through your head. Blurry, there and gone in the blink of an eye. Memories flood back into the forefront of your mind like a bad dream. What did you do? Why did you do it? There's absolutely no going back from this—

The bed dips as Rhett settles onto the edge of the mattress. And though you're searching for a hint, a suggestion, of regret, you fail to find it. He's all meek smiles and red ears as he leans over to place his cup on the table. Flashing a series of marks on his back, pale pink in color.

His good hand comes down to squeeze your knee through the comforter, just like it always does. "About last night..."

You don't regret it. And by the looks of it, neither does he. Has no problem locking eyes with you; something unknown burning behind those deep blue eyes as teeth sink into his thin bottom lip. Lips you would give both your kidneys just to kiss one more time. As you drag your attention away from his mouth, your eyes meet once more.

The corner of his lip draws upward.

You don't know who moves first. All you know is that you're surging forward, he's catching your needy mouth in his, and you're falling back into the sheets as one. Hands exploring, pawing at what little clothing dares get between you, hearts aching for more, more, more.

Words can wait a little longer.

#rhett abbott smut #rhett abbott x y/n #rhett abbott x reader #rhett abbott #ao3 oneshot #oneshot #rhett abbott outer range #outer range fic #outer range #outer range amazon #rhett abbott imagine #rhett abbott x you #reader self insert #self insert #x reader #reader insert

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pjohoo-reclists · 10 months

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Navigation

This post contains a masterlist of all the rec lists I made in alphabetical order!! I've also reblogged a few reclists made by others - but those aren't listed here.

If you're looking for pjo fandom events to participate in, check out this list right here.

Without further ado, here's the recs!! Enjoy.

Buzzfeed: Requested. Mortals discover demigods via buzzfeed, and go nuts over the conspiracies.

30k+ Completed Percy Centric: Requested. Good, long, finished stories that focus on Percy. Any variation, other than him killing everyone. No Percy/Nico, Percy/Jason or Percy/Rachel.

Criminal AU: Requested. Crossover fics where Percy and/or Annabeth interact with mortal criminals and police, either by being the suspect or being part of the police or FBI.

Crossovers

PJO/HoO & DC Batman: Fusion fics with pjo characters and batman characters.

Percy Jackson & Batman: Crossover fics featuring the platonic relationship between Percy and Bruce Wayne.

Percy Jackson goes to Hogwarts: Requested. Coming soon.

Harry Potter Crossover: A list of fics that have wizards and demigods crossing paths. Coming soon.

Marvel Crossover: A list of fics where Percy (and friends) cross paths with the avengers and other characters in the MCU. Coming soon.

Dark Percy Jackson: Requested. Completed fics with dark and powerful Percy, most of which he controls poison or/and blood.

Deity Percy Jackson: Fics where Percy either is made a god, or ascends under his own power and becomes a god. Coming soon.

Earthshaker Powers: Requested. Fics where Percy has the ability to create earthquakes. Coming soon.

Good Luke Castellan: Requested. Fics where Luke is good to Percy and other demigods, where he redeems himself (time travel fix it) or where he double crosses the titan lord.

Lightning Thief Era Rec List: In light of the first season of the PJO TV Show coming out and the flood of new fanfics that followed here's a list of fics set in that time period. These fics do not contain spoilers for the later books/seasons. [Under 5k] [Over 5k]

Outsider POV: Requested. Mortals get glimpses of the greek world and/or demigods.

"Poison Bending is Okay.": Fics where people comfort and tell Percy that it's okay for him to have and use his power of poison.

Powerful Percy Jackson: Fics where Percy is abnormally powerful, but not dark or evil.

Relationships: Familial or Platonic

Amphitrite & Percy Jackson: Percy & Amphitrite's familial relationship as step-mother and step-son.

Clarisse La Rue & Percy Jackson: Percy and Clarisse's platonic friendship. [Part One] [Part Two]

Grover Underwood & Percy Jackson: Percy and Grover's platonic friendship. [Part One] [Part Two]

Hermes & Percy Jackson: Percy and Hermes's platonic friendship. Coming soon.

Nico di Angelo & Percy Jackson: Nico and Percy's relationship as friends, cousins and/or brothers. Coming soon.

Paul Blofis & Percy Jackson: Percy and Paul's father-son relationship.

Poseidon & Percy Jackson: Percy and Poseidon's father-son relationship. Different tropes: [baby/young Percy] [Hurt/Comfort] [Fluff] [possessive/scary/godly Poseidon] - Coming Soon.

Sally Jackson & Percy Jackson: Fics that have Percy and Sally's mother-son relationship as the focus.

Triton & Percy Jackson: Percy and Triton's relationship (and rivalry) as brothers.

Tyson & Percy Jackson: Percy and Tyson's relationship as friends and brothers. Coming soon.

Relationships: Romantic

Annabeth Chase/Percy Jackson: Long fics (30k+) with Percy and Annabeth's romantic relationship set in alternate universes. Mostly wholesome/comfort stories.

Apollo/Percy Jackson: Apollo and Percy's romantic relationship. Coming soon.

Artemis/Percy Jackson: Artemis and Percy's romantic relationship. Requested.

Jason Grace/Percy Jackson: Jason and Percy's romantic relationship. Coming soon.

Nico di Angelo/Percy Jackson: Percy and Nico's romantic relationship.

Rachel Elizabeth Dare/Percy Jackson: Percy and Rachel's romantic relationship.

Reyna/Percy Jackson: Requested. Long fics with Percy and Reyna's romantic relationship.

Sally Jackson/Paul Blofis: Fics where Sally and Paul's romantic relationship is centric to the story.

Thalia Grace/Percy Jackson: Requested. Percy and Thalia's romantic relationship.

Roman Percy: Requested. Fics where Percy is roman or part of Camp Jupiter's army.

Tartarus: Fics where Percy travels through Tartarus alone, with Annabeth or Nico or Jason and pushes his powers to the max to survive.

#percy jackson #hoo #percy jackson and the olympians #pjo #rec list #rick riodan #rrverse #annabeth chase #heroes of olympus #ao3 #masterlist #pjo fic recs #percy fic recs #pjo fanfiction #fanfic reccomendation

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hazshit-hotel-hater · 3 months

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Insomnia and allergies are killing me (they aren’t anymore cause i wrote this part a week ago) so prepare for a bunch of Angel Dust facts that no one needs to know about and Vivziepop will probably end up ignoring!

Some of these are headcanons and some of these are canon facts so they will be colourcoded as such! Headcanons will be blue and canon facts will be red. Anything that relates to real spiders will be listed with a 🕷️! Some of these will also get a little doodle from me

Much like an average spider, Angel can feel and sense when storms are coming. These freak him out and will make him curl up on the ground.🕷️

Angel is sensitive to vibrations and especially sensitive to stronger ones like lightning and earthquakes. (Hell does not have earthquakes.) Stronger ones make him paranoid and nauseous from his organs moving around.🕷️

He definitely needs glasses to see far away but doesn’t bother since it hardly becomes an issue in daily life.🕷️

Jumping spiders change how they see btw! Less light = more detail, More detail = less light.

Vision Examples:

He can also see behind him but I don’t have that angle so this is the best you get

Sleeps curled up.🕷️

Also follows lasers! Not in the same way a cat would, but any interesting movement in his peripheral vision will cause him to turn toward it to see it better.🕷️

Can see ultraviolet light.🕷️

Dresses up Fat Nuggets on Halloween. And basically every other day. Seems to have a preference for the witch hat

Owns a skateboard??

Why do his eyes glow pink why can he do that on command

Can dialate his pupils at will I guess

Molts. Basically like shedding but if you also had to scrub a chunk of your skin off. Lasts 1-2 days.🕷️

Occasionally yells at his brother on the street

Currently still under the impression his sister is alive. She also probably found him after he overdosed.

Struggles to keep track of time

No idea what half the letters in LGBTQIA+ mean

Recently learned what a pride flag is

Angel has small retractable hooks/claws inside his palm that he can use to hold onto surfaces.🕷️

Angel hates people crying around or on him and will push them away or distance himself.

Examples:

Angel is very skittish around fire even though it cannot hurt him.

Hates the smell of citrus fruits.🕷️

Angel has two fangs (primary for injecting and liquifying food) on the roof of his mouth, much sharper papillae in the back of his throat and a second set of venomous fangs near the deeper in his throat that are to inject larger food and paralyze it but there is the rare occasion where the fangs stab his own throat and he collapses for a few hours after getting the fangs unstuck and he just lays there until it wears off and it kind of looks like he's dead cause there’s probably blood in his mouth but hes fine /hj🕷️

This is more of a food safety precaution. If he ate something live he would inject it with venom if it wasn’t dead yet, but he does not do this so these fangs are basically pointless and he might as well just get them removed at this point

Angel DOES have lungs! I know this seems like a very basic fact but some spiders have book lungs! Different from ours they don’t breathe the same way we do, just like how spiders don’t have blood like humans. This is me being a nerd, but we have seen that Angel has mentioned his lung capacity and he has the ability to cough as seen in Episode 5 (I think its 5 dont quote me on that) This means he cannot have book lungs since if he did he would not be able to cough, nor would he be able to sneeze or hiccup.🕷️

Angel is likely right handed in his top pair of hands, left handed or ambidextrous in his middle pair, and as for the bottom it seems like either ambidextrous or he just doesn’t like to use them for actions at all.

This is like half headcanon but also I pay way more attention to this shit than Viv does so Im basically right all the time

It doesn’t get super cold in hell Id assume, but on the rare occasion it gets colder or the AC in the hotel is on really high that is one of the few times Angel will use webbing and will wrap himself in it and crawl under a blanket and stay there. If it’s really cold or he plans on being in a cold area for maybe a week or month or so he might go into diapause to conserve energy, warmth, and food. (This can also happen when he has sudden sharp changes in diet and during daylight savings)🕷️

This will be updated again I can feel it in my bones. Hopefully this can satiate you all while I move house 🫶

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neonghostlights · 11 months

Text

Summary: You haven’t been the same since you woke up in the hospital with memory loss after the earthquake hit Hawkins. When strange things start happening and you feel like you’ve started losing your mind, a group of strangers offer to help. Even though you’ve never met them before, they seem to know you better than you think.

Warnings: Cops, Forceful Arrest, Sleepwalking, Blood/Injury, Emotionally Abusive and Manipulative Parent, Scars, Angst, Fluff, 18+ Only, Minors DNI

Wordcount: 3.6k

Series Masterlist

Part Fourteen

October 17th, 1986

Your feet couldn’t carry you fast enough. Your foot caught on something hard and slimy, sending you barreling towards the ground. You caught yourself, both palms scraping across the cold, hard dirt.

You gritted your teeth as you hoisted yourself back up on your two legs. You couldn’t stop.

Each pump of your legs was tiring. You felt the scrape of the ground against your bare feet. When did you take your shoes off?

You could see him lying in the distance. He wasn’t screaming anymore and the thought of what that might mean terrified you. He was illuminated by the red flashes of lightning against the sky. Each flash taunted you, reminding you that you were in the upside down. A place that was practically hell.

You would give anything for him to be okay. He wasn’t going to die in this cold, evil place.

Lungs heaving, you covered another stretch of ground towards the form that was Eddie.

No matter how hard or fast you kept running, you never made it any closer.

You screamed out in frustration, pumping your feet harder. It shouldn’t be taking this long to reach him. You had been running for what felt like hours. How many feet away were you? 50? 100? It didn’t matter. You should be there by now.

Something gripped onto your arm tightly, halting your movements. You didn’t have time to see if it was a bat, a vine, or Vecna himself. Eddie needed you.

You tried to jerk your arm away, letting out a yell in frustration when you couldn’t get away. Whatever it was gripped you tighter, dragging you off to the side.

“Get off!” You screeched, digging your bare heels into the ground. You had left your weapons back at the trailer when you jumped in after Eddie. You hadn’t even considered having to fight anything off. You had gone after him unprepared and now you were both going to die here.

If this was the end, you just needed to get near him first. You wished the universe would allow you that small mercy.

“Stop resisting,” a voice commanded.

A sharp sting to your wrist had you gasping.

You looked over, finally coming face to face with your attacker just to be blinded by bright light. You blinked a few times, trying to see past the spots in your vision.

Your attacker took your stillness as an opportunity to yank both arms behind your back. You could hear the clink of metal as they locked two cuffs around your wrists.

The trees surrounding you became clearer as you adjusted to the sunlight. With each blink you could feel the sleep still crusted on your eyes.

What was at your feet had you staring in horror.

You stood right in front of a deep chasm in the earth. The grass surrounding it was dead and brown. Even the trees surrounding it were rotted and fallen onto each other.

The police officer was still yelling at you as he hauled you backwards, your feet lying limply on the ground, trailing along. Out of the corner of your eye you could see people covered head to toe in hazmat suits, heads turned as they observed you being dragged away.

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” The officer barked in your ear as he placed you up against his car.

Tears started to stream down your face. “I don’t know where I am,” you sobbed. “Please call Eddie.”

“You’ll get a phone call at the jail,” he said as he opened the door and shoved you inside, closing it with a slam.

You didn’t realize how much your feet hurt until you were at the station with them pressed up against the cold tiled floor. Thick mud caked up your exposed legs. You could see some scratches trailing up and down your shins. You’d hate to see what the bottom of your feet looked like based on the stinging pain.

The metal of the handcuffs bit into your wrists harshly. You had asked them to loosen them once when you arrived but got ignored. They dropped you into a chair in the hallway outside the chief's office without another word.

A shiver racked through your body, the thin cotton of your sleep shorts and t-shirt not doing much to protect you from the cold air in the building.

A stray tear trailed down your face and landed onto your lap.

The last thing you remember was falling asleep in your spare bedroom last night after reading through the notebook. Eddie had been in the living room when you went to sleep. Had he stayed the night or did he end up going back to his trailer?

You could now add sleepwalking to your list of Vecna related symptoms.

The dream had been so real that you wondered if it was a memory somehow that slipped through. You could still feel the terror and adrenaline. Even now that you were aware that it was a dream, you still wanted to get up and run to Eddie.

Was it a sign that something awful had happened to him while you were asleep?

Had Vecna hurt Eddie somehow? You took a deep breath, closing your eyes but all you could see was the shape of Eddie lying on the ground in that place.

You shifted in your chair, making it squeak. A police officer stuck his head around the corner and eyed you suspiciously. You froze, waiting for them to look away. When they finally did, you sighed and hung your head.

The door to the station opened and closed with a slam. Heavy boots stomped across the ground. The few officers you could see stood quickly.

“Chief,” one of them addressed whoever had just walked in. “She’s right over there.” They pointed at you.

A tall man came around the corner and stared at you for a moment. You froze, recognition clicking into place. Chief Hopper had been the chief of police for years in Hawkins before he was injured in the mall fire, the same one you had apparently been involved in according to Eddie’s notebook. He was declared dead before he came out and announced that it was all a big mistake. You remembered seeing the story on the news and thinking it was bullshit but the rest of the town seemed to believe it. That’s what happens when a group of people are so used to strange things happening.

Chief Hopper's face turned red with anger as he stared at you. You were terrified. The man really was scary.

He turned to a group of cops that had accumulated behind him. “Why the hell is she handcuffed and why the hell hasn’t anyone gotten her a blanket?” He barked at them. Some of them scurried off, either running away or in search of a blanket.

Officer Powell, who you had remembered from when you were brought in, stayed with the chief. “Chief, those environmental agents are pissed that she went near one of the earthquake sites. They’re pushing to have her charged. Plus, she resisted arrest when Callahan grabbed her.”

Chief Hopper turned his body slightly, his voice muttered but you could still hear every word he was saying in the now dead quiet station. “She is not well. She has some stuff going on…mentally. I’m not going to let those agents try to use her as an example.”

Officer Powell shot you a look of pity. With a slight nod he approached you, gently unlocking the handcuffs. You stretched your wrists in front of you. They were swollen and aching but they would be okay.

A younger officer draped a blanket over you before running away from Chief Hopper's stare.

“Why were you at the site?” Hopper asked in a stern voice.

“I was sleepwalking. I think,” you said softly, pulling the blanket around you tightly.

The man nodded. Looking down at your feet.

“Looks like you messed yourself up quite a bit.”

You nodded silently, scared that if you said anything he would turn on you.

The older secretary that smiled at you when you walked in approached the chief with a cup of coffee and a smile. “I went ahead and called her mom. I let her know it was just a misunderstanding. She’s on the way here.”

Your heart dropped to your stomach.

“No,” you yelled, jumping up from your seat. Your muddy feet slipped against the floor, leaving you grasping for the chair to catch your balance. Your mom couldn’t know about this. Of course this would happen on the day she got back from her trip. “Call her back. Tell her it was a mistake,” you demanded.

Chief Hopper turned to the woman. “Why would you call her?”

She shot you a sad look. “Honey, I know you’re an adult and all but I also know your mother. She would want to know that you were here. Especially with you being in the state you’re in.”

Hopper ran a hand down his face in frustration. The woman noticed and walked away shaking her head.

You collapsed back in your chair. “I need to go home. Eddie’s there and I need to make sure he’s okay.”

“Okay. This is what I’m going to do. I’m going to call your mom back and let her know I’m bringing you back home. Hopefully that will help calm things down so she doesn’t explode in the middle of my police station,” Hopper said as he gestured for you to get up and come with him. “I’m on your side. I talked to El last night and I know about everything that’s going on. We’re going to make sure you get better.”

For some reason, his words made you feel a little bit better.

“So, you know El and everyone?” You asked as you sat in the front seat of Hoppers police car.

Hopper let out a laugh. “I know everyone and everything. Including you. And El is my daughter.”

“El’s your daughter?” you sputtered out.

Hopper nodded, keeping his eyes on the road.

“So you were involved with everything too?” You questioned, wanting to make sure you weren’t giving information away to someone who shouldn’t have it.

“Unfortunately,” he mumbled.

He let out a deep sigh when you pulled up in front of your house and saw your mom standing outside with her arms waving in the air, yelling at a frantic Eddie.

The car wasn’t even in park before you were jumping out, bare feet hitting the ground hard.

“Holy shit,” he yelled, rushing towards you and pulling you into him. “What the hell happened? I woke up and you were just gone and I didn’t know what to do,” he rushed out.

“I’m okay,” you said, rubbing his arm. “I’ll explain later.”

“Why the hell is he here? Does someone want to tell me what is going on?” Your mom yelled, putting a hand on your shoulder and pulling you away from Eddie. You jerked your arm away from her, leaning back to Eddie.

Her face was shocked by your behavior. You couldn’t remember a time when you openly defied her. It felt good.

“Absolutely not,” she snapped.

“Everyone calm down,” Hopper demanded as he approached.

“Thank god you’re here. He cannot be here. I want him arrested, Chief!” Your mom screamed, pointing a finger at Eddie.

“I want him here!” you yelled back at her.

“It doesn’t matter what you want. You are mentally unwell! You cannot imagine how terrified I was this morning when you didn’t show up to the airport to pick me up and then I got home and received a call telling me you were arrested for trespassing. I had to catch a ride all the way here from a neighbor. Do you realize how embarrassing that is? Enough is enough,” your mom snapped.

“You’re right. Enough is enough, mom. You’re not going to keep manipulating me anymore,” you said in a stern voice.

She let out a laugh. “Is that what he told you? I’m manipulating you? He’s trailer trash, honey, you can’t listen to him. He’s trying to fill your head with lies just to use you.”

“I found the pictures. I know that you’ve been hiding everything from me. You can stop lying now.”

Your mom sputtered, looking frantically between you and Eddie. She clenched her jaw, lifting her chin high.

“I want him arrested, Chief. He’s trespassing on private property,” your mom declared instead of denying your claims.

Chief Hopper groaned, making no move to arrest Eddie. Your mom looked at the chief like he was crazy for not following her orders.

“You can’t do that,” Eddie spoke up. “It’s not your property.”

You looked back at him, confused. Of course it was your moms property. Who else would it belong to?

“Mom?” You asked, trying to figure out what was going on.

“It’s your house,” Eddie told you softly.

“What? No it’s not,” you laughed, shaking your head.

Your mom stood silently, hatefully glaring at Eddie. Her look told you all you needed to know.

“You were just going to let me think it wasn’t mine and that you could pull it out from under me whenever you felt like it? I had to beg you to let me move in here when it really was mine the whole time,” You yelled, getting closer to her out of your anger.

“Is the house in her name?” Hopper asked your mom, calmly.

Your mom didn’t answer, refusing to look at any of you as she crossed her arms over her chest and stared at the house.

“I want her to leave,” you told Hopper. “And I don’t want her to come back.”

Your mom gasped at your words, staring at you like she couldn’t believe it.

“You heard her,” Hopper said, going into cop mode. “Time to go.” He put hand on your moms back to guide her to her car.

You ran inside and snatched her keys off the hook by the front door, making sure to take the copy of your house key off them first. You tossed the car keys at her feet.

You wished you could get the words out and tell her to never ever speak to you ever again. But looking at your moms face, you just couldn’t. Maybe one day you could grow a spine of steel, but for now this would have to be enough.

She cast you one last angry look before she got into her car and pulled away.

“You okay, kid?” Hopper asked.

You nodded silently. He spoke to Eddie some but you weren’t sure what he was saying over the loud ringing in your ears.

Hopper left, leaving you and Eddie alone in your driveway.

“Come here,” Eddie said, guiding you into the house. Eddie hissed through his teeth when he saw the state of your injured feet and palms. “Sit,” he ordered, pointing at the couch that still had the indent from where he slept.

He grabbed your first aid kit out the bathroom before kneeling in front of you and gently wiping the mud off of you.

“What happened, baby?” He asked.

“I was dreaming that I was in that bad place. I was running trying to save you because you were on the ground bleeding. I woke up in the woods with a police officer arresting me,” you paused to take a breath, “and then I was so worried when I woke up because I thought something had actually happened to you.”

Eddie kept his eyes down at your wounds. He muttered an apology when he rubbed the alcohol against them, making you jump.

“I was so scared,” he admitted, hands still trembling from the adrenaline rush. “I woke up and went back there to check on you and you were just gone. I searched the whole house. That’s when I realized the front door was cracked open, I guess from when you escaped. I can’t believe I didn't wake up. I was calling the cops when your mom pulled up outside.”

“I didn’t call her. The police station did,” you explained.

“Are you okay?” He asked.

You took a deep breath. Were you okay?

“Not really.” You settled for the truth.

Eddie looked up at you when he was done wrapping your feet. He stayed kneeling in front of you, hands placed gently on your knees.

“We can’t wait any longer. We need to get him out of my head now, Eddie. It’s getting too dangerous. I wanted more time but I don’t think I have anymore.”

“What do you want me to do? Tell me what you need,” Eddie said as he placed a gentle hand on your leg.

“Can you call everyone? Tell them I’m ready to do this,” you told him.

Eddie nodded, standing up and letting the warmth of his hand drop from your leg. You heard him go to the kitchen and pick up the phone while you stared blankly at your lap.

Eddie kept the conversation with whoever he called short. You didn’t want to hear what he told them. Hopefully he would dive into the fact that you had been arrested over the phone. That seemed more like an in person conversation.

Eddie walked back into the living room. “Everyone is going to come this evening.”

You nodded, looking up at his worried face. “Can I ask you for a favor?”

“Anything.” You knew at that moment he was telling you the truth. Eddie would do anything for you. He’d proven that time and time again. What you had read in that notebook was the story of a man that was deeply in love. It made you ache.

“Hold me until it’s time? Please,” you requested. Eddie’s eyes softened even more to the point that you thought he was going to turn to putty on the floor.

You didn’t wait for him to answer, instead you stood up and took his hand, leading him to the spare bedroom.

You fit together perfectly as you laid in bed together. You spent hours memorizing the freckles on his skin and the pieces of his hair that were curlier than the other. Eddie showed you his scars, and to both of your surprise, you kissed them all. Eddie shivered as you ran your lips softly over the rumpled, pink flesh.

You were currently lying on your side with Eddie holding you from behind. There was nothing sexual about it, just comfort.

“Eddie?” You asked, breaking the silence.

“Hm?” He hummed.

“Why didn’t you ever just move on?”

“I told you. You’re it for me,” he mumbled groggily. You must have caught him right on the edge of sleep.

“No. I mean-" You rolled over to face him now. His hand fell to your waist, rubbing patterns through the thin material of your shorts. “Don’t you think it would have just been easier for you? You could have considered it a fresh start. You could’ve left Hawkins and just started over.”

Eddie took a deep breath. “You really think I could’ve just left you here? Even if you never remembered me, I was going to stay wherever you were. I knew that one day if I could never get to you, you might move on, find someone new and have a life with them without remembering the time you spent with me. I was fully prepared to watch from a distance and torture myself. But then when we ran into each other at the gas station, and I saw you for the first time in months something snapped in me. I realized I couldn’t just let you go. So when Robin let me know you needed a mechanic, I saw it as fate.”

“But why? Why would you do that? You could’ve been happy.”

Eddie shook his head. “There was no way I could have ever been happy without you. You have no clue how many times I had to stop myself from coming here and just telling you everything. I never ever gave up on you. I love you.”

You sighed. “What about the house? How could my mom just keep that from me?”

“Because she’s been trying to talk you into signing over to her for years. We were supposed to live here…after I graduated,” he informed you with a soft look in his eyes.

This was supposed to be your home with Eddie. If things had gone as planned and Eddie had graduated, where would you be now? Would you two have a life together here? Would you still be in school, working to build a future?

Home. When was the last time something felt like home? Surely not your mother’s house. This place didn’t even feel like home no matter how much you loved your grandmother. It was just planks of wood with some memories embedded in them.

Maybe when all this was over you and Eddie could make a new home together.

You tucked your head against Eddie’s chest gently. Eddie, who had been your rock, even from a distance. He had never stopped fighting for you, and you would never stop fighting for him now that you knew what you would leave behind if you gave up.

Eddie wrapped his arms tightly around you. There would be no way for you to start sleepwalking now without waking him up.

You and Eddie dozed in and out of sleep for the rest of the day. In this bedroom nothing on the outside could hurt you. You were just two people falling in love all over again.

You stayed in your little place of bliss until the real world started knocking on your front door.

#eddie munson au #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson series #eddie munson imagine #eddie stranger things #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x you

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happy-hermit · 1 year

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HIII I’m back with another little thing for the Desert Alien Scar au :) This is Xisuma and Scar’s first meeting — X rescues a young Scar from his dying planet. Hope you like it!!!

( @stiffyck )

=============================

The planet below him was dying, barely visible beneath the storm of sand and lightning. Xisuma stood alone in the viewing dock of his ship, a lone mourner at a quiet funeral. All the inhabitants had already evacuated, the emergency rocket's energy signatures gone from his radar. It was an empty world, and still Xisuma stood and waited.

Planets died all the time. Knowing that didn’t make it any easier to watch.

The monitor on his right beeped and trilled as it kept on with the readings, an alert popping up detailing the severity of the most recent earthquake. A separate window was tracking the storms. At the bottom was a rough estimate of how long it would be until the end. Only a few hours, now.

Xisuma fidgeted with the fabric of his gloves, flexing his hands as he stared out the window. There was nothing he could do but be a witness. Even he couldn’t save a planet.

A shrill tone from the monitor pulled him abruptly out of his musings, and his head snapped towards it, eyes narrowing slightly behind his helmet. A red light was blinking in the corner, small and steady. Xisuma’s heart tripped over itself and quickened, legs already carrying him towards the screen for a better look, hands outstretched to type commands.

A distress signal, coming from an empty planet on the brink of destruction. There was a large chance that it was just a malfunction, a product of the machinery short-circuiting in the chaos. It wouldn’t be the first time.

But something was telling him that wasn’t right.

His fingers flew across the keyboard as his eyes flickered across the screen. An image of the planet below popped up, spinning and zooming in until the location of the distress signal was displayed, a single red dot blinking in and out. With a flick of his hand, the coordinates copied itself onto the monitor on his wrist. Already halfway out the door, he opened communications.

“I’m taking the LifeBoat,” he said without preamble, cutting off chatter from the rest of the crew. “We received a distress signal, I’m going down to check it out.”

“It’s probably a blank, X,” said a crew member, voice solemn. “Are you sure?”

Xisuma clenched his jaw. “I’m going.”

He closed communications with a firm click of a button, the door to the departure bay sliding open before him. With practiced motions, Xisuma climbed into the cockpit of the LifeBoat, a smaller vessel designed for quick landings and takeoffs. Used for riskier rescues.

“LifeBoat 1, departing,” Xisuma said, opening comms again.

“…Cleared, Captain,” a voice responded. “Be careful. Come back alive.”

“Haven’t had an issue yet, my friend,” Xisuma responded, flicking a few switches and adjusting the controls. “I’ll be back in time for dinner.”

“I’ll hold you to it, sir.”

With a few loud clicking noises and a fair bit of shaking, the LifeBoat separated from the main ship. Coordinates displayed on the navigation system, Xisuma took the controls.

———————————————————

The landing would not win any awards for smoothness, but he had at least managed not to die on impact. It would likely take off again, according to diagnostics, though exiting through the storm would prove to be a challenge. A challenge for future him, though.

The evacuation center rose tall above him as he trudged through the sand and wind, all the escape rockets missing from their ports. Something in his stomach twisted slightly. It looked more haunted than anything had the right to be.

The door creaked horribly on its hinges as he pulled on it, grains of sand grinding in the mechanism and jamming it up. He opened it just enough to slip in, and the sudden absence of wind and sound made his fast heartbeat all the more apparent. He wiped at his helmet visor with gloved hands, brushing off the sand and dust blocking his vision as he walked further into the building. It was a huge space, empty and echoing. Every footstep bounced back at him louder.

Across the large room, something shuffled quietly. Xisuma froze, head swiveling. He heard it again.

“Hello?” he called tentatively, making his way closer.

A shadow in the corner — moved. Tucked into itself. The howling of the wind battered against the walls. On a nearby desk, a light was blinking. The distress signal.

“I’m here to help,” Xisuma continued, making his way closer. “I got your signal.”

The light of his helmet fell upon the figure, and Xisuma stopped short.

It was a child.

Not particularly young, but not yet reaching adulthood. His scales were still a lighter color, indicating that they were still soft, and his tail was curled in front of him protectively, shoulders hunched and knees bent. He was staring up at him with wide green eyes, chest rising and falling rapidly. Xisuma felt his heart squeeze painfully.

“It’s alright,” he said, palms raised in a calming gesture. “I’m going to get you out of here. Are you hurt?”

The kid didn’t respond, still staring at him with those same terrified eyes, lost to his own panic. He was shaking. So was the ground.

Xisuma knelt down, swallowing hard when the kid pressed himself harder into the corner, curling even further over his stomach. There was a scan on the screen inside his helmet, telling him that the air was barely breathable. The kid was scared. Xisuma took the helmet off.

“You sent a distress signal,” he said, urgent and gentle. The child blinked, and Xisuma let his voice soften even further. “I’m here to help.”

There was the slightest bit of hope in those wide eyes, and Xisuma wanted to see it grow, possibly more than anything in the universe.

“Let me help,” he said, begged, and then he waited.

The kid’s breathing stuttered, and slowly he uncurled from his hunched position, revealing what he’d been trying to hide. In his lap was a small creature, with large ears and narrowed eyes and three pairs of legs.

“Can she come?” The kid asked, in a voice young and wavering.

He was hugging her to his chest like she was the last thing he had in the world. She probably was.

“Of course,” Xisuma said, steadfastly ignoring the slight lump in his throat. Not very professional of him, but he couldn’t find it within himself to care. “Let’s all get out of here, yeah?”

The planet was breaking apart around them, crumbling and cracking and raging.

Xisuma put his hand out, and in the bravest act that he had ever witnessed, the kid took it.

#daau #goodtimeswithscar #gtws #xisumavoid #Xisuma #jay writes

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msfcatlover · 2 months

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*mushes two of my favorite AUs together*

Red Hood!Steph would still be a Desolation avatar—there’s too much anger, too much destruction, too much hate & desire for the complete annihilation of the targets of that hate to be anything else—but she’s different.

RH!Jason is an earthquake.

RH!Steph would be a lightning storm. The crackle of electricity, the taste of ozone, the light of something utterly uncontrollable in her eyes. The billowing, bulging thunder cloud sweeping across the sky to blot out the sun. Wind enough to rip up trees, rain so heavy you can’t see, but lightning, lightning every few seconds, like all the electricity in the world has been stolen underneath her skin. A fire-starter (like Jason) but the blaze itself is not what you have to Fear, the blaze is merely a side effect of something much more powerful sweeping through. Her victims are not shattered bones & splattered brains, they’re bleeding ears & the reek of cooking meat.

Jason borders the Buried far closer than he’d like.

Steph would dance on the border of the Vast like a small child dances in the rain: with wild abandon & near-feral glee.

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sipsteainanxiety · 10 months

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there had been earthquakes plaguing syu'ræ for the last fortnight.

they'd commenced seemingly out of nowhere, deep rumbles reverberating through the ground that caused a sense of unease to coalesce amongst your village. at first they were miniscule tremors that hardly deserved attention—little shakes that made you glance curiously at the paved stone beneath your feet for second or two before they were gone. but then they grew stronger and stronger. those shakes became enough to make you lose your balance. they toppled carts and caused cracks to form in the earth. and they were happening more frequently than before.

the people around you grew worried. many talked about fleeing for further lands, hoping they could outrun the tremors. but you knew there would be no time. how could you dare to hope to run from something this powerful? hope had never been so fragile before, cupped as it was in your hands.

yet, there was a whisper—so quiet that you had to strain to hear it—about the source of the quakes being the mountains of tsagn. that the gods had grown angry and the only way to quell them was to pray. you watched as the temples of your village teemed with life at every hour, growing full enough to burst as people prayed day and night hoping for the quakes to cease.

you knew better.

so you packed a small bag and left at the dead of night, twinkling stars guiding your path as you made your way to tsagn.

it was not an easy journey. to reach the heart of tsagn, you had to venture past rough, rocky terrain, fighting your way through the occasional earthquake and doing your best not to fall within the gouges they carved within the ground. you walked without rest, determination setting within your gait. the tall, black spires of the mountains loomed closer and closer with each passing day. until finally, finally, you arrived at their base. and you began to climb.

the tremors were stronger here—enough for your heart to skip a beat as you held onto the surrounding rock for dear life. dark clouds were stagnated overhead and flashed with occasional turquoise lightning. thunder roared loud enough to pop your eardrums and made you halt in your ascent to clasp your hands at the sides of your head.

eventually you reached a cracking crevice between two tall walls of rock. it was wide enough for you to slip through. you peered inside it and saw an opening on the other side that flashed with multicolored light. there was something going on over there—something strange. something otherworldly. the mountain trembled, small pieces of rock and pebbles rolling down it from overhead. you eyed the crevice with trepidation, then took in a deep breath and slowly made your way through it.

and when you emerged on the opposite end, what you saw made your heart leap up to your throat.

it was war. it was a fight you had not been privy to until this very moment. lightning flashed over the gleam of your eyes, fire blazed a heat across your skin enough to make you feel as though you were being burned alive. the mountain shook beneath your feet—enough to make you stagger backwards and latch onto the wall behind you. mouth suddenly dry, you craned your head back so you could look up and up and up at the two giants locked in battle.

they were—fierce beauty. fiery determination. merely standing before them struck you with this innate, profound urge to sink to your knees and bow. but you couldn't. you resisted. and instead you stood up in horror as these two beings—gods, perhaps, some sort of deities you did not recognize—raged against each other.

you were jolted from your stupor when one of them fell back against the mountain you were upon. it shook on impact, large rocks cracking from its surface and falling down towards you in a devastating avalanche. breath caught in your lungs, you dove out of the way, teeth rattling in your skull. this— this was not something you were prepared for. you swallowed heavily and watched as the one who'd fallen back splayed his palms out and lit up the sky in a devastating, fiery explosion. you clapped your hands over your ears and watched green lightning burst through the air in reply.

you— you needed to do something. they needed to stop. their battle was destroying the life that surrounded them, even hidden, as they were, within the mountains. you moved your hands from your ears to cup them around your mouth and shouted as loud as you could.

"hey!!!" you screamed, vocal cords straining with the word. "hey!!!! stop!!!"

but they did not hear you.

your teeth gritted together as you stared up at them. you needed to get their attention. but for that— you needed to climb higher.

you looked back up at the mountain—tall and imposing, that rumbled and quaked with every step of the beings before you—and continued your ascent.

it was the most difficult thing you'd ever done in your life—scaling that mountain that fought you with every step. rocks crumbled beneath the soles of your boots. boulders struck against ledges above you as they crashed towards the ground. you prayed for your safety as you went higher and higher and higher. until the air grew thin and your chest heaved with each and every breath you took. and finally, you crawled your way on top of a flat ledge and looked out at the heads of the beings—level with your own smaller form.

you dared not to look down. green light lit up your surroundings—ethereal. you took in a deep breath and shouted once more. "hey!! stop!! please!!" you didn't even get a glance.

you growled under your breath and swung your bag off your shoulder so you could rummage around in it. the ledge you were on groaned beneath your feet and you cursed under your breath as you pulled out a handful of colorful stones. maybe this would catch their attention.

picking out a deep purple one, you shoved the rest back into your bag and gripped the stone tightly in your hand. and as you looked out before you at the destruction, the chaos, you closed your eyes and whispered hurriedly into your fist.

it began to glow—a bright, lavender light that made you squint as soon as you’d reopened your eyes. and once you’d taken careful aim, hoping with all that you had that this would work, you threw the stone as hard as you could at one of the giants.

it shot through the air—a flash of blinding, purple light—and struck against a freckled cheek. distantly, you could hear a cracking noise beneath you, but you were too focused on watching the giant freeze abruptly and raise a large, scarred hand up to his cheek. your jaw tensed as the magic did nothing—had been canceled out, it looked like, the moment it collided with his cheek—but at least it had done something. he blinked, confused, and turned in your direction, large, glowing green eyes—speckled with crackles of lightning—landing on your small form. he did not have pupils and yet you knew he was looking right at you.

swallowing down the unease that came with his wide-eyed stare, you waved your hands frenziedly at him. "stop fighting!! you're ruining—" but before you could finish your sentence, you watched as he was promptly tackled to the earth in a blur of green and crimson. the resulting crash was enough to make you fall over, a tumultuous earthquake ravaging up the mountain until it struck the ledge you were on. and with one final crack! it broke underneath you.

the scream you let out got swallowed up by the wind as you fell through the air, the face of the mountain looming closer and closer and closer, ready to greet you unforgivingly until—

you were caught in something warm and soft. your heart beat a rapid pace in your ears, chest frantically sucking in air as you realized you'd squeezed your eyes shut in your fright. you clutched onto yourself in a hug and felt yourself get lifted into the air. a voice rumbled around you—deep and in a language your mortal ears could not decipher. you let out a shaky breath and—after calming yourself down from the high of nearly meeting your untimely end—opened your eyes.

you were cupped in the palm of a bruised hand, staring up at a large face with green eyes locked on your form. he let out a hot breath of air that fanned over your body and made your hair move slightly back. the giant said something in that strange language of his—his voice alone reverberating through your very soul—and was answered in a deeper, gruffer voice that made something in your chest seize.

your eyes darted up and to the left, where the second giant sneered down at you. there was a cut on his cheek that leaked vivid golden blood matching the hair on his head. red eyes squinted at you in a glare. you swallowed thickly and felt yourself freeze in place.

you'd finally managed to catch the attention of these large, powerful beings. beings that could end your life in a second, if they so wished.

and you had no idea what to do.

#hehe #deku x reader #midoriya x reader #izuku x reader #bakugou x reader #katsuki x reader #bakugou katuski x reader #midoriya izuku x reader #drops this and runs away

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