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heisenberg-simp257 · 8 months

Note

I saw the Requests open so, yeahhhhh

The 4 lords (separate) with a crush!reader who's, yes have a crush on

Who's really, really, really, oblivious, like a lot, that they can't even take one small Hint,

And the 4 lords (separate) Finally confessed, The confession took 4 hours to understand the reader.

Thank you for reading!

I think I understand! Hope you enjoy! 💖 Sorry if it's wrong anywhere!

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The Four Lords with an Oblivious Crush!Reader

Alcina Dimitrescu

-When it comes to having a crush on someone, Alcina is usually very patient. She's not one to get giddy or overly excited, but she does feel a sense of pleasantness when around her crush. That being said, it's very hard for said person to realize her fondness because she is very subtle about it.

-Especially when that someone is as oblivious as you are.

-You don't recognize anything as flirtatious, which upsets her because Alcina always believes that her subtle hints were brilliantly thought out, and then you don't even see it. She tends to sulk a bit afterwards, and you have to pry her on why. Which sucks because Alcina gives up on telling you the exact reason.

-Her daughters try to help in any way they can because their mother has ranted about your oblivious behavior to them, but even those three can't get through to you. They won't tell you about Alcina's feelings out of respect, but they sure as hell give hints.

-One day she can't take it anymore and prepares some wine to tell you about how she feels. Knowing Alcina, it was very dramatic and a lot of words were used. But still, to anyone else, it would have been very straightforward. Except for you, who kept thinking she was talking about friendship.

-It only took four grueling hours for you to get what she was talking about.

-You confessed that you never realized what she was trying to get across and apologized profusely for it. She was a bit strained during this whole exchange but was relieved that it was over and you returned her feelings for you. Now you'll recognize all her gestures were coming from love.

Donna Beneviento (and Angie)

-Donna is extremely shy when it comes to having a crush on someone and it all stems back to her insecurities. She never feels like she's good enough for someone to love, but Donna is trying to push herself to express her feelings to that person she likes. But she is very very subtle about it, which doesn't help anyone.

-Especially you, who can never recognize a hint.

-And it's not always your fault because Donna isn't even the best at giving hints. Everything she does would be considered friendly, even by a person who isn't as oblivious as you. She would make you things, fix things for you, and make you all this tea. You interpret it a lot differently than how she's trying to display it as. Every time after, she would go to her room and just stare out the window.

-Angie is way more upfront about the whole situation, but the funny part is that she never brings up Donna's feelings. The doll just gets angry at you for "not getting it", which you don't understand in the slightest. Donna has to come and apologize with a red and flustered face.

-It takes Donna literal months before she realizes that this isn't going to work and she needs to just make the first move, which honestly scares her even more. She just wants to do it fast like ripping off a band-aid. It would be just Donna's luck that she would have to explain herself over and over again because you didn't understand what she was trying to say (due to her mumbling and your obliviousness).

-Four hours later and she's an emotional puddle on the floor.

-You were embarrassed for her and yourself as well for not noticing her advances (which weren't too much to be honest). Now you both were being kind of awkward as you tried to explain your own feelings for her. Each time she does something for you now, you pay extra close attention to it because you want her to know you understand now.

Salvatore Moreau

-Moreau is a big bundle of love when it comes to having a crush on somebody. Not only that, but he gets a crush quite easily. All it takes is a smile or a laugh before his attention is just on you. He wears his heart on his sleeve, and he's not one to give up when it comes to giving signs. Moreau is oddly patient which is good because it's going to take him a while to get the message across.

-You were a very oblivious person when it came to things like this.

-However, sometimes Moreau doesn't even realize that you didn't understand what his little gestures meant. He's so excited to give you more affection that he didn't know it went over your head. In your eyes, he was just being really nice to you since adjusting to life in this area had been hard. You didn't even realize that his affections go much farther than that.

-Eventually though, Moreau recognizes that his gestures aren't doing anything. He isn't stupid no matter what Heisenberg says. He starts to realize that he's going to have to take another approach. Unlike the other lords, he doesn't get nervous or embarrassed when it comes to things like this.

-It was easy for him to sit with you and explain his growing feelings outright. Moreau was direct and concise, probably adding more words than needed, but he was just that kind of guy. He thought was easily getting the point across and that it was going to end well. Moreau didn't expect you to be as dense as you are, no offense.

-It took him a whopping four hours for you to realize his crush.

-At this point, he was beyond exhausted yet relieved that you finally knew. You felt a little embarrassed that he had to explain all this just for you to understand how he feels. With that in mind, you were a little flustered as well. But you were grateful. Now, things can have a more special meaning.

Karl Heisenberg

-If Moreau is a ball of love, then Heisenberg is a vacant field of isolation. He's never had a "crush" on anyone or he might just crush himself. To him, love is a weakness that needs to be eradicated. And perhaps that view of thinking stems from the fact that he didn't know or understand any form of real love. But when he gets a crush on you, he's in for a ride.

-Because you are the densest and most oblivious person he knows, and it kills him.

-Heisenberg didn't know how to give hints about how he feels towards you because he's never experienced this before. To be honest, your obliviousness was most likely also due to his inexperience. Still, it gets him frustrated that his little acts of kindness go unnoticed because that's just how Heisenberg is when it comes to things not going his way.

-The more this goes on, the more Heisenberg fears that he will have to speak up about it otherwise it was going to drive him nuts. He can't handle his emotions very well, so sometimes his aggression is directed from his inability to handle how he feels about you. He'll also self-isolate which also gives you the wrong impression. But it's the sit down with him that's kind of scary for you.

-Because of the obliviousness, he has to sit with you face to face in order to get the message across. Not only that, but you have no clue what he's about to discuss with you because you never recognized the signs he was giving. Frankly, it was because he also didn't hand out many signs. Heisenberg was stubborn, stuttering, and overall nervous as he told you how he felt. Which also didn't work in his favor.

-This led to four hours of him having to repeat and explain himself.

-He thought his face was going to melt from how hot it was. Congratulations, you have finally broken Lord Heisenberg's walls and turned him into a puddle of mush. He sincerely hopes you return the feelings for him otherwise he will just combust and probably smush himself under a piece of scrap metal. You were probably just as flushed as he was about the realization, promising to be better about it from now on. Give him a hug and he will explode.

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mxqdii · 3 months

Note

WHERE IS PART THREE

IM LITTERALY DYING TI READ WHAT HAPPENS NEXTTTTTTY

also I have a request

so reader is dating Sam or Colby (you pick❤️). Reader is alone at a haunted location with just Sam or just Colby (does this make sense?) say it was Sam, they are just the two of them and say there were trespassers and they were threatening the two and reader has a panic attack and Sam defend them (Sam or Colby) and calm reader down on the way home.

is that doable?

when part three comes can you tag my other acc

@anythingsamandcolby

take my breath away - c.b

pairings: colby brock x reader

summary: a day with the boys doesn't go as expected

warning(s): panic attacks, mention of ghosts (??) idk.

a/n: so i see u said just the two of them, but i only realized after i finished writing it... i'm sorry! i hope this is still okay 😭

not proofread

"are you guys sure this is a good idea?" i say as me, sam and colby enter the gate

"too late now! unlocking that gate took forever" sam says, walking ahead

"we're all gonna die" i mumble sarcastically, scoffing at the boys skipping together joyfully

we decided not to vlog this one, since, well..

we're trespassing.

it's okay though! atleast that's what the boys told me (and what i'm telling myself)

"hey, you okay?" colby, my boyfriend, asks.

"yeah i'm fine, just worried about being shot by a police officer" i say, giving him a look

"calm down, we'll be fine!" he speaks over confidently

"whatever you say" i groan

"woah! guys this place is so cool, let's use the spirit box here" sam yells from ahead, taking off his backpack and grabbing the box

we all listen, hearing a few random meaningless words, until...

my phone starts buzzing, which makes us all jump

"sorry, my alarm- it's midnight if anyone cares" i say, signaling for us to get out of here

"leave" the spirit box says

"yes please- wait was that the box?" i mumble

"trespassing" the box says

"run"

"guys i don't like this.." i mumble, reaching over to grab colby, looking over realizing he's nowhere to be found

"g-guys?" i say, realizing i've been left alone with only the spirit box

"guys this isn't funny. you got me okay? i'm scared." i yell into the distance, hoping to be met with colby's voice or sams laughter

but i don't hear that, instead something worse

the bushes besides me start rustling, and i feel tears brim my eyes

"h-hello?" i almost whisper

this is too much. i wanna go home.

my legs start moving before i can think and i run back to the car, hoping to find sam and colby there, but no.

i realize, i don't have the keys, leaving me in the dark parking lot surrounded by woods, alone.

okay, it's fine, i'm fine, i'll call them.

NO SERVICE

this is when i start freaking out, because what am i supposed to do now??

the only thing i can think to do, cry.

i let myself lean against the locked car door, eventually curling into a ball on the floor

i'm currently a sobbing mess at midnight, alone and cold.

the more i'm sat here with my thoughts, the harder it gets to breathe, causing me to panic.

i try to calm my breathing but can't, colby always helped me with panic attacks, i need colby.

i don't know how much time passed, but eventually, i felt hands on my shoulders and looked up to see colby

thank god.

"colby-" i try to say more but the words get caught in my throat

"shh, baby it's okay. breathe for me okay?" he says

he sits down to my level, pulling me into his lap

"i'm so sorry. we thought it'd be funny to hide but we got lost, i'm so sorry baby that wasn't funny, i know." he hushes my cries, helping me with my breathing along the way

his hands stroking my hair and his smooth rhythm of breaths calm me down,.

(even though his heart is racing)

i snap out of my panic, looking up at him.

i shove my fist into his chest, not hard enough to hurt bad

(as if you could)

"ow!" he says, almost out of instict

"never do that again" i huff

"never again." he repeats back to me, kissing my forehead.

TAGLIST:

@opheliaofficial07 @stargirlv0id @strniolo @annaisabookworm @theperson-nextdoor @its-jennarose @thetriplets3 @anythingsamandcolby

#madispeaks!#sam and colby fanfiction #sam and colby x reader #sam and colby fic #colby brock #colby brock x y/n #colby brock fic #colby brock fluff #colby brock imagine #colby brock x reader

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idyllic-affections · 11 months

Text

what if kaveh adopted a child? (pt. ii)

summary. kaveh isn't exactly the best single dad out there, but he's doing his best.

trigger & content warnings. no applicable warnings.

tropes, pairings, fic length, & other notes. fluff, slight angst. adoptive dad!kaveh & reader. alhaitham & reader. tighnari & reader. collei & reader. 1.7k words. they/them pronouns for reader. this post is an expansion of what if kaveh adopted a child?

author's thoughts. do you guys remember when i said i wouldnt expand upon this brainrot? i lied. it was pretty well recieved and got some nice interaction so i hope to replicate that effect with this one!! heres some more adoptive dad!kaveh 💖 this will not make sense if you havent read the aforementioned brainrot, so please do that before reading this one! also do be aware that this has hints of kaveh's backstory in it, so if you don't want to see implied spoilers, don't read this!!

kaveh is a disaster single dad, but he's doing his best.

kaveh did inevitably take alhaitham's unsolicited advice and took them to gandharva ville. as much as he may hate to outwardly admit it... he knows he's not in a place to take care of a child alone, and he can't force alhaitham to help. that is simply not his roommate's responsibility. kaveh respects that; taking care of a child is a serious committment. it is not something that can be treated lightly, and it is certainly not something to force upon an unwilling caretaker. thankfully, the people at gandharva ville have no issue taking them in until kaveh is able to care for them properly.

tighnari and collei take really good care of them—especially collei. she adores them.

collei was very awkward with them at first, but she warmed up to them pretty quickly. something about having the opportunity to help a young child recover from trauma and learn to be stronger and smarter, having the opportunity to be like a big sister... it's very healing for her. she is being the person she herself would have needed all those years ago.

tighnari was also somewhat hesitant at first. children have a tendency to be bratty and loud, and he... does not have that kind of patience, but he was quick to get over any prior doubts after meeting them for the first time. they were very quiet. it was kind of worrying at first, but tighnari quickly realized that they just prefer communicating nonverbally.

the way they write is beautifully advanced and elegant, but it seems that their mouth finds it hard to keep up with their brain. that's all.

tighnari tutors them alongside collei. they're very advanced in language for their young age, and collei is a bit behind, so the two are roughly at the same level. he's also teaching both of them some of sumeru's many languages.

unlike collei, however, they are not from sumeru. they're from fontaine. as such, they have a lot of trouble producing some sounds that native speakers would have no trouble with.

(it's a source of very much frustration for them. collei is always there to console them when they get especially frustrated with themselves, wiping their tears away with gentle yet calloused hands and reassuring them that absolutely no-one expects them to be able to pronounce every word perfectly. even she messes up sometimes! she was away from sumeru for so long, after all. some sounds are difficult for her too.)

whenever kaveh visits them, they absolutely shine with excitement, as if he hasn't come to see them in ages. however... he's usually there multiple times a week (unless he's away for a project, and if he is, he always tells them before he leaves). they're simply always happy to see him.

it's really very cute, the way they gasp delightedly and run up to hug his legs since they're too short to reach any higher. it's impossibly endearing.

one time in particular stood out.

"Baba!"

Utter shock.

The silence that spread through Gandharva Ville was incredibly overpowering, but that didn't seem to deter them from running up to poor Kaveh—who had yet to completely process what they had said, how they had addressed him—and squeezing their little arms around his leg. The silence was quick to dissipate into fond murmurs and giggles as the Forest Rangers resumed their individual duties.

...

The blonde had no intention of replacing their parents; he'd feel awful if one or both of them turned up at some point, only for their child to have bonded with a different caretaker, but...

He also didn't have the heart to chide them. Who would? The way they gazed up at him with a smile that outshined the blazing sun itself was too sweet, too innocent. Kaveh couldn't possibly imagine why anyone would want to crush their soul like that.

He couldn't deny the warmth spreading in his chest, either.

With a smile, he raised his child into his arms, laying his forehead against their's. His gaze was gentle, affectionate, as he observed their expression. 'Enamored' didn't even begin to describe Kaveh's affection for them.

"Hello, little one. Baba's back."

from then on, kaveh absolutely addresses them as his kid. he just accepts that his role in their life is that of a father. family is not defined by blood, and archons know they need a parental figure that they can trust and rely on after what they went through in fontaine.

he never really saw himself being a father, at least not for a good while, but he adores them sm <3

alhaitham definitely warms up to them (eventually)!

he teaches them a few things here and there. most of the things he teaches them are language-related, but he'll sometimes present them with math problems. he'll even review some of their work for them if they ask, especially if it's something like an essay.

kaveh would absolutely pay special attention to his child's hair. if he doesn't already know how to care for their specific hair type, he would do everything in his power to learn how to.

kaveh spoils them whenever he can afford to. he oftentimes can't afford to do such things, which stings like a fresh wound would, but he knows they're happy even without being spoiled. he tries his best!

the architect wants to preserve their native culture, but they seem averse to the idea of returning to fontaine, and forcing them would do no good.

for now, the best he can do is obtain fontainian literature through foreign sources and ensure that their own language isn't erased by the sumeran languages they're learning.

his mother does live there. he could always ask her for a few favors when needed.

when the political climate cools down a little, he plans on taking them to fontaine, just not the capital city. anywhere outside of the nation's capital would do. ideally, he'd keep them as far away from the hydro archon as possible.

kaveh would never push his child to enroll in the akademiya, no matter how brilliant they are. unless they voluntarily want to go...

he will not do something that cruel to them. he wouldn't dream of it. honestly, even if they wanted to go, he would be a little hesitant.

(this view would change drastically after the sages are removed from office, however; once they're gone and the akademiya becomes less suffocating, he'd totally encourage them to go.)

if they did decide they wanted to go, however, he'd absolutely try to get them to enroll in kshahrewar.

like father like child!! they've been with the forest rangers for a while, so surely they'd be good with their hands by then.

alhaitham would try to get them into haravatat just to spite kaveh (those two are married, trust me!). his reasoning? they're far ahead of their peers in language. they'd thrive in an environment such as the one his darshan creates.

if they decide not to go? that's alright, too.

kaveh wants his child to thrive in an environment where they can safely and happily pursue whatever catches their interest, even if that means they regularly hop between subjects and ideas on a whim. inspiration is a skittish beast that would surely slip through their fingers if they aren't quick enough to pursue it; he understands this idea very well. it really isn't the end of the world if they don't want to go to the akademiya. they have plenty of scholars willing to teach them without all the academic stress attached—kaveh himself, alhaitham, tighnari, cyno...

(they're like a platonic co-parenting friend group LMAO they're raising [name] and collei together! they all help each other out!!)

kaveh is also very intent on teaching them to care for themselves before they try to care for anyone else.

he lives weighed down by guilt for things that weren't even his fault. he knows he's trapped by his own ideals; he'd be damned if he were to teach his child to be same way.

"do as i say, not as i do" kind of vibe. also definitely teaches his kid to "do no harm but take no shit"

(though, let's be honest: children learn through mirroring. if kaveh is not careful, his child will subconsciously adopt his self-destructive behaviors. thankfully, they do have other people to set them straight if they begin exhibiting such behaviors, namely alhaitham and cyno, who also do the majority of teaching them to "take no shit".)

ultimately, kaveh just wants his child to be happy, even if something were to happen to him. he doesn't want them to feel the way he does every moment of his life.

It wasn't often that Kaveh simply got to sit in calm silence with his child.

More often than not, they spent their time in Gandharva Ville with the forest rangers. However, every other weekend, Kaveh would take them back to Sumeru City with him; Alhaitham seemed to have no qualms with keeping them around after realizing the kind of child they turned out to be.

It was during the weekends the architect had them that he sought to spend as much time as possible with them.

Sometimes, that meant sitting peacefully in the silence together.

"...Little one," Kaveh called softly, hand stroking lovingly over their hair. They tilted their head back to meet his gaze, a small, inquisitive sound leaving their lips.

"Hm?"

"If something ever happens to me, I want you to know that you had nothing to do with it in any way, matter the circumstance. If something ever happens to me... it would not be your fault, okay? Do you understand?"

A heavy silence extended for a moment, and Kaveh could only watch as a variety of emotions crossed their face at once.

It unsettled him that they seemed to fight with themselves about how to respond, as if they couldn't agree with that.

Then again...

It wouldn't surprise him if they blamed themselves for the loss of their biological parents. Only time would tell if that pain would manifest into something worse as they got older.

"...Okay, baba. I understand."

He smiled, leaning down to kiss their forehead.

"Good."

please consider reblogging, it helps me out quite a lot!

#aphelion's headcanons 🌸#: [ adoptive dad kaveh! 🌸 ]#favoniuslibrary #astronetwrk #platonic genshin x reader #platonic genshin impact #platonic genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #kaveh x reader #platonic kaveh x reader #genshin impact x reader #alhaitham x reader #tighnari x reader #collei x reader

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ughgoaway · 3 months

Text

don't you think of me?

plot; snapshots of your breakup, with one letter underlining it all.

word count; 6.9k-ish

content warnings; swearing, dramatic overreactions, distressing dreams, depression, blood, general sad vibes, drinking and no happy ending (oops <3)

a/n; guys... angst is SO HARD. idk how people write it sooooo well. this fic is inspired by the songs "Sad Beautiful Tragic" and "I Almost Do" and the storyline is based completely on those songs! but there are a few other Taylor song references in the fic too. anyway, this kind of jumps around a lot, perspectives and timelines. so if it's completely incomprehensible, I am so sorry!! lemme know if it's so awful I need to have a re-write lol. I really hope the flashbacks are clear, and that this timeline makes any sense whatsoever <3

(p.s this is basically dedicated to 🍪 anon and bff anon, ty for riding so hard for this fic lol)

(this is non-canon)

✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀✿

The cold wind hurts Matty's face as he battles against it. Each gust feels like needles prickling his cheeks. But still, he pushes through, not really feeling much of anything these days anyway. The paper in his pocket scratches his hands as he burrows them in deeper, but he just grips it harder. The scratches made him feel more human anyway. They convinced his hazy head that maybe life was still happening around him.

The red post box in front of him is almost taunting. He stands frozen, gripping the letter he’s worked so hard on tightly. He has the passing thought of just letting it go, watching it blow away in the breeze, and never having to think about it again.

He never has to think about you again.

But he knows that's unrealistic. How can he never think of you again when you're all he thinks about? Every waking thought he has is about you. He still thinks about how your breathing changed when you slept next to him. The way your lips curved into the smirk he loved whenever you teased him. The flush that covered your cheeks when he did it back.

Every morning, he still gets out 2 mugs. He still grabs your favourite wine at the shops and doesn't say yes to plans without thinking if he should check with you first. The last time he saw you was still burned into the back of his mind, and he was not sure it could ever leave.

And to be honest, he doesn't know if he wants it to. If healing means forgetting you, forgetting everything you built, then maybe it is better to live in the pain. Each time he begins to heal, he picks up the scab over and over again. The sting reminded him of you, so he picked and picked. Blood poured from him relentlessly, but that was all he could do. Bleeding for you was all he had of you anymore.

He shoved the letter in and walked away briskly. He fought every bone in his body telling him to go back. To smash the post box and filter through every letter until he found his. He imagined a world in which he hadn't sent it, where instead he turned around and marched back to his house.

Or maybe there's a world where he marched to your house instead. Maybe he finally got over himself and told you everything in person. He begged and pleaded for you to forgive him, to look him in the eyes and tell him you've been hurting just as much as him.

Matty isn't sure that world exists, though.

✿✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀

3 days later, when it arrives, you stare at it endlessly. You move it from place to place in your apartment and try to visualise opening it there. But soon enough, that just becomes you avoiding that room like the plague, and you start to treat parts of your flat like they are infested with a deadly virus. But they're not, really. They're just filled with a small envelope with your name on it and a return address you know all too well.

You decide you aren't going to read it 2 days later. You hold it over a candle and watch the amber flames lick the bottom of the envelope. But before you can set it ablaze, some instinct takes over, and suddenly, it's the most important object you've ever owned. You pull it from the flames and put it out with your fingers, not caring if the fire sizzles your skin. You cry and beg for it to be okay, tears streaming from your cheeks as you frantically pull it open, “No no no. fuck, please.”

But the letter inside was unscathed, just the corner of the envelope was covered in a thin layer of ash. As soon as you see that handwriting, though, you feel the unspeakable urge to burn it again, to set it on fire and watch it burn.

You don’t.

You lay it on the table and go to bed. You decide tomorrow will be the day you do something with it, even though you promised yourself that every day since you got it. But you're sure tomorrow will really be the day. It has to be.

You return to the warm solace of the bed you've grown to know too well over the past few weeks, and the duvet welcomes you in like an old friend.

✿✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀

It's a few days after he sent the letter and the day after you received it when he sees you for the first time, and he can't quite believe it. There you were, standing in the coffee shop you always went to together.

He wondered if the baristas had noticed you both started to come in without the other. Maybe they started gossiping about it, “Did those customers break up? I never see them together any more” and he could almost see someone else saying “I hope not. They were cute.”

Even though he knew no one would ever actually say that, and that the baristas hadn't noticed anything.

Some force that he couldn't explain pulled him towards you, and before he knew it, he was reaching for your arm. “Hi” he breathed out heavily, staring at you like he wasn't sure you were real. He wasn't convinced that you were anything but a figment of his imagination. Has his delusions about you already gotten to the point where he's having visions? He thought it would take a few more months for that.

“Matty?” You say gently, tracing your eyes over the man in front of you. Hearing your soft voice after months without you felt like heaven on earth for Matty, relaxation washing over him just at the soft dulcet tones of you.

Matty smiled softly at you, and you immediately returned it. He can see the cogs turning in your head on how to greet him. Was a hug too much? Is a wave too little? Is a handshake too formal? Overthinking was one thing you were so good. Matty was sure you could win an award for it. So he decided to take the decision into his own hands and wrapped out up in a hug, burrowing his face in your hair and smelling that familiar floral aura he'd fallen in love with.

Your whole body tensed when he first touched you. The once familiar feeling now was slightly cold and awkward. But Matty felt you relax and couldn't help the grin that spread across his face the the feeling of your head in his neck, the place you always used to lay. He swore he could feel you breathe him in, but soon convinced himself it was wishful thinking.

Reluctantly, you pull away, looking up at Matty with glassy eyes. The barista next to you clears his throat, bringing you both back to earth and out of whatever haze you were in. “your tea is ready” he says awkwardly, eyeing you and Matty with a sly smile on his lips.

“Right! Sorry, yes. Thank you” You grab your cup and turn back to Matty nervously. He can see the anxiety radiating off you, just like it always had. He never thought it would be directed at him, but he tries not to overthink it too much.

“Do you-” You clear your throat, shaking your head as you try to process that you're seeing him again. Seeing your Matty. “Do you want to sit with me? Catch up?”

Matty can see your hands shaking around your cup and the nervousness swimming in your eyes. “Of course,” he says easily. He could never deny an opportunity to spend time with you. Especially not when he hadn't seen you in so long. And certainly not when you still take up his every waking thought.

The conversation flows like you had never left, easily chatting and catching up like you always had. You tell Matty about the cat you adopted and how she loves to sit on top of the fridge to scare you. He tells you about his mum and her latest drama. Her kitchen cupboards were the wrong colour of grey, and it was the topic of conversation for much longer than he thought possible.

The first bout of silence comes when you ask about Annie, and Matty can tell it took every ounce of strength to force the words out of your mouth. You felt like someone had taken one of your vital organs when you left her, and you can still see her face in your mind whenever you close your eyes.

“she's good. Misses you, though. Especially because she doesn't see you at school anymore since you got a new job” he says with a solemn smile. Matty tries to hold eye contact, but he gives up a few seconds into it, instead staring at his coffee as if it was the most interesting thing in the room.

Thankfully, soon enough, the once stilted silence becomes easy chatter and laughter all over again, Matty welcomed the warm conversation with open arms, missing your presence more than he ever thought possible.

But Matty's mouth soon got ahead of him, “so when was the last time I saw you?” he asked thoughtlessly. His brain was on autopilot, and the words poured out of him before he could stop it. The very topic you'd both been dancing around was now laid out in front of you, and it couldn't be ignored.

Matty saw something in your demeanour change, your once soft smile morphing into a faux-happy grimace, “Don't you remember? You screaming at me in the kitchen? And then storming out after saying what you did? Maybe you remember smashing a plate on the floor?” Matty pauses at your words, not quite believing you're deciding to re-hash all of this in the middle of a coffee shop, especially with a massive and slightly creepy grin on your face, but he answers anyway.

“Of course, I remember. And there's not enough words to say how sorry I am but-” he stutters as he tries to explain himself more, but you cut him off, gently placing a hand on his arm.

“Are you sure you remember? When you left me? Abandoned me? Left me sobbing and alone? What about the 30 phone calls you ignored?” You kept talking, and Matty couldn't get a word in, your voice increasing in volume with each desperate question.

“Look I’m so sorry-” Matty desperately looked around him to see if people were staring at your raised voice, but the cafe was empty. The once bustling coffee shop is now like a ghost town, with no evidence of another human ever being in there.

He flicks his head back to yours, only to be in his kitchen, forced back to that night. He stares at you in your pyjamas, tears streaming down your face. He flicks his eyes down to see him dressed in the same liquor-stained clothes, and he can taste the red wine on his tongue.

“Why” you whispered over and over again, gradually getting louder, eventually shouting at Matty as he stood there motionless.

Matty wakes up in a cold sweat, panting wildly as his brain fights to figure out what the fuck is happening. He scrambles to his phone and realises; it's still the same day. It was just another fucking dream. He knows nightmare would be the better word, but he can't bring himself to describe anything with you in it as a nightmare.

With a heavy sigh, he flops back to his pillow, gripping his phone desperately and trying to fight the urge to call you. It almost doesn't work, and he clicks on your contact and lets his thumb hover over the call button. He sees the unanswered calls and the pleading messages. He can feel the desperation through the screen.

He thinks your new boyfriend must've blocked his number because that's easier than thinking that you just hate him. Each time he reaches out, there’s no reply, and he feels a part of himself die.

He hadn't tried for a few months now, but he still had that urge to type out his every thought, to send it and call you until you answered. But he doesn't.

It doesn't occur to Matty that the real reason that the reason you don't answer isn't because of a new boyfriend or because you hate him. Instead, it’s because you know you can't deal with another goodbye. You can't risk all this happening again. You were already practically ripped open. You can't risk tearing the very stitches you worked so hard to sew closed.

But matty doesn't know that, so with a huff, he clicks off you and onto George, and this time, he lets the phone ring.

“Huh? what-” he hears the groggy voice over the phone mutter, and it's then he realises maybe ringing George at 3 am because he had a nightmare wasn't the best decision. But it was too late now, and he could practically see George's expectant face from the other side of the phone.

“Hi. it um- it happened again” Matty said with a huff, falling back into the pillows and staring at the moonlight dancing across his ceiling. He heard George's heavy sigh and the distinct sound of ruffling sheets, George had sat up instinctively, knowing something was up.

“What was it this time? Did everyone in the crowd turn into her again” George says softly, rubbing at his tired eyes and fighting a yawn.

“No, it started off really nice this time. I saw her again at that cafe we always went to, you know the one near the studio? We were just chatting and catching up. But then she wouldn't stop talking about that night, telling me what happened all over again. And then I blinked, and I was back. I was in that kitchen again, just staring at her.” Matty follows the moonbeams with his eyes, lingering on the two beams crossing over, only for their paths to separate once again.

It reminded him of you and him.

“I think you need to get some lavender oil or some shit. You need to sleep. And these nightmares aren't helping” George says firmly, Matty would usually fight him tooth and nail at the suggestion.

He claimed it was because that stuff had never worked for him, but George knew it was because he saw it as still having a part of you in his life. Even if you were there in the form of his demons, at least they all looked like you.

But to his surprise, Matty immediately crumbled, “Yeah, you're right. Will you come to Boots with me after the studio tomorrow?” George agreed quickly before Matty could change his mind.

But he didn't try to, Matty simply said, “Thanks. Okay, I'll let you sleep now… Bye.” And before George could tell him it was okay, and he’d stay chatting as long as Matty needed, he was gone.

Tears leaked from Matty’s eyes, wetting the same pillow where you used to lay your head. This loop of healing felt endless, and Matty wasn't sure if fixing this was possible when he knew you were still out there without him. Forever wouldn't have even been enough with you, but now he has nothing. What is he meant to do with no you?

✿✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀

As Matty lay awake in Manchester, you were in the same position in London. The same lonely bed, but different cities. Unlike him, you haven't managed to sleep yet. Instead, you can't stop your brain from imagining what is in that letter. Your mind falls back to that night, and you replay the events over and over again. Every word Matty said was etched in your mind, so it played easily, the same script ringing in your ears all these months later.

//////////////////////

Matty shut the door delicately. Getting home at 2 am. was already bad enough. He didn't want to wake you or Annie in the process. But when he saw the light pouring out of the kitchen and heard the distinct hissing of the kettle, he knew you were awake. And he knew you were waiting for him.

He walked into the kitchen silently, leaning on the counter and watching you potter around, he remember when he used to sit here for hours and dream of you in his house. Now he's not even sure the last time you said I love you to each other. You continue to ignore Matty, but you getting a second mug out of the cupboard tells him all he needs to know. This is going to be a long night.

“At the studio late again?” You ask, passing Matty his mug and leaning across from him. Your eyes trace up his figure, and you can't help but think you don't recognise the man in front of you. His clothes hung off of him, and heavy bags sat under his empty eyes. His hair was standing on end, once perfectly manicured curls now frazzled beyond repair.

“Yeah, George wanted to fix this harmony. Sorry I'm back so late” he knew lying to you was wrong. He really did. But he couldn't bring himself to explain where he actually was, drinking alone in a bar rather than at home with his family.

“Oh. okay.” you pause and wait for Matty to correct himself, giving him a chance to be fucking honest for once. But he doesn't, so you push again.

“That's weird though, because I asked Charli where George was 2 hours ago, and she sent a photo of them together. In bed.”

Matty's eyes widened. He knew he'd just been caught, but he wasn't ready to give up the lie yet. He just needed a few more weeks away, and then he would come back. Then everything would be made right again. So his tipsy mind comes up with a new lie and pleads with whatever God there might be that would believe him, “Oh did I say George? I meant Hann, you know how I get when it's late”

“Matty. You stink of booze. Do you think im an idiot?” You sigh, placing your tea down and crossing your arms over your chest. The anger bubbling within you was threatening to spill over. You felt as if every word from Matty was a stab, yet he kept just pushing the knife deeper.

“So I had a drink at the studio! Sue me, Jesus Christ” Matty sneers at you as he talks, slamming his cup onto the counter, ignoring the burning on his hand from the tea falling over the rim.

“Liar” you click your tongue at Matty and cast your eyes to the floor. Staring into his eyes as he lied to you was agony, and you're not sure how much more pain you can take.

“I'm not lying. I swear I just-” he tries to argue, but you refuse to let him keep going.

“I know you're lying. You're always fucking lying! You weren't at the studio.” you sighed heavily flicking your eyes up to Matty briefly, but the tension was too much, it hurt to look at him.

“Baby, cmon, calm down. It’s okay, yeah? I’m here now,” Matty moved towards you, grabbing your cheek in his hand and moving in to kiss you, prepared to make this all melt away just like he always did. You try to push him away, but Matty stands strong. He had to fix this. He needed to kiss and make up. It was all he knew how to do.

“Would you just fucking listen” you shout, pushing Matty back across from you, “I don't even know who you are anymore! These past few weeks have made you into a man I don't even fucking recognise.” You look up at him with crazed eyes and scoff at the sight of the man in front of you.

You were done with it all. The lying, the running away, the sleuthing around. Done. You were having this conversation, and you were having it now.

“No please don't say that. You know me. I don't know who I am without you knowing me,” Matty begged, sobering up quickly at your words.

He needs to bring this back, claw what little life you had left in you to the surface. Everything that left Matty’s life has had claw marks in it, and he would be damned if he'd let you go without the same scars.

“Don't you understand that's the fucking issue, Matty? You don't know who you are anymore, I don't know who you are anymore. You need to be a person without me.” your words struck Matty in the chest like a bullet.

Were you seriously suggesting what he thinks you are? Do you actually want to break up with him?

Matty baulks at your words. Every feeling he’d had over the past few months was catching up to him, crashing into each other in his brain as they fought to be let out. Anger won because, of course, it won. It seems to always win.

He decides that if you want to break up, then he'll do it himself. He can't let you beat him to it. He knows it's childish, but he doesn't fucking care. He needs to win this. “Please, I've been a person without you for 30 fucking years. I’m a fucking dad! I don't need you to tell me who I am.”

“Annie needs both her parents, Matty. We need you back, please.” The mention of Annie makes outrage bubble within him like it had never done before. He can't believe you'd practically threatened to break up with him one minute and then beg for him back for the sake of his daughter the next. Because that is what she is, she's his daughter.

“You don't know what it's like to be a parent y/n,” Matty mumbles under his breath, but he might as well have screamed it at you because that's how loudly it rang in your ears. He knew he'd fucked up as soon as he said it, but there was no going back now, and he could see that in your eyes.

“I don't know what it's like to be a parent. Are you fucking kidding Matty? What the hell have I been doing here for the past year? Just fucking around? I can't believe you could say that to me.” You hear your voice wavering as you force each word out.

“Annie is just as much my daughter as she is yours” you whisper desperately. The regret of mentioning Annie was building in your chest, and it felt like a rock impeding your lungs, each breath fighting against the weight. but it was too late to take anything back now. Both you and Matty knew it.

Matty scoffs at your words, rolling his eyes as he fiddles with his fingers. He tries desperately to cool his raging mind, but he can't. He figures if he is already in this deep, why not stoop a little lower?

“Just as much your daughter? Please. You weren't here for fucking any of it. Where were you here when she was born? How about when she was sick for the first time and wouldn't let me put her down without screaming bloody murder? Or- or how about when she broke her arm and she cried when she couldn't have a pink cast? Or maybe for any fucking time apart from the last 12 months. I know you liked playing happy families y/n, but be fucking real for 5 seconds. You were her teacher, maybe a fun friend, but nothing more. And if you think you were, you're more delusional than I thought.”

His chest heaved as he finished, not taking a single breath during his rambling speech, he could see your wet eyes and he felt his heart aching but he just couldn't stop himself, words tumbling out of his mouth. "Even if you stayed, even if you never give up on us, on this. You could never be her mother.”

Both of you pause, the silence thick and heavy around you. How long could you stand like this and pretend he didn’t say that? Maybe if you just stayed there and listened to your ragged breathing, something would change.

But nothing did.

“Fuck you. You told me I was practically her mother a month ago. You said to me I was it for you, that your family was complete. I can't believe-” words poured out of you, streaming helplessly as you paced the kitchen.

Matty tried to cut in, desperate to get a word in edgeways. The need to defend himself was all-consuming. He needed to know that you understood he said it in the heat of the moment. Words fall out of his mouth without thinking. He can’t help it.

“y/n, love-”

“I’m not her mother? Tell that to the time I took her dress shopping for your mum's wedding. Or when I took her to A&E with suspected appendicitis. and-”

“y/n. Stop, just listen to me, please.” Matty begs, he almost inches closer to you, but some ineffable force keeps him where he is, watching you pace helplessly.

“Listen to you? Oh, I've done plenty of fucking listening Matthew. All I do is listen to you! But you never fucking hear me-”

“Can you just shut up for 5 fucking seconds” Matty shouted, grabbing a plate from beside him, throwing it against the concrete floor, watching it shatter into a thousand pieces. He just needed you to look at him, to tell him you could fix this, but you wouldn't stop talking.

A gasp from you pulls him back to earth, and he feels his heart break into as many pieces as the plate below his feet. Your wide eyes and tear-stained cheeks glare back at him, and Matty has nothing to say. He has no fucking idea what just came over him.

Matty gingerly takes a step towards you, trying to avoid the ceramic splayed over the floor. His fingers shake as he reaches his hand out to your cheek, wanting to thumb away the tears falling.

But just as he does, he sees you flinch. It wasn't even a full movement, practically a micro-expression. But you fucking flinched. And you both knew it. The veil of silence over you is thick as you both stand there motionless with no idea what you could say to fix this. To make the last 10 minutes disappear.

Matty’s touch used to calm you. It was the only reassurance you needed. But now the mere thought of it filled you with some twisted sense of fear. The woman he had planned the rest of his life with was scared of him. And it was all his fucking fault. How had this all become his worst nightmare? How had the very thing he sacrificed so much to build crumbled and destroyed itself so deeply?

“Matty wait- I’m sorry, I was just still on edge. It's okay, im okay. See?” With a shaking hand, you grip his, bringing it to your face despite his protests. You can feel him trying to pull his arm away, but you fight him at every tug. Forcibly placing his hand on your wet cheek.

As soon as your hand drops from his, Matty wrenches away from you. The feeling of your cheek against his palm felt as if his skin was burning. The pain touched his every nerve.

The air is charged with pure fear as you stare at the other, both of your chests heaving and your eyes glassy with unshed tears. Without thinking it through, Matty storms off, grabbing his keys as he pushes through the house. You chase after him, ignoring the blades of ceramic impaling your sock-covered feet, “No don't leave, Matty, please. Stay, stay here.” You reach to grab his arm, but Matty snatches it away before you can even feel his skin against yours.

“I’m leaving. I’m staying at George tonight. Tomorrow I’ll come pick Annie up from school. You will call in and take a sick day. Start packing your shit. I’m done. You're out of my house by tomorrow.” Matty demands, and with that, he leaves. Slamming the door behind him.

Bloody footprints lay in a trail behind you, and your socks start slowly becoming sodden from your weeping wounds. But still, you stood there, unmoving. Shock coursing through your veins.

It was all over. Just like that.

////////////////////

The letter was taunting you from the other room, the blacked corner flashed into your mind whenever your eyes finally fluttered close. The image of you burning the letter played behind your eyelids like a movie, and you almost wish you really had done it.

But you didnt, so it still sat on your living room table, torturing you.

Eventually, you drift off to sleep, tears dampen the pillow below your head, but you ignore the thumping in your head and finally let sleep pull you under.

✿✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀

You know you're dreaming when you're back in that kitchen. But you can't stop it from happening. The hazy filter that covers your surroundings is the only thing assuring you this isn't real, that this isn't all happening again.

Matty stands in front of you just as he had that night, but he looks different. His once frizzy curls sat in perfectly ringlets around his face, the streaks of grey dancing through them more prominent. His unshaven face was now neatly trimmed, and you admired the salt and pepper hairs within it. You can see the tears brimming in his eyes, glittering on his waterline.

“So you'll forgive me? We can move on?” he says desperately, smiling and moving towards you with tears falling down his cheeks.

You try to speak, but your mouth doesn't move, your lips stay pressed together against your brain's protests. Not even grunts escape you. Silently, you stare at Matty, completely motionless.

“y/n? You forgive me. I can make this right again, can't I?” Matty begs desperately. He grabs your hand but recoils at the cold feeling on his skin, your fingers cold as ice in his grip.

You fight to speak again, to tell him yes. To tell him you forgive him, that you need to try again. But still, nothing leaves your lips.

Matty scoffs at you, ripping himself away from you, “I can't believe you're ignoring me. I thought you'd be more mature than this. Call me when you can actually have an adult fucking conversation.”

He storms off, but all you can do is watch him helplessly. Every nerve in your body is screaming to move, to chase after him. And you almost do, but some inexplicable force is keeping you there, motionless in the same place where your life ended all those months ago.

So you watch him leave again, the haze surrounding you soon becoming darkness.

You know it's a dream, and you keep on telling yourself that. But when you wake with wet cheeks and a heaving chest, it feels pretty fucking real.

You swear you can feel him next to you, awake and staring at the same ceiling. But when you turn to see him, the piled-up duvet is all that's there, along with a cold bed beside you.

It's then you decide to finally give in to that voice in your head, the one screaming at you to just read the letter, to get it over and done with. The one begging you to throw it away and never look back is nearly silenced, and it soon becomes nothing but a whisper in the back of your mind.

The letter stays exactly where you left it, and whilst you know it couldn't have moved, part of you wishes it had. With shaking hands, you grab the pile of pages, and you can feel your heart racing the very same way it used to when you saw him.

The city lights shine onto you as you finally open the pages, looking at the handwriting you knew all too well. The same handwriting that used to give you butterflies, that used to detail how much it loved you, filling pages with adoration.

Now you're not so sure what it entails. But you read anyway, ignoring every screaming signal telling you to stop.

///////////

Hi darling,

I know I don't have the right to call you that anymore, but I can't bring myself to call you anything else. It's been a few months since we've spoken, and I've felt every minute of it. I've filled notebooks writing about you, writing to you. I must have practised this letter a dozen times, and I know this still won't be right.

So, instead of trying to write the perfect letter, I've ripped out some pages from my journal. My therapist told me to write like I was speaking to you, so that's what I did. I’m sure she would be pissed that im sending this at all, but I need to do this for us. To remember what we once were.

Anyway, I hope it makes you understand what this time without you has been like for me. You can ignore this letter completely and I wouldn't blame you. I won't hold it over you if you burn it and never look back. But if you do read it, I just need you to know im sorry. For everything.

(3 weeks without you)

To say the past couple of weeks have been hell for me is beyond an understatement. There is this festering part of me that thinks I will love you forever, and the knowledge that we will never be like we once were kills me, but it has to kill me. Because if I felt anything other than agony, I would come crawling back to you, and you don't deserve that. And I know that. But fucking hell, that doesn't make it hurt any less.

You know me, I don't know what it's like to have surface-level emotions. I either feel it all, or I feel nothing. and with you? I fucking felt it all. I felt every touch, every smile, every fight, every screaming match ending in tears. I fucking felt it. and for some reason- I'm still thankful for it. because at least I felt you.

I wonder if you're at the point where you miss me when you hear my name. And I can't help but think about you hearing my songs, do you change the station? Even if they're about you? But if I’m honest, they're all about you. Every one of them. Even before I knew you, they were about you.

(a month and a half)

I wish you could forgive me. I think if I knew you didn't hate me, I could move on. Or maybe it would do the opposite. I don't know. All I do know is, I miss you.

(2 months)

Sometimes I miss you so much I can't handle it. I go driving and find the places we used to go, I sit there, and I can still hear your laugh. I can feel that all-encompassing warmth that surrounds you. but then someone speaks, or a car horn goes off, and suddenly, it's cold again. I mourn you like you're someone I've lost forever, and in a way, I have.

You know I still feel you every day, everywhere. Because you might have left, but you never really did. I still find your socks down beside the bed, and your hair ties around the house. I accidentally used your shampoo in the shower this week. You know that ridiculous Jasmine one that you pay too much for?

It was like having you around again, I never thought the small of some shitty shampoo would be the thing that brought it all back to me, brought you back to me. Yet it was. But still, you were gone.

So apparently, I decided to fall into the breakup trope of crying in the shower. For 45 minutes, which made me feel slightly pathetic. And it didn't help when George knocked on the door and washed my hair again. with my shampoo. But I still find myself smelling jasmine even when it's nowhere near.

You haunt me in ways I never thought possible.

(3 months)

It's 3 a.m., and I can't stop picturing your face. Just knowing you're still out there makes it so much fucking harder. I don't know how to cope knowing you're there and not here, with me. Even months later there's some sick part of me that hopes leaving me was the hardest thing you've had to do. but I hope loving me wasn't.

I know that's selfish, and that this is all my fault anyway. so I want you to move on, even if it kills me. it's hell thinking that the one person you could never forget is fighting to forget you.

But I hope you find the love of your life. I hope they make your tea just how you like it, and buy you those crazy expensive candles you love. I hope they will follow you to the ends of the earth, just like I would. even now.

(3 and a half months)

I want to say you don't know how it feels to miss you, you don't know how hard it is. but I have to keep hoping you miss me just as much. because if you didn't, if you just moved on without a second thought; I couldn't cope. the fact that we will always just be an almost will live with me until the day I die. I don't want you to be an almost. I want you to be an always. but it's over, and I know that. or at least I'm very good at pretending I know that.

(4 months)

Recently, I've been thinking about “what ifs?” Despite my therapist telling me I shouldn't. But you know what it is like after breakups. It's this all-consuming thing, and you can't help but imagine if things were different.

I think in another universe, we worked out. I got over my massive ego, and you worked through your past, and it fixed itself. We got married, had another kid, and got that cat you always wanted. We'd go to Annie's graduation together. Her wedding together. you'd cry as I walked her down the aisle, I'd smile and kiss away your tears. and I know that's not this universe. but fucking hell why can't it be?

(4 and a half months)

My mum misses you. She asked how you were doing today and if I had reached out yet. I got angry at her and stormed out. If only she knew how many times I’d dialled your number and then turned off my phone. Or how many unanswered texts I've sent.

Annie misses you too, by the way. She's finally stopped asking when you're coming back.

I wish she still asked.

(today)

I don't expect you to read all of this, and if you've just skipped to the end, I don't blame you.

but I'm sending this letter because I think I'm finally at a place where when I think of you, I don't take it as a sign from the universe that we were meant to be together. instead, I think of it as a past life, as proof that we were an almost.

Next time I see you, I hope it doesn't hurt as much as the last time.

Goodbye, my love,

Matty x

///////////

The distinct sound of dripping tears hitting paper was the only noise in the room. You watched helplessly as the ink distorted under the little pools of wetness. A million thoughts race through your mind, and you can't help but fucking hate him for sending this.

How could he do this to you? All you've been doing for months is healing, but he keeps ripping open old wounds carelessly. He has to know you can never go back. You can't trust him.

All you left behind you was a mess. You were both better off this way.

With a scoff, you grab your lighter and cigarettes, stepping onto the balcony with the letter gripped in your shaking hands. You have to flick the lighter a few times before it works, the bitter wind fighting against it.

But soon the flame comes, you sigh happily, moving it up to the cigarette delicately balanced between your lips. You suck in a deep breath, revelling in the feeling of the smoke filling your lungs. The slight crackle brings you more relaxation than anything else these days, but you still have to fight to ignore the familiarity of the scent.

You flick the lighter again, huffing annoyed as it goes out. Once you see the distinct glow of amber, you don't hesitate before placing it against the paper and watching the pages in front of you burn up.

Ashes sizzle your skin, but you couldn't care less. In fact, you welcome the pain. A sick smile comes across your face, grinning around the now-lit cigarette in your mouth.

Isn't it funny how little words mean, when they're a little too late?

#here it is... i am nervous <3 #like i had fun writing it but is it any good?? time will only tell...#angst is difficult but very interesting to write #matty healy fanfic #matty healy fic #matty healy fanfiction #matty x reader #matty healy angst #the 1975 angst #the 1975 fic #teacher au!

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5eraphim · 1 year

Note

You mentioned in the past that you thought yandere medic would be okay with sharing y/n with another person. How do you think that would go? maybe with heavy, since they’re so close? (If you aren’t doing request rn feel free to ignore this <3 have a good day )

anon,, my sweet beloved and treasured above all loving sentiment, if only you knew how long I've awaited this very ask....

I teased this idea way back (here, the first part obvi.). I've gone back and forth about going for it and writing out the prompt in full, as I think it would be very, very... enticing, and another one of those things I would love to read which must unfortunately start with a blank word doc. I wound up writing this to be rather light-hearted, but if anyone wants to see this scenario played out a bit darker, I'm open to the request!

But additionally, I know myself well enough as a person, and didn't really want to go through all that effort unless if was for a request, or unless I knew it would be for me and at least one other reader, because it feels only natural a multiple character x reader one shot should be long enough to give each character a decent enough feature, thus will (safe to say) always be much longer, and take much longer to write, than a regular x character oneshot. (If that makes any sense?) Anyhow, that's all to say, thank you, thank you, thank you ever so kindly for the ask, I really hope you enjoy how this came out, it was a pleasure to write. <3

Characters: The Heavy 🐻 and The Medic 🕊️ (Team Fortress 2)

Summary: Drunkenness and tenderness between comrades lowers inhibitions, let's hope your ambitions will rise to compensate.

Rating: X (MINORS DNI, YOU KNOW THIS ISN'T FOR YOU)

Content Warnings: AFAB reader, smut, three way, oral (female receiving), first time, size difference, slight intoxication, dubcon (nothing too intense, but for the sake of intoxication/slight coercion), heavymedic sandwich.

Word Count: 4.5k

MASTER POST

TIP JAR

(Song Inspo: Delicate Weapon- Grimes)

"when I say eat me, I mean suck the bones clean, leave nothing for the waiting, leave nothing for the vultures, or the travelers to come." “vivisection (you’re going to break my heart)” by Marty McConnell from The Best American Poetry 2014, edited by Terrance Hayes and David Lehman.

While the mission wasn't technically over yet, the work for the day was, and thank God for that. The job was simple enough, nothing more than a little errand run, fetching some supplies to bring back to home base, not necessarily requiring the combined efforts of you, Heavy and Medic. Still, when you were requested to accompany the two, you immediately agreed. So while the work bored you, the company would make it all worth it.

While the mission wasn't technically over yet, the work for the day was, and thank God for that. The job was simple enough, nothing more than a little errand run, fetching some supplies to bring back to home base, not necessarily requiring the combined efforts of you, Heavy and Medic. Still, when you were requested to accompany the two, you immediately agreed. The work bored you, but the company made it all worth it.

The road down was straightforward enough, and collecting the supplies was just as effortless, but the trip back was less so. A sudden and severe thunderstorm forced the lot of you to find a room for the night to accommodate all three of you and your cargo. Along with a few beers picked up along the way, a little treat to celebrate a hard day's work. While typically, you knew drinking on the job wasn't professional, this was a special occasion, and you knew it would be back to work once you returned home, so you might as well enjoy it while it lasted. Finding a suitable room big enough for all of you on such short notice was a miracle, but this place suited you well.

Two double-wide beds, a radio, an armchair, a couch, and a little kitchenette with an ice box to keep the beer nice and cold while you took turns changing in the bathroom out of work clothes and washing up a little. You took the initiative to contact Homebase regarding the delay.

A part of you was so tired you wanted to crawl into bed right away, but you weren't about to deny yourself a nice cold beer with friends. To your surprise, Medic sat in the armchair beside the couch while Heavy sat on the sofa, leaving the only open space to unwind next to Heavy, which you reclined comfortably into. Considering how they were practically glued to the hip most of the time, you didn't understand why they didn't sit together now. Also, you didn't like how Medic's eyes seemed to follow you across the room as you sat down next to Heavy, doing your best to keep a respectable distance between you and Heavy.

For some time, you relaxed, talking, listening to the radio, one beer turning into two, and two into two and a half as you settled more comfortably into the couch, no longer holding yourself so austerely, relaxing a little. Your head eventually resting on Heavy's shoulder, he looked at you, "Comfortable?"

You nodded, his body mass was so burly, and you could feel the warmth of his body through his shirt, making you feel a little giddy. "You're too cozy- I wanna sleep right here."

"Still cold from storm? I warm you."

It wasn't a question. And without waiting for a yes, Heavy effortlessly pulled you onto his lap, sitting you sideways on top of his legs. With one arm slung over your shoulder and one under your knees, he pulled you into his lap, the overwhelming closeness feeling sudden, but he was still so temptingly warm and comfortable you didn't want to pull away.

"Feel better?"

You giggled, nodding your head as he ruffled your hair playfully, keeping one arm around your shoulders as you settled against the arm of the couch. Your eyes were closed, your head feeling all floaty as you felt his hand move from the top of your head to the side of your cheek. His hands, no longer concealed under his gloves, felt calloused but so gentle against your cheek. He moved subtly, decisively. You didn't even realize he moved your face to meet his until you felt his lips connecting against your own.

Without warning, you pulled away sharply with the awkward rigidity of a stranger. Your actions caught Heavy by surprise, allowing you to detach yourself without restriction, though you could see his confusion through wide, frightened eyes. In a moment, you were made shockingly aware of everything the alcohol so effectively blinded you to before now. It was that awkward, sinking feeling of becoming all too aware of your own body all at once, aware of the space you were taking up, of how much of your body was pressed up against the massive Russian you shared the couch with, the clammy sweat coating your palms, the tension in your joints, yet most of all the butterflies in your belly which intensified into something less than pleasant. All of this awkwardness made you feel suddenly insecure about yourself, your form, and your relation to the men around you; how could you have been so blind to this before? For goodness sake, these were your coworkers; it was your responsibility to keep things professional between the lot of you, a task you could not more thoroughly have failed at. It was humiliating to realize you folded after just a couple of drinks, even if Heavy was playing along; it all felt so wrong and too pushy. Not to mention the fact Heavy was a taken man. The truth made all the more grievous, considering his partner was sitting right there facing the two of you. While the guilt for what you'd just done made you want to hide your face in shame, it was impossible to keep from looking at Medic. However, to your surprise, he merely sat there watching the two of you, cocking his head to the side slightly, with a confusion matching Heavy's as though you were the one acting strangely here.

"Something is wrong?" Heavy inquired, his hand on your waist tightening slightly, likely in reassurance, unfortunately having the opposite effect. It felt too awkward to look Heavy in the eye or face him at this point. So instead, you kept your gaze locked on the floor before the two of you as you nervously tried to squirm your way off the larger man's lap. All to no avail, however, as Heavy's grip on you was cast iron, and you resorted to clasping your hands together on your lap, speaking as levelly as you could, using all your willpower to keep the emotions and alcohol from causing your weak voice to crack, "I'm sorry, Heavy. I think I've, um-overstepped here; I shouldn't have, y-you know… Well, I mean, I think I'll turn in now- it's so late, already…."

Your voice trailed off, and you hated how wishy-washy you sounded, betraying your will to stay strong, to appear rational and firm as any reliable comrade should.

Heavy was not convinced. "You were fine when I pulled you on my lap. Why so tired so fast?"

Forcing a nervous laugh and uncomfortable forced smile, you tried to turn to Medic for reassurance, but he stared back, eyes squinting slightly, matching Heavy's suspicion. "Must be the alcohol's catching up with me then-'' It wasn't a total lie, as you could've sworn you could feel the alcohol churning in your gut, almost taunting you, forcing you to remember just how much you'd drunk in such a short amount of time.

"Explain." Heavy looked at you and deadpanned, waiting for you to tell the truth. You tried to swallow, but your mouth felt dry.

"I mean, aren't you two-" The awkwardness melded uncomfortably with the guilt; how were you supposed to explain yourself in a situation like this? "I mean- but you two are together, aren't you?"

"And?" Heavy spoke bluntly, putting you right back on the spot. You sighed nervously, nibbling at your lower lip and turning your head to face Medic.

"I just, I-I know it's not my business, but I mean- I can't imagine you're alright with any of this-'' You thought you knew your friends well, but you never would've imagined winding up in a situation like this with the two of them. To your surprise, a smile spread across Medic's face.

"Of course I am! This was my idea, after all!" You merely blinked at him, not at all following what he meant by that.

"Huh? What do you mean, it was your idea?"

"Well…" You could see his eyes flick from you to Heavy, silently asking for some backup. Heavy's fingers began to rub comforting little circles over your waist, his other hand covering your own hands on your lap in a reassuring gesture.

"You're pretty and kind but sp shy. We thought a little experience would help." His blunt words took you completely by surprise.

"Experience?" You managed. Heavy nodded, not at all registering the shock on your face.

"What he means is-" Medic chuckled slightly, interjecting, amused watching how flustered Heavy's words made you. "We thought if we helped you with a little, let's say, physical bonding-"

You opened your mouth, ready to ask what exactly he meant by this, but he pressed on.

"Nothing too intense now- just a little intimacy to get you more accustomed."

You hated how vague he was being, but also, you'd be lying if you said you'd never thought of being in a situation like this before. Only in your wildest, most unrealistic dreams, or so you thought. The two men were handsome in their own ways, you'd known before you got to know them, but you never liked to dwell on such lewd thoughts. You always felt so guilty afterward; they were your friends after all, even if just in your thoughts, you knew it was wrong to think so lustfully of friends.

Sure, there was always a little lighthearted play-flirting occasionally, but you would never have tried anything serious with either of them. Your friendship meant too much to risk losing like that.

You felt Heavy kiss the side of your head, murmuring in a low, uncharacteristically quiet voice into your ear, "You're shy but not sneaky. I see how you look at Doctor behind his back. He says you stare at me also. Is this true?"

Your breath hitched when he began to trail his beautiful, massive hand from over your hands, snaking it up your belly until it cupped the side of your face, forcing you to focus on him and meet his eye. Heavy drank in every detail of your face before settling his eyes on your lips, waiting for you to answer, and with a trembling exhale, you spoke, "It is." Before he could wait no longer, closing the space between your mouths once again, his lips curling into a smirk just seconds before his parted lips connected with yours.

While you were still awestruck at the surrealness of the situation, you felt your reservations evaporating by the second. Finally kissing back, you allowed Heavy to deepen the kiss as he used his hand to push your head closer against his. His thumb brushed over your cheek, feeling the warmth of your skin as you felt almost uncomfortably overheated. He moved slowly but so lovingly, using his tongue to dip into your mouth and taste you, sucking against your lips as you broke the kiss with hesitation, asking,

"Are you sure you want to go through with all this?" He nodded with a mellow smile as you continued, still feeling traces of nervousness clinging to you stubbornly. "I'd never forgive myself if I ruined our friendship, and I, uh-" Despite your awkwardness and hesitation, Heavy smiled at you so resolutely, so affectionately. Watching you as though you were the most beautiful person he'd ever beheld.

"I don't want to let you down here. You guys were right; I've got no real experience here… I don't know if I'll be any good at this." It was almost shameful to say out loud, but Heavy didn't even blink, playfully kissing your cheek.

"Don't think of that. It's your time to learn, not lead."

He nuzzled his nose against your cheek, the feeling almost ticklish, making you stifle a giggle. "Just lay back and look pretty. You'll do perfect." He pulled away a little, his hand on your waist, tugging at your shirt a little; only then did you see how blown out his pupils were, "Will you come to bed now?"

It was time to be decisive. The abruptness of the question caught you off-guard, but you had no idea if you would ever get a chance like this again. This was your moment; it was time to act or wish you had. You swallowed your uncertainty and nodded, finally removing your hands from your lap to help Heavy pull off your shirt before reaching out to touch his own top and about to do the same. But he gave you a look that made you pause.

"This one off too? It's not too much? We only go as far as you want." As praising as he was moments ago, his firmness and evident respect for your boundaries made you feel all the more loved. You took this as your chance to try and charm him, as he did so effortlessly to you.

"The shirt off is better; I mean, I've always wanted to get a look under these clothes." The sound of Medic chuckling beside you made you realize you'd almost forgotten he was there in the first place. It felt odd knowing he was so close, though if this was all his idea all along, you wondered where he factored into all this. Pushing that thought aside, you helped Heavy remove his shirt as you curled a little closer, your head resting against his chest, your hand on his shoulder as you softly kissed his skin, nuzzling to feel the delightful feeling of skin-to-skin contact as much as you could. "Heavy, your body is so warm. You feel amazing." Your words were mumbled, quiet, and practically smothered as you spoke without moving your head much from his chest. You could feel his chest rumbling with a low laugh, and when you felt his hips gently press a little closer against your body, but you didn't shy away. You could feel he was aroused and didn't doubt he knew you were too. You felt the warmth between your legs intensifying the longer you felt Heavy's bare skin against yours, your thighs squeezing tighter and tighter, and you swore you could feel a bit of wetness from the kiss alone.

"Will you take me to bed now? Please?" The neediness gave you a bit of confidence as you looked up at Heavy, who needed no further incentive. You leaned against him for support as you both rose, your hand finding his as you two walked to the bed, laying down. At the same time, Heavy lingered for a moment overhead, distracted by the curves of your body now spread out like a banquet before him, eyes looking everywhere but your face. Then, for a second, you felt a twinge of insecurity, "I won't lie; I'm still a little scared this is gonna hurt."

Instantly, this snapped Heavy's attention back to your face as he sat beside you on the side of the bed, his hand finding yours again as he spoke, "We only go as far as you want… We can stop now if-" You didn't talk, just shook your head no, moving Heavy's hand with your own to the waist of your pants. He looked at you one last time for assurance. However, you could practically feel his hand trembling in yours with anticipation before you guided him to unbutton your pants, helping pull them off you. At the same time, you slinked out of them and your underwear, kicking them to the floor.

Even against your thigh, his hand loomed intimidatingly, the size difference so beautiful, making you shudder, wanting this man more than ever. You were so distracted by his hands you didn't even hear Medic sneaking up behind Heavy until you heard him speak. "How precious you two look~" You jolted a little in surprise, seeing Medic peering down at you from behind Heavy with narrowed eyes glazed over with lust, shamelessly checking out your nude figure, now stripped perfectly naked in front of him.

"You didn't forget about me so soon, did you?" He asked in a faux-hurt voice, "You're doing so well. Are you ready to go a little further now?"

"I am." You spoke without hesitation, the burning between your legs intensifying almost painfully as you shyly parted your thighs, feeling cool air ticking your sweaty skin as Medic walked to the foot of the bed to get a better view before you sat up a little, pushing away from the headboard as Heavy got into bed behind you.

"Heavy is here, right behind. You will be safe."

Before now, you remembered how painfully tense you felt, but at this moment, you were put at ease, comforted at last by the presence behind you, no longer so overwhelmed. How foolish you were to think your relationship with the two men had to be strictly business, how blind you were to the pleasure the two men had to offer.

"We will stop at any time-"

You cut him off with a kiss as he settled at the head of the bed, "I know I'm no good at showing it, but. I want this. I've wanted this for so long. You two mean so much to me, and I trust you."

You were about to say, 'I love you,' but you held back. You didn't have the guts to say something so bold. But you hoped Heavy, as well as Medic, understood, despite your shy quietness. There was a minute or two of moving around, Heavy moving from his spot at your bedside to get behind you; he spread his thick legs to give you space to settle between. Finally, you were lying down, your upper back and head resting on his belly, noticing the bulge in his pants as it pressed not-so-subtly into your back. Despite the lewdness of it all, you let your head fall back a little; Heavy's body felt so solid and warm behind you, it almost made you want to skip everything and just cuddle up and fall asleep already, but you knew Medic wouldn't allow such a thing.

"I'll start nice and slow, just for you." Medic's words were deceptively sweet, almost enough to hide his lustful intent. Your throat felt too dry to speak, so you merely nodded, feeling the heat in the pit of your stomach intensify at this new position. He was condescending to you, and yet you didn't even have the inner strength left to respond. Medic moved over you, his hands resting on Heavy's thighs around your head to keep you nice and caged, right where he wanted you. He could see it written all across your face; you were getting turned on being obedient like this, submitting and letting them take the lead. He leaned his body down further, enough for you to feel the rub of his pants over your naked flesh, the odd sensation making you wince as he slotted his knee between your legs, the gentle contact alone enough to make you jolt a little, startled.

"Aww, I'm sorry. Did I scare you? You must be pretty needy down there, aren't you? Did Heavy do a good job getting you warmed up?" Medic could feel your chest rising and falling rapidly as you breathe deeper. He continued, "You've masturbated before, haven't you?" The question caught you off guard. You looked at Medic with wide eyes, feeling another throb of arousal, seeing his predatory grin, one you'd seen countless times in battle but appearing like never before, given the current position. He pressed his knee a little harder against you.

"Y-yeah, I've- a lot, I guess…."

"Did you ever think of it like this? Your pussy leaking all over me while you grind against me as hard as you can?" You keened, your hips rolling against his clothed thigh, the muscle bulging distractingly beneath the thin covering. It was humiliating to have him mocking you while you were powerless to defend yourself, yet still, you wanted even more. He laughed, amused by your lack of a response, as though your brain was already succumbing so quickly to your own lust you forgot how to form whole sentences.

"Does it turn you on when I dirty-talk you like this? I bet behind that pretty face, you're even more perverted than either of us." You grit your teeth, biting back a moan.

"Medic, w-why are you keeping your pants on?" He paused momentarily at the abrupt question, looking at you with an eyebrow raised as you rushed to explain yourself. "I mean, doesn't it feel- like, weird?"

"You want to see me undressed that bad, huh?" Medic responded. Of course, he wasn't wrong, but the self-satisfied look on his face stopped you from admitting he was right.

You shook your head, "W-well, I mean, aren't you uncomfortable under all that?" He grinned, seeing right through your bluff. But, even though he knew you were lying, Medic wasn't about to press you too hard on the matter.

"You'll understand once you get more experience. But, you know, it can be just as rewarding to stay dressed, to keep control-" He paused to trail a finger from between your breasts down, just below your navel, the light sensation causing you to throb with want against his thigh. Continuing in a low, almost antagonistic tone, "While your partner is a wet, needy, naked little mess beneath you." He could not more clearly be mocking you, but something about it had quite the effect on you. Medic knew just how to push your buttons, and it was driving you crazy.

He was about to say something when Heavy's voice from behind interrupted.

"Medic, be nice. This is first time. You're embarrassing her. Don't overdo it." Thank God there was a literal angel over your shoulder to watch over you and reign in his partner.

"Perhaps, but it looks like someone's enjoying it." He was about to move his hand lower when you interrupted,

"Medic?"

He stopped his hand immediately, eyes meeting yours as you continued, "Can I get a kiss first?" You felt awkward, making such a bashful request compared to how confidently he spoke. His face softened at this, nodding before leaning closer, your hands cupping his cheeks. It felt good to be the first to deepen the kiss, your tongue flicking over his lip as his mouth parted, allowing you to get a better taste. Then, without breaking the kiss, his hand began to move down again, his thumb finding your clit quickly, causing you to moan into the kiss.

Your mind went blank with pleasure at the stimulation, his thumb rolling softly over your clit as his other fingers deftly traced the exterior of your sex, collecting the abundant moisture and spreading it over the entrance while you throbbed beneath his fingertips. You felt an almost painful burning feeling as his fingers moved faster, lips working in rhythm against your mouth; far better than any fantasy you'd felt before.

Medic broke the kiss, "Do you want me to use my mouth? Are you ready for that?"

Without waiting, you nodded, "Please! It feels so good- please, please don't stop!"

"Just wait another moment- need to make sure you're ready," Medic spoke in a sweet, gentle voice, so sickeningly sweet you could practically feel your heartthrob. He pushed two fingers inside, and you couldn't help but buck forwards at the contact. Making Medic hum in satisfaction at your reaction. You could vaguely hear him chiding you for your impatience, but you were beyond caring at this point, and when you felt him tracing painfully slow little circles around your entrance, you whined out loud in annoyance.

"Will you stop teasing already and get on with it- Fuck!"

Medic looked genuinely shocked momentarily at how bold you were, but it didn't deter him. Instead, without waiting for another moment, he dove his face between your legs as you unconsciously spread your legs further for him, leaning back against Heavy for support, arching your back, feeling his hands on your shoulders to keep you steady; it wasn't long until you felt Medic's hands just above your knees, his breath fanning against your pussy.

But far be it from Medic to let you off so quickly, and you groaned out loud as you felt his tongue moving, intentionally moving up and around your clit, but refusing to make contact. You were dangerously close to digging your fingernails directly into Heavy's thighs. But you forced yourself to move one hand to the top of Medic's head, your fingers clutching his hair, trying to guide him into place while you ground against his face. When you finally felt his lips connecting with your clit you were practically sobbing with bliss, the feeling intensifying as he began to suckle against the swollen bundle of nerves.

"More, more- Oh God, please- More!" You were getting louder than you intended, but fortunately, the radio likely kept anyone from overhearing any of this, but you only got louder as he began to suck harder. His tongue lapped upwards, swirling against your clit, as he moaned into you, swallowing as much as he could. You felt feral. Like you were burning hot on the inside, but Medic kept tempo without issue. Finally, you could feel your climax coming on, rolling your hips even harder, unintentionally pulling his hair just as fiercely. Still, if he was bothered by this, he didn't say anything, slurping contently as you finally felt the end coming on. And you trembled, feeling your body awash in ecstasy as you succumbed to the blinding pleasure between your legs.

It was an embarrassingly long time until you managed to catch your breath, the gap in experience between you and them becoming painfully obvious once again. Your throat felt so dry and scratchy from your heavy breathing and moaning, much like a scorched throat from pushing yourself in physical training. Though other than that, you were in a situation unlike any you'd known before. Naked, slick with your own sweat, your mind still tipsy and unstable from your orgasm.

You could feel Heavy's hand petting at your hair from behind, and you couldn't help but swoon, feeling so supported and intimate with him after such a perverse moment. "You look so pretty when you come." There was an edge in his voice, and you thought he was indirectly asking if you wanted to go again, but you were too tired, too used up to think about doing this all over again. You didn't know how to respond; thankfully, Medic spoke first.

"It would be a shame if we kept this a 'one-time-thing,' wouldn't you agree?" And you felt your headrush, this evening felt too good to be true, nothing less than a dream come to life, but the promise of more was all the better. Nodding, you focused your gaze on Medic as he moved from between your legs; you responded, "So long as it's ok with you, I'd never want to come between things-"

You felt like a rag doll, limp and being pulled lifelessly by the other two, Medic facing you, arms around your back, pulling you into his chest. "Don't worry about it; you're the one with much more to learn here." You felt Heavy's enormous arm pull the both of you tighter into his chest. And at this moment, sandwiched between the warm bodies of two men you cared more about than anyone else in the world, you prayed the night would never end.

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mxtantrights · 1 year

Text

the family gala

this is a snippet from the famous dc!au that started with The Greatest Hits [read here] you don’t have to read it but a lot of things would make sense if you do! hope you enjoy.

"Are you sure this isn't too much?" you ask.

Jason is behind you in the mirror, back towards you. When you ask he turns around. He turns his phone off and slowly walks over to you. As soon as he's in arms length he wraps himself around you.

The two of you match for the night. You're wearing a red dress, backless, that reaches the floor. And Jason has an all black suit on with a red tie. The same red as your dress.

"You are the most magnificent person I have ever seen. You take my breath away every morning but this, right now, you are just out of this world." he says.

You can't help the smile that grows and grows on your face. You lean back into him and take another look at the two of you in the mirror. The press conference was your hard launch. Everything else after that was light work.

Except for tonight. Tonight is the Wayne Gala, or at least the one happening this month. You had been specifically invited by Bruce Wayne. It was shocking to see a handwritten invitation in your mailbox.

Not that you were thrown off by being invited. You just thought since Jason was at your place or you at his that Bruce would have passed it along via Jason. The guy really was classic.

You're pretty sure your neighbors saw your head spinning when you took out the envelope from your mailbox that morning. You ran inside like a chicken without a head to tell Jason.

To your surprise he had nothing to do with you being invited. He told you that he would bring you as a plus one, obviously, but he hadn't known about the gala yet.

Anyways.

"What's going on in that head of yours sweetheart?" Jason asks.

You shake your head, "Nothing, just a bit nervous for this."

"We could bail." Jason answers.

"No way! Jay this is your family. And I got formally invited. We're going." you say.

Jason keeps eye contact with you in the mirror as he places a kiss on your shoulder. He's being sweet but you know this will be just the beginning of him trying to convince you to take his tie off, then your dress, and then the whole gala would be forgotten about.

"When we get back from the gala you can take all of this off me." you say.

You don't miss the way Jason pushes up against you for the smallest fraction of a second. His body against yours is a sinful thought right now. One that you won't allow yourself or him to have.

"Okay. Let's go then." he says.

Then he's pulling you by the arm out of your bedroom. You and him burst into a storm of giggles as you clumsily reach for the things you need before you head out the front door. Your bag. His phone. The invitation on the kitchen table. Both of your jackets.

There is no special carpet for the Gala. Instead it's just an elaborate entry way that is lined with photographers. Some gossip bloggers sneaked their way in to ask lousy and raunchy questions. That didn't really matter seeing as Jason is a six foot wall and they were not getting through him.

You both posed for pictures for a minute outside the door. Then you headed inside. It was everything you ever imagined and nothing you could ever dream of.

Jason had told you on the ride over that sometimes theres a theme. One time it was Gatsby themed and you had to stop yourself from gasping and scaring your driver. You would have loved to go to a Gatsby theme gala.

Tonight's theme is latin culture. It's then that you put together why you got your invitation before Jay knew about it. Bruce selected the theme for him.

You don't miss the way Jason smiles at all the elaborate decorations. There were dancers dressed in long skirts. A full band made up of guitars and horns.

As you two are taking in the view you get interrupted, or greeted rather by the rest of the Wayne family. Specifically the three you haven't met yet.

Dressed to the nines are Steph, Duke and Cass. You know about them. Steph is on the album for the sequel. Duke is running one of Bruce's film studios. And Cass is the lead in the upcoming debut of The Nutcracker at the Orpheum.

"Oh my god you're really here." Duke says.

"Yeah I made it." Jason says.

Duke makes a face, "I wasn't talking about you!"

"Hi I'm Steph!" she offers her hand.

You take it into your own and shake it, smiling.

"I know! I loved your song for the sequel." you say.

You can hear her tiny gasp. She turns to Cass who is smiling too.

"Woah can we all back up on the precious cargo?" Jason jokes.

You nudge him with your shoulder. You think it's sweet how they've interacted with you thus far. Especially Steph since she was on the album for the sequel. You're pretty sure you were the first one to stream her song when it dropped.

"We just can't believe this is real." Duke says.

"There is no way you managed to get your co-star to date you. You're kinda of a jackass." Steph adds.

Cass nods along. Duke affirms with a hum.

"Guys!" Jason yelps.

"Was it the tight shirts?" Duke asks.

You begin to laugh and Jason drapes an arm around your shoulder. He pulls you closer and you bring an arm around his waist. It was instinctual at this point. If Jason was less than six feet away you had a hand on him, or he on you.

"My god, you two must really like each other." Steph says.

"Yeah but he likes me more. It's kind of embarrassing." you joke.

They all laugh at that. Except Jason. You can see the tips of his ears grow red. You nudge him softly. You'd have to save that for later.

"I actually got the invite before he knew about the party. What's up with that?" you ask.

The three of them don't know. They shrug their shoulders. And then conveniently disperse from you and Jason. You watch in amusement as they do.

"I asked father if I could send your invite early."

Both you and Jason get spooked by the youngest Wayne. You turn around and there he is. Damian looks dapper in his suit. A pocket sized Bruce Wayne.

"Damian, it's nice to see you again." you smile.

"Thank you. Your dress is nice." he says.

You smooth it out a bit with your hands, "I have you to thank. I had enough time to ask a designer to pull it from the archives."

"I'm guessing they couldn't do anything for Todd." Damian swipes.

Jason hisses, like actually hisses like a cat, "I changed your diapers! Don't mess with me."

Damian scurries after that. You bring your hand to the back of Jason's head. Your nails scratching his scalp. You see him visibly relax and lean into your touch.

"Your family is really welcoming." you speak.

"They're all infatuated with you. But they have to get in line because I was here first." Jason answers.

"Okay big baby. I'll let em' know, when we have family dinner." you say.

"Oh you can't tell?" he asks.

You step in front of him now. Eyeing him and how cheeky he looks. You are not genuinely curious what he means by his words.

"Do share..." you trail off.

"The early invitation, the theme. This is family dinner." he answers.

You cock your head to the side with an incredulous laugh.

"Last I checked you had seven family members. Excluding Damian’s duck Sir Billsworth of course." you say.

"It's no-strings family dinner. They're trying to ease you into the fray. Give it a month, we'll be invited to something again." he replies.

You can't help the smile that grows on your face. Jason lightly chuckles at your face.

"What?" he asks.

You reach up and peck his lips. Jason is fast and his hands steady themselves on your hips. He pulls you closer for another kiss, knowing him something world ending and stomach flipping, but you push back with your hands flat on his chest.

"Not in front of the family!" you whisper-yell.

"Oh they better get used to it now because I do not plan on behaving just because they're around." he says

"Bad. Bad. You are very bad." you giggle.

Jason leans over to your ear. You can feel his breath on your skin. He wasn't making this gala appearance any easier on you. Then again you might've asked the designer to specifically pick a red dress because you know how Jason feels about red.

"I never reach the end of these things and I'm definitely not going to start now with you dressed like that." he whispers.

When he pulls back he's straight faced. A waiter passes by with a tray full of fancy taquitos. Jason's eyes zero in and he pecks your cheek and goes in that direction.

You watch him as he goes. Not believing that man was all yours. At the end of this night, and for maybe all your nights yet to come.

#dc imagine #dc fic #Jason Todd fic #Jason Todd imagine #dc x reader #jason todd x reader #famous dc!au

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marcilled · 4 months

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i had to take a little while to formulate my thoughts on that marcille illustration trigger put out, cuz ive seen a lot of people in the fandom draw complaints about it and i both agree and disagree with the common complaints.

everyone is right about the titillating pose being incredibly ooc for marcille. the problem isn't that trigger is trying to sexualize her, it's that they get her characterization wrong while doing so, imo. it's important that she is a slightly neurotic, easily flustered "failgirl". she's a clean freak. if she's going to be lying in repose on the dirty floor looking sexily at someone she'd only do it for a purpose (or for falin). she's not some generic anime waifu and they have to understand that or they're gonna have a lot of disappointed fans!

that being said, i really appreciate that they managed to put some horny energy into that illustration without making marcille show a lot of skin. She's just wearing her usual blue robes- it's moreso the pose/expression that imparts the "horny energy", and that, at least, is correct to me- I'd argue it matches the same energy that Ryoko kui often gives out with her art! This isn't like kill la kill, and honestly thank god. That was something i was incredibly worried about when i heard trigger was adapting dungeon meshi. They still have the opportunity to fail me, but i haven't seen any overtly misogynist fanservice from them on this show so far yet. Making marcille ooc for the purpose of being sexy does make me worry, though, that's a troubling sign...

However, as much as i find it to be a troubling sign, I think people are getting a bit too psyched out on this issue. It honestly makes sense that they'd release some fanservice-y promotional art like this before the anime airs, it draws people in and invites discussion after all lol. it doesn't necessarily represent or even say anything at all about what marcille is going to be like in the anime itself! there's the concern that it does represent how she'll be handled in the anime of course, but it's hard to really say for sure. personally, i'm going to hold my breath until the first episode drops at midnight tonight. i'm maintaining my optimism, i feel really excited about this anime.

no matter what happens, i'm just glad that so many new folks are going to get to experience this story that i love so much! It's never going to compare to the manga itself, but I have hopes it'll still be really good regardless. If you find yourself liking the anime but having gripes with how they handled parts of it, just read the manga! it's well-worth it, Dungeon meshi is a story worth reading one page at a time.

#vivi bleats #dungeon meshi

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thrawns-backrest · 10 months

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I've never heard anyone talk about this theory on tumblr, but I was curious to ask you. What do you think about Ronan becoming a Grysks spy? I saw such an idea in one fanfic, but there they made Ronan just an ambitious and stupid villain. But I thought about and decided that given its canonical nature, such a development of events also seems to be probable to some extent. It seemed to me so, because look: Ronan in Ascendancy is even more vulnerable than Eli, who managed to build good relations with at least Vah'nya and Ar'alani, he obviously needs a lot of time to somehow get along with at least a brother-in-misfortune, and already especially with someone else. In essence, he is alone, and his character also repels the Chiss from him, which leads to their distrust and unwillingness to explain anything to him. A person who communicates little with anyone and understands little is easy to take advantage of, besides, attachment to some things or people is something that the Grysk are only too good at pressuring, with intimidation or cunning. And Ronan is attachmented to Krennic, to the Empire, to the Death Star, so in theory they have something to hit. In addition, if he is faithful to someone, then he is faithful, as we see, almost to the end. And if someone else could become for him a figure like Krennic to whom he "swears" - this person could push him into many things.

If anything, I'm not saying that this is a full-fledged theory and it will be so in the canon. These are just my thoughts on one of hundreds of possible scenarios. I was wondering how likely you think this is?

Oooh... honestly, as much as I love Ronan, I think that's very likely. I think it's even likelier when you consider Thrawn's suggestion to Ar'alani about feeding Ronan the right kind of information because they know he's a potential traitor.

Looking at the book, it's hard to tell if they mean that in the sense of feeding the Empire information through him or using him to misled the Grysks but both scenarios are kind of sad because neither assumes an eventual assimilation into the Ascendancy (which I'm trying to fix in my fic lol).

But yes, as you said Ronan is a very likely target for the Grysks. Ar'alani herself points it out and if something isn't done to prevent it, Ronan could easily be converted into a Grysk agent. The moment he realizes Thrawn didn't send him on some secret mission to find Chiss jedi, he'll grow even more distrustful of him. And if his experience in the Ascendancy is as negative as we assume it'll be, there's plenty of dislike there for the Grysks to feed and exploit.

In a way, characters with a lot of zeal and extreme views always have that problem. They're just... unstable. Kind of like Anakin in the prequels, because they feel so strongly about something they're open to manipulation and their loyalties can be exploited with the right kind of nudging.

That said, making Ronan's motivation ambition and depriving him of his intellect is just... dumb. Ronan genuinely believes he's on the side of the greater good, that the Empire is doing good, etc. I can see the Grysks convincing him that the Chiss are the bad guys in the grand scheme of things, maybe that they're planning to betray or attack the Empire and use his loyalty and inflated self-righteousness to pit him against them.

The thing about Ronan, I think, is that he has an eye for detail and is good at noticing things and reading people (e.g. realizing that Vah'nya is force sensitive) but he's not as good at using that information to come to the right conclusions. Sometimes he does and that's when his skills shine but sometimes his takes are just so far off it's funny.

Whether it's because he tends to overthink or because his biases skew his thinking, it's still a flaw and one that could be exploited.

My only hope for Ronan resisting the Grysks' manipulation is that he's already seen what they're capable of. There's this moment in the book where he gets a very strong reaction to seeing the bodies they've left behind ("Ronan nodded silently from his seat at the conference room table, trying very hard not to be sick. [...] He tried to remind himself that these men had been thieves who’d stolen from Stardust and the Empire, and that they deserved punishment. The rationalization didn’t help.")

At the end of the day, Ronan isn't cruel and doesn't have the stomach for cruelty. And that could be the only thing stopping him from trusting the Grysks who don't have a problem openly showing their ruthlessness. But, of course, if he's already in a bad place and vulnerable to manipulation, that might not be enough to save him.

#brierly ronan #thrawn #thrawn treason

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the-milk-monarch · 4 months

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Ezekiel and Justin + S/O, who's good at reading body language = ??

☣︎ Sorry for the late answer, Ezekiel, Justin and reading body language isn't my strong side 💀 I dun rly know how to write Justin so hopefully I wrote what you wanted-

[𝚂/𝙾 𝚆𝙷𝙾'𝚂 𝙶𝙾𝙾𝙳 𝙰𝚃 𝚁𝙴𝙰𝙳𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝙱𝙾𝙳𝚈 𝙻𝙰𝙽𝙶𝚄𝙰𝙶𝙴]

Summary: Confessions.

[𝙴𝚣𝚎𝚔𝚒𝚎𝚕]

Even though Ezekiel wasn't the perfect boyfriend material, it didn't mean he couldn't get a crush on someone.

That someone was you.

He was still somewhat out of touch with the world around him, but he seemed to be even more- "off" with you.

He could be seen around you more often than not, in hopes that he wouldn't fuck up as usual.

Most of the time he didn't even know what went wrong, since this was how he was raised and at his house no one had a problem with such things?

I also headcanon him as autistic

So he just kinda hoped whatever he did around you didn't come off as insensitive or wrong to say.

"Hey- Y/N." He looked at you as he approached, making a hand gesture that would catch your attention. "You need any help, maybe?" He asked hesitantly but keeping it cool, as if he was scared of once again being yelled at for being inappropriate. So he elaborated. "I mean- Not that I think you're weak- Just- You know- I wanna be helpful." He shrugged, looking somewhere else before returning to your gaze briefly. You had some sympathy for the boy, knowing he's just really out of touch. You didn't sense any maliciousness coming his way, so you were usually pretty kind to him "I know, don't worry. You're fine." You said calmly. "Sure, I could use some help."

You noticed that Ezekiel was also bit more chatty with you than with others.

And, well, he watched his mouth a lot more too.

He usually had a pre-planned response to start off with talking to you.

He still tried to learn to not be as insensitive around other people, but it was really visible to you that he tried to be extra careful with you around.

That made you think a little- Why?

So one day you decided to get some answers.

Usually it was Ezekiel approaching you first, but this time you decided to turn it around. "Hey, Zeke?" You calmly and friendly tried to get his attention. "Huh?" He got thrown off of his thoughts as he heard his name being called. "Oh. Y/N- Hey. What is it?" He turned his focus on you, a bit curious. "I have a question for you, if you don't mind." You tried to be as casual as you could, not wanting to scare him off. You just wanted to have a friendly chat and perhaps confirm your thoughts about him. "Uhh... Okay. Just not anything hard, alright?" He looked at you now more curious but also slightly worried of what the question would be. You giggled slightly at his choice of words, which made him tilt his head a bit. "Well- It's not a math equation. I was just curious-" You start off gently. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but I've noticed you're a bit more careful around me than others." You don't sugarcoat, but you try to not sound as if you're mad or accusing him of something. "Uh..." He stopped for a second, thinking what to respond. You weren't supposed to give him a hard question! "...Is that wrong?" He tilted his head even more, a bit confused why would you ask about that. Did he do something wrong again? "Oh, no, no-" You quickly reassure him. "No, I actually kinda appreciate that-" "But I also didn't want you to- you know, stress out around me." You elaborate. He blinks once as he processes what you said. "...I mean- It's not that I'm afraid of you, ya kno-" He explains himself a little, although you can see a bit of anxiousness seeping in from his behavior. "But sometimes it seems that whatever I do is somehow wrong, so I don't want you to be mad at me or somethin'." He kicks dirt on the ground a little to release some stress as he keeps his hands in his pocket, still not showing that he's bothered, except avoiding eye contact. "I won't be mad at you for something that you say without bad intentions. I mean, hey, everyone makes mistakes, right?" You try to lighten up the situation and make some wiggle room for him so he doesn't feel as if he's being interviewed. "I guess so-" He looks at you briefly, now visibly less worried. His body language wasn't really telling, but your deduction skills told you that you were in the clear, without making him too uncomfortable. However, you decided to ask a bit more risky question after that. "So... Is there a reason why you feel the need to be more careful around me?" You tried to gently probe an answer from him. He stopped for a second, as if caught doing something bad. "Uhm..." He started getting a bit more uncomfy, now visibly looking away from you. You awaited calmly for his answer, trying to be as non threatening and open as possible. If you were to tell the truth, you kinda suspected Zeke might have caught a small crush on you. Of course you weren't 100% sure, and you really hoped that you read his subtle signs right. Otherwise this situation would turn awkward really quick. "Well- You're just the nicest to me, ya kno? ... I really don't want you to hate me." He spoke with a bit hesitant but honest tone as his gaze fell on the ground instead of your eyes. You smiled softly and sympathetically, seeing how much he valued your opinion about him. "You don't have to worry about that- I like you, you know." You said with conviction. He paused for a moment before nodding. His eyes that were covered by the brown hair looked at you for a moment, holding the short eye contact. "... How much?" He dared to ask. He just stood there, as if asking a normal question, but still awaiting some sort of possible bad reaction. He got you a bit dumbfounded, but since he answered all of your questions so nicely, you decided to return the favor. "Uh... I guess a decent amount-" You shrugged, showing a bit of coy smile.

"Like, just a friend, right??" He continued asking, piercing you with his gaze that needed answers. His tone didn't indicate any need or hope for your connection to be deeper, but his look was obvious. You stopped for a moment, before finally having to answer the hard question. "As a friend, for sure!" You started off. "But- if you wanna- dunno, get to know each other closer one day- I don't see an issue with this either." You finally said the words that could possibly take a big to your pride with rejection. He paused. Tilted his head. And then spoke. "Wait- You mean like- You wanna get to know me closer?" He asked, still not believing your original statement. "To be fair I never had a best friend..." He obviously assumed you meant it as that. He put on a thoughtful expression, thinking about it, which made you wanna expand on your words. "No, I mean- As partners. Dating." You elaborated, awaiting his reaction. His expression remained calm as he was processing what was said to him, until it finally clicked and his eyes went wide. "Oh." He only managed to say. "Okay- Wow, huh." His surprise was very much visible. "Yeah, that would be- That would be cool." His words were slightly flat per usual, but you could see both the shock and relief emitting from him.

Be patient with this boy, he still has some figuring out and learning to do.

If you're really determined to date him, be prepared to be the one to lead the hard situations (like the mentioned confession) by yourself, at least at first.

[𝙹𝚞𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚗]

When Justin started to hang around you more, you knew something was up.

He's good at (and known for) using his good looks to get what he wants, whether it'd be simple adoration or help with the challenge.

It started with with him just trying to make a small talk.

You didn't mind, as long as he wasn't trying to use you so he could stay lazy.

"You know, you're not half-bad. I mean, nothing compares to my beauty of course, but..." He gave you a backhanded compliment. "Wow, that's big coming from you." You said half-sarcastically, but in a lighthearted way. "Oh, yeah, I know." He smirked handsomely while fixing his hair with one hand.

Unlike what you expected, he didn't really try to woo and use you.

He might have merely suggested it one time, but if you didn't budge then he stopped doing that.

Well, trying to use you that is, he was still kind of trying to woo you.

You noticed Justin was behaving a bit differently around you than with others contestants.

He was casually giving you "compliments", which was weird, because usually he was focused only on himself.

He thought he was clever by "slowly pulling you in" to like him, like other contestants.

He wouldn't have to disclose his attraction to you then, and instead you'd do it first.

But you didn't bite the bait.

You had a suspicion that he wanted you to do just that.

And you were curious if he was determined enough for your attention to come to you himself.

So finally, after some time, he got frustrated with his last failed attempt.

"Y/N-" He whined dramatically, with a given up tone. You turned his head towards the pathetic sound. "Are you really not affected by my beauty? Is this face not worth your attention?" He looked at you, combing his hair in a truly despaired manner. "... What do you mean?" You raised your brow in half amusement, already knowing what he refers, but you tried to remain neutral. "All this time I've been trying to get you to confess your true feelings for me, and you're still so stubborn..." You couldn't help but chuckle at his visible attempts to... confess to you? gaslight you so you'd do it?? "Well- Have you tried doing it first?" You turned the question on him. That shut him up for a second, after which he quickly regained himself into more graceful posture from his grand acting. You heard him sigh. "Well- If I have to." He cleared his throat and started. "Y/N, if you'd confess your attraction to me, I'd accept." You rolled your eyes at his attempt to keep his pride, but you gave him some brownie points for at least somewhat owning up to it. You copied his acting with clearing your throat and responded. "Well, Justin, if you'd do that, I'd be up for it."

He'd appreciate your keen senses of figuring people out on the competition btw.

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margarethx · 2 months

Text

I was genuinely surprised with the responses I've got on the first part of [THIS story]. It was such a random burst of motivation to write that I didn't even think it through and just posted whatever came out of my head. But I'm very glad that you liked it, since it's the first story I've showed to other people in like 4 years.

The working title will be "Assassinate them with Kindness", and I'll use that as a tag for later parts when I add them. It's also [available on Ao3] if you'd prefer to read it over there.

Enjoy <3

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The weird man does not go to Sam's group on Monday.

Which is not as big of a relief as Sam thought it would be.

Because if the man is not here... where is he? And why did he even ask if he could join the group? Was he just taunting Sam? Teasing him with the knowledge or Sam's schedule and whereabouts, but not revealing how and for what purpose did he get that information?

Sam briefly glances at his wrist, covered neatly by a long-sleeved shirt and a warm blazer. The day is way too hot for this type of clothing, but he refused to look at the bruises on his skin for more than two seconds after noticing them for the first time. He still feels the pain, but it's easier to make it fade into the background, if he pretends it isn't there at all.

In spite of his nervousness and constant worry, Sam leads his group like a true professional. Calm, collected, funny when needed. A shining example of an ex-soldier who has left most of their PTSD far behind by working hard to healthily rejoin society. Definitely not a person, who started carrying a gun in public again after singular weird encounter, and who constantly has to fight with himself to not look over his shoulder and check if there isn't anyone watching him from the shadowed backroom.

But the man was not there. The meeting went well. And all the people leaving the room with their polite "good bye's" and casual "see ya!'s" have no idea about the turmoil in his head.

"See you Thursday," Sam smiles pleasantly and grabs Tyler's hand with both palms, shaking it lightly, as a young vet stops by. "It's nice to see you again. It's been a while," he adds, hoping that his eyes convey genuine warmth.

Tyler is young - too young to deal with this sort of trauma. A typical example of a teenager pulled into a military machine by life circumstances, not because of any principled believes. He went to have a better chance at higher education afterwards. And he lost half of his right leg for it.

He is secretly Sam's favourite in the group, with his sense of humour and positive attitude. Though Sam is sure there is a lot of fears and sadness hidden behind all the jokes, because he acted the exact same way when he first sought out help after coming home. It was easy to see the reflection of younger Sam in Tyler's behaviour.

And it was also great to have someone in the group who could keep everyone's mood relatively light when topics were getting heavy, without making others feel as if their confessions were not treated seriously. It was, of course, Sam's job to control the atmosphere as best as he could , but on days like this - when he himself didn't feel stellar - it was a relief to not shoulder all the emotional weight of the meeting on his own.

"Is everything alright, Mr. Wilson?" Tyler asks, also shaking Sam's hands a little.

"It's Sam, we've talked about this," Sam smiles, deflecting by playing their classic game of arguing over formality levels of their relation. It's a bit worrying. To know that he can put on a mask and his vets might notice his distress anyway. But no one else said anything, so maybe he fooled the rest of them successfully?

"Apologies. Is everything alright, Mr. Sam Wilson?"

Tyler sends him a bright grin and Sam sighs. He doesn't have much energy left to argue or pretend. He did not sleep very well last week, to put it lightly.

"I'm alright," he finally replies without much conviction. "It's personal stuff, you don't need to worry about this. It should be resolved by the next meeting," he adds, hoping that this little lie will make his situation look like a solvable problem with the end in sight. Maybe if he believes in it hard enough it would even come true?

For now, it seems that Tyler buys the explanation and drops the topic. As they exchange goodbyes, he still glances at Sam with a slight frown, but he doesn't push. It'd be unusual if he did. As much as Sam loves working with these people and helping them, they're not that close. His vets don't get involved in his personal life.

...They don't know where he lives, for example...

Sam shakes his head to stop himself from thinking and gathers the papers on his desk with a bit more energy than the task requires. He needs to get out of here. The conference room he uses is relatively big, but the walls seem to get closer and closer, the ceiling pressing down on him.

He exits the building, taking long steps, and avoiding everyone's eyes. Fortunately, most people he passes don't know him, so he's not stopped for any conversations about his last weekend and all the fun his co-workers had while he sat on his guestroom floor surrounded by unhealthy snacks, and wondering if it's reasonable to invest his meager savings in an upgraded security system.

It's embarrassing, when he thinks back to those three days. It shouldn't be that big of a deal.

But something about that man... About his eyes. About the bruises he left.

Sam really tried to not look at them too closely to avoid spiraling again, but he's pretty sure his skin almost broke in some places, as if pinched too hard. The only reason he didn't notice it right away was probably the sheer rush of adrenaline that flooded him in that moment and dulled the pain.

Once he's outside, Sam leans on a nearby wall, out of everyone's sight, unsure of what to do next. Even though he spent the last weekend hidden in his home, the place did not feel safe. All he could focus on were unusual noises or the headlights of random cars passing by, casting uneven shadows on his walls. At some point he was sure one specific shadow looked like a person, but when he carefully peered outside, his garden was empty, with the exception of a small bat the flew in circles under the nearest lamppost, catching moths in peace.

Normally, he'd stay, watching the little guy and reminiscing about the time he too could fly at such speed, but it didn't feel safe, so he moved as far away from the window as possible.

All Sam wants right now is to get back to his bed and hide under the covers, go to sleep, and wake up to realize that the whole thing was just a dream.

His bag slips from his shoulder when he slumps against the wall and the strap catches on his wrist. He hisses in pain, reminded once more - as if he forgot, somehow - that his paranoia is actually justified and that his home is not some safe haven he'd like it to be. Because someone strong enough to nearly break his bones with a strong grip knows where he lives and could come back at any second.

If the guy was a real vet, why didn't he come to the meeting?

And again... if he's not here... Where is he?!

Sam readjusts his bag and straightens up. He cannot come home right now, but he needs to sleep somewhere. He could ask one of his new friends to take their couch for the night... but it's not Delacroix and his friendships here are not on the "sleepover" level yet. And if the man decides to look for him, Sam would drag the danger to someone else's home.

He's not that selfish.

Maybe he could find someone on a dating app and stay the night?

He shudders at the idea. It reeks of desperation even to his clouded brain. He would not do that to some random innocent person. And he would not do that to himself. He has enough dignity left.

The mere fact that he came up with a solution like that sobers him up a little bit. It sounds almost ridiculous and he's sure he would laugh about it one day... if he lives long enough to tell the story about his lowest point post-Afganistan.

What he needs to do is to go to a public space. A place with cameras, a nice crowd with enough eyes, to catch if something's wrong - but not crowded enough that a person would fade into the sea of faces and moving bodies.

With that in mind, Sam takes another deep breath to calm himself and marches towards the nearest bar he knows. The place is probably half-empty at this hour, but an evening wave of patrons should start trickling in pretty soon.

The inside of the establishment is a bit too dark for Sam's liking, but as he sits at the bar he feels some of the tension leave his body at last. Behind the bartender there is a freshly cleaned mirror, showing most of the tables, so Sam can keep an eye on the room while eating.

He's not in the mood for drinking - mostly to stay vigilant, not because he couldn't use a nice glass of whiskey right now - but the place offers some typical fast food options, so he picks them from the menu instead. He'll have to really push himself during the next training session to pay for the sugar and fat intake of the last four days, but he feels like he's earned the right to be indulgent for at least a while.

As he eats, Sam observes other patrons suspiciously, looking over his shoulder from time to time. At some point he's sure he feels someone's eyes on his back, but no one new entered the building in the last twenty minutes and the people on nearby tables seem preoccupied with their own thoughts and conversations, so he's sure it's just the paranoia.

It's starting to get dark outside and the bar fills with shadows before someone turns on a few extra laps. There are more people sitting around Sam now, some staring in silence into their drinks, others talking casually, or flirting with the bartender, as per usual.

The guy behind the bar seems cute. Probably a bit younger than Sam's typical partner, but still in his bracket. He accepts the compliments with a calm smile not cutting them off right away, but not doing much to encourage the attention. Sam gets a little lost for a second, observing the man's hands as he prepares the drinks, almost hypnotized by the movents.

Suddenly, one of the patrons - one that's been sitting by the bar before Sam even came in - drops her wallet in a clumsy attempt to pay the bill. She smiles awkwardly at the bartender, who simply grabs the wallet for her from the floor, clearly used to similar shenanigans.

As the guy leans forward, a curtain of thin braids covers his face for a brief second and he glances somewhere in Sam's general direction from between them before standing up.

Sam freezes.

The man looks basically nothing alike the guy who stood at his doorstep last week, but something about that look causes the memories to flood Sam once again. He feels dizzy and the comfortable atmosphere of the bar becomes overwhelming and stuffy in a blink of an eye.

He nearly jumps out of his chair and makes a beeline to the bathroom. He's not sure why. He just needs to... Wash his face maybe. Look into the mirror and have a stern talk with his brain. Something. Anything! To finally calm down.

As he walks towards the bathrooms, he notices some man sitting in a booth he previously didn't see. He's dressed pretty formally, phone in hands, and an annoyed grimace on his face. He looks more like a person currently working than someone who just went for drinks to wind down after work.

His eyes meet Sam's which sends a cold shiver down his spine. For whatever reason, this man - looking like a banker or low-lever politician, which is a common sight in DC - scares Sam just as much as the creepy stranger haunting his thoughts.

He breaks the eye contact and darts towards the bathrooms even faster, nearly colliding with someone who exits the door.

There are three other people in the bathroom, two of which wash their hands and fix their hair in front of the mirror. Neither of them look particularly suspicious, but Sam keeps an eye on them anyway, walking towards the stalls and locking himself in one of them.

He sits there for less then two second before he realizes that he's made himself more vulnerable by isolating himself from the crowd, but he's really not sure what to do next. The brief moment of fear after seeing the bartender with hair hanging over his face seems silly in retrospect. He could've just ignored the panic, push the discomfort down, and go back to the main room. But the man in suit sitting in a secluded booth?

That was actually worrying. Because he didn't just look generally annoyed or angry. He seemed to be specifically mad at Sam. Which would be concerning with any other influential White guy, but in this particular instance Sam feels like there's more to it.

He hears another person enter the bathroom, interrupting his thoughts. Two of the people washing their hands leave. Someone else comes in. Sam keeps track of everyone inside and at some point he's pretty sure he's the only person still sitting here, so he quietly exits the stall.

Just as he expected, the bathroom is empty. It's a bit weird, all things considered. It's a Monday afternoon, sure, but this place is not alive just on the weekends and in the night, when students party. There should be a constant rotation of people going in and out at any point.

But the room is silent as Sam stands there, wondering what to do next.

He's pretty sure he hears some water running on the other side of the wall and muffled laughs, seemingly coming from a group of women washing their hands and talking in an adjacent room.

Sam's familiar with all the overdone jokes about girls visiting the bathroom way more often than guys or about them going there in hordes. And, stereotypical or not, there is some truth to those... but Sam's pretty sure it should not be this disproportional.

The man's bathroom has been empty for over five minutes. Which is way too long, considering the size of the crowd.

A motion activated light loudly going off in one of the stalls makes it even more clear that Sam's suspiciously alone in here.

He washes his hands just to do something when, finally, the door to the main part of the bar opens. A wave of sound - clinking glasses, loud conversations, a ringtone - fill the empty space until the door closes again, cutting the noise off.

Sam exhales with relief and moves to dry his hands.

Then he notices him.

The man from his porch, now standing behind him, staring straight at Sam in the mirror.

He looks even bigger now, taller, and more broad at the shoulders, his hair still covering the face like a greasy veil. His eyes pin Sam in place like a wild animal who's fight or flight instincts fired so many contradicting impulses in its brain that it ended up just freezing.

In any other situation Sam would feel vindicated. He was right! He was not safe, he was observed, and someone is going after him - for whatever reason.

He can take that useless sense of satisfaction and bring it straight to his grave.

The man doesn't move. He just looks at Sam or through him, maybe. As if he's mentally not here. Maybe his soul has also left his body, like Sam assumes his own did right now?

It's just like that day at his home. Awkward, tense silence and creepy staring. Sam feels the hairs on his arm stand up like a coordinated unit. His heart beats so fast and loud that it must echo on the bathroom's walls. If Sam's ears were not filled with ringing, he'd probably be more sure about that.

The man blinks, just once.

And something in Sam just... breaks.

When he'll think about it later he'll have no idea why he did it. But he simply turns off the water and turns towards the guy in one smooth motion.

"Oh, I know you" he says, tone casual.

The man frowns this time, still looking directly at Sam. One of his hands is hidden inside or his unzipped jacket and it twitches a little. Whatever he's holding there probably isn't a bouquet or a dove, he'll produce out of nowhere and present to Sam like a magician.

"Fancy meeting you here," he adds, like it's a normal conversation. Like they're friends from work or as if the man was his favourite cashier at a local store. "In the bar, I mean. Not in the bathroom," he jokes.

The man's face does a weird thing. It's difficult to tell what kind of emotion he wanted to convey, but he seems confused. Does he even recognize Sam? Maybe he's really not as mentally present this time?

The water drips from Sam's hands to the tiled floor - tiny rivulets running down his fingers. It's quiet again, just as before, until one of the other motion activated lights goes off in the stalls. Then the next one right after it. Click. Click.

The guy flinches twice, his hand moving under the jacket's lapels.

"Can I help you with something?" Sam asks finally. At this point it feels like his mouth is operating on its own, entirely independent on his brain. He's also there, but not really.

Maybe he's already died and hasn't realized?

"You didn't go to my meeting today." Why does he keep talking?! "Do you plan to join this Thursday?"

By some miracle, this question seems to work. The guy's eyes dart around nervously and he shivers as the last of the lights in the stalls section goes off. The room is dimly lit by now only by the small lights over the sinks. And Sam cannot ignore that they're still, somehow, alone in here.

"I'm sorry I didn't come today," the man says and he sounds sincere, though monotone. "There were too many people in there."

"Well, it's a group meeting," Sam smiles. "The people are kind of a given."

He feels like he's body is operating on a pure survival mode. It reminds him of his time in the military, in a way; of the time, where he had to put one hundred percent of his focus on staying alive and keeping other's from dying, too, but couldn't actually think about it. Because there were bullets flying by, and his hands were sticky with someone's blood, and there was a wound to stitch, and a person screaming. If he registered all of that in full, he'd just collapse on the ground, overwhelmed and paralyzed by fear. So it was easier to just switch his brain off and let the instincts and years of training take the wheel.

"If you're worried about confessing in front of others, it's okay." He keeps talking and the man's stare becomes even more intense. His eyes seem very blue, even in the poor lighting, which Sam didn't truly notice before. They look cold, but not because of the colour. More like there's not enough life in them. "There's no pressure to tell your story right away. Some people in my group love talking. Other's just sit and listen. If no one's up to talk, I take over and give a little speech," Sam grins.

And he somehow knows that if he looked into the mirror to his left, his smile would look genuine.

"I don't like talking," the man says eventually.

"I figured," is Sam's reply. "Like I said, I won't push you to say shit."

It's probably not the most professional way of phrasing it, but he's not at work and, frankly, he's about to be murdered, so it's not like they'll reprimand him for inappropriate language.

"Also," he continues, "I can give you a number to one of my colleagues who does one on one therapy sessions. That way you could..."

"No."

"...avoid groups," he finishes awkwardly. " Fair enough."

"Do you do it? The therapy? One on one, no people?"

Sam doesn't. And he'd probably lie about it, even if he did.

"Not these days. I already have a ton of work with groups. If you want to see me, specifically, you know where to find me."

Clearly.

"I do," the man confirms like it's not the creepiest thing Sam's heard in his entire life.

"Well, I have to go now," Sam tries, hoping that if he sneaks out of the bathroom fast enough this whole nightmare will finally end. If the guy's here to kill him, he's doing a pretty bad job right now, so maybe Sam could just... walk away from the situation. Surely, he won't get stabbed in the back in the middle of a bar? Right?

The guy's face contorts in a painful way and he finally removes his hand from under the jacket. Sam tenses, but the gloved palm is empty. At the same time, the guy sways a little on his feet and grabs the wet counter with both hands.

Before Sam has time to process what's happening, he's already next to the guy, holding his elbow carefully and looking straight into his eyes. The pupils are dilated and then suddenly small like a poppy seed, changing in a matter of milliseconds. Sam's never seen anything like it.

"Are you alright?" he asks unnecessarily, trying to keep the man from falling face-first into the sink.

They look at each other and the man seems panicked, more than anything. The unwashed strands of brown hair hang over his eyes, but this time Sam's too worried about him to let himself spiral again at the now familiar sight.

The counter makes a strained noise and a small crack appears on the surface. Sam imagines his own bones turning into dust under such grip and his wrist pulses with pain he felt in the background for the last few days.

"Are you okay?" he asks again, sounding more urgent this time. He doesn't even care at this point if the man's here to kill him. Sam's a paramedic first, and if someone's fighting for their life nearby, he'll always drop everything to make things better. Even if his body might end up in trashcan behind the bar for the effort.

The man blinks, licks his lips, and takes a ragged breath. There's a weird grey cast to his face now and he didn't even look that healthy to begin with.

"I have to go," he whispers finally and stands up. His forehead shines with sweat and his pupils are wide again. "Thank you," he adds quieter and walks away unnaturally fast.

He's there. And then he's not. The door closes so quietly behind him, that Sam doesn't even register the sound.

Sam sits down, not caring about the wet and disgusting floor and stares at the opposite wall in silence. In the women's bathroom someone laughs out loud and a sharp sound of the shattering glass reaches him from the bar.

It almost feels like he's lost his hearing for a while and it suddenly returns to him. As if he's been under water and came break to the surface once more.

He also tastes blood on his tongue and realizes he must have bitten it at some point without realizing. The unpleasant sting of a cut is what finally helps him to come back to himself. He cannot stay in this place a second longer.

He washes his hands again so they stop feeling as clammy and touches his face with them too. The cold water helps a lot, but his own eyes look wild in the mirror.

As he exits the bathrooms, he looks over the crowd that gathered inside since he fled the bar. Just as before, most people don't even look in his direction and he realizes that the man in a suit who stared at him earlier is gone as well.

Then, he turns around to close the door and suddenly he's faced with a bright yellow sign that warns: "Under Maintenance" in bold, black letters. An official looking printout below adds: "DO NOT ENTER".

None of those signs have been there before.

All Sam can do at this point is grip his bag, lower his head, and exit the bar as fast as possible. If he is getting strangled or stabbed today, he at least wants for it to happen in his home.

--- ----- --- ----- --- ----- --- ----- ---

Shoutout to tumblr for glitching a making me feel like I've lost over 700 words of a draft <3 That mini heart-attack was very necessary.

Btw, funny thing about this chapter is that I've basically spent the entire time thinking that I'm doing too much. Like... I keep pushing Sam deeper and deeper into this spiral, but nothing really happened to him. It's not a big deal, calm down, man.

But then I have to remind myself that if some suspicious looking man knocked on my door, told me that he got my address from a person I don't know, asked me where I worked, and grabbed my arm so hard it nearly broke... I would simply perish on the spot from the stress xD Or I'd spent the rest of my life paranoid, even if nothing more happened.

So I think Sam should be allowed to have a 4-day almost panic attack, as a treat.

#sambucky #sam wilson #bucky barnes #winterfalcon #the falcon #winter soldier #captain america #ca:tws #onlysambucky #assassinate them with kindness #ATWK #my writing

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familyvideostevie · 10 months

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HAPPY ONE YEAR!!! For your celebration, what about a 🐚 Seashell Blurb for Steve Harrington with the line: "It's been a long year and all of our book's pages are dog-eared," from "Everywhere, Everything" by Noah Kahan!

hi!!! you've been here for so long, so thank you so much!!!! i love this song <3 great pick! here's you and steve reflecting on a year of knowing each other :) friends to lovers hehe <3

You're not sure he even realizes what day it is. Steve always has a lot on his mind and while he's kind and a good friend and takes care of people he isn't always great with details. Sure, he remembers birthdays and that Dustin hates tomatoes and Robin's favorite color, but why would he remember the day that you two met?

You're just friends. Still, after a year.

But you, for reasons you only dwell on late at night alone in your bedroom, know the date of when you first met -- when you spilled beer all over him at someone's summer party. You went home that night with butterflies that never went away.

"You're going to go cross-eyed if you think any harder," Steve says. You snap out of your thoughts to find him staring at you across the table. He'd called you tonight and asked if you were free to go to the diner. It's practically empty and you share a big order of fries and sip on shakes.

"Sorry," you say. He gently kicks you under the table and looks a little shy.

That's something you've learned in the last year: Steve Harrington can get shy. He gets nervous when he wants to say something serious and cracks his knuckles but doesn't find speaking to crowds scary. He gets annoyed easily but forgives even easier. He snores in the spring when he has allergies and sleeps hot in the winter even when it's freezing outside.

You've learned a lot about him, but he still manages to surprise you. Like right now -- you can tell he's nervous but you cannot imagine why.

"I hope I didn't drag you away from important plans tonight," he says. He looks at his hands, brow furrowed, which is unusual. When Steve talks to you he always looks at you head on.

"No," you say. "I didn't have anything to do, I told you so." You'd actually debated all day whether or not to call him and just hang out, even if he didn't know today was special.

"Shit," he mumbles. He runs a hand through this hair and the other down his face. He's really nervous.

"Are you okay?" you ask, concerned now. Did he bring you here to tell you...bad news?

Your concern seems to bring him out of his own worry. He takes a deep breath and looks at you, finally, steely determination in his eyes. "I'm going to do something and I'm scared it's going to fuck everything up," he starts. "So I need you to promise me that you'll hear me out and then...be nice after. Okay?"

No words come. You nod. What?

Steve grips his shake with both hands like he's trying not to reach for something. "We met a year ago today, did you know that?"

Your heart rises to your throat.

"I wasn't sure you'd remember, which is fine. I mean, it was a stupid party and you spilled beer all over me, but it was just another night, yeah? But since then you've just...you've taken over." You curl your hands into fists on your thighs. "You're my best friend. You know me so well and every time something happens and you're not there I want to tell you about it. I hear your voice in my head and when I see you it feels like...like a relief, if that makes sense?"

He looks frustrated that he can't articulate it the way he wants to but you're having a hard time not leaping over the table to hug him. "And sometimes over the last year I feel like...there are times that it's like..." He sighs. "It just feels like maybe you're feeling something more and I don't know if I'm reading it wrong because I'm feeling something more but..."

You close your eyes because the eye contact is getting too much, but you can't help the smile that creeps onto your lips. Steve must take it for a good sign because he keeps going, sounding more hopeful.

"What I'm trying to say is that I'm in love with you. I might have been since the day we met."

"A year ago," you say, opening your eyes. "I remember." You're not sure who reaches first but then you're holding hands on the table, fries pushed to the side. "I can't believe I thought you didn't know it was today but actually you're in love with me." Your voice sounds giddy to your own ears.

Steve smiles shyly, the tips of his ears turning red. "Well, yeah. 'Course I remember. Changed my life."

"I'm in love with you, too, Steve," you tell him. The shy smile turns wide, smug. It makes you brave. "You gonna kiss me, or make me wait another year?"

He almost knocks over your shakes in his rush to get to your side of the table.

join the celebration!

#fvsbeachday #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fluff

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softcitrus2345 · 2 months

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Hii!! This is the first time I have ever reached out to someone in this community because I am very scared of being 'found out' and I find it hard to accept myself for what I like 😓 But your account feels very safe, and ur art is so gorgeous bsjsbdj!!!. I read ur tips from a while ago about how to start an account and I would rlly like to share my art out there and connect with likeminded people, and present all my ocs to the world that I have hidden in a folder on my procreate HELP. If this isn't too personal of a question, do u have an tips on self acceptance when it comes to this niche?

Oh man, I totally feel you there, I'll do my best to help ya out!

I completely understand the struggle with self-acceptance with this niche, so many spaces both in the internet and real life have stigmatized this kind of niche and made it out to be something disgusting and perverted, and something to be ashamed about..

I struggled for years with myself, feeling guilty for being into these sorts of things, and for "tainting" my characters with these thoughts, and the occasional drawing I would make in a notebook and promptly rip out and hide somewhere out of shame-

It took me a long time to finally understand why I felt the way I did, and what specific things about this niche appealed to me.

The thing that has helped me the most with the self-acceptance aspect is having a sense of community. Whether it be with just one person, or with a small group, having other people with similar interests that you can talk to and feel comfortable with helps a ton.

Around the same time last year was when I started to get more comfortable with this niche. I joined the server of an artist who's chonky art I really liked, and I got to meet new people and explore that part of myself more. But the best thing for me was finding out that one of my closest friends was also into the same things I was. It was just such a huge sense of relief when I found out, and once I started talking with her about it and sharing ideas back and forth, it became a lot easier to talk about, and it helped me get a lot more comfortable engaging with these interests of mine. A few months later, I found another one of my friends also liked this stuff, and then a few more months later, I found even MORE of my already close friends were into this

I guess the universe was just on my side, I'm so fortunate to have such kind and understanding friends that I can share this stuff with, and explore my interests with

Without them, this account wouldn't exist, and I wouldn't be making this kind of art that I share here, so I will always be grateful for that.

The best advice I can offer you is to find that sense of safety and community, whether it just be one person or several

Joining servers of artists who's work you enjoy is always a good way to meet new people, as well as interacting with artists you admire or other people in the community!

It's never easy to start, and don't get me wrong, I still do struggle with this stuff on and off, but I promise you it does get easier. Try to be kind to yourself

Think of it this way. It's SUPER normalized in society to be into like. Buff guys, or big boobies or butts or whatever, right?? Well being attracted to fat can also be seen that way if you really think about it-

Not saying that fat people should always be objectified in that way but I'm just trying to put that into perspective-

Hopefully that makes sense lol

Also, I am so glad to hear that you can find comfort and a sense of safety in this blog, because that's exactly my intention to have a safe space for people to explore their interests without fear of outside judgement

It means the world to me that you like my art so much and that you felt comfortable asking a tough question like that. I hope my advice can bring you some hope and clarity involving your situation 💖

I sincerely wish you the best, anon, I hope you can find the confidence to share your art with the world someday! I'd love to hear your ideas and see what kind of stuff you put out there!

#softcitrus asks #niche blog #weight gain #I would've had this posted since last night but Tumblr decided to nerf the whole thing as I was putting the tags in #So I rewrote the whole thing 💀#Honestly I iked the first pass more but I really wanted to answer this one so here it is TTuTT #I was being totally serious btw #If you're the anon that sent this #I'd genuinely love to see your art #If you ever end up posting it please share it with me somehow cause I love supporting this community 💖💖

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betryl · 8 months

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It's been said a lot of times before but I'll say it again because it's true: the country house section is one of the best, if not THE best section of the book.

It's weird to say considering how "useless" it is in terms of plot (there's the Bacchanal happening in the background but of course we know nothing about it yet), and there are many parts that are way more interesting in which actual things happen. Plus, it is quite long, so a lot of pages of basically nothing.

And yet in retrospect, that's the part that stuck with me the most in the end, and it still is one of the first things that come to mind when I think back on TSH.

It was just that vivid. Maybe it's because I've experienced something similar myself so I could sympathize with how Richard was feeling too. I just remember I was totally immersed in it the first time I read it. I really felt like I was there. And even if it did last longer than I expected and I wanted to go on with the story already, I didn't feel bored.

Apart from simply ✨the atmosphere✨ and ✨the aesthetic✨ being on point, I think the main reason for this is that it really fed the illusion, and it made you FEEL like Richard. We knew from the very first page (lines!) that this book was probably not going to be a joyful one. But while they were in that country house, everything seemed fine. Richard was finally making his way into the group, they were starting to be more open towards him, they were all having a great time together, we got to see their little stupid shenanigans which made us know all of them better and me inevitably attached to all of them (Bunny throwing Henry and Francis in the water will never not be funny to be) and they even started daydreaming about the possibility of living together in that house without anything changing in the future.

It was clear even while I was reading it that all those things would have never become true, and that the illusion would have shattered soon. But still a little part of me kept on believing that maybe that could last, because the way it was narrated by Richard was... weirdly hopeful, which isn't something I can say about any other part of the book I believe. It was hopeful, and yet there was that unsettling sense of dread creeping through the lines, because you KNEW the murder was coming soon and everything would end. But just like Richard, I just... didn't care in the moment.

The country house section to me was somehow a snippet into what could have been if they never murdered Bunny- or even before, if they never had the Bacchanal at all. Could things have gone wrong at some point still, for whatever other reason? Probably yes. Maybe they weren't meant to last anyways, maybe they weren't even friends in the first place, everyone has their own thoughts about this. But it's sweet to think about. Now knowing the whole story and how terrible the situation actually got makes those pages even more painful. Those really were their happiest times.

Also I could talk about Camilla cutting her foot too but that's maybe another post for another day before this becomes way too long lol.

Also also the cherry on top for me was definitely that last couple of lines which got to me HARD and make my heart ache still:

There was a ragged burst of laughter; faint, but clear, it floated back across the evening air. That laughter haunts me still.

#the secret history #tsh #henry winter #richard papen #camilla macaulay #charles macaulay #francis abernathy #bunny corcoran #THAT LAUGHTER HAUNTS ME STILL #DESPITE EVERYTHING THAT HAPPENED RICHARD STILL HEARS THEIR LAUGH IN HIS MEMORIES #THEY LITERALLY DESTROYED HIS LIFE BUT HE STILL HOLDS ON TO THE HAPPIEST MOMENTS TEN YEARS LATER #i'm unwell #and if love is a thing held in common i suppose we had that in common too #they all liked one another to some extent idc #am i delusional like Richard? yes probably #but you can't change my mind about this

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mikunology · 3 months

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New Mikunology Files #1: CV Powers

omg here we go again

I've been on break a little while but I've been thinking hard recently and I want to share, so! I got an ask long ago about how Miku and friends' superpowers worked in my AU, and I answered it with what I had at the time, but after a lot of thought I straightened something more out I'm pretty satisfied with. I could add on potentially, though, because this AU is an eternal WIP. But y'know.

I'm pretty much gonna copy my notes. (Also sorry if this is formatted oddly, I'm on mobile right now.) Read below the cut! 👇

So, let's recap with the basics.

The Crypton CV androids are outfitted with special cores that function as their "hearts" - they're located in their chests. These cores are made of a special material that not only allows the CVs to learn and experience humanlike emotions, but also have the ability to change "feelings" into "energy": this is what gives them their superpowers. (They found this out by accident.) Meiko has dubbed this energy "Voltage".

The thing about Voltage, though, is that it's kind of unstable, and really powerful. Because of that, it's best for it to be used sparingly; the CVs can probably use it once or twice per fight (Module transformations excluded). Overuse of Voltage can cause the CVs to short/overload or become exhausted (which isn't great when you're trying to finish off a fight).

Voltage can get stronger with strong emotions, so the group can occasionally spark their powers by accident if they get particularly emotional. Conversely, being too stoic or repressing emotions too much can reduce Voltage power. (Hence, it takes Luka much longer to truly break her powers in.)

Voltage also gives the group the ability to use Modules, chunks of pure Voltage energy that can give them a major power boost and change their appearances, as well as grant them new powers. (For example, Miku acquiring the Raspberryism Module gives her a mega punch ability and a new appearance resembling the character Raspberry Monster.)

Each of the CVs possess a unique way to channel their Voltage (special ability):

Miku's is Voltage Resonance. It gives Miku the ability to "resonate" with someone else's feelings and thoughts. This way, she can use this temporary empathic link to induce feelings, and given it's Miku, it's usually through song (for example, if she encounters a Module monster who's fueled by sadness, she can use Voltage Resonance to see what they're feeling and counter by giving them a song of hope or happiness). She can't outright control emotions like this, mind you, they're more like a powerful emotional suggestion. The flip side to this is that it can be ignored if a character is staunch about it (and technically regardless it wears off eventually, it just gives Miku enough time to give the person a "head start", if that makes sense?) and it can also mess Miku's own feelings up a bit if she's neglects to keep herself focused. It's also best used when the target is already vulnerable.

Rin and Len's is Voltage Link. Kind of similar to Miku's, but unique in that it mainly works with each other: it gives the twins a power boost and allows them to telepathically link themselves, making them temporarily "of one mind and body". It works best with each other since they're twins/mirrors, but they can use it with others... it's just way more difficult to keep it stable unless they understand the other person really well. Which is rare.

Luka's ability is Voltage Lariat. Also kinda unique in that can be both offensive and defensive, depending on what Luka's aiming for - Luka creates a field of Voltage that can either be a sort of healing spot (giving energy to everything in it) or a blast zone (taking energy from anything in it and giving it to Luka). Luka can probably do one of these each per fight, but she's gotta choose carefully when to use it. The fields also don't last long. (Why's this sound so video gamey? But this is the best I could come up with that I think works for her.)

Lastly, all CVs get one extra ability that is usually their "finisher" when all together: Voltage Wave. Not much to this one, just all the CVs using their Voltage to create a super rainbow energy beam!! Usually does the trick. (Fun fact: I like to think that it was rare for Miku and the twins to be able to pull off this move given they were inexperienced and it took a lot of power to pull off; with Luka's inclusion, it's way easier!)

Lastly, the CVs do have a few regular old stock superpowers: super strength (Rin's specialty), flight (Miku's specialty; also Luka is the only one in the group who doesn't fly too much when not necessary), super speed (to a degree at least), super reflexes, super hearing (they're musicians, after all!), super durability, the ability to download themselves into technology (robot perk) and the ability to manipulate hologram/hard light technology.

And that's pretty much it! I hope all of that makes some amount of sense. I'm sorry if I missed some stuff, I'll try to fill it in eventually.

#text #vocal android verse #vocaloid au #vocaloid #au lore #i did my best

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shesasurvivor · 1 year

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May 8 (2023 Update) [fic]

Every year I have a hard believing it's already been a full year since my last update to this fic, but it feels especially so this way. I've learned a lot of lessons over this last year, including how to open my heart and let someone in... and that sometimes, you have to get over yourself and communicate what you want from someone! All that influenced the contents of this year's entry to my annual fic celebrating Katniss's birthday.

Credit also goes to @rosegardeninwinter for providing inspiration for this fic by asking whether or not Katniss or Peeta would be the one to propose. This was my solution.

Read on AO3.

"Do you think Peeta will finally propose?"

Johanna's question catches me off guard. "Propose?" I repeat, only too aware that I know exactly what she means and I'm only trying to buy more time while I process her question. And my response.

"Yeah, dummy. You two have been together for years now. Don't tell me you think one of you might think there's someone else out there for you. You two are so in love and perfect for each other, it's gross."

The question makes me feel uneasy. Because I'm mid-conversation, I don't have the additional resources at the moment to examine why. I'm just grateful this is over the phone, and Johanna can't see my reaction for herself. I'm transported back to those moments in the cave, years ago, when I wanted to close the curtains to keep prying minds out of my personal business.

"Oh. I don't know," I give what I hope is a convincing light laugh. "What do we need to get married for, anyways?"

There's a beat in which I sense Johanna may be conceding I actually have a point. "You District 12 types always seemed so traditional, I just assumed you would want to," she finally says. "It doesn't matter to me either way."

A silent sense of relief washes over me as I realize she isn't going to press me any further. I try to think up an adequate response, but she changes the subject before I even have a chance to do so.

"So what's Peeta making for your birthday?"

Another question I'm unprepared to answer, but at least this one isn't as loaded as the first. I give her an answer that I barely register, and after some small talk about my birthday plans, she moves on to some story about something in her own district.

I'm still thinking about the conversation hours later. Johanna's question really dug under my skin. Why, I couldn't tell you. Not the one about my birthday; that's never been something I've made a big show of. It's the question of whether or not Peeta will propose.

Since the war ended, Peeta and I have basically been left alone by the Capitol, the press, and everyone but our remaining loved ones. For this, I couldn't be more grateful. It allowed Peeta and me to grow back together and pick up the maimed pieces of our fractured relationship so we could knot them back together. It was something we could only have done in privacy, and it was sorely needed. I'm still grateful that everyone left that part of us alone when we needed it most.

But maybe in the privacy, we grew too complacent? Would marriage be the next step? Is it supposed to be?

District 12 has always been one of the more traditional districts in Panem. Old-fashioned, some have even called us. Maybe we are, though things have changed since the district borders opened to others. I had never planned to marry when I was a kid. But there was no denying it was considered the natural culmination for anyone in a romantic relationship at the time.

I ruminate over it as I prepare dinner for us that night. Should Peeta be proposing? The more I think about it, the more confused I become. Maybe he should propose. Maybe it's something he should have done already. Why hasn't he?

My stomach drops at the thought. Is there a reason he hasn't proposed? No. I shake my head slightly to clear it. Of course not. Peeta and I have a great relationship now, even if it started out so rocky. Everything is so peaceful between us now, marriage isn't even necessary.

Right?

He comes home and kisses me on the cheek in greeting, just as he always does. "How was your day?" he asks me.

"Fine," I say, trying to sound as normal as possible. But am I imagining the peevish edge in my tone? Maybe, because Peeta doesn't seem to show any sign of noticing it. I ask about his day in return and learn it was fine as well. Then we sit down and enjoy our dinner together.

I was right, I think to myself as I relax while we eat. This is easy. Peaceful. There's nothing wrong with us. Not anymore. This is what I want forever.

My eyes fall on my parents' wedding picture, which I have nestled on a shelf I can see from the doorway to the kitchen. They wanted forever, too. Look what happened when they made it official.

You're just scared, a voice says in my head. There's no doubt it's the influence of my old head doctor, Dr. Aurelius. This was the kind of thing he would help me with back when Peeta and I were still trying to find our way back to each other. Honestly, I probably wouldn't have what I have with Peeta today if I hadn't had Dr. Aurelius's help. That doesn't make it any less annoying having his advice haunt me now.

"What do you want to do for your birthday? Peeta's words cut through my thoughts. It's jarring, being torn from this new conundrum, but I'm grateful for the distraction. Even if I don't have a suitable answer to his question.

"I don't know," I say with a shrug. I've never been one to celebrate my birthday much, even back before I was reaped and my family was still around. Peeta has made a few more efforts over the years, refusing to let me forget the day entirely. According to him, we should celebrate that we've been given the chance to celebrate them at all. I'm not saying he's wrong. But they've never felt the same since the war.

Peeta lifts a brow. "I guess I'll just have to surprise you, then," he says with a mischievous glint.

For some reason, I'm back to thinking about the proposal thing again. I know it's common for marriage proposals to happen around special events, like holidays. Or birthdays. In the Capitol, they even like to make a big deal about them, putting on lavish events for when they pop the question. Things are a lot more simple in District 12, but even here they were considered a special occasion.

We're three days from my birthday. And over the course of the ensuing three days, it seems I'm hit by a barrage of weddings and proposals. Some famous person from the Capitol gets proposed to on the news program the next night. One of the workers at Peeta's bakery takes time to attend his sister's wedding. But the real kicker comes when Delly arrives the day before my birthday to announce she and Thom are getting married.

"That's great, Delly!" Peeta seems genuinely thrilled for her. "Congratulations!"

"I know! Isn't it just the greatest?" she gushes, holding out her hand to show off the modest engagement ring Thom had bestowed on her. "I've been waiting for Thom to propose, and he finally did! Oh, I can't wait to tell my brother." Delly launches into an explanation of all her plans to tell people, and what she wants to do for the celebration. "It'll be a traditional District 12 ceremony, of course, with a toasting and everything," she says.

Peeta smiles. "I'll make the bread."

Delly's face lights up. "Oh, thank you, Peeta! I was hoping you would!"

I do my best to seem as excited for Delly's pending nuptials as she and Peeta both are. But I can't help the sinking feeling that settles in me. With the lively conversation around me, though, I don't really have a chance to examine what exactly it is.

"Well, Katniss and I both are really happy for you. Right, Katniss?" Peeta says the last part in such a pointed way, I realize I must be coming across as rude. I realize I haven't said too much tonight.

"Yes, of course!" I say, forcing myself to give a big grin. Just to make up for things, I even lean in and give her a hug.

"Thank you, Katniss!" If Delly had noticed anything about my behavior, she does a good job of hiding it. "Well, I should be getting back. I still need to fix our dinner for tonight!"

We both walk her to the door and bid our farewells. As soon as the door closes behind her, Peeta turns on me. "What was that?" he asks.

"What do you mean?" It doesn't sound at all convincing. I usually can't hide my moods from Peeta, not after we've been together for so long. But I haven't even had a chance to figure out for myself what's bothering me.

"Delly just announced some big news. And you barely acknowledged it at all. Except for that hug at the end." Peeta makes a face that shows he could tell that hug was an act. He's gotten good at spotting them over the years.

"I don't know," I say, shrugging and turning away from him.

"It's a big deal," he says. "It should be celebrated."

I wouldn't know, I think to myself. And that's when I figure out what it is that's bothering me. I excuse myself because I need some time to work through these feelings on my own. Peeta also knows me well enough by now to know when to give me space. But I can tell he's feeling a little annoyed right now.

Join the club.

The issue doesn’t come up again for the rest of the night, though there’s a chill in the air between us. We still share our bed that night, but there are no kisses before the lights go out. There definitely isn’t anything else.

Despite all this, Peeta is awake before I am the next morning. I find him puttering around the kitchen when I go down. He turns when he hears me coming, flashes a brow as if to say he’s not sure how he should act, or how I’m feeling. “Happy birthday.” Even with the greeting, I sense the apprehension in his voice.

The sight of him cooking breakfast for me on my birthday makes me feel guilty for how I acted last night. I still haven’t figured out what was bothering me. Maybe it was just pre-birthday jitters. Either way, I decide to let it go.

“Thanks,” I offer him a smile. He visibly relaxes at the sight of it. “I made breakfast,” he continues. “Lots of cheese buns.”

I melt a little. Even after all these years, he knows I still love his cheese buns and he still makes them, especially for me. I cross over and kiss him. “Thank you,” I say. I sit down at the table and let him serve me breakfast.

My birthdays are usually quiet, and this year has been no different. Peeta took the day off at the bakery so he could spend time with me. I’d just as soon forget about it, and pretend it’s any other day. He’s the opposite and thinks we should savor every birthday we’ve been given. I can’t resist letting him do so, and so my birthdays usually have some sort of celebration anyways.

Today, it’s a small birthday dinner with our friends still in District 12. I field phone calls from my mother, Annie, Johanna, and even Effie beforehand. With that out of the way, we sit down for our meal, followed by the cake Peeta made for me.

“Great cake,” Thom says as he shovels another piece into his mouth.

“Peeta always made the best cakes, even when we were kids,” Delly tells him. “He has to make the cake for our wedding, too.”

Peeta smiles. “Of course. I’d be happy to, Delly.”

Just like that, the feeling from last night returns.

It’s normal for me to be quieter than everyone else. It always has been. But tonight, I must seem quieter than usual, because, after about 15 minutes of wedding chatter, Haymitch speaks up.

“You should probably change the subject because Birthday Girl here doesn’t look all that thrilled with the subject,” he slurs. He’s already several bottles in and inspecting the bottom of his current bottle, so he doesn’t notice the way everyone turns to look at me. Or the way his comment only puts me in a worse mood.

An awkward silence falls over the group since no one knows what to say. I try to avoid looking at any of them, but I can’t help meeting Peeta’s eyes and seeing his own frustration reflecting back from them. It makes me feel defensive, so I avert my eyes before I say something I’ll regret out loud. Probably I should say something to the group, or apologize, but no words come out. I’ve never been very good at this stuff. And alright, maybe I don’t feel like I should even have to say something in the first place.

“Katniss, I’m so sorry,” Delly finally says. “Here it’s your birthday, and I’m taking all the spotlight!”

“It’s fine,” I mumble.

“No, it’s your birthday! Tonight it’s about you.” A murmur of agreement echoes through the group, and slowly the conversation starts again. But not for long. After another half-hour, Delly and Thom make up an excuse to leave. Greasy Sae follows suit, and when Haymitch sees everyone else is leaving, he does as well.

Despite my mood, or maybe because of it, I follow them to the door and bid them goodnight. Once the door is closed, Peeta turns on me. He’s clearly aggravated now, but I can see he’s trying to hold it back since it’s my birthday and all.

“Alright,” he says. “What is it? What’s bothering you so much?”

“I don’t know!” I say, more forcefully than I mean to.

“Yes you do,” he counters. “Why else would you keep throwing a fit every time Delly brings up her wedding?”

“Why do you care so much about her wedding? Is it because you want to marry her?”

Peeta just stands there, gaping in shock. He’s too taken aback to know what to say. To be honest, so am I, because I hadn’t expected to say that. I’m not even sure I knew I was thinking it. But now that it’s out, there’s no taking it back, and now I feel like I have to defend myself.”

“Of course not!” Peeta finally sputters. “Why would you think that?”

“Well, you’re sure obsessed with a wedding for someone who doesn’t want one!” I turn before I get to see his reaction and march out of the room.

I need out of the house. It’s too stuffy in here. I need to be outside where I can see the stars and the moon. My legs carry me to the back porch and immediately feel some relief when I’m alone. I pause, take a deep breath, then settle down on the edge of the porch with my legs dangling over the side while I ponder the darkness that stretches out in front of me.

Is that what’s bothering me? No, I know Peeta doesn’t want to marry Delly. He’s had plenty of chances in his life. He would have done it long ago if there were any interest there. They’re like siblings. And Peeta loves me. We have a bond no one else could replicate, after everything we’ve been through together.

So why doesn’t he want to make it permanent? A shiver courses through me as I realize I’ve struck the heart of the issue. It’s not that I think Peeta wants to marry someone else. It’s because he doesn’t make any effort to marry me.

I guess Johanna’s words really did get the better of me. I never cared about this kind of thing before. I never wanted to get married. Of course, I also never wanted to fall in love either and look how that changed. Would marriage be so bad? My parents did it. So did his. And the toasting ceremony is so inherent in District 12’s customs, maybe a small part of me really would like to participate in one.

Heavy footsteps come up from behind me; Peeta stops when he reaches me. “Can I sit down?” he asks. I nod, and he settles in beside me. For a long while, we both stare into the night in silence.

“I’m sorry,” Peeta says at last. I turn to look at him, surprised. “Delly is right. It’s your birthday.”

I’m taken aback, so all I manage to do is tell him it’s okay. Besides, I’m not even sure how to broach the subject with him.

Finally, he reaches over and closes my hand in his. The warm steadiness his hand brings is immediately soothing, and I feel myself begin to relax. Whatever comes next, it won’t be an argument at least. “What’s bothering you?”

I look at him, and the words nearly come out. I catch myself just in time and look back to my patch of blackness across the yard. I’m relieved I stopped myself from saying anything. And then the words come out anyway. “Why don’t you ask me to marry you?”

Peeta freezes. It’s so abrupt, that I’m almost afraid I’ve triggered one of his episodes somehow, and immediately kick myself for bringing it up. Panic rising in me, I turn to assess the situation. But he’s only staring at me. Shocked, yes. But still unmistakably him.

“I- I didn’t know you wanted to get married,” he says at last.

Yeah, well, that makes two of us. Until today. “I didn’t either,” I admit.

“Then why are you making such a big deal out of it?”

“I’m not making a big deal!” I shoot back, feeling defensive for some reason. But I catch myself because that isn’t going to help us right now. “Johanna asked me when you were going to propose,” I explain. “I guess it just got me thinking.”

“I’ll marry you,” Peeta says. “If that’s what you want.”

Is it? I expect the very prospect to make me feel a sense of panic like I’m trapped or something. I’m surprised when I realize it doesn’t. Aren’t I already planning to spend my life with him anyways?

“Do you want it?” I know he did, back when we were teenagers. Before the hijacking. I know he still loves me. But have his opinions on marriage changed since the Capitol messed with his brain?

Peeta clasps my hand in both of his. “Katniss, it’s all I’ve ever wanted. I just didn’t think you did. I didn’t want to push it.”

“Well… I do,” I finally admit.

A large grin spreads across his face. He turns his body towards me, taking both my hands in both of his. “Then Katniss,” he says, “will you marry me?”

I can’t help smiling myself. For the question, for the fact that this conversation went far better than I was afraid it would. All I had to do was tell him what I wanted. If I had any qualms about our future together, that already makes me feel much better. “Yes.”

His face lights up, and a familiar mischievous glint reflects in his eye. “Real or not real?”

My heart warms over, thinking about how I once was so sure this day would never come. First because of my own guarded heart, and then because he was stolen from me. But he is here, and he’s the one birthday present I’ll ever want year after year.

“Real.”

#everlark fanfiction #The Hunger Games #The Hunger Games fanfiction #thg fanfiction

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