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jeminy3 · 3 years

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old archie x maxie (hardenshipping) doodles i never posted, from 2017 or 2018. they were related to some of the doodles in this post.

I have a lot of unpublished drawings of these guys, and i never did elaborate on my headcanons for them. The truth is, I was (and still kinda am) very anxious and embarrassed about this fixation, probably because it centers around villains and “woobifies” them, but also because after playing and researching more into ORAS, i discovered that my personal canon was contradicted by actual canon and i felt invalidated.

For the sake of posterity, I’ll summarize my old headcanons below. (It’s still pretty long, ugh)

A grunt in Team Magma’s hideout says that Archie and Maxie “used to be on the same team.” In canon, this probably implies that they worked together on New Mauville, Sea Mauville, or another unnamed project, depending on how old they are and how long ago those projects started and ended.

However, like many other fans, I thought this meant they used to be in Team Rocket together, and I elaborated an entire backstory based on that:

+ Maxie and Archie were part of a group of Rocket recruits attempting to start a branch of Team Rocket in the Hoenn Region. The project failed because soon after they arrived, Giovanni was defeated in Kanto and officially dissolved Team Rocket, causing a schism to form within the Hoenn team over whether to give up the project or not. This eventually lead to the team splintering into two factions, one lead by Maxie and the other lead by Archie, which eventually grew and rebranded themselves into Team Magma and Team Aqua.

-Maxie and Archie met and connected enough to start dating, though they were emotionally dysfunctional. As problems arose and the Team began to splinter, their relationship also broke down and their separation was very messy.

Maxie clung to the ambition of staying in Hoenn and building up the Team as a paragon of human industry, pushing away Archie and anyone else he deemed as “not useful.”

Archie also wanted to make the Team work, but not in the way Maxie and his side wanted, at the expense of nature. Archie felt hurt and betrayed as Maxie pushed him away and disagreed with him, making him contradict and lash out at Maxie even more.

This all culminated in a huge fight between Archie and Maxie and their respective sides, involving both Pokemon battling and actual fist-fighting. Local authorities were called in, causing the teams to scatter, but not before Archie and Maxie promised to face each other again, reforging themselves as bitter rivals.

-- Maxie

+ Maxie is (the pokemon equivalent of) German/Japanese, and was born on Cinnabar Island. His birth name was Maximillian Matsubasa Von Brandt, but he prefers simply “Maxie”. He IDs as bigender, asexual and demi-homoromantic.

His father is a Kanto businessman named Masaru Matsubasa. His mother is from somewhere in or near Kalos, named Melissa Von Brandt. They were both wealthy and successful business people who frequently left on business trips, Masaru travelling between Kanto and Johto and Melissa to her home country.

Maxie was often left alone or with a nanny at home. He was well-provided for and self-sufficient, but he was lonely and emotionally stunted. He had a passion for geology and engineering, and showed interest in contributing to helping Cinnabar’s local issues, which were often tense because of the limited land space. Homelessness and unemployment were high, and development plans to alleviate these were stymied by parties who lobbied for the preservation of the local Pokemon wildlife by any means.

Maxie’s parents were skeptical of his choice in career but still supported him, if only half-heartedly. This lead Maxie to study Cinnabar’s volcano, which he found to be very much active and possibly dangerous. He developed a plan to build in and around the volcano in such a way that it would utilize extra space inside the mountain for housing/businesses and its magma for natural energy to power the city, possibly circumventing its eventual eruption.

He presented this plan to Cinnabar’s city council, but was practically laughed out of the meeting for such an ambitious and dangerous idea, especially by the wildlife parties. This damaged his reputation and caused him to be fired/demoted from his job. His parents reprimanded him, regretting their decision to support him.

Lost and disgusted with his life, Maxie found recruitment with Team Rocket and left Cinnabar to join their efforts on the mainland. When he presented his research to their higher-ups, they were impressed enough to pass it along to Giovanni himself, and Maxie ended up contributing to the construction of some of their underground lairs, like in Celadon City.

This also made him a prime candidate for the Rocket Hoenn project as a lead engineer and scientist, and he joined the project with high hopes.

+ His interest in Pokemon was soured by his past and usually only extends are far as his ambitions, which means he views Pokemon only as things that can be useful to whatever projects he’s working on, otherwise they are a nuisance. After becoming the leader of Team Magma and having to train a personal team to defend himself with, he warms up to Pokemon a bit more.

+ Maxie plays up his confidence and genius, but does have moments of crippling self-doubt and anxiety. Deep down, he’s socially awkward and has trouble expressing his feelings, tending to bottle things up until they spill out in moments of anger.

+ Maxie used to be a semi-heavy smoker in his youth to cope with his anxiety. After becoming the leader of Team Magma, his health was suffering and his grunts were visibly uncomfortable around him, so for the sake of his own health and that of his team, he quit, with help and advice from Courtney and Tabitha.

+ Maxie hates his parents and hasn’t contacted them since he left Cinnabar, which was over ten years ago by the end of ORAS events. He avoids them to the point that he uses a forged identity in Hoenn, named “Maxie Stormfront.” ‘Stormfront’ is a reference from one of his favorite metal bands, the Doom Hounds, because he is a nerd.

+ Years later, Cinnabar’s volcano did erupt and destroy the town, displacing its human population. Maxie has mixed feelings about this – he’s not sure if it’s righteous karma for the City Council rejecting his plans, or a sign that his old plans were doomed to failure and he was better off leaving Cinnabar after all.

-- Archie

+ Archie is (the pokemon equivalent of) Black/Hispanic and a Hoenn native. His birth name is Archibald Rodriguez. He IDs as a cis man (or trans?), pansexual and panromantic.

He was born to his father, Alexander Rodriguez and his mother, Alicia Fuentes (Rodriguez after marriage) in a small fishing town on one of Hoenn’s coasts, with its fishery being its only major industry. Most of its residents are middle-class or poor, and few members pursue an education after high school, usually joining the local fishing industry.

In his youth, Archie didn’t care much for school or work, preferring to spend his days playing with the local water Pokemon and his friends, Matt and Shelly. However, this exposed him to the effects that overfishing and pollution had on the local wildlife, and he eventually grew to want to pursue a career as a Veterinarian, specifically for water pokemon.

His parents didn’t believe he would be successful and his town had few resources to help him. The most he could do was research at the local library and a then-primitive internet.

Worse, his town was outright apathetic to the damage their industry was causing to the local wildlife because they depended on its capital to survive.

+A possible traumatic memory involves a young Archie nursing a sick Magikarp back to health for weeks, only to later discover it trapped in the nets of the fishery his father worked at, doomed to become food/products. When he attempted to cut the nets and save the Magikarp, his father restrained him and reprimanded him, claiming “it’s just a fish, boy! They’re all just stupid fish!”

Eventually, Archie was a depressed drifter in his 20s, unable to hold onto work and unable to afford to leave to a larger city. He often fought with his abrasive father and his mother was coddling, but unsupportive. This made Archie a prime candidate for Team Rocket recruiters as they arrived on Hoenn, promising a way out of his backwater town, decent pay, and a career where he’d be appreciated and be able to work with Pokemon to change the world. He joined as a lowly Grunt, but was talented and well-respected within the Team.

-Archie has limited contact with his parents since he left home, only calling them once a year or so.

-Archie doesn’t like being referred to as his full name, it feels pretentious and brings back uncomfortable memories of his family.

+I used to headcanon Archie and Matt as biological brothers because of the “bro” thing, but I’m not sure about keeping that. If so, Matt’s name would be short for Matthias Rodriguez, because their parents liked pretentious names.

-Like some of his dialog implies, Archie is kind of depressed, pessimistic and cynical deep down, but hides it behind his boisterous, reckless attitude. At his worst, he’s downright bitter, uncaring of his own life or the lives of humanity in general, in favor of Pokemon.

#hardenshipping #aqua leader archie #magma leader maxie #rocket hardenshipping #pokemon oras #jeminy3 art #jeminy writes #long post #headcanons

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internalsealpanic · 4 years

Text

Radio Silence

Summary: You take Tim with you to a family reunion hoping to monopolize his time. You may have forgotten to tell him a few things. For example, the haunted radio.

masterlist

a/n: I’m sorry for the wait. I forgot that I am no longer used to describing atmosphere. This isn’t my best work but I hope you like it. This was based on my family’s tradition of sitting in the dark on Halloween listening to scary stories on the radio. This is mainly Tim Drake x Filipino!Reader because I realley wanted to try my hand at a bilingual character. You will see misspelling of words in the dialogue. That’s intentional on my part. There will be translations.

“Yes, Nay, he’s the one in the picture,”

“No! It’s the guy with-” You blow out an exasperated breath. You hear Tim snicker behind you and you dedicate half your brain cells to coming up with the best way to kick his ass. “Yung mukhang Koreano. Yeah. Yeah. Dat one.”

“Yes, he looks more like a white boy. Mistiso.” You explain curtly.

“Yes, he’s smart. I hab standards,” Tim raises a disbelieving brow at you. You stick your tongue out at him but nearly bite it off when your grandmother speaks again.

“What do you mean doubtful?!” Tim looks absolutely delighted. A cheshire smile curling on his lips as he leans back into your couch. You glare at him then at your phone then at the ceiling then past that to glare at whatever god was up there.

“THAT WAS ONE TIME! Justine was an-” You mutter trying to remember the word. “- an anomaly and you know it!”

“…..”

“Ok der were 2 anomalies!”

“3”

“Ok maybe Tim is the anomaly, but seriously, Nay, he’s fine,” You snarl, the jaggedness of your Gotham accent rearing its head. You wince but do not apologize. This will bite you in the ass later but you didn’t say it. You don’t like the taste of the word.

“No. I mean if you don’t want us to embarrass you at the church social then- Yes, I have been going to church,” You can see Tim rolling his eyes and mouthing liar with a twitch of his lip in the corner of your vision. “No, he’s not the showy type. Nay, I gotta go. The food’s burning,”

“Yes, Nay, I lab you bery mach,” You sigh into the phone letting your grandmother’s lather your tongue cutting into the briskness of your consonants. It held the same euphoria as taking off your shoes after a particularly long day.

“Unless you’re Dick, you can’t burn cereal,” Tim cut in carting you away from your reverie.

“Watch me, Drake,” You huff throwing a pillow at Tim almost making him drop his cereal bowl.

“So, can Gotham survive without Red Robin for a weekend?”

“Shouldn’t you have asked me this before telling your grandma that you’re taking me?”

“I’m just double-checking,”

“How considerate,”

“To be fair, your schedule is already volatile as is," You huff snuggling up to him on the couch. It was too cold in Tim’s apartment. You think a rich kid like him could afford to turn up the heat. Though, you aren’t exactly going to complain about an excuse to cuddle him.

Tim doesn’t make a move to push you away. Instead, he wraps his arm around you pulling you closer. This was the type of easy affection you two had become accustomed to. This was also the thing that will make your Schrade even more convincing. "True, but I asked Cass and the others to cover for me. Plus, your grandma sounds like she likes me,”

“Considering you don’t have a criminal record and aren’t currently being investigated, you immediately rocketed to the top of her list,” You answer absentmindedly stirring your cereal and taking a bite.

Tim whips his head to you and gives you a concerned look which you return with a smile full of cereal. He blanches at you, shaking his head and grabbing the remote to unpause the Star Trek episode you two were watching. You both prop your feet up and chew your cereal slowly, not feeling any reason to hurry.

How long has it been since you started? You’re pretty sure it was 1 AM when you started.

As if reading your mind, Tim looks at his phone, winces then turns back to the screen without another word. You quirk your brow at him but decide that there is some truth to the saying ignorance is bliss.

You were gonna hate yourselves come noon.

It’s noon, the sun has the audacity to show itself, and you hate yourself.

You definitely, unequivocally hate yourself.

You groan in the passenger seat, head pressed against the cool window. The faint warmth of the sun glancing off your skin makes the tinges of nausea circling the periphery of your senses come to life. Your stomach does a cartwheel and you think- you’re sure you’re going to throw up but you aren’t gonna do that.

No way in hell are you gonna do that. Not when you’ve finally conned your way into monopolizing Tim’s attention for the weekend.

Ok, yeah, sure it was the result of some miscommunication between you and your cousin who then passed on the miscommunication to the whole goddamn family but that’s just what you call a happy accident.

You blow out a breath, greedily taking in all the coolness of the glass pressed against your skin calling your mind back to your body. You weren’t really good with handling the not sleeping thing.

“You ok?” Tim asked his eyes flickering between you and the alarmingly empty road. There was worry in his eyes whether it was the fact that you looked like shit or the fact that the road you were on looked like the opening to a terrible 80s slasher flick. It was Halloween after all. It would be pretty perfect. Dread licks at your stomach at the thought.

You let the silence lapse. In the corner of your eye, you see Tim’s hand tighten on the steering wheel. You stare at the expanse of farmland stretching to the horizon debating whether to humor his question or to let him stew.

“I’m fine,” You picked the third option.

“You don’t look fine,” Tim deadpans, turning to you.

“Stop looking then-” Tim scowls at you his pouty lips pulling into an angle. You sneer. “-You don’t look too good yourself, Kirk,”

Tim makes an offended noise. You look at Tim, really look at him, for the first time in hours. Tim, as per usual, looked obnoxiously handsome even though he was running on at most 30 minutes of sleep and had eye bags running down his face. Somewhere lost in his contemplative expression was the blindingly obvious hint of self doubt. You’ve seen it tons of times.

You peel yourself away from the cool glass to look Tim in the eyes. Dread swims in the pools of teal looking straight back at you. Tim’s mouth edges between a pout and a frown. You soften, shifting in your seat angling until your body is facing his.

“Whatever it is you’re overthinking it,”

“You don’t even know what I’m thinking!”

“Ay,” You chuckle and shake your head. “Tim, it’s you. You overthink everything. I don’t need to be a mind reader to see that,”

Tim huffs. Maybe he was overthinking things.

“ ‘sides, I don’t see why you would be nervous 'bout meeting my family,”

Has it occurred to you I want to date you for real at some point? Tim thought a little frustrated.

You laugh when he frowns but instead of teasing him any further. You flick the radio on. Your hackles rise as it crackles to life. A smile flickers on your face when ‘All-star’ comes on. You cry out, a noise of shrill joy filling the air.

“Oh my god” Tim breathes, running his long fingers through his dark hair. “You absolute dork,”

“Kettle. Pot.” You grin.

Tim snorts as you loudly sing along with the radio. Unfortunately for him, your enthusiasm for the song was infectious. Somehow you both managed to miss every beat of the song.

You somehow felt like you were definitely forgetting something.

6 cans of monster and 5 things of 5-hour-energy drink later, you arrived. Tim’s nice-looking car pulls into the dusty gravel driveway of a rather large and old colonial looking house. Seeing the robust form of the large house looming in the distance injected your veins with a stifling source of dread.

You love your family to bits but sometimes their presence weighed so much. You can feel their words already pecking at you, drawing pit and pieces of your self into frayed fibers. All you can think about were the comments hushed behind palms and the dissecting gaze of dark eyes. Your mouth feels dry and you can already feel your feet pivoting back towards the car.

Tim reaches for your hand, lacing his slender fingers between yours. He smiles at you squeezing your hand. You can feel him rattling from his own anxiety but his effort steadies you. You grin at him and squeeze back.

Your teeth click the entire walk up to the large oak doors. Tim squeezes your hand again, his teal eyes sweeping over you with a concerned glint. You furrow your brow and somehow he understands and raises his hand to knock on the door.

The door bursts open. Music and laughter wash over you as hands hurry you into the front hall.

“Nay! Dito na sya! May dalang gwapo!” (Mom, y/n’s here and they brought someone handsome.)

About 20 heads turn to look at you. Tim feels some embarrassment from the attention but that doesn’t last too long as in the space of about 5 seconds, those 20 heads were swarming you both, pulling you into hugs, shaking your hands, and ruffling your hair in varying degrees of force and order.

“Beh, you’ve grown so big” Your aunt coos squishing your face.

“Nena, look at this guy,”

“Tita, he doesn’t have any tattoos,” Your little cousin marveled looking bug-eyed as she lifted Tim’s shirt. You swat her away but take a quick second to subtly admire Tim’s sculpted abs. Your aunt scolds him and your uncle drags you to the main room where more guests were sitting chattering or screaming at a foreign horror movie.

All the apprehension bundled into your stiff shoulders dissolves like seafoam against the overwhelming warmth of the festivities. The raucous laughter drags the roughness of Gotham away from your tongue. In place of your slow, careful syllables are quick clattering consonants and concise vowels. Your vowels were still elongated and angled to a sharp point unlike the nearly musical words of your cousins but as you said before ‘Gotham has its way of burying itself in your bones’. Tim just never thought about how saliently it showed itself in words. He wonders how his accent (folded, neat, and sterilized) sounds to you. He wonders how dull he sounds to you.

You have teased him about it. You’ve teased him endlessly about the way upper-class Manhattan just rolls off his tongue, how Alfred’s British affectations worm their way into his syllables. What you don’t tell him is how the smooth velvet of his words lull you into a hypnotic state that steals every bit of oxygen from your lungs. What you can’t make yourself tell him is that you would gladly spend your whole life listening to him read a fucking phone book.

The festivities were lively and informal. Jokes flying every which way. All alternating between your native tongue. You laugh into your drink, hiding the hesitant curve blunting your infectious smile. Tim nudges you to ask what’s wrong but you simply nudge him back and shake your head as if he had said something funny. Your relatives didn’t seem to notice your demeanor or if they did they left it alone.

Tim decides to leave it alone for now. Instead, he leaned into the flow of conversation. His years of speaking at galas working their magic on your aunts. They bombarded him with questions. Most of which sounded like screening questions at the embassy. You snarled at them more than once to knock it off but Tim shook it off. He knows they’re just worried about you the same way he worried for you. Well, not the same way but it was their way of showing they cared. He lets himself be immersed in the conversation. It’s more like he tuned into the sweet sound of your laughter but made sure to dedicate enough restraint to not look like a love-sick puppy.

“Tanga!” (MORON!)

“Baliw!” (Crazy!)

“E gago ka pala, di ba halata yun?” (No shit sherlock, isn’t it obvious?)

Tim is at best confused as he watches the volley of words between you and your cousin. Your voices rising above the blaring karaoke. Anthony (?) clamps a hand on his shoulder and laughs as he watches you and Martin (?) hurl insults at each other. In the corner of your eye, you watch his reactions checking if he understood a word. He isn’t fluent but he understood bits and pieces. He’s heard you mutter angrily about customers enough times to distinguish an insult.

“Dun worry about 'em. They won’t fight. They’re stupid but they’re not that stupid. ‘Sides, they’re too afraid of Nay for that,”

Tim gives Anthony a doubtful look. Anthony chuckles at him, clapping him on the back urging him to keep watching. He does if only to make sure you’ll be alright. When he does, he tunes into your words. Tim marvels at how musical you sound as you trade another round of rapid-fire jabs with Martin, how at ease you seem. Tim makes a mental note to get you to teach him. Though, he wasn’t entirely sure how he would justify it. Admittedly, part of it was just wanting to spend more time with you.

He can probably swing it.

A surge of protectiveness crowds his veins when Martin grabs at you but his hand is swatted by a cane. The air crackles with a sharp snap. The room plunges into silence. A small woman with silver hair stands tall and imperious at the other end of the cane. You and your cousins stiffen.

“Hi Nay,” You trail off with a distinct lack of grace. You swallow the lump forming your throat, robbed of any coherent thought by the stinging look in her eyes. You felt bare under her gaze. Layers and layers of skin peeling beneath the weight of her attention. Fury flickers like firelight across her dark eyes. Your skin suddenly felt like lint and you were sure you would catch fire.

A pause.

A bated breath held for what felt like an eternity.

“Iha(Iho), It’s been so long,” She says, softening. Her wrinkled face stretches into a kind smile that made you think of freshly cooked vegetables. Her cane folding to her side as she loops her arm over your shoulders. “It’s nays to see you,”

A choked sound comes out of you and you feel something shake loose. “Missed you too, Nay,” You breathed. Tim feels awkward, fidgeting in his place.

The soft smile on your grandmother fades a little. Her sharp eyes appraising Tim. The look wasn’t particularly venomous, but it left Tim feeling like he’d been cut open and analyzed. He wasn’t entirely sure of why you were all so scared of her before but now he fully understood.

She relinquishes her grip on you and urges you to go back to Tim. You frown a little, giving her a suspicious look which she returns innocently. You let out a little breath before walking back to Tim’s side. She gives him another long once over before silently strolling away. His stomach churned but eased at your touch. You still look uneasy but you don’t fuss over it. Not when Martin decides that he wasn’t quite done with bickering.

The festivities went on as normal. Maybe with a little less cussing going around. But Tim barely noticed when your laugh, free of any hesitance, echoed sonorously in his ear as he held you close.

Roz presses a drink into his hand. “Congrats, you’ve survived round one of Nay’s hazing,”

“Round one?” Tim hiccups into his drink. He coughed. The beer was strong. A strangely potent amount of alcohol that made his throat burn.

“Yeah, Roz, that was more like round 2.” You mutter sullenly, distinctly taking no sips of the drink Roz had also handed you. The paranoid Bat-part of his brain screams that he’s been poisoned. He’s struggling not to let it win over but your conversation wasn’t helping.

“Nay will eat him alive,”

“I mean. She’ll do it nicely,”

“Pfffft, right! Ok, Tony, name one time she’s been nice.”

“How about-”

“The thing with Y/n earlier doesn’t count,”

“Why not?”

“There was a hidden agenda,”

“Oh shit! The bitch is right- Ow! You are!”

You look at Tim apologetically and squeeze his hand. Somehow this does not calm his nerves, but he tries his best to ease into his touch.

On the trip here, you warned him that it was going to be exhausting. He assumed, incorrectly, that you were exaggerating. After all, he’s survived snobby rich people and his family. Your family seemed nice. He can survive a nice family dinner.

But what you neglected to tell him was that it would be sheer chaos. He definitely wasn’t prepared for the sensory overload. The house was almost unbearably loud compared to the manor. Every corner was filled with people chattering, playing games, eating, and doing anything to entertain themselves. Sure, Tim was used to chaos but he was more accustomed to short bursts. He wasn’t quite as prepared for the seemingly endless stream of conversations and liquor.

You had definitely not prepared his poor unassuming introverted ass well enough. Not even halfway through the night, Tim was ready to crash. The 20 minutes of sleep he got beforehand had not helped.

You, the angel that you are, guide him away from the party. You drag yourselves down the wide yawning corridor to the grand staircase.

Lit only by the thin veil of moonlight, the house showed its age. Walking up the stairs and walking through its hallways was like falling through time. The halls were lined with paintings, all landscapes and still-lifes. He’s thankful for that small mercy. His head swimming in liquor, he is reminded of the portraits at Wayne Manor and how their eyes burned at you as you passed.

The lack of portraits doesn’t make the house any less creepy mind you. Religious fixtures line the halls, crucifixes affixed to every arch-like mistletoes. There were doll-like statues of hollow-eyed saints at every corner table. It might have been the dancing moonlight but Tim swore he saw one of them move. Tim suddenly wishes he hadn’t ingested so much liquor.

Before long, you make your way to a bedroom. How the hell you knew which one to put him in was anyone’s guess. You lead him into the room. Touch gentle and careful as you coaxed him in. Soft jazzy music echoing hauntingly. The dancing moonlight and the solid shadows of the room highlighting your gorgeous features, drawing his attention to your plush lips. You lean over him to make sure he was indeed still part of the living. Liquid courage surging in his face, he presses his lips to yours. It’s cautious. He gently runs his hand through your hair, pulling you towards him with a push. The press of his lips is restrained, more of a question than a demand. Slightly chapped lips press against your sweet and searching.

Tim remembers the warm press of your lips, the way the pads of fingers trail against the soft fabric of his shirt, your warm breath fanning against his cool skin, then nothing.

Knock

KNOCK

Tim grouses into his pillow. Tim was having an absolutely wonderful dream. He could still feel your warm lips against his. Tim squeezes his eyes trying to go back to sleep.

Knock

KNOCK

‘1 AM’ the antique analog clock at the nightstand reads.

“I’m up!” He lies burying himself further into the thick sheets.

His brothers really needed to stop breaking into his apartment at 1-

KNOCK

Tim nearly falls out of bed when he remembers where he is. He jams a shirt over his head and some sweatpants before stumbling to the door.

“Hey Tim, you coming?” Anthony asks through the crack of the door.

Tim opens the door a little wider. “Where?”

“Outside,” Roz shrugs vaguely.

“Whe-”

You step out of your room, extremely hesitant. Your knuckles were turning white from apprehension. You look at Tim, surprise plain in your eyes. You flinch heat rising to your cheeks. Tim remembers the texture of your soft lips. He wishes that wasn’t a dream. You glare at your cousins who give you a confused look.

“Roz, he-”

“Awwww, ‘insan, you’re actually coming?” Martin mocks clapping you on the shoulder drawing, what Tim considers, an adorable squeak from you. His heart almost leaps from his chest when your warm body presses further into Tim’s side. You can’t hear it but Tim’s breath stutters in his chest. He loops his arm around you protectively. Martin gives both of you a sly conspiratorial look.

You scowl at Martin. Glaring with as much intensity and intimidation your burning cheeks would allow. Roz swats him over the head making him almost topple down the steps before Anthony even gets a chance to rebuke him. Instead, Anthony turns to you, brows furrowed. “You sure you want to come? Nay said-”

“La a!” Martin protested. Roz rolls her eyes and swats him again. “Dipshit’s right. Nay didn’t say jack,”

“Then why did you swat me?”

“E, I felt like it e,”

“Bish, whose side are you on?!” He snarls but before he can lunge at Roz, Anthony is already dragging him by the scruff of his neck.

“Shhhhhhhhhhh! Not so loud. The kids will hear us,”

“I for one will not help you wrangle tita’s crotch gremlins,”

“We’re going to be late and Nay is going to unleash hell upon us,”

Anxiously, you tug at Tim urging him to follow your cousins as they filed out through the back door.

“Where are we going?” Tim hisses.

All four of you share a look.

“We’ll explain,” You promise.

The journey was eerie. Punctuated by the fact that none of you explain jack. The walk was entirely silent, devoid of bickering or any sort of conversation. He can see the silence driving both Roz and Anthony mad. You honestly look like you’re going to keel over. The odd thing was that even the birds were silent. Not a single sound penetrated the thick canopy of juniper trees.

You wonder the woods guided only by the thin ribbons of silver light peaking through the thick clouds of leaves. Tim can feel your pulse as it thundered in your chest. No matter what was going on he would keep you safe.

You arrive in front of a rusted gate half a foot shorter than Tim. It was small, easily climbable with plenty of spiraling pieces to stick your foot into for purchase if needed. Your eyes cut to Roz who fished out a key he’d seen perched on one of the coat racks. Hesitantly, you held your hand out for the key. Roz, on the other hand, all but slammed it into your hand, grinning in a mix of absolute glee and relief. Your teeth click as you worked the lock. He wants to suggest just going over it but you seem quite adamant and he wasn’t about to push your nerves.

Finally, the lock gives in.

You all file in one at a time in a sort of practiced motion. Beyond the gates was a path with its stones polished from a shine from use. The scarce light coming from the canopy of trees rippling against them. It lit the rest of the way still keeping the surroundings in deep shadow.

The path ended in front of a small dilapidated stone structure that seemed too small to house anything.

“Age before beauty,” Martin jeers, bending down dramatically urging Roz to go in. She, in turn, shoves him in with a swift kick. The dark interior of the structure swallows him whole. Her dark eyes cut to you. You swallow but ultimately you shrug off Tim’s hold and relinquish your death grip on Tim’s arm. You let out a shaky breath as you step over the threshold. Just like Martin before you, the shadows leave no trace of you.

Tim reaches for the last bit of your swaying blanket. Roz taking the chance shoves Tim over the threshold, his vision goes pitch black.

“See you there, lover boy~”

The darkness is all-encompassing making his eyes completely useless as much as he tries to adjust them. Instead, he strains all of his other senses. He feels the press of moss-covered walls closing in on him. The staircase only seemed wide enough to let one person pass at a time. The stairs wind in shallow predictable patterns. The scent of moss and burning firewood grew heavy as he made his descent. Distantly, he could hear the soft padding of your shoes against the stone but he also heard the crackle of jazzy music. It was the kind he only heard from the old black and white movies Bruce and Alfred watched. It was oddly familiar but he couldn’t place it. The smooth baritone of the singer rattles in his head. A shiver of mild discomfort travels up his spine.

After what feels like an eternity, Tim emerges. His eyes slamming shut from the sudden brightness of his surroundings. He blinks, eyes adjusting to the light. His eyes take in his surroundings.

He was in a clearing. It was man-made, constructed using the same stones that lined the path you’d taken. The stone walls were covered in moss and ivy, but the stone that did peak out reflected the moonlight freely raining drown from the clear autumn sky. In the center of the space, sit 9 people including yourself. All cast in the warm glow of the crackling bonfire. It is a living thing, raging and casting shadows sharpening and obscuring features.

“I’m so glad you could join us, Timothy,” Your grandmother calls out as she fiddles with the nobs of the old radio perched in her lap. It crackles uncooperatively despite her efforts. He can’t pry his eyes away from it even as he takes his seat next to your shivering form.

Without much thought, Tim pulls you close. You tremble, teeth still clicking eyes wild and fixed on the radio. The radio is a curious thing. It’s an old model. It’s sleek but dotted with various nobs and switches. If he had to guess, it was something out of the 1960s. In the periphery of his senses, he hears Roz and Anthony step out of the staircase and take their places in the circle with Roz sitting right next to your grandmother.

Your grandmother stops fiddling with the radio then turns to Roz who is now comfortably seated. Your teeth chatter and your shoulder hitch as they silently converse. Roz inhales then exhales. Her dark eyes sweep over all of you making sure she had your attention. Based on the silence and the still forms, she did. She sits a little straighter, her shoulders rolling back.

She throws herself into a tale. It was a story she’d heard long ago about a man, a house, and a secret. Her calm voice carries over the soft roaring of the bonfire. It wasn’t the scariest tale Tim had heard but Roz told it well. Well enough to draw squeaks from several people including yourself.

Tim relaxes catching on to the turn of events. He lets you press into his side as you make your feeble attempt to get away from the story. Tim chuckles at the amount of theatrics you’ve all put into building up to this little gathering. However, all his smug skepticism vanishes when Roz finishes her story.

The static from the radio vanishes. Its various nobs move without assistance and its switches click into place. The same baritone voice carries from the radio. Tim doesn’t hear what it says as his mind reels. He turns to you and opens his mouth to ask but Anthony begins his tale before Tim can even formulate his question. Beside him, you fidget with his sleeve shaking hands clenching and unclenching on the fabric.

Tim remembers how much you hate ghost stories. You’d once gotten sick with a fever just from watching horror movies. At this point, you were on the verge of tears. Your breathing slowed abnormally as Martin finished his story. The radio predictably did not whirr to life after his story. Through your chattering teeth, you give your cousin a vicious smile which he volleys by sticking his tongue out petulantly.

It’s your turn.

You squeeze Tim’s hand twice before worming out of his grasp. You flutter your long lashes, lightcatching in them looking golden as the fire flickered urging you to delve into your story. You roll your shoulders and let your blanket and apprehension slide away in one smooth action.

You tell your story.

Your countenance still and grave as you tell a story of crossroads and terrible choices.

The radio huffs, seemingly amused by your effort.

“Well, y/n,” The radio coos. Your name drips like molasses from its speakers. It’s unsettling how crisp it sounds. Its voice absent of static as it addresses you. “You sure do know about bad choices. I believe so does that young thing- Pardon me. Young things swimming in the harbor. They’re just a tinsy bit cut up about it.” The radio teases almost sounding gleeful. You nod gravely, stomach reaching the floor.

Harbor?

You settle back down into your seat. Tim nudges you, cocking his head to the side to question you. Your fist clenches and unclenches in your lap before you look him in the eyes again.

“Case,” You mouth silently.

It clicks.

The harbor.

The bodies.

That’s what the radio meant.

Someone clears their throat urging Tim to tell a story. He stumbles through a half-remembered urban legend he heard from Steph awhile ago. His mind far too preoccupied with the new information to really devote to any theatrics.

His turn passes.

And the stories continue as he mulls over the information.

It’s your grandmother’s turn. Your hand grips Tim’s arms white-knuckled. You attempt to swallow down the fear but it catches in your throat constricting your airway. The flames dance casting her face in sinister shadows that bring out all the sharp angles in her features. Her smile curls cruel. Her bony fingers trace the seems and delicate patterns embossed on the old radio. Static erupts loud then dies down just as quickly. Her smokey voice fills the air. Heavy and commanding. The story spills from her lips smooth and velvety slick with gore and unspoken horrors. None of you dare to speak. Some don’t even breathe. Your hands scrabble for purchase on Tim’s shirt as you bury your face in his chest. You feel him wrap himself around you shielding you the best he can. Ear pressed to his chest, you can hear Tim’s pulse hammering. The terror soaking through to his bones. He remains steady. Unflinching even as the story reaches its climax.

The flames flash, fade, then flicker.

The radio crackles.

The smooth baritone of its voice distorting into something undeniably inhuman.

Shadows dance.

Their hands reaching out as the flames did. A hard yank from one of them nearly topples you out of Tim’s arms. He shifts you both away from their grasp. He glares fiercely at them making sure you’re safe.

Sorrowful moans fill the air but your grandmother is undeterred.

With a shrill cry from the radio, everything dies down.

The shadows retreat.

The fire simmers down now small and tame.

Everyone lets out a breath. Both of you could feel everyone unfurl. Tense muscles, locked jaws, tight chests all loosen with the end of the story.

For a long moment, the entire circle is still. Then your grandmother stands up. The rest follow her in a mostly quiet procession up the steps.

“Roddy was harsh this year,” Martin whines.

“Nope, you’re just terrible at it. I mean hell even y/n got an answer. It was creepy as all shit but they got an answer,”

“Uh- Is it a good time to ask what just happened?”

Your cousins turn to you.

“You really didn’t tell him anything, did you?”

“How do you propose I bring up the demonic radio?”

“Pffft,”

“Pirst, it isn’t demonic. Do you really think Nay would have kept it if it was?”

“She lets Martin hang around,”

“…….”

“Dis is a good point,”

“HEY”

Tim clears his throat.

“Raaayt, Ok so… once a year we tell the spooky radio stories so we can get answers or our future told,”

“Was the whole creepy walk necessary?”

“Nope,” You answer in chorus.

“It’s just our way of psyching up for it,”

“It’s your guy’s way. Tita at least let’s me hum songs,”

“Well excuse me for not wanting to listen to you sing,”

“Is there anything else you guys want to tell me?”

“Aside from y/n really not wanting to tell-”

You snarl at your cousins, red-faced and bearing your teeth. Martin and Roz cackle as they run. Anthony has the decency to at least look slightly apologetic as he runs.

“Y/n… What aren’t you telling me?”

“Tim, I- I’m- Damn it- I-” You put your hands on your face. You try to calm your breaths. “Look Tim, I-”You take another breath. “I’m sorry. I kissed you but you were drunk-”

“Wait that wasn’t a dream?” There’s a flicker in Tim’s chest.

You look at him mortified. You want the ground to swallow you whole. “Yeah, I- Tim, I know it’s- I’m sorry.”

He remains silent.

Your stomach feels like it’s going to burn up.

“I-”

“I want a redo,”

“A what?”

“A redo,”

a/n: I will rework the ending at some point but thank you for reading!

taglist: @batarella, @anothertimdrakestan, @lucy-roo, @multifandomgirl-us, @idkmanicantenglish,@birdy-bat-writes, @boosyboo9206, @americasmarauders (I wanna drag you into Terry hell), @l-horizon11

#Tim Drake #tim drake imagines #tim drake x reader #my writing #batboys #batboys x reader #spooktober #fake dating au

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bluedemon1995 · 3 years

Text

Stay True To Yourself!

I read a story about a girl whose boyfriend took her to a swingers party…but neglected to tell her! And of course, that story led me down a very strange rabbit hole until this popped in my head. Ummm, this one has a little bit of a more adult theme - so please read with caution! This is an alternate reality story- obv not canon.

Katie Holt sat in the car feeling a niggling sense of unease that she cannot dismiss as hard as she tries to shove it down. She tries to narrow down the cause, thinking and analyzing as is her nature. Is it because she hasn’t been dating Mark very long and he picked her up roughly an hour ago. In fact, if she was honest, this was probably the longest amount of time she’d actually spent in his actual company. Previously, it was mostly online chats then a couple of in person short lunch coffee dates. But they were maybe twenty minutes. Is it because they are going to a party and she typically does not enjoy parties? Or maybe it’s because he’s the only person she’d know from this party, and she hates being dependent on anyone. She’d much rather rely on herself.

Regardless of the cause, she tries to shake off the feelings and enjoy the moment. Live a little in the real world like Allura said as she was helping her getting ready. Actually, if she was honest, this was the second novel experience of the day since having a friend come over and help her get ready for a date was a first as well. Yesterday, when she absently mentioned that she could not go to the movies tonight because she was going to a Christmas party with Mark, Allura got so excited. She immediately made plans to go shopping and offered to come and help me get ready. She was honestly more excited than I was but it was nice to have someone care.

Which was nice because her mom and dad had a work Christmas party to go to and her brother was on a date himself. It was nice for Allura to come over and help her out. In spite of the make up, dress and dating tips, she had a good time. Allura was only a couple of actual years older than but in experience she was decades ahead of her!

This year, partly due to their project at work, she’s gotten closer to some of co-workers or team. It’s been a nice change since high school and college where she was mostly alone except for her family and their friends. She loved feeling like people got her sarcasm, her references well, just HER. It was nice to have people who made her stop working to eat lunch or heck, even remembered to check to see if she left work for the day. Slowly but surely her team had become her friends.

Which all leads her back to a few moments ago, when Mark parked and got out of the car, stopping at the hood to wait for her. He looks impatient but whatever, she needs to take a minute alone to get her self under control. Her nerves hit a high point but deciding this was as good as it gets, Pidge stands and walks to the him, impulsively reaching out and holding his hand. It was dark and snowy, she definitely did not want to fall on ice as they walked up! How embarrassing!

He seemed surprised by her hand but quickly pulled her close, “Hey so, this is a special party and I’d really appreciate it if you kept an open mind, think of it as an of it as an experiment.”

Pidge felt like a five alarm bell was suddenly going off at the conclusion of that sentence. FUCK! What was he talking about?!? Why would he say something like that now? It was akin to setting a bomb and saying, do not look at the timer.

While Pidge is having an internal panic attack they walk in-no knocking just walk straight in the door. She doesn’t see anything right off the bat that concerns her. There’s a table where keys were thrown, shoes piled in the front hall and music playing. It was a really nice house, set in one of the fancier subdivisions of the area. Pidge was trying to keep calm but she was annoyed that he’d state something like that as they were walking in the door! What about beforehand so she could of decided?!? And he really didn’t tell her anything, which is worse than knowing.

He takes his shoes off, she does the same. Hesitating, he turns and pulls her towards the kitchen. “Drink? What’s your poison?”

Pidge sighs, beer seems safe and not like she’s going to be drinking much of anything after that bomb he dropped walking in. “Beer is fine, I’d like light if they got it.”

He nods and goes towards the coolers lined up along the wall. Pidge does what she does best, fades into the background and observes the room carefully. The lights seem dim and she could see out the patio doors that more people are out there by the pool. She squints, maybe it’s the just the glare…but are those people naked?!?

Mark comes back at that time with a draft beer which means I won’t be taking a drink of it. Why wouldn’t he give me a bottle or can that I could open myself? I’m quiet and watch Mark take in the party. I wonder who he knows? Suddenly, I look at a pretty girl in a Mrs. Claus outfit who comes up to Mark. She smiles brightly, and proceeds to lock lips with Mark, wow. She’s actually impressive with her ability to wrap around him like a snake yet keep her hand with her drink still, not spilling a drop. I’m actually impressed! My eyes dart around the room, trying to gauge what the hell is going on here. Why would he bring me here if he already has girl???

Finally she breaks off and slides over to me, “Hi, Danni with an I, wanna make out?”

I blink, rapidly, “Um, no, I’m good, but, uh, thank you for the offer though.”

She smiles, “Okay! If you change your mind I’ll be around!”

She flounced away and I looked to Mark, quietly questioning, “Exactly what kind of Christmas party is this? Why am I even here?!?”

He chucked, “It’s a swingers party and you can’t come alone. You NEED to bring a date, you know for the numbers. C’mon, this will be fun.”

I look at him feeling myself turn red. “Wait a minute, I bought a fucking new outfit for this?!? I put goddamn makeup on! You fucking asshole! Look, I could give two shits about what you do, honestly, we aren’t involved like that but why involve me? Could you not find someone else to bring? For fuck’s sake!”

Mark stared at me, having the NERVE to arch a brow, “Cursing really? You know swearing is for people not intelligent enough to come up with a better word. Besides, don’t be a prude, look walk around and find someone you find interesting or hot. There are a lot of people here, like it’s not that hard.”

I close my eyes and as bad as I want to hit him, curse him out, I refrain. Oh, he will pay, just later when there aren’t about a hundred witnesses who can fill out a police report. I take a breath and walk away, back to the front door. I look at the keys, but they all look the same, how would I know which is which. I guess I could take them all but what if someone wants to leave. I step out to the front steps.

Honestly, this could not have happened on a worse night. I can’t call Matt, he’s finally on a date with his current dream girl and my parents at that work party. I close my eyes, take a breath to reign in my anxiety that is sky rocketing and first I try Allura. But, duh, she’s at the movies with Romelle and probably turned her phone off. Shit. My eyes fill with tears but I refuse to let them fall. I take a deep breath, trying Hunk instead another coworker. Straight to voicemail. Shit he might be sleeping.

I look at my contacts and realize, I don’t have a long list of people to call. I sit and sigh, okay no matter how embarrassing I could always get an Uber. I schedule one but because I’m so far it will take about an hour. I walk around to the back and sit on a chair in the dark corner of the backyard. Sitting, I let my finger hover over the last name to try. Here goes nothing. Hanging up I text a short message. What the hell do I have to lose at this point.

I sit. And sit. I don’t know how many girls and guys I rebuff but something about a person not wanting to hook up makes people want to hook up with you apparently. Jeesh, in my real life, no one wanted to date me now everyone was trying to have sex with me. WTF?

Sighing I look at my phone, and crap, it looks like all my surfing has killed my battery. Suddenly a very naked Mark and a different Mrs. Claus come up to me.

Mrs. Claus giggles out, “Hey if you’re nervous, you could totally hook up with my husband. He’s the hot elf over there, standing on the edge of the pool and hot tub. It will be fun! Then if we like, we could continue next week!!” She giggles a lot and I try not to be rude.

“Thank you for that kind offer, but I’m good.”

She shrugs, “Sure thing baby, but aren’t you bored. Marky said you were shy and um, a novice. Don’t be afraid.”

Mark turns and Pidge can’t help but breathe a sigh of relief. Only for some guy in his boxers to edge into her space. “Darlin’, you-me-, it’s written in the stars baby.”

I groan, “Nope. You misread them, thank tho.”

Usually once I say no, they just move on. But nope, not this one. “Don’t be a prude. Sex is very natural. It’s elemental. It’s like essential. You need me baby!!”

Really, that’s his line? I shake my head no, but now we’ve got a crowd. I hear people interject how I’m falling into societies lanes and I must be a virgin because I’m sitting by myself. Then I hear people say I should be grateful and oh my gosh, yep, I’ve been transported back to high school. Except I’m not a self conscious kid anymore and I don’t give a fuck what they think about me. But, I’ll be damned if I don’t respond. No one pushes me or pressures me to do something I don’t want to. And I’ve never just gone with the crowd cuz it was easier, not then, not now.

I hear a roar and suddenly all attention is lost on me. I decided to leave before my temper actually erupts. I quickly move towards the gate to get the hell out of here. I’d rather walk home then stay here. Fuck Mark and his party. I might actually brainstorm with Allura and Romelle on a way to get back at him. Something embarrassing.

As I walk away I hear Mark yelling my name, “Katie! Katie! Don’t walk away! You need to expand your senses and life. Don’t be scared. There is so much I could teach you. Don’t be such a prude!”

Laughter.

Well fuck him. Now I’m pissed. I’m not scared. I just don’t want to do this. Yet, who does he think he is telling me what I should do. As if. And what if he did this to other girls, who weren’t able to say no? I turn around and calmly but loudly state, while looking straight at him, “Look, don’t act like I’m the scared one. Who didn’t tell me where they were taking me. If this was a scene I was into, fine. And believe me, I will sleep with whoever I want. I just don’t want to sleep with you nor do I have anything to prove to anyone. But if and when I see a guy or girl for that matter, that I’d like to fuck, then I would. So, shut up, cause Marky you’re just not it.”

I could hear murmurs and then Mark yelling, and his feet slapping on the ground. Ughhhhh. One thing I could be thankful for is seeing him naked, cuz ick. He has no muscle definition and oh my God, I cannot wait to tell Allura how he looks like he waxes cuz he has no hair anywhere on his body.

I turn to walk away and see a guy who I have HAD the luxury of day dreaming about striding towards me with an shit eating smirk. Well, shit, of course. My eyes closes but it doesn’t stop my from seeing him behind my eyes. His hair is slightly matted from his helmet which means the roar must have been his Harley. He has one of his many black t-shirts on with his favorite leather jacket over it. His jeans are well worn and faded not those designer ones that only look used. He has on his riding boots, which of course give him another inch or so of height. Which he loves. Opening my eyes I see him about 6 feet away and I see he still has his riding gloves on.

I determinedly walk towards him only to hear Mark scream, his feet slapping, or at least I hope it’s his feet. He yells, “Yeah right, you prude-like you would ever-“

I reach said hot guy and say, “I’m kissing you in two seconds. One, two.”

I fist my hand in his shirt and pull him closer to me. Except he doesn’t move, so I look up into his eyes and arch a brow, he arches his, which causes me to roll my eyes and I open my mouth to tell him to go to hell when grins. With his hands on my hips pulls me into his hard body, throwing me off balance. I slip my arms around him lift my head and his lips slam onto mine. Ok, point proven. Yet, as I lean back to break the kiss, I feel two arms encompass me, hold me close and reposition me.

His mouth re-angles on mine, I feel myself lifted on my tip toes. Omg, the heat of his body is amazing. I didn’t even realize I was cold sitting out here but against his body I felt like was next to a heater. His tongue pushes past my lips and, well, I stopped thinking for a full minute, hell maybe minutes. It was that good of a kiss. Shit. His tongue stroked mine, made me shiver and then he nipped my lip causing a groan. I literally could feel him smile and I was going to move back when his hand fisted in my hair and he started to kiss my neck and holy crap! I think my knees buckled but it didn’t matter because he picked me up and my legs were suddenly wrapped around his waist. His hands were supporting my weight but I think they were actually under my dress. My hands were in his hair and digging into his shoulder respectively. Well. Hell.

I don’t know how long that went on for when suddenly I hear Mark right next to us yelling, “That’s enough.”

Slowly pulling back, his gravelly voice questions, “Outta here or are we continuing the show? Just to be clear, I’m good with either decision.” He then arches that fucking brow.

Face flaming, I whisper, “Let’s go. Please.”

Eyes on me, he nods. “What’s asshole’s name?”

“Mark.”

Nodding he raises his voice, “Hey Mark, fuck off and if I ever see you again, you’re dead.”

A girl in just a string bikini bottom steps in front of us, drawing our attention. Her hand is gliding down her chest when she looks right at him, throatily murmuring, “Wanna upgrade?”

He laughs, “Um already did. Let’s go Pidge.”

He moves his hands and I lower my legs. He instantly laces his fingers with mine and pulls me to the path back to the front. “Keith! You can’t say that! You know about Mark being dead meat.”

“Just did.”

“Why, what, are you even doing here?”

As he places his helmet on my head and carefully tightens the straps, “I saw Shiro’s phone buzz, so I looked. It seemed like something that couldn’t wait. So here I am.”

Blinking I nod, “Okay. I said I had an Uber coming.”

“Saw, don’t care. I, um, didn’t like the idea of you being here when you didn’t want to be. So yeah, deal.”

“But why didn’t you respond?”

“I pinged your location to my phone and left. Didn’t think about it honestly.”

“What if I was gone?”

He shrugged as we approached his bike, which was on the lawn! “As long as you were safe.”

He then takes off his coat, slipping it around my shoulders, “Arms in, it’s cold when we start moving.” Eyes on her legs, fingers play with her skirt, brushing her thighs. “I can’t do anything about your legs though. Let me know if you need a break. We can stop as often as you need.”

I nod, and as we drive into the night, my arms tight around his waist, I can’t help but smile. Keith Fucking Kogane. Damn this boy can kiss. Maybe there is hope for my love life after all. I feel his hand cover my hand on his abdomen, squeeze and drift down to my leg. I squeeze him a little tighter and I know it’s just my imagination but I swear I can hear his laughter.

My hero.

#katie holt #keith kogane #kidge #alternate realities

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sigcy · 3 years

Text

We dabble in writing fics, as well! Here’s a slowburn sigcy fic (it’s still a WIP, first posted on AO3) that Mod Cricket and I worked on together. (CW for violence.) Part Two.

[ Part One ] | [ Next Part ]

Sigma had lost track of time while he was working under Talon’s authoritative claw. He would wake, don his armor, and do whatever they asked him to do. They told him that they were freedom fighters, pursuing peace for a better world from corrupt politicians and faulty scientists. Days into weeks, weeks into months, months into years, and he worked dutifully for his rescuers.

But he had been confused-- told that he had been falsely accused, that he had been imprisoned due to someone fearing his work. And so a manhunt had commenced over the years, the astrophysicist slowly being melded into something far more sinister than he had ever anticipated he could be.

A weapon.

At first, he would hesitate-- a job ending in the death of someone that he had been told had worked against him. Begging for a life cut short by someone else finishing it off for him.

Over time, it grew easier. Easier to reach out with his mind, thanks to the augmentations that Dr. O’Deorain had fitted him with. Mental augmentations, allowing him to bend gravity as he so chose-- as though he didn’t conform to the laws Isaac Newton had described centuries prior. The one exception. The one variable in the wide universe of mathematics.

Over time, he would use his harness to strike fear in those who opposed Talon’s Just cause. He realized the world was filled with nonbelievers, those whose heads had been filled with twisted lies. That is, until Moira stopped him, one day.

“You have become quite brutal in your work, Subject Sigma.” She leaned against the door frame, wiry arms crossed over her chest. “Like a trained killer.”

That wasn’t his name. He reminded himself, looking up from his workstation, scattered with datapads and papers. He had been catching up on scientific work that he had missed while he had been under capture-- several years worth of reading.

The geneticist stepped over, humming to herself. Always, there was an air of aristocracy about her-- yet he couldn’t quite place why. He knew very little of his colleagues, in hindsight. Her spindly, metal-plated fingers graced his shoulders as she rounded his chair. “Mr. Ogundimu almost fears you may be getting too... powerful.”

“I would never harm anyone here.” He insisted, that ringing in his ears making him flinch-- that damned melody sparking just under the surface of the sound, almost barely discernible. His eyes jammed shut, and he shook his head, trying to rid himself of the noise, to no avail.

“Are you sure about that, dear?” She prodded, quirking a brow. One of his hands came up to cup at his forehead, attempting to still the sound.

He had opened his mouth to speak, but Moira continued, never losing that little knowing smirk. “Perhaps we should give you more sedatives, mm? Pull you off the teams for a while.”

“No, no, no, I can work--” “Nonsense.” She grinned, tapping at his arm and stalking off. “I only wish the best for you, my dear.”

The ringing grew worse, and he grit his teeth as he watched her walk off. As the door closed behind her, the room fell dark-- and the datapads in front of him also lost their power.

“What is going on!” He yelled out, standing from his chair and nearly falling from the ringing in his head.

There was no answer, and as he stumbled to the door, it remained shut-- locked.

“What!” he yelled out again, his fist making contact with the door with a loud thud. Again, there was no answer. “Let me out! Your humor is lost. Let me work!” He yelled again, growing angrier by the second.

But in the end, he was left alone.

This treatment continued for weeks-- anytime he flinched, each time he made mention of the noises he heard or the ringing that drove him insane, he would be locked away-- given ‘time off’ in solitary. It drove him insane, loneliness driving him to improve. To survive out of spite.

Eventually, he learned to cope, to ignore it, and to grasp it, if only to escape his room for missions-- as though he simply lived for Talon’s gains.

The noose that Talon had him under grew ever tighter, however-- he soon was not allowed out of his room without armed guard, before he was not allowed out of his room at all, unless they required his abilities. It was as though he were a pet project, losing his freedom with each added layer of ‘security.’ His self worth deteriorated, and he was left to rot.

Anger. Anger is what he began to feel, bubbling up in his chest, almost making him feel as though he could scream. But he didn’t.

Sigma sat alone in his room, thinking about everything that had transpired. He was glassy eyed, staring at the wall in front of him. Fury was evident in his sharp eyes, almost like a small flame was burning in them.

That damn melody rang through his head - he had built somewhat of a tolerance to it at this point, but when he was angry, the sound of it was deafening and unbearable for him.

He felt a small itch in his arm, and looking down he could see the shape of something inside of it. Stretching out the skin with a pull, he looked closer, the shape resembling that of a pill.

Sigma’s eyes went wide, running a finger over the bump to make sure it was actually there and he wasn’t hallucinating. How had he never noticed it there before?

And then that’s when he realized that this was a chip that was implanted inside of him. His pulse began to race and sweat dotted his forehead. The room felt like it was disappearing all around him, his vision beginning to intensely focus on this foreign object in his arm.

Sigma began to claw lightly at it, not really realizing what he was doing, his mind racked and blank from panic alone. He applied more pressure, blood now oozing out of the open wound. Had he been a test subject? All those times he’d been given a sedative to calm down, had they put things inside him? What else was there?

His adrenaline ran high, continuously digging at it and ripping open more of his flesh. Red tainted his vision, the melody in his mind turning into screeching, off-key notes the further he pulled it open. He was far past the first few layers of skin, muscle now visible. Blood poured from his arm and onto his bed - but that didn’t stop him, the adrenaline making him not feel the pain.

Sigma could see the twinkle of the object in his room’s light, and without a second thought, he gripped it and yanked it out, letting out a yelp. The little device fell out and clattered to the floor, ripped from a nerve with a twitch and a spark of a wire.

He gasped and panted, looking up to the ceiling in ... relief.

The melody…it’s gone.

...........................

"Ma'am, there's a situation in Subject Sigma's room." An attendant rushed to her, flashing the security footage of her pet project's room in question. Most of the lights had been busted from the ceiling, one hanging loosely and flickering in the corner of the camera’s vision. Sigma sat idly in the center of the screen, looking up to the ceiling as if lost in thought, turning away from the camera in his room.

"What is it?" She asked, annoyed.

"His chip. We're not receiving any more input from it. He dug it out of his arm." We have security on the way, but with the situation right now, we can't afford to lose anyone else--"

" Impossible. " She hissed, before she turned on her heel, a breath leaving her as her body dissolved-- rocketing forward and out of the room. It didn't take her long to rocket through the fulcrum, rushing past and through anyone in her way, like a vengeful ghost rushing to glory. Finally, she rematerialized in front of Siebren's door, just as collected as she had been minutes prior. But an anger seethed under the surface, barely masked behind a cruel smile.

She didn't knock, and the security outside the door followed her in without a word.

" A mhuirnín. [My Dear.] What on Earth are you doing?" She asked, that same smile crossing her face as she entered. Her tone was light, kind, despite the anger that dwelled underneath. "A little bird told me you've done something very bad. And you know we can't have that, now."

He remained silent, giving her a deathly, intimidating glare as he turned where he sat.

The security team surrounded Moira-- unnecessary, she thought, but nevertheless, she seemed unfazed. This wasn't the time for a security breach. They had to come together, as Akande had put it. Foolish sentiment, but nevertheless one she had to put up with.

"Stand do--!" One of the security guards ordered, his rifle, along with the others, aimed directly at the subject in question. Though, he'd been stopped by Moira's slender, miscolored hand coming up. Her eyes narrowed-- something about the man had changed. His demeanor was filled with hate. With distaste . His intimidation was lost on her, and she stood firm. She still had the power. She always did.

"My, my, A mhuirnín. You certainly seem to have been naughty." She glanced down to his bleeding arm, the trickle of blood following the lines of the musculature of his frame, before dripping down his fingers and to the floor. "And here, I thought we worked so hard to make you such a good boy. " What a setback, months of mental conditioning, wasted in a matter of moments. Nevertheless, she was patient-- A few sedatives would make it easy to replace the chip that funneled those delightful noises into his nervous system.

She smiled again, taking a few steps forward, the security team following close behind. Their anxiety was present in their minute hesitations, one's hands even tightening on his rifle at his shoulder. But she showed no signs of that remorse, no signs of fear. "Come, now. Let's get you bandaged up. Your condition is fragile. "

“Shut up.”

Sigma’s voice was stern, the anger evident from his tone. His usual soft, periwinkle eyes gleamed with hatred, looking right through the woman who stood before him. He understood, now. He understood everything that she had done.

The hatred that bubbled up in his chest came to a boiling point, the feeling no longer ignorable. With swift motions, Subject Sigma threw a fist down, sending the security team slamming to the ground. They panicked, unable to move and felt like an invisible force was keeping them down.

With Moira still standing before him, knees bent and fearful in all but a moment, he wasted no time in grabbing her by the neck with his free hand, his grip vice-like. Teeth bared, her usually stoic face marred by the lines of distaste forming around her mouth. A miscolored hand came up to grasp at his wrist, nails digging ruthlessly into his skin, clawing at him to get free. Her mismatched eyes bore into him, kicking about as he effortlessly lifted her from her feet. That smile she'd worn only moments prior melted away into anger, and into fear above all else. The panicked yells of the security team filled her hearing, along with the pounding of her heart in her ears.

“I’m sick of you.” He hissed, his grip tightening.

Any retort she would have had was drowned by his hand at her throat. Only the choked gasps of her struggling for air could be heard. And within all but a moment, her head already felt fuzzy from the lack of blood flow to her brain.

Damn. This was bad.

She closed her eyes, and in a moment, her form dissipated, the cloud she'd dissolved into twisting around him. She reappeared at his back, a gasp of air letting her return to the moment. "Stand down, pet. I don't want to have to hurt you." She hissed, dark, biotic energy rolling down her arm. It wouldn't kill him, but she could sap his energy enough to at least keep her alive. And that was what mattered. She could replicate the data she'd gathered on Subject Sigma's condition. She could do it again. And do it better.

" Now. " She added-- it wasn't a request. Where she was used to her assistants cowering at the tone, she knew it would take far more than just that to get his attention, again. And so with a flick of her wrist, the corrupted caduceus technology reached out, latching onto his biometric signature, again and again, zapping at him like a drunken parent’s lash of a belt.

A pang shot through his body as the red-head used the ability against him, a short wail escaping him. However, he remained unfazed by her attempt to subdue him, his anger and adrenaline coursing through his veins, he turned around to grasp her neck again. This time, he used his gravitational power to pull her in, the pressure around her much worse than before.

He looked down at her, his usual soft, periwinkle eyes now bewildered and filled with pure hatred. This was a side of Sigma that no one ever saw, even in battle, he never had this same vicious look on his face.

I want you to look at me as I wring the pathetic life out of you. The phrase repeated itself in his mind as he looked at her, as though a switch had been flipped.

His grip tightened, teeth clenched and bared as he put more power into his hold on her.

She'd tried to dematerialize again, to shift from his grip, but something held her in place. Like a cocoon, a spider wrapping its victim in silk and immobilizing her nomatter how much she struggled. It was fascinating, seeing such a raw display of power take hold. But she was on the wrong side. She shouldn't have been prey. She was better than this. Her hands shook, and she couldn't help but watch the beam of caduceus tech get cut off from its link to him. Pushed away by the power of gravity alone. And while there was a minor surge to her own body's resilience, it wouldn't last.

She managed to bring her hands up to clasp at his wrist again, shaking against the gravity that seemed to push against her at every angle. Squeezing her, as though she were about to be crushed by stones.

Teeth bared as she struggled, kicked, eyes wide as she looked to Siebren, looked to the security that were trapped helplessly on the floor behind them. Her hands clenched tightly against his skin, nails clawing for any sort of purchase. But none was to be found-- there was no remorse, no mercy in his fingers.

Moira let out a choked sob, eyes beginning to water. Pitiful. Desperate. She could do nothing, and even though the security called for backup, she knew that they wouldn't get there in time. She tried again and again to shift away, to dematerialize, but every time she did, the gravitational force that bound her in place only seemed to tighten. Finally, the sound of one of her ribs snapping could be heard, followed by a second, and a third. There was a rumble in her throat as she tried to cry out, but nothing could escape.

Nothing ever did escape from a black hole, now did it?

Tears pricked the corners of his eyes; not necessarily from the intense fury that was ablaze through him, but he was finally getting his revenge after all this time. His revenge for all the times she tested on him, prodding and poking him like he was nothing more than a test animal to her. The flashbacks of her putting him under electroshock therapy during the very few times he did attempt to go against her flashed through his mind, the pain something that he could never forget.

Sigma had it in his mind that when Talon saved him from that god awful facility, they were his saviors and he should be ever gratuitous for everything they did for him. But as time went on, he learned of how they actually were, and were far from being his angelic saviors, turning into his torturous captors and being treated much the same as he was in the previous facility.

Moira played with fire, and now she was going to burn.

Sigma kept tightening and tightening his grip, her neck feeling as though it was crushing under this pressure alone. Both hands were on her, and he wasn’t letting go. His thumbs were placed over her throat, making sure that he was going to crush her windpipe. Her gasps and struggles were like music to his ears, a sense of peace and tranquility washing over him in that moment.

His eyes watched hers through all of this, previously unfeeling and serious eyes now filled with fear. How the tables have turned, to now be the one who cowers before me.

Her desperate clawing began to dull, with time-- where he put up a fight, and stood as a brick wall for her to scrape away from, she clawed and writhed like a frantic, rabid animal in a too-small cage. She fought for survival, yet it certainly was a losing one. Nevertheless, her metal-reinforced nails gouged into his skin, tearing it open. She kicked at him, her shoes planting hard at his ribs-- But with the adrenaline that most assuredly coursed through him, she doubted he could feel it. Her eyes bulged, mouth frothing and tongue visible as her body began to kick in to the primal instincts of fear.

She was furious. Furious and desperate. Where she usually wore an arrogant visage, a queen atop her throne, she now felt like a desperate peasant in the hands of a vengeful God. How long had passed? Shit, had she lost count? Precious seconds ticked by as her brain began to slow, consumed by a burning haze.

Her wide eyes rolled up into her head, tears now spilling over as her pale skin turned a bright red. After a moment or two more, her strength began to wane. And finally, her hands slipped from where they dug into his wrist, the movements clumsy and haphazard as the seconds tick, tick, ticked by. Her thrashing stilled, and for a moment, the scientist almost looked at peace. Though, her lip quivered, and her arms twitched as they fell heavily to her sides, body convulsing. The room was spinning, Moira sputtering as her consciousness faded.

Without hesitation, Sigma flung her lifeless body to the ground in-between the guards that he kept down. His eyes looked at her like she was nothing but a piece of garbage, a queen who had been removed from her throne and reduced to a nobody. The marks of his fingertips were visible as oval bruises that spotted her neck, in between discolored flesh.

Sigma’s eyes glanced amongst the group of guardsmen, all of them looking up at him like they were nothing but cornered animals, pleading that he didn’t do the same to them.

He knew he had to leave, otherwise his only other option will be to be killed. As horrific as a person Moira was, they wouldn’t allow for someone in the inner circle to be killed, and by a subject no less.

As if on cue, however, gunfire could be heard outside the door-- screaming and the sounds of fighting, before the door slid open. A masked Talon grunt entered, backwards-- firing several more rounds behind him in a burst fire spray, covering them before the door slammed shut behind him. A fist broke the screen covering the hand scanner, effectively locking them in. They would be safe, for a moment.

The trademark Talon Red helmet turned to the scene before them. Cowering security staff. An unconscious doctor. A lone victor. He didn't hesitate to lift his rifle, dispatching those that were pinned to the floor with ruthless intent before he stripped his helmet off, a flash of palms to show he was no threat. "Dr. de Kuiper?" The man asked, his short hair dreadlocked and brown eyes boring into him. Siebren nodded in alarm, backing up, his hands shaking. "Looks like I came just in time." His Haitian Creole accent was hard on his lips, English sounding foreign on his tongue. "...Dr. Ziegler sent me. I'm here to get you out of here. Are you hurt?" He huffed, still breathless from the exertion.

#sigcy #sigmercy #angela ziegler #siebren de kuiper #baptiste #overwatch fics #txt #ow #mod budgie

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oh-sweet-mama · 3 years

Text

Lonely (VI)

T.W - talk of self harm, talk of suicide

3 weeks later 7 days until the full moon Remus

The feeling of my shoulder blades cutting into my ribs, just added to the feeling of the dulcet ache that seemed to consume me.

3 weeks. 3 fucking weeks. Y/n can't stand to be in the same room as me. Let alone my D.A.D.A partner, but she somehow tolerates it.

Fully cooperating with the work we have to do, like a royal servant. Matching purple under eye bags adorned both of our faces, but somehow made her more eternal.

Over the weeks she had slowly stopped coming to the meals at the great hall, and the effects were starting to show. Her cheek bones were becoming more prominent on her face, and her usually rosy color, long faded away.

The usual radiant y/c/e's faded away to leave a monotone grey. She seemed so fragile, like a Porcelain doll, if only I had treated her that way.

So fuckin' stupid Remus.

A note hit my forehead and landed in front of me.

Keep staring at her like that she'll end up with two holes In the side of her head.

S.B

Recognizing the messy handwriting, before even finishing the note, I immediately knew who it was.

The feeling of tears pricked the sides of the eyes, but I ran out of tears to cry long ago. Instead the feeling of a dulcet ache in the chest replaced the physical show of emotions.

6 days until the full moon Y/n

My shitty diet consisted of Tea, cigarettes, and what ever my friends brought me back to the dorm. Of course I tell them that I'm not their responsibility, but they still bring me the occasional muffin or biscuit.

James brought me entire meals, of which I could barely consume the entire thing.

You have to do it you have to tell him.

No. No I couldn't. I can't risk losing someone else. He would hate me if I ever told him. Send me to the ministry, report me to Dumbledore, hell I'd get kicked out of Hogwarts.

I still maintain physical hygiene and grades. The two most important things. Can't smell and can't fail.

The ache in my chest was never there, maybe it had to do with the fact that I'm always high enough to fend it off.

First tip, the best way to get over someone, get all the emotions out, get numb, act like it never happened.

Easy, right? No. You can't just act like it never happened, he was all I had, all I'll ever have.

I just wasn't good enough.

I stopped going to parties, instead focused on my studies. One of the best in my class.

'Y/n what's your secret?'

'I don't know, uh drugs? Heartbreak? Both?'

5 days until the full moon Remus

The increasing uncomfortable pressure on my joints was almost enough to distract me from her. Almost.

I just want to run up to her and tell her everything, drag Sirius, and make him confess too. Maybe we'll all be happy together.

The imagine of the three of us happy together and in love. Clouded my head. I thought about it so much it was almost tangible.

Her daily routine trips to Madam Pompfrey had me assuming the worse. I had my fare share of bandaging up Sirius' forearms and upper thighs.

I tried to think, her period maybe? No, she's had hers for years, she would just excuse herself to the toilet.

My mind just defaulted into the worse case possible.

Suicide?

My heart thumped in an uneven painful rhythm. Swallowing a lump in my throat I hadn't even known formed I continued to attempt to let my teacher teach me the material of today's lesson.

Please be ok y/n, please, I love you to much to lose you, even though I've already have

4 days until the full moon

Tell him, tell him, he'll help you. The pain is too much, please it hurts.

I took a deep breath calming the clamoring thoughts in my head. A very dangerous place to be at this time of the month.

James was sitting next to me on my bed, the way he usually does, reading something. I noticed the title of his cover.

Lycanthropy: Everything you need to know and why their still human

"Didn't know we were learning about Lycan's in D.A.D.A." I murmured, focusing back on my own book.

"We're not, personal purpose." James answered back.

"What's your opinion on them?" I asked getting more nervous for James' answer.

Tell him, tell him, he'll help you. James loves you, he'll help you.

"There people, humans, witch or wizard, just with a condition. Doesn't make them dangerous, just misunderstood." James answered, "why do you ask?"

My eyes went wide, my pulse sky rocketing, the sudden awareness of the blood rushing through my veins.

"N-no reason." I desperately hid behind the small potions handbook from the library.

"Y/n/n?"

"Hmm? Very interesting potion here yes-"

"Wolves bane potion? How ironic, oh and your little wolves bane garden?"

My face paled, all of the blood rushing from my head into my toes.

Oh why can't I just sink to the bed and disappear?

"Very lovely flowers yes?"

"Do you, have, anything you want to tell me?" James asked causally not looking away from his book.

Oh what the hell.

"Fine! Fine!" I got up from the bed, tossing my book in the process, "I'm a werewolf!"

James froze in his spot. Before slowly lower his book so his eyes could peek above.

"What?"

"I contracted Lycanthropy ok?"

"Y/n sit down, and tell me everything, ok?" A sweet tone, of compassion and understanding, allowed me to sit and tell him everything.

3 days until the full moon

Remus

Nearing the summed of the month, a deep pit of anxiety took place, along with the increasing pain across my body. Sleep easily overcome me at any point possible, but restlessness at any other time.

Dozens of old scars, reminded me of the painful transformation. I pondered the lonely pain, that radiated through my diaphragm. Even being with one of the loves of my life, the immense feeling of being alone, was over clouding my mind.

Though James had been acting different, skittish, more than usual. He was usually found escorting Y/n.

Again in D.A.D.A, We were granted a study hall period, in the Great hall. Books open, parchments being scratched on, quills moving from their ink pots, and light chatter amongst the tables. The table segment of which I sat was mostly empty, Sirius lightly leaning on my left side. A soft voice came by and stopped right in front of me.

Glancing up for a moment, my eyes glued to the figure in front of me. Y/n. oh shit oh shit, keep it cool Remus, don't scare her away now. Though a few seconds later James adorned her side, as usual.

2 days until the full moon Y/n

The secret was out, at least a little, an invisible weight was lifted off of my chest. Granting less anxiety about the first shift of the school year.

Actively avoiding the conversation, about where I go, or how it happened, I seemed to feel free. I guess I hadn't seemed to notice the weight of the secret I had been keeping.

It had become second nature, to harbor such a deadly illness, no harm shall come to them. I promised myself. Even if it meant lying to them.

It's better to not have them know, than having them risk their lives for something I can handle.

1 day until the full moon Remus

Y/n seemed to be getting healthier with the promotion and consolation of James. Every one needs someone to lean on.

I just wish I had been me. Maybe if I had told her, told her about my illness that seemed to consume me at times. Hell, my best friends and boyfriend knew about me long before we even started dating.

Yet 2 years had gone by and I couldn't bring myself to tell her, I was afraid of losing her. But I still did.

The day of the full moon 3rd person

"Y/n, please come with me, trust me please!" James begged to the girl, that refused any type of help. "You've already taken the wolves bane potion, and you can't hurt me. You know why? Because Lycans don't attack Animagus'"

"You're an Animagus?" Y/n whispered, just above her breath.

"Yes. Now please." James held his hand out to her, in a silent last offer of help. Y/n laced her fingers with James' and he sped off with her close in tow.

James pulled a seemingly blank piece of paper from His hoodie pocket, and let go of her hand.

"James, what are you doing?" Y/n asked in a hush tone.

A wild grin played out on James' face, "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good." The Incantation, followed through the tip of James' wand and caused ink to spread around the parchment. Names moved across through what looked like halls.

"What is that?"

"Marauders map, shows what every one is doing, every minute of everyday, see, there Dumbledore, in his office. I was just making sure the rest of the marauders were on their way and was no one coming."

"Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs?"

"Yea you'll see, come on now." James snatched Y/n's wrist and ran, taking her out of the castle and towards the shrieking shack.

"James the willow! Be careful!"

He continued to tug the girl behind him.

"James!"

"Hurry, there almost there." Reaching the edge of the field where the whomping willow resided, James stuffed the map back into his pocket.

"James? What the hell, where were you?" The rest of the marauders came out from behind a group of trees, "and what the fuck is she doing here?" Sirius snapped

"Can I tell them, Y/n?" James asked.

"I will," y/n replied in a hushed tone.

"Tell us what! You're dating?" Sirius scoffed.

"No, I-I'm a werewolf, a Lycan, a lycanthrope, whatever you want to call it! James said you could help me, last time I went to my usual spot, I fractured both of my legs and laid in the middle of the forbidden forest for 3 days"

Sirius paled out, and looked back to Remus.

"If you want me to go, tell me now, I've taken the Wolves bane potion, it's only a couple hours hike into the forbidden forest."

Remus felt his heart drop, then a deep ache. How long? I guess she also had no right to tell me, just as I never told her.

"No, Y/n stay, let's go inside." Remus said, sincerity laced into his voice. Her face softened.

"Where?" She asked.

Remus pointed to the willow. Her face paled.

James headed over to Peter to discuss who would stay outside in case anything went south. Sirius looked to Remus.

Remus took a few hesitant steps toward her. Before reaching his hand out offering her safe passage. Instead she swooped in gently under his arm.

Remus' heart swelled, maybe she does still love me after all.

1888 words

Ahhhahahahhah

It's finally coming together baiwbsiaiensl

-Kal

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fangyymusic · 4 years

Text

Some things I could imagine happening between my boyfriend and I’s fursonas and OCs:

1. Fang has his two friends over- Boris and K9- and they’re all playing a dumb game of Truth or Dare. Because K9 “Isn’t a wuss”, he picks dare. Fang clears his throat and asks for a pizza. Already realizing how he shouldn’t have said dare, K9 reluctantly pulls up his phone.

“What do you want?”

“Get us a medium pizza. Split it in half. One side just plain cheese and the other sausage. For Sirus.”

K9 sighs.

“Is that all?”

“Cheese sticks.” Sirus hisses while he stares K9 down and K9 proceeds to hate himself more as he puts that in.

“Are you going to at least share?” K9 asks the two boyfriends, whom are cuddling on the couch.

“No, you owe me.”

And, as usual, Fang was right. That dipshit always owes Fang money.

2. Sirus literally tying into Fang and playing Rocket League while they both wait. Fang has no idea how to feel about this.

3. Sirus tends to fall asleep in a variety of places around the house. Fang finds him napping in the corner of the couch curled up, under surfaces, and sometimes lodged in weird spaces like behind the couch or on the floor, plopped down right where that perfect, single ray of sunlight hits.

4. Fang makes breakfast for Sirus before he leaves to work. He likes to leave sticky notes for him too.

5. Something tells me Sirus’s diet is 5% spaghetti and the other 95% is Fang’s boy syrup (hAh boy syrup).

6. Sirus catches Fang listening to one of his songs. He’s humiliated, super flustered, and flattered at most. Then Fang proceeds to ask him if he’d like to make a song with them. Sirus melts, as per usual.

7. Sirus gets lonely super quickly when Fang isn’t around. Fang works most weekdays, so Sirus is usually home by himself. I feel like to cope with his loneliness, he’d call his friend Styrix over to hang out.

But he’s still lonely.

So he whips out his phone and begins to call Fang. When Fang answers, Sirus whines.

“Fang, honey, I miss you... I’m lonely and it’s been foreverrrr...”

Right in front of Styrix. Poor guy is a third wheel.

8. Fang has flowers in the front yard. Something tells me Sirus waters them if Fang forgets. Something about that is super cute.

9. Fang definitely squish’s Sirus’s cheeks.

10. Sirus blushing when Fang and Styrix begin showing off how impressive their maws are. He just has this dumb obsession with how big Fang’s teeth are.

11. They probably both have a height difference fetish to be honest.

12. Sirus REFUSES to let go of Fang’s tail and probably has gotten lost in it several times. He sleeps with it and is just obsessed.

13. Fang makes a self-deprecating joke and Sirus stops him and makes him eat his words. Sirus makes a self-deprecating joke and suddenly he’s showered with gifts, a fancy dinner is planned and probably some one-on-one sexy time. Nice.

14. Them. Freaking out over Monstercat artists. Essentially my boyfriend and I on that field.

15. I feel like Fang pays Styrix to cash in on his weird shenanigans.

16. If Styrix ever met Boris and K9 and got along with them, they’d all be the chaotic, stupid boy group to constantly annoy Fang and Sirus. Not that they don’t already, just the floor may be coated in soap one afternoon.

17. Boris and K9 are British so that means they don’t exist.

18. Fang and Sirus have like no friends and chronic crippling depression.

19. Sirus definitely likes to get Fang “excited” before important work meetings just for his own enjoyment.

20. Sirus definitely squeezes into weird spaces for no reason. He gets stuck often and needs his heroic boyfriend to get him out.

21. FANG. AND SIRUS. SINGING TOGETHER. ABOUT. THEIR. LOVE. Or just in general, that’s cool too.

22. Fang and Sirus dressing edgy together.

23. Fang is having a breakdown so he dabs on some glittery eyeshadow and sticks on some bizarre long lashes and Sirus walks in and casually asks to be done too. Just to accompany Fang.

24. If Fang is too anxious to check out in a store, Sirus will do it. And vice versa.

25. Fang sitting on the couch and Sirus is curled up around him, napping and purring.

26. Fang’s constant expression is simply just flat out exhausted and angry. His brows are always furrowed and you can visibly see how little sleep he got. Same with Sirus; his face is usually void to most emotion. Suddenly they see eachother and smiles explode on their faces and they become a hugging, kissing mess.

27. They hold hands in public.

28. Fang playing guitar and singing to Sirus during a hill picnic. He’s a hopeless romantic like that.

29. Sirus watching Fang furiously and precisely brush his precious teeth.

30. If any sort of mention of “parent” is brought up, I feel like Sirus would deck somebody on the spot if Fang’s around.

31. Although I do, Fang doesn’t make jokes about his dead parents. Please don’t. His feelings will be very hurt.

32. Fang makes weird fox noises at Sirus, probably.

33. Since Sirus is short, he can probably sit on Fang’s shoulders and purr,,

34. Sirus likes to go get his hair cut and every time Fang freaks out over it and insists taking a few pictures to keep for himself.

35. Neither of them would ever ask for the other’s passwords to anything. Privacy means everything to them.

36. Sirus cheering on Fang deepthroating whole eggs.

37. “E.” “Agreed.”

38. Don’t touch either of them. They don’t like being touched. Funny because nobody wants to be around them anyways.

39. Fang LOVES cooking for Sirus. He will cook anything Sirus wants and do it out of the blue. I can imagine Sirus minding his business playing Xbox with his friends and suddenly Fang walks in with a plate. It has a sandwich on it. He cut the crust off and cut it into triangles. On the side, some cinnamon applesauce. As he sets the food and a can of soda for him down he says,

“Here, sweetie. I made you something to gnaw on. If you need absolutely anything else, let me know, okay?” And he goes and kisses Sirus on the forehead and Sirus is all blushy and everything. Sirus tells him he loves him and briefly explains to his friends his boyfriend’s odd, caring nature.

40. In case I haven’t mentioned before, Fang is super motherly toward his boyfriend and just in general. He cleans and cooks idly like some sort of NPC.

41. Fang, Sirus, Styrix, Boris and K9 all on the floor playing DnD.

“Can I roll to fuck the dragon?”

“No.” - Probably Fang.

42. Fang using a laser pointer to play with Sirus.

43. If alcohol is mentioned you will be bashed in the head by your mom, Fang.

44. Fang casually walking up to Sirus with a broom and several other things in his other hand asking for help making a cover art for a song.

45. Fang humming Sirus to sleep.

46. If Fang doesn’t hear from Sirus in ten minutes tops (nice) he will probably sob in a pillow hoping he didn’t do anything wrong.

47. Spoiler alert, Fang and Sirus never fight and always come to eachother maturely if something is up. It’s usually fixed in seconds but Fang is an anxious mess and wants his precious boyfriend to be happy all the time.

48. Fang hates his birthday and the day it’s on. Sirus goes out of his way to make it enjoyable for him.

49. Styrix texting and calling Sirus at like 6 AM to the point Sirus wakes up and just questions his existence.

50. “I have this pretty bad stomach ache... I don’t know from what though.”

“Mm... Could it have something to do with the fact we cooperatively ate two large pizzas together?”

“Couldn’t be.”

51. Fang is hemophobic. Not so much if he himself bleeds, but if Sirus bleeds as much as a paper cut he will literally pass out.

52. They definitely sing in the car together.

🎶“When you say I’m the only one I must admit it!” 🎶

53. Fang sucks ass at games, but Sirus doesn’t mind at all when it comes to him. When it comes to anyone else, however...

54. Fang’s room is freezing cold so they kind of have to snuggle.

55. Homemade dinner is common from Fang. If you go over to have dinner you’re in for something special.

56. Sirus loves Fang’s food. I’d imagine Fang cooks steak one night and Sirus is hesitant until he tries it. He then concludes he only likes Fang’s steak. (Nice.)

57. Pet names galore. They love gushing over eachother like weirdos and never ever leave eachother alone. They’re so dumbly in love.

58. Fang and Sirus making out on Styrix’s couch and Styrix is just like “This is fine.”

59. Fang and Sirus have Styrix over and say something relatively dirty. Styrix is an innocent, good-looking dumbass and just furrows his eyebrows and questions what’s going on. This is hard for everybody.

60. K9 and Fang are talking. K9 briefly mentions his daughter and Sirus just “Wait, how old are you?”

61. Fang is really closeted. Yet is cool with usual PDA and won’t hesitate to stand up for his homosexuality.

62. Soda.

63. Sirus, a 5’3 petite Canadian Lynx absolutely tops and dominates his 6’1 fox boyfriend.

64. Both of them are covered in questionable marks and scars. They both try to hide it.

65. “You’re adorable!” “No! You are!” And then they make out to make a point.

66. Them eating ice-cream together,,,

67. Their relationship is 40% wholesomeness and 50% other kinky dirty shit.

68. Fang’s closet is just full of questionable things he’d rather only Sirus see.

69. They definitely do this.

70. Making out but, like, all the time.

71. Sirus getting a body pillow that smells like Fang in order to cope with his separation anxiety. Chances are he fucks the pillow- So- That must be interesting.

72. Fang comes home and the first thing Sirus does is ask to be fucked. He sighs.

73. You mention something remotely dirty and Sirus gets a boner somehow.

74. Styrix sitting on their couch and doing something on his phone. He just looks up at Sirus and asks, “What’s a ‘handjob’ and why are they so expensive?” And Fang and Sirus just. Die.

75. Styrix just walks in on Sirus getting beat off from Fang and he doesn’t get why they screamed.

76. K9 getting “kicked out” of his house (he lives with his siblings). Fang and Sirus are snuggling in bed late at night and K9 just. Knocks on Fang’s window and scares the hell out of him. And he just begs to stay the night. He sleeps on the couch in the living room but fails to sleep due to questionable noises. He then begs Fang for breakfast because he likes his food. I for some reason feel like he’d bother the fuck out of Sirus because he’s like that and Sirus just chills in Fang’s room, probably snuggling his body pillow and being horny and just trying to ignore the fact someone is using his Xbox. I mean, not that he cares... or does he?

77. Sirus expressing his dislike toward Amy to Fang while Fang tiredly makes himself coffee. Sirus is ranting while eating his spaghetti and Fang chimes in to wipe the bit of marinara sauce on his chin.

78. Fang and Sirus casually listening to music and suddenly Monochrome Romance plays and Fang just “WAIT” and Sirus just morphs into a tomato.

79. “My aunt wants to come over.”

“Does she know you’re gay?”

“Good question.”

“Should we be worried?”

“Maybe if we take her out to dinner she’ll be too focused on the food to care if I’m being pegged.”

80. Sirus’s gallery is just full of pictures he took of Fang without him knowing.

81. I feel, for some reason, Fang and Sirus have each other’s nudes on their phones so they hesitate giving their phones to other people.

82. Styrix calling Sirus and Fang picks up.

“He can’t talk right now-“ All while he’s breathing uneasily.

“What? Why not? Are you okay? Your voice is all shaky.”

Then he just hears the phone drop and Fang “Sirus!” In the background followed by other concerning sounds. Two minutes later Sirus picks up his phone.

“Can we talk later?”

“Why?? I need to talk now-“

Then he just hangs up and Styrix proceeds to annoy him in every way possible,,

83. What even IS Styrix’s size?

84. (Again with the K9 staying over concept) Sirus walks into the dark kitchen to see Fang making something and he’s all like

“Baby, you left bed. What are you doing?”

“I’m making hot chocolate with rainbow marshmallows for K9.”

Sirus squints.

“Isn’t he our age...?”

Fang just looks over at him with bags under his eyes.

“Yes.”

85. K9 is riding in Fang’s car and Sirus is in the passenger seat. K9 leans in toward Fang through the back seat and he just whines, “Faaang, can we pleaaaase get McDonald’s? I’m hungry...”

Fang thinks about it and flicks his eyes over to his boyfriend. He knows Sirus likes fries. He also likes fries.

“Well, that means I don’t have to cook; but you’re paying.”

“That’s fine! Just don’t get something super expensive!”

It was easy to tell K9 was super excited. As they waited in the drive-thru Fang’s fingers curl within Sirus’s. He somewhat shyly looks up at him.

“What do you want?”

K9 at this point knew Fang only pulled into McDonald’s to feed Sirus but who cares when you have McNuggets.

86. “You underestimate my love for steak.” “Fang, I literally didn’t say anything.” “My original statement still stands.”

87. Fang and Sirus run into K9 in public with his daughter. Fang goes up to K9′s daughter and introduces his boyfriend to her.

“Hey, Maple! How are you doing?”

“Oh, you know.” She fumbles around and crosses her arms. “School... Yourself?” She eyes Sirus next to him.

“I’m fine! Have you met my boyfriend? I don’t think you have. This is Sirus. Sirus, this is K9′s daughter. Her name is Mapleleaf.”

He gives Sirus a hearty smooch on the cheek, Maple giving off a funny smile.

“I had no idea you were gay, uncle Fang.”

“Well, neither did I half of high school.”

88. K9 is on an important Zoom call but Fang and Sirus just begin violently fucking behind him and he just picks up his camera and says “Right, I’m moving out of this room.”

89. K9 playing on the Xbox Fang keeps in the living room while Fang sweeps in front of him.

“Could you get out the way? I’m trying to play Skyrim. This is like, the eighth time you cleaned today.”

Fang stares at him with tired, angry eyes.

“Does it matter? You can’t play Skyrim worth shit.”

“... Is that a no, then?”

“I swear there’s this one speck of dust I just can’t get.”

90. Fang and Sirus are lying awake in bed. Sirus is recording the whole ordeal on his phone and it’s easy to see Fang is very annoyed at the fact his friend K9 invited his brother and a friend over- very late at night.

You can clearly hear them talking and laughing loudly and Sirus can’t help but snicker at Fang’s temper very slowly leaving him. Fang finally gets up and starts putting some clothes on.

Sirus turns his head over to the doorway and watches Fang leave. This is the conversation he hears them yelling.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Sirus hears in a deep, stern tone that could have the potential to turn him on probably.

There’s a silence until K9 speaks up.

“Oh, I just invited Boris and Amy over...-“

“Do you have any idea of what time it is?”

There’s another silence.

“It is three. In the FUCKING. MORNING. I wake up at five every fucking morning for work. Did I mention it’s Monday? Do you know how long it takes for my fur to dry? An hour. I work hard every fucking week. I work overtime whenever I can to squeeze in every little penny possible. I cook for you, offered you a place to stay because you have the weirdest FUCKING relationship with your siblings, I give you money that- oh yeah, YOU NEED TO PAY BACK. You owe me about one thousand... ten? Dollars now and I expect it. All of it, every penny of it. I do all this for you and you don’t even let me sleep so I can work tomorrow? This ISN’T your house. This is me and my boyfriend’s house. OUR house. You’re just staying in it. I’d personally appreciate if you could let me fucking sleep so I can wake back up, shower, wait an hour just to dry my fucking fur, put on my suit, make breakfast, and whatever the fuck so I can afford a ring and support Sirus and I’s dreams. The LEAST you could do. Is ASK to invite someone over. The LEAST.”

Sirus has his eyes wide in bed and he’s staring at the doorway. He could hear the living room be dead silent for a hot minute, then an unfamiliar female voice shyly rose.

“Do... do you want me to leave?”

“Whatever. Whatever. Make youself at home, Amy, Boris. At three in the morning. Uninvited. Without me or Sirus’s permission.”

Fang walks back into the bedroom, closing the door. He begins to button his shirt back off and his eyebrows immediately soften.

“Are you okay darling...?”

Sirus snorted and laughed into his pillow.

“What? What’s so funny?”

“You- you just... grew soft so fast... I’ve never heard you be so mad...”

“Mm...” Fang slid back into bed next to Sirus, Sirus quickly returns to his place on Fang’s chest. As soon as Sirus considered stopping the recording, K9 walks into their room. Ah, this is gonna be good...

K9 clears his throat.

“Look, sorry for not asking either of you for permisson, but please... come on Fang, even you usually have some decency when it comes to this stuff-“

“This isn’t your house.”

“I’m not finished!”

“I wouldn’t care if it kept me from getting sleep!”

“Oh! So you care about getting sleep, huh?? Well it sure is hard to tell when I lay on your couch every night to... to hear you and Sirus just FUCKING!! Fucking every fucking night! How do you expect ME to sleep when all I can hear is ‘Aahh! Sirus! Deeper, please!’?! If anything, this is payback!”

Fang quietly lipped at Sirus, “Are... are we that loud?”

“I tend not to pay attention.” Sirus said and shrugged, laughing internally at the two’s arguing.

“Oh, so you do it on purpose? Wow! But you come in and scream at me like you’re my mom that you can’t sleep-“

“I work tomorrow. Get the fuck out our room.”

K9 turns and stubbornly slams their door. Fang completely slides himself free of all his clothes and holds Sirus real close.

Sirus began to purr... “A ring...? You’re saving up to marry me?”

Fang put a finger to the lynx’s lips. “Rest love... rest...”

91. Fang eats ice-cream religiously and his freezer is full of nothing else.

92. Fang wearing a variety of gay looking outfits.

93. Wouldn’t it be cute if Fang owned Monstercat merch?

94. It’s canon Fang’s laptop is covered in Monstercat artist stickers.

95. Sirus is blogging through his phone and walking throughout the house just talking. He walks across the living room to a coat closet next to the front door.

“Uhh, yeah. This is our coat closet, and-“ He opens the door to reveal it’s Fang’s storage for his weird, expensive emo boots, chains, belts and whatever else. He steps inside just to circle around.

“I don’t know what the hell he’s doing... I don’t think I’m interested in knowing how much money went into this but some of these I’ve just never seen him wear... look, we have coats, but they’re...” He pushes other clothes like jackets a little farther up the clothes rack to show that the coats here are old and clearly have been forgotten about. “We only have like, two coats in our coat closet. The rest is just shoes and stuff.”

He stops touching things and starts moving out the door.

“So... anyways, he wants to fix this door, because, for some reason? The doorknob is really weird,”

He closes the door to the closet and shows off the doorknob that looks perfectly fine.

“I told him it’s been bothering me because this doorknob looks different from every other doorknob in this house... I don’t know what we’re gonna do about it because neither of us are very ‘handy’...” He turns the camera toward him while he’s running his fingers through his hair. “I think that’s a gay thing. I don’t know. I haven’t met a single homosexual who can fix stuff...”

96. Fang screaming, “Sirus! Sirus! Sirus! Sirus!!!! Look at me!! Look!!” And Sirus tiredly looks up at him to see him holding a roll of toilet paper. He puts it on top of his head.

“I’m Marshmello.”

97. A picture of Fang holding Sirus by the scruff captioned “Capped me one of those Canadian Lynx bfs”

98. Sirus gets the slightest upset with Fang and Fang is on his knees trying to make it up to his tiny boyfriend.

99. Sirus is showing Fang a song in process. Fang hums.

“Ooh, oh wow! That sounds amazing! And when you add the vocals it’ll be even more amazing! Just one thing though... that reverb is way too wet on the master. Why do you even have reverb on the master?”

Sirus looks really confused, and he furrows his eyebrows at Fang.

“... You... can have too much reverb?”

“Way too much. Turn that reverb down and maybe even consider taking it off the master.”

“I need... it on the master...”

“No, you don’t. It sounds way too wet throughout the entire song. That’s not what you want.”

“I like wet.”

Fang sighs.

100. Why is the thought of Sirus having a potentially thick Canadian accent so hot?

101. I’m pretty sure Styrix doesn’t even know his own sexuality. He’s too busy looking in a mirror to care about that.

102. If Sirus did have a Canadian accent, Fang would beg him to just keep talking.

103. (Again with the accent) Sirus is talking on the phone to Styrix. Fang is next to him, doing work on his laptop.

Sirus looks over at Fang.

“Fang, Styrix is wondering if he can come over to our house?”

Fang pauses for a minute. He slowly smiles and looks at Sirus with loving eyes. He begins to to repeat him.

“‘House’ huh?” Fang said, mimicking Sirus’s accent.

“Oh my god, not this again. House.”

“‘House’.~”

“... House!”

“‘House’.”

“Can he come over or not?!”

“Sure thing, cutie.”

Now Sirus is angy.

104. Neither of them have self-control. I know for a fact Fang won’t hesitate to suddenly and randomly hug Sirus just so he could start feeling around his body. Best thing? Sirus won’t be able to do anything about it. Fang’s got a tight grip on him and now he can play with Sirus’s body as much as he wants.

... Same with Sirus. Sirus may be small but he can still make dirty remarks and fondle with Fang’s crotch- sitting on it, taking off his shirt, any of that.

To be fair just Sirus talking turns Fang on, so. Nice.

105. Fang is snuggling Sirus in bed. He starts to feel him a little bit, Sirus whining.

“Is that poke I feel you?” Fang chuckles, sliding his hand down Sirus’s pants.

“Shame.~”

106. Sirus fake moans just for shits and giggles. In response, Fang pins him down and dares him to do it again.

107. Fang threatens to beat Sirus up for jokes. He takes off his belt and immediately Sirus starts blushing when he’s trying to escape getting hit.

108. Sirus wakes up early to feel a tender, warm rubbing at his crotch along with something a little heavy resting on his leg.

“Sleep well, little lynx?” Fang whispers in a bass-y tone, kissing his cheek. Sirus mumbles.

“What time is it?... What are you doing?...”

“Just thought I’d help you wake up a little bit, kitty.”

“... Why are you so horny...” Sirus squeaks, moving around a little bit.

“Mmh... woke up this way... like the way that feels, sugarplum?~”

Sirus sighed longingly. “Ghh... yeah...”

109. Fang is groping at Sirus’s ass softly on the couch, holding him tight.

“Hey kitty... you’re all mine, aren’t you?”

“Mhm...” Sirus groans, his face snuggled into the fox’s chest.

“All mine... nobody else’s... my lynx... right?~”

“Yes, darlin’... I am... ghh...”

He spanks Sirus softly and listens to him hiss in pain. He rubs the spot gently. Sirus moans.

“I-I am all yours, daddy! I am!”

110. Sirus looking rabid with a chicken leg in his mouth.

111. “Imagine having dead parents, couldn’t be me.” Fang says as Sirus stares at him and watches his eyes tear up.

112. Sirus is being pouty.

“I’m not cute!”

Fang pushes him right up against the wall and smooshes their lips together, making out with him passionately. He pulls back to Sirus blushing and says,

“Yes you are.”

113. Fang is snuggling with Sirus.

“Are you purring?” Fang leans into the lynx, listening to his body and feeling the vibrations.

“... Y... Yes...?”

Fang melts and covers him in kisses. He absolutely LOVES it when his baby purrs.

114. Fang is wearing a blue polo with small, colorful geometric shapes on it. You know, casual clothing.

Sirus squints at him.

“What is your obsession with looking like a bus seat?”

115. Fang fucking Sirus so raw that Sirus can’t move for like, a week.

#furry #fursonas #fursona #oc #ocs #boyfriend #gay #lgbtq #lgbt #homosexual #furries #canons #headcanons #headcanon #concept #concepts #idea #ideas #mxm #fox #lynx #list

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aliceinanderson · 3 years

Text

two doors down - self para

who?: alice anderson & male oc (with a special appearance from lincoln clarington-smythe) where?: dan & nia’s wedding reception / mckinley choir room when?: saturday, november 7th / monday, november 9th about?: alice has a revelation of sorts while hiding in the bathroom at the wedding and decides to bring her new found confidence to the glee club just in time for dolly vs. taylor week. set to dolly parton’s two doors down.

Alice couldn’t help the niggling feeling of regret that sat in her gut. Yes, the wedding had been beautiful and she had enjoyed watching the married couple’s first dance and it gave Alice an excuse to wear the dress she had been given for Christmas last year, but it became pretty clear pretty quickly that most of Alice’s night was going to spent standing against the wall.

As Jaz & Serenity continued their Wedding Party Opener, Alice felt her stomach twist and turn with anxiety. Wiping her sweaty palms on the skirt section of her dress, Alice did her best to discreetly get up so that she could head to the bathrooms. Head down and shoulder slumped, the brunette felt someone grab her by the elbow and spin her around. It was Lincoln, making his way to the side of stage for his duet, dressed it what Alice had to assume was a recreation of a Doja Cat look from her knowledge of the song she new Bodhi and Link were going to performing. His face was pulled into a look of disapproval and Alice felt herself shrink under his glare. “You’re really going to dip right before I go on? I’ll remember that, bitch,” he stage whispered to her, as if to not disturb the other wedding guests around her. While Alice knew there was more likely than not no actual malice behind his words, it certainly didn’t help with her sudden and intense episode of anxiety and the second he let go of her arm, she dashed out of the hall and into a bathroom stall.

Locking the stall door and sitting on the closed seat of the toilet, Alice put her head in her hands. This was a mistake. She just didn’t know how to be a person in social situations where she wasn’t playing a character. Alice was a nobody, she didn’t have the private school experience that her brother did, she didn’t have the popularity and social circles that some of the other girls in Glee did. And every day she had to deal with the fact she was planning to pack her bags and leave her family behind and run back to L.A. She didn’t belong here but how the Hell was she supposed to belong in L - fucking - A?

“ two doors down they're laughing and drinking and having a party. and two doors down they're not aware that I'm around.”

Alice choked out a sob, wiping her nose with the back of her hand, not caring if her makeup ended up smudged of if she had just ended up with a total snot rocket on her face. She had no plans on going back to the reception. But the last thing she was going to do was call her dad to pick her up.

“ but here i am crying my heart out, feeling sorry but they're having a party just two doors down. ”

Pulling a wad of toilet paper out of the roll and giving her face a quick wipe-over before flushing it, Alice took a deep breath and unlocked the stall, only to be staring at the face of a total stranger through the mirror, who was washing his hands and looked just as emotionally fucked over as she felt. Alice gave the boy, who appeared to around her age, although she assumed he must’ve been from NIa’s side of the family considering she had never seen him around McKinley, a empathetic smile and went up to the sink next to him.

“i think i'll dry these useless tears and get myself together. i think i’ll wander down the hall and have a look around 'cause i can't stay inside this lonely room and cry forever. i think I'd really rather join 'em two doors down. ”

She nudged the other teen’s shoulder with her own, trying to get him smile. Alice hated seeing people sad, it was the last thing she wanted. He let out a breath through his nose, corners of his mouth twitching up. “I’m Alice,” she said as she turned off the faucet, and as she pulled out a few sheets of paper towel from the dispenser, she heard him answer; “Pleasure’s all mine. I’m Coop.”

Alice turned around, nose scrunched up. “Coop? Like Cooper? I wish you didn’t tell me that, that’s my dads name!” she exclaimed playfully, faking a look of disgust that got a proper laugh out of him. God, he had a really nice smile...

“So, you from Dan’s side of the family?

“Kinda, he coaches one of the Glee club’s at my school and my uncle’s were his dad’s students because dad also coached the same glee club, like, a billion years ago. It’s a weird family dynamic,” she explained with a shrug. She tried not to over think how everyone she knew was connected in some way or another. “Enough about me though, Coop, what’s got you so sad for?” She quickly changed the subject, handing the boy some paper towel of his own.

“I’m...not great at parties. Even back in New York, I’m much a mess at them. Big social events with people I don’t know? With two white boys singing Tia Tamera no less? It was just too much for me, I needed to step out for a second.”

Alice nodded in understanding, looking down at her feet. She knew exactly how he felt.

“Come here, lemme fix your face up real quick,” he said softly, holding up a piece of the paper towel he had been given, the corner wetted.

Tucking a section of her hair behind her ear in nervous habit, Alice took a few steps forward until the two were only a few inches away. Coop took the extra step, closing the gap, and carefully wiped away some of the smudged mascara from under her eyes. Alice’s mouth grew dry, breath becoming shallow. She’d never been this close to a pretty show off-stage before...She swiped her tongue over her now-dry bottom lip and watched as Coop’s eyes followed down to her lips.

Oh my God...Was what Alice thought was going to happen...about to happen?!

Coop slowly pulled his hand away, resting the paper towel on the sink bench before bringing it back up and placing it on Alice’s cheek. Her face red, Alice felt something in the back on her mind click and she placed her own hand over Coop’s, his skin warm against hers. Slowly, the two leant close into a kiss.

This was it, Alice’s first ever off-stage kiss with a boy and she didn’t even know his last name. She fucking loved it!

When Coop eventually pulled himself away, a smile curving up across his face that Alice couldn’t help but copy, the two stood, frozen for a few more moments.

“So...my folks were able to get me a room with a double bed, so they could be with my baby sister...if you wanted to, I dunno, stay the night or something.” Coop’s voice was quiet and his tone hesitant, not knowing where things were going to go from here.

Alice reached out and straightened out Coop’s bowtie before letting a smirk sneak upon her mouth.

“‘Or something’ sounds like it could be nice.”

“ two doors down we're laughing and drinking and having a party. and two doors down they're all aware that i'm around. 'cause here i am no longer crying and feeling sorry. we're having a party just two doors down! ”

The two teens ran down the hall of the Inn, hand-in-hand and Alice’s heel clutched in her free hand, past the ballroom and into the elevator.

It felt like a dream. A hot boy from New York City had just kissed her at wedding and now they were going to his hotel room to do...it! Alice had read this trope a thousand times in her books - although they usually ended with the boy revealing he had fangs or something - and never in her eighteen years did she ever think it would happen to her.

“ i can't believe I'm standing here dry-eyed, all smiles and talkin', making conversation with the new love i've found. i ask him if he'd like to be alone and we start walkin' down the hall to his place waiting two doors down, yeah. ”

The two continued to kiss, pressed against the corner of the elevator, until the universally familiar ‘ding’ of them reaching their desire floor sounded. As they stumbled out into the hall, giggling and laughing just like the movies, Coop fished his room key out of her pants pocket as he did, Alice’s face dropped into a serious expression and she quickly placed her hand over the door knob as he went to unlock the door.

“Just so you know, I’m not prepared for the emotional commitment of a long distance relationship and once I graduate I plan on going to California. But I will happily give you my number and social media and if I ever find myself in New York one day...”

Coop laughed, warm and sweet, and took Alice’s hand in his once again.

“Understood. No strings attached. Just two new friends getting to know each other and having some fun.

“Exactly.”

“ two doors down they're laughing and drinking and having a party and two doors down we're not aware that they're around. 'cause here i am feeling everything but sorry. we're having our own party two doors down! ”

Alice felt like a new woman. Well, not literally. Nothing had physically changed and she wasn’t a strong supporter of virginity as a concept in the first place...

But, boy, it just felt so right! She had gotten the ‘talk’ from her dad, about how she only have sex when she was certain it was the right time, right place and with the right person.

And it felt really right.

It was Monday, the start of a new week at school and she had gotten a text from Coop first thing in the morning, saying he was about to board his plane back to New York and she had sent back a ‘have a great flight!! text me when you land!’ in return.

She had a friend from New York now. Wow.

It seemed perfect timing that the women of pop month for Glee was in full swing because she sure felt empowered. So much so that she had dug through her wardrobe until she found something at least slightly reminiscent of a cowgirl inspired look. A lacy maxi dress and a pair of old cowboy boots were all she could find, but with the braids she had done the night before, it got the message across.

Alice strolled into the choir room, head held high and gave a nod to the band who she had spoke to earlier than morning in terms of preparing her song of choice. Dolly had a song for every occasion and this one in particular really spoke to...recent events.

“ oh, oh, ooh, two doors down! two doors down they're laughing and drinking and having a party and two doors down we're not aware that they're around. 'cause here we end feeling everything but sorry. we're having our own party two doors down!

Jumping up on the piano on the key change and throwing in some simple boot-scootin’ choreography during the choruses, Alice let herself act the fool. It was the most herself she had felt performing in a while. Because she wasn’t ‘performing’ for anyone, just singing a song in a room with some friends.

Yeah, maybe Alice did belong in the Glee club after all.

“ two doors down they're laughing and drinking and having a party and two doors down we're not aware that they're around here we end, feeling everything but sorry. we're having our own party two doors down! ”

#tag. self para #// this is... long.... i got carried away sddksk #// because what's glee without a musical number to symbolize having sex at a wedding!?#// also just for my own personal reference coop's hypothetical fc is rj cycler

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moodforanime · 4 years

Text

Runaway| Sherlock×Daughter!Reader

Requested: Nope! The idea popped in my minded and I wanted to write it.

Word count: 5.4K

Warnings: This is an A/U where the apartment is spread on to the floor above, where the bedrooms and Sherlock's office is. Maybe a little angst, but nothing too big.

Summary: You hated the place you grew up in and the relationship with your father. People expected you to be smart, and you were. It was just that you wanted a better relationship with you father, which felt like it wouldn't happen. So you try to find your way and see if he cares.

__________________________________________________________________________________

The words he told you that day had the consequences of an excruciating pain. Maybe he didn't mean them to have this effect on you, but they did. Not like he cares about your feelings., you thought.

It’s been a few hours since the incident, yet his words still rang through your ears crystal clear. Sometimes, you act so stupid you make me wonder if you’re ever going to become a detective. With that attitude of yours, you’ll definitely fail any hope I had for your future. That’s what h. wanted .to make your father proud. Your deepest wish was to get even the smallest crumb of attention and emotion from your father to you, any emotion that wasn’t anger or disappointment.

He’s been sitting in his office, at his desk, ever since. He’s probably forgotten about this incident and the words he said, and occupied himself with a new case. You couldn’t say you were so lucky. Having arguments with a high-functioning sociopath who happened to be your father always ended up that way- he always returned to his office and focus on a case, forgetting about the incident within minutes, while you returned to your room and tried to bring yourself back on track, even when you felt like crying your eyes out.

You slid yourself out of your bed, walked down the stairs and walked towards the kitchen. As you passed by the living room, you heard the front door creaking. You watched how the door opened, allowing the familiar face of a man with short grey hair and a black jacket- your father’s colleague and only friend. At first, he smiled, but seeing your red cheeks and wet eyes, any spark of joy on his face disappeared, replaced by worry.

‘Y/N,’ he said, as he entered the house, closing the door slowly behind him. 'What happened?’

You’ve known each other for a few months now, and he’s seen you upset every now and then -as it turned out, you were much more capable of empathy and feeling emotions than your father-, but he’s never asked you until now. In a way, it made him feel like it wasn’t appropriate for him to ask, but he knew the feeling of being alone and far from the reach of help. If he could, he wanted to help you.

'Hello, Mr. Watson,’ you greeted as you wiped off the tears lingering in your eyes, 'Nothing out of the ordinary. I had an argument with my father, he said some things to me that might’ve hurt me a little too much and… yeah. I don’t know how to cope with it.’

John’s face hardened. He was very much aware that Sherlock was an insensitive person. It was annoying, but he never felt personally attacked by the man’s words. He was used to harsh words in the war, words all coming from his superiors and comrades, but a girl of fifteen with no obligations to the country and in a stable situation should not experience such thing. It was a family thing, he knew, but at the same time, this was the first time he’s seen you this upset by your father’s words.

'What did you father say?’ He asked.

You explained shortly what the argument was about, and you repeated the exact words your father told you. John didn’t seem to relax any bit.

'That’s terrible. Where is he now? In his office?’ You nodded. 'I’d like to talk with him about this. This is unacceptable.’

As he said that, he turned around and began walking up the stairs.

'Oh, it’s not necessary, Mr. Watson,’ you said, as he reached the middle of the stairs, 'He won’t listen.’

John turned around and shot you a confused look. ’This is about you. You’re his daughter. Of course he’ll listen.’

'Honestly, Mr. Watson, I would be surprised if he felt the smallest crumb of love or care towards me.’

The ex-soldier frowned as he walked the stairs back down. 'What do you mean?’

'He’s a sociopath, and a damn strong one. He most likely didn’t tell you about this, but my mother was killed when I was very little. She was a detective, too, but was shot three times to death by accident by my father while on a case. He mistook her for the enemy, and shot. The jury let him go under the pretext of self defense. If it wasn’t the few photos Mrs. Hudson has of my parents, I probably wouldn’t even know what my mother looks like anymore. Other than those photos and Mrs. Hudson's’ stories, I can’t say I have any kind of memory of her.’

John smiled softly. He knew very well how children were made, but Sherlock never confessed about what kind of relationship he was in when his daughter appeared and how you came into his custody while his wife was gone.

'What did Mrs. Hudson say about her?’ He asked.

You relaxed your shoulders. 'She said that my mother was incredibly sharp and intelligent, yet so caring and lovely, whatever that means. She said how it was a match made in heaven, as she’s never seen my father so happy before. He smiled whenever he was with my mother and would do anything to make her happy. She said I was a wanted child, but I think that after my mother’s death, while he would not give up on me, I was nothing but a grim reminder of his neglection in that case. I know he would never send me away, but I don’t think he cares about me in the real sense.’

A bittersweet feeling caught onto John. Sherlock smiling genuinely and dedicating himself on to making people happy? Sherlock… feeling? It was an odd idea, but not impossible. He’s lost people before. He knew the feeling. Yet… the idea of having a child that feels unloved because of an incident they couldn’t control still made him feel even more pain. John nodded lightly.

'Thank you for telling me. I’ll talk to your father, and see what we can do, okay?’

You nodded. It wasn’t okay, but you appreciated his genuine feelings of worry. It wasn’t something you got often. Knowing your father, you didn’t know how much that John’s words would affect him, but the attempt to fix something was still something you were grateful for. After multiple failed attempts, you gave up on trying to truly communicate with him.

John went upstairs as you took a glass of water from the kitchen and carried it to your room. As you passed by your father’s office, you felt a certain argument going on. You stopped walking.

'John, she’s fifteen, she gets food, she has water, a place to sleep, she has good grades, what’s the problem?’ Your father’s voice said, in a slightly angered tone.

’Communication, Sherlock. She wants a father, not someone who’s there to make sure she’s remaining alive.’

You felt how your lungs refused to get the full amount of air they normally would as something stopped in your neck, when heating the doctor’s words.

'How do you know what she needs?’ Sherlock shot back, 'You didn’t raise her, I did.’

'It’s not rocket science, Sherlock. Just try to more open with her. Be there for her. Please.’

Silence fell between the two for a few moments, before hearing your father getting up from the office chair he was sitting in with a creak.

'It’s not rocket science, huh? I certainly believe so but,’ anxiety pumped in your veins as you heard his footsteps come closer to the door. 'If she isn’t capable of doing the smallest task of doing well in school, I may as well think more seriously about how much of my genetics went onto her.’

‘Sherlock!’ John exclaimed.

Your eyebrows furrowed as you took a step away from the door. How dare he! He’s said many painful and insensitive things towards you, but this! It put all those things i the past to shame. It crossed every line and limit you put to his insults, by far. He could be ashamed of his daughter, but to the point to even wonder if you were his? You couldn’t stand and watch that. It would only get worse if you didn't do anything.

You walked down the grey hallway and entered your bedroom. It wasn’t a big bedroom and was originally fairly modest, but after your father gave you the ok to decorate it as you wished, it became more colourful and welcoming. Various posters hanged on your wall that presented various series you loved and people you admired.

Your father needed to learn the consequences of his actions, and you had a plan. Before you started the search for the things you needed, you took your phone and connected it to your charger, along with a powerbank. You needed a phone that would last, and a backup for when it’ll run out of battery. You looked through your room until you found the first thing you needed for your plan- a spacious, black backpack you once got from your uncle Mycroft. You don’t remember the exact context through which you got it, but you knew it was from him.

You grabbed a half empty plastic bottle you had in your room and filled it with the water that you carried to your room. You placed the bottle of water in the corner of your backpack, before proceeding to fill up half your backpack with some spare clothing. You made a quick trip to the kitchen again, from which you returned with a half-eaten sandwich wrapped in an aluminium foil you brought home that day from school. As you passed by your father’s office, the two men inside now talked much quieter and calmer, on a topic far from you. You took your wallet and put it in one of your jacket’s pockets,before eventually checking your phone’s battery. You looked at your phone’s screen, which now showed you that the battery was 80% full. Good enough, you thought. The powerbank appeared to be fully charged. You stuffed thepowerban and charger inside your backpack, before closing it, and put your phone in your jacket pocket. Taking your jacket on, you looked at the clock hanging on your wall. 8:40 PM.

Taking your current plan, your luck was that today was a Friday, which happened to be the last day before the winter break. You had two weeks to settle things with your father. If he wanted to do things his way, so would you. You threw your backpack on your back, and walked quietly down the stairs. Taking how focused your father and his partner in crime were on their current case, they probably wouldn’t notice your disappearance. Not immediately. You took your shoes on, opened the front door and left without looking back. Just as you put your hand on the apartment building’s exit door, you felt a presence creep behind you.

‘Y/N dear, where are you going this late?’

You cursed on the inside. You turned your head around and looked at the old woman with a smile.

‘I’m going to Madeleine’s house, Mrs. Hudson. We’re having a sleepover tonight.’

Madeleine was your cousin, Mycroft’s daughter. You were born a couple of months apart so it wasn’t like there was a large age gap between you two. You took a little of your fathers’ rivalry upon yourselves, but the coldness between those two didn’t stop you from forming a strong, close bond.

The woman seemed relieved when hearing your words. ‘Your father knows about this, I suppose?’

‘Of course.’

Before you could let the woman say anything else, you exited the building and began wandering the dark, wet streets of London. In truth, you didn’t know where to go. In the end, Mycroft’s house was the best place to end at. You could wander the streets for a while and then… You froze as you felt a cold hand press against your shoulder. You could only walk two streets away. Could’ve they already…? You turned your head around, ready to see your father or Mr. Watson, but it was neither. It was a woman in her early twenties with long, dark hair. Her face reminded you a lot of your own father. Odd, but it can happen. You squinted your eyes at her for a moment, as you analysed her. One thing you inherited from your father was, although seemingly weak, his observation skills.

She was too clean to be a homeless, but she was below the average ordinary people’s life. A lower class person.The hair was brushed thoroughly, but not washed properly in two or three weeks, masked with some shampoo spray to look decent.The clothes on her wear casual and practical to keep warm, but not well kept and old looking- giving you the feeling that she wore them for along time without washing them. Low class with money problems, probably struggling to pay rent and bills.Tries to be as economical as possible.

‘Y/N?’ She asked, ‘Are you Y/N Holmes?

You nodded lightly. You made an appearance on TV and the newspapers a couple of times, so it wouldn’t be a surprise if people heard of you.

‘You’re not safe on the streets at night. Please go back home.’

You shook your head. ‘Thank you, but… please leave me alone. I know what I’m doing.’

She let go of you, allowing you to go further, minding your own business. Whoever that woman was, it was an odd conversation. She was well-meaning, you knew that, but you couldn’t go home. Not now. Not so soon.

In the meantime, it seemed like a case was one step closer to be solved in the 221b Baker Street apartment.

‘Can you ask Y/N if she’s hungry?’ Sherlock asked, as he arranged some papers on his desk. ‘I didn’t make any food, and neither did she.’

‘I’m not her father.’ John said, looking at Sherlock expectantly.

Sherlock raised his head to look at the man with a blank stare. ‘You’re not. But that doesn’t mean you’re not capable of…’

‘Sherlock, just go talk with her!’ John exploded, ‘You had an argument with her. She’s upset. You can’t keep silent for forever!’

Sherlock sighed as he stood up. ‘If you insist…’

He walked to your room and felt his face wrinkle in confusion as no light passed through the crack under your door. There was no way you were asleep so early. You never went to bed before 10 PM, and it was just 10 minutes before 9. He knocked on the door.

‘Y/N? Open the door please.’

No answer came.

‘Y/N?’ Sherlock tried again. ‘I just want to know if you’re hungry.’

No answer.

‘If you don’t open the door now, I’m going to come in.’

It seemed like luck wasn’t by his side that evening. He opened the door slowly, only to be met by a dark room. He reached for the light switch and turned the lights on. No one was in the room, and various objects were scattered around the floor. Sherlock felt how his heart missed a beat.

'Y/N! Where are you?' He yelled, as he hurried down the hall. He walked down the stairs, his eyes scanning the rooms. You weren't there either. 'John!'

It didn't take long for John to come. Hearing the man's yelling, he was already up.

'What's wrong? Where's Y/N?' John asked, worryingly.

'I… I don't know! I thought she was in her room, goddammit!

The front door opened slowly, as Mrs. Hudson came in, looking at Sherlock questioningly.

'What's with this noise, Sherlock?' She asked, 'It's 9 PM, for God's sake!'

'I don't know where Y/N is. Have you seen her?'

The woman frowned. 'She left about 20 minutes ago, I think. She said that she went to Madeleine's house for a sleepover. I asked her if you knew about it, and she said that you did.'

For a moment, Sherlock and John made eye contact.

'Mycroft's place.' John said.

Sherlock paused, as he looked at the front door. 'She took her black shoes. The Adidas ones, for better mobility. They're more comfortable, allowing the user to walk longer distances without a discomfort. Assuming she took her new jacket,' Sherlock paused for a moment as he walked up the stairs, 'She'll be able to walk a long distance without discomfort because of the coldness or her feet.'

He entered your room, opened your wardrobe and all your drawers, followed by John and Mrs. Hudson who couldn't do anything but look at him.

'She's taken the backpack Mycroft gave her, her phone, charger and a power bank,' he said agitated as he walked around the room, looking for clues, 'She wouldn't need a power bank if she went to Mycroft's, and if that's the case, she probably didn't plan to come back anytime this evening. Empty glass, bottle… she also took a bottle of water with her and some spare clothes, so she wouldn't dehydrate and be dirty if anything happened. She probably took some food with her too.'

For a moment, Sherlock stopped from walking and talking as he thought of a conclusion. As they sat at the door, John was frozen in the shock, while Mrs. Hudson was trembling, inches away from sobbing.

'If I would've known, maybe… She didn't give any sign that there might be anything wrong.' She said.

'Of course not.' Sherlock said, calmly. 'She's a good liar. Conclusion: Y/N ran away.'

That short sentence was enough to bring Mrs. Hudson to such emotions that made her tears fall, along with wails of pain and worry as John tried to call her down.

'This is all your fault, you know?' John said, looking at Sherlock, 'Not yours, Mrs. Hudson, it's Sherlock's. How insensitive can you be?'

'John, I-'

'She's your daughter! High functioning sociopath or not, you're supposed to love and to protect her! Did you even bother to ever ask her about how she's coping with the loss of her mother?'

'She was very young when her mother died.' Sherlock said, coldly.

'Y/N's told me how she died. Whatever happened there is not my business but please, be compassionate with her, even if it hurts. If I had a daughter, I would go through Hell and back just so she would be happy. Why don't you? Do you even know what she thinks-'

'I don't know how!' Sherlock exploded, making Mrs. Hudson stop from crying for a moment, 'She's my daughter. Do you think I'm so heartless to hate her? I can assure you, John, I loved my wife with all my heart. Y/N's all I have left of her. I could never hate her. She's my only real family.'

John's eyes widened. This man…

'Sherlock, that's beautiful.' Mrs. Hudson commented, as she wiped off her tears.

'Then why…?' John asked, his voice trailing off.

'I don't know how to communicate with her, okay? She's so different from me and so sensible that I always get the feeling that if I say anything, it might hurt her. That… bringing to the lack of communication. Then, she asks me why I don't talk to her and… I just can't. We always get in arguments, do you think I like it?'

'Just tell her. Ask her to sit down and try to word out everything.'

'If it only was that simple,'Sherlock said as he walked out of the room, 'but if we don't make a single attempt to find her, I'll never get the chance to do the impossible.'

He took his coat on and stormed out of the apartment, not waiting for his colleague. He got outside the apartment and stopped for a moment. Think, Sherlock, think. Where would Y/N go? It was already some time after 9 PM, so most places would already be closed.

'Did you call Mycroft?' John said as he catches up to him.

'Why should I? He'll know nothing more than me.'

'He works with the police, doesn't he? He can easily send some people after her to help.'

For a moment, Sherlock considered

'I'll call my brother only we truly can't find her.'

And with that, Sherlock began to talk down the streets of London aimlessly. It was almost as if he was hoping to see you any corner. He did, in a way, it he was aware it wouldn't be so simple.

You were smart. He didn't even know why he said those words to you that day. He didn't even know why he even consider you any less that worthy. He wished you to be like him, but as it seemed, you were in the same position he once was. Parents often wish the best for the kids, but forget what's truly best for the child itself. In that moment, he wasn't Sherlock Holmes anymore. He wasn't the famous particular detective every detective envied. At that moment, he was nothing more than a desperate fool trying to find his daughter.

Meanwhile, you were sitting in the cold on the stairs of someone's front door. What were you even doing there? You could've easily called Mycroft and go to a safe, warm space. But he'd call your dad, and he'd come to get you. You were in no mood to do that. You didn't have the energy for another argument.

'Y/N.'

The voice came to you so unexpectedly that you jumped straight up, your senses now sharp and alert. Next to you was the same woman that stopped you earlier that evening, with a curious, worried look. In that moment, you regretted not bringing any kind of weapon with you. You could've called the police, but again...

'What do you want?' You asked, 'Are you stalking me?'

'I'm not here to hurt you, so relax.'

Her words came so unexpectedly that you obeyed immediately. Although still alert, any feeling of fear and concern you felt went away, leaving you staring at the woman blankly.

'Your father is looking for you with some friend of his, and he's worried sick. He's almost on the verge of calling your uncle.'

You snorted. 'Like he'd ever do that for me. Calling my uncle and all, I mean. If he really wants, he'll find me.'

You knew that all along. Your father was a private detective, for God's sake. He's dealing with missing people every day. You didn't plan on going anywhere far or make it too complicated for him. You just wanted to give him a small surprise, like an alarm that something wasn't good with you.

'He's a smart man. If you want, I know a place where you can hide for as long as you want. It's safe from the authorities. My people know some people up there, in the government. They can pull some strings for you.'

'Your people?' You frowned.

'Well of course,' she smiled sheepishly, 'How do you think I'm still roaming around as I please? We don't have much time left, though. I need an answer now.'

It was tempting. Very tempting. But it would be only temporary, and for a short amount of time. Whoever this woman was, she gave you a good opportunity to escape. But your father knew your weak points and he'd get the information out of you with no trouble. You didn't want to do that to her.

'I don't want to put you at risk,' You told her, 'But I want to keep contact with you, if anything happens for real. How can I find you then?'

She smiled. 'Go to Baker's Hollow and ask for Eurus. They'll bring you to me.'

'Eurus. Wait… Baker's Hollow? I never heard if it.'

'You're too young to know it. It's a place downtown, where the freaks all come around. It's full of interesting people willing to do all sorts if things for you, in return for something. Anything worthy for their actions.'

You nodded. 'Thank you. I'll keep it in mind.'

For a moment, the woman looked behind you, down the dark street.

'I'll have to go now. See ya.'

'Goodbye ' You said, as you watched the woman disappear behind the street's corner.

You turned around and began walking. The street was empty and lighted nicely by multiple street lamps spread on it. Somewhere in the distance behind you, two sets of hurried steps could be heard, approaching you rapidly.

'Y/N!'

'Y/N, stop right there this instant!' A strict yet familiar male voice yelled after you.

You sighed as you stopped walking. So they really got me fast, you thought, turning around. You raised your head, ready to face the man's wrath on you, but instead, you were pulled in an inescapable bear hug. You felt how your father rested his head on yours as you tried to process what was happening.

'God, I was so worried about you,' he mumbled.

Your father… hugging you? Telling you he was worried? The last time you remember him hugging you was when you were eight, after twisting your ankle for the first time. As for his worries, you hoped for him to be worried, but you never thought of him showing it. In your best case scenario, he'd scold you for running away, let you off the hook and not talk to you for a week. It was nothing you expected to happen, in none of your calculations, and to put it simply, you didn’t know how to react to it. You let yourself fall prey to your instincts and did what you felt like was right- you hugged him back.

Sherlock felt his heart beat harder than ever. His daughter was fine. You were there, with him, with all your limbs intact- wounds. He pulled out of the hug and knelt down a little to get on your level. He grabbed you by your shoulders.

'Y/N, are you hurt?'

You shook your head negatively.

'You sure? Did you fall or-'

'I'm fine, believe me.'

Sherlock pursed his lips. 'Of course I believe you. You're my daughter.'

You smiled sheepishly. For a moment, Sherlock paused as you made eye contact with his sidekick.

'I'm sorry to put you through the trouble of looking for me, Mr. Watson.' You told him.

'Y/N, why did you go away?’ Sherlock asked, ‘I promise I won't get mad.

You looked back at your father, with a blank stare. You wanted to tell him so badly the reasoning behind your little escape, but you didn’t know if you should. You didn’t know if he’d understand, let alone try to fix it. You were fine and alive, what would he need more from you? You were nothing but a reminder of what he once lost on a case because of his momentary inattention.

‘Go on.’ John encouraged softly, ‘Tell him. It’s okay.’

You felt your face wrinkling in overwhelming as all the emotions you suppressed through time came back to you at once.

‘I just wanted you to look at me,’ you said as you choked on your tears, ‘‘People always tell me how much I’m like you and you always tell me things of when I’ll become a detective but you never ask me if I want to become one. You never ask me about school or how I’m doing, and I… I get the feeling like I’m a burden to you and everyone.’

‘A burden? That’s absurd!’ Your father said, incredulously. ‘Who told you these things? Did your uncle Mycroft say that?’

‘He didn’t. He never said anything like that. No one did. It’s just that sometimes, I don’t feel like your daughter, but a stupid, daily reminder that my mother died and the cause she died. Maybe if I just disappear, then-’

Your father pulled you in another hug, holding you tight as he rested his head on your shoulder. Every emotion you’ve felt until then couldn’t be suppressed anymore, leaving you to empty yourself from your sorrows through ugly sobs. You felt so weak, so useless. There, you said it all to your father, but your chest didn’t feel any lighter. The same hardness lay on your chest, restlessly tormenting you day and night.

‘You’re not a burden, Y/N,’ your father said quietly, ‘You’re anything but a burden. You never were one, and you’ll never be. When your mother died, it was very painful, but you’re not responsible for it, and I’m sorry you feel that way. I loved your mother very much, and I don’t think I’d be able to love another woman so much. It happened so long ago that without you, I might forget things. But with you, I remember everything perfectly. I remember your mother, and why I have to keep going. You’re not a burden to me, Y/N. You’re the best thing that happened to me. I don’t know where I would be without you.’

Standing behind you two, John blinked repeated as he tried to stop his eyes from stinging. As it seemed, there was much more to your problems than you let people know. Lack of parental attention was already a problem, but everything that came after it was even more serious. Sherlock's negligence could be debatable, but the things he told you were something new and unusual to the Sherlock he knew.

John was very much aware of how much that your father cared about you- he talked about you whenever he got the chance, may it be laughing at a joke you told him or a funny story, or may it be his praising over you and your achievements, anyone who'd spend time with Sherlock would be able to tell just how much you meant to him. It was just unbelievable that Sherlock would express those feelings to you.

As for you, you’ve never held onto your father harder. You hugged him so hard you felt your fingers hurt. He didn’t seem to mind it, though. Were those his true feelings? Then… all that time, it was just your mind playing tricks on you. You father really cared about you. He held you like that until you calmed down and didn’t cry anymore. After you calmed down, he looked at you and smiled softly as he wiped your tears with his sleeve.

‘Let’s go home, shall we?’

Sherlock paused as John gave him a pressuring look, 'What?'

John pursed his lips.

'Oh, alright, alright. John, Y/N, let's go.'

You entered the apartment you were so familiar with and took off your shoes and jacket.

'Are you hungry, Y/N?' Your father asked as he walked through the kitchen, 'It's still eight thirty P.M., I could order some pizza.'

You smiled. 'That sounds great.'

There were people who cared about you. There were people who loved you. You felt how a burden was lifted from your chest. No matter how tough it would get, there will always be someone for you. You were loved. You mattered.

#Sherlock #bbc sherlock #BBC Sherlock Holmes #bbc sherlock holmes #Sherlock Holmes #sherlock holmes #netflix sherlock #Sherlock×Daughter!Reader #BBC Sherlock×Daughter!Reader #sherlock×reader #bbc sherlock×reader #BBC Sherlock fanfiction #fanfiction

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playernumberv · 4 years

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Game concept: A Single-Player AAA Marvel’s Iron Man

I’ve been playing a bit of the new Avengers game this past week, and... boy do I have so many gripes about it. The campaign is actually pretty competent and it’s a great re-interpretation of the characters we know so well (based on what I’ve played so far), but the game mechanics and the “live service” multi-player angle just ruins it all. There genuinely is a lot that’s great in this game, but there’s also just too much bullshit in it that just repulses me, which got me thinking: what if we could take the good in here and strip away the bullshit? Specifically: what if we had a proper, narrative-focused, single-player AAA Iron Man game? I’m aware that Iron Man already has a solo VR game, but that’s not quite what I have in mind. The concept I have in mind is much more akin to Marvel’s Spider-Man (which is pretty much the gold standard of a superhero game imo) - a proper single-player experience starring the beloved Tony Stark.

As a character, it’s pretty easy to visualize how Iron Man could be gamified - and in fact, I’d argue that Marvel’s Avengers already does this pretty excellently. Playing as Iron Man is genuinely exhilarating and a lot of fun in Marvel’s Avengers (but terrible level design ruins it), and it actually *feels* like I’m playing as a superhero with a superpowered technological suit. Flying about at high speeds and firing at enemies with a variety of ranged weaponry, for example, feels genuinely fresh and is a lot of fun - it’s also quite distinct from traditional action-adventure superhero games where combat is more heavily melee-focused, such as Spider-Man or Batman. Iron Man��s gamification in Marvel’s Avengers is thus, in my view, highly palatable. It feels authentic and true to the character - it’s a nice touch, for example, that Iron Man can easily switch between multiple weaponry types, including repulsor beams, lasers, and rockets, each of which then alter his moveset accordingly as well. It’s also extremely cool that his ultimate move allows him to enter the Hulkbuster armour - which honestly is just badass as hell. All these are very strong points in favour of a well-designed Iron Man game, and I imagine that a proper single-player action-adventure game without the constraints of live-service bullshit and multiple playable characters would be able to develop this gameplay even further.

Apart from the sheer fun of playing as Iron Man and wielding the plethora of high-technology superhero weaponry in his arsenal, good action-adventure RPGs also require a satisfying and rewarding trajectory of progression over the course of the game. Ghost Of Tsushima, for example, progressively grants you more and more combat options which cumulatively feels incredible because you feel a genuine sense of development and growth, and the game aids you in feeling as if you are becoming a more powerful samurai or ‘Ghost’. This type of progression is, again, very easily visualizable with Iron Man - whose entire character is built upon the development of more weaponry, more functions in the suit, or even brand new suits altogether. Much like how numerous melee as well as web-based combat options are unlocked progressively in Marvel’s Spider-Man, a single-player Iron Man game can easily provide progression trees built on the principles of unlocking additional functions, additional weaponry, or even developing new suits (e.g. from Mark II to the Mark 50 to the Mark 85, to the Hulkbuster, and I’m sure there’s a lot more of this from the comics too). Separate progression trees could, for example, unlock refinements to functionalities in flight, ranged combat options such as rockets, lasers, and beams, melee combat functionalities, stealth-based functionalities and defence/healing-related functionalities, among others. At key story moments, whole new suits (such as the Hulkbuster) could be developed, providing both gameplay and narrative growth that if done right would be extremely captivating.

I’d also argue that Tony Stark’s character is one that lends itself very well to a compelling video-game narrative - his popularity in the MCU speaks for itself. I’m no expert on the comics, and my knowledge of the universe comes primarily from the movies, so I’m sure someone else could be far more capable than me of coming up with an interesting original Iron Man story to tell in a videogame. I can offer some vague ideas, however - for example, how about an Iron Man story with The Mandarin as the central antagonist? Villain and overall plot aside, I think there’s a lot of potential for a character-focused story centred on Tony Stark. The MCU’s rendition of the character, for example, gave us a highly nuanced exploration of an egoistic and self-centred billionaire who hovers between selfishness and selflessness, who struggles with anxiety issues over run-ins with alien invaders, and who struggles with his obsession over his suit. Despite his imperfections and despite having character traits that most individuals would find repulsive, Tony Stark is a character we all just can’t hate. If anything, we absolutely adore his snappy wit and charisma and we absolutely adore the selfless hero that lies beneath his self-centred exterior, and a video-game version of this would surely be a lot of fun. I’m sure there’s a lot more that can be meaningfully explored with this character in a videogame - I mean, we already have a billion versions of Spider-Man, so how about another version of Iron Man?

To be clear, Robert Downey Junior’s performance of the iconic Tony Stark is in a league of its own, and despite his best efforts, Nolan North - one of the most talented voice actors, if not *the* most talented voice actor, I might add - just can’t quite match up. Realistically, I don’t believe anyone will ever surpass RDJ’s portrayal of Iron Man. For me and for many others as well, RDJ *is* Iron Man. In an ideal world, I’d kill to see an AAA Iron Man video-game voice-acted and mo-capped by RDJ himself, but I don’t think that’ll ever be possible within this universe, given how prohibitively expensive it’d be to hire him (besides, it seems like he’s genuinely done with the character). Still, I think Nolan North does a serviceable job, and I’d be perfectly accepting of an alternative interpretation of Iron Man played by Nolan North. Even if no one can match up to RDJ, I can’t think of a better voice actor than Nolan North to do a videogame version of the iconic character.

tl;dr: Picture this: an open-world, single-player, narrative-focused videogame for the PS5 in the vein of Marvel’s Spider-Man, but starring the iconic Tony Stark and exploring the deeper nuances and conflicts of his psychology, as well as a gripping and bloodcurdling narrative involving his struggles against The Mandarin. Game progression will be built around the development and upgrading of his suits, and game-play will be similar to Marvel’s Avengers, but far more polished and elaborated upon. I don’t know about you, but I’d pay good money to play this game if it were ever made.

So... if someone at Marvel somehow sees this, could you please make this happen on next-generation consoles? No need to give me any credit, I honestly just want good games to play, and I’d absolutely, absolutely, absolutely love to play a well-made Iron Man game.

#game concepts #marvel #iron man #tony stark #avengers #ps4 #gaming #games #playstation #game ideas #videogame ideas

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simthesia · 4 years

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Pokémon Legacy Challenge by Simthesia

Hey guys i decided to make my own legacy challenge based on the Pokémon Series as its one of my favourite games ever and I wanted to find a way to incorporate both! Each generation is based on a popular Pokémon from the series and there are 10 gens. 1.Each heir may bare resemblance to the Generation Pokémon but is not necessary for the challenge, but try and keep to the colour such as yellow hair for Pikachu etc 2. You are fine to use money cheats if you want to, although this may make it a lot easier for you , this is not a rags to riches challenge, unless stated in the generation! 3. Each generation needs to complete both the career and aspiration of the heir, and don't switch the aspirations around. 4. Keep the lifespan set on normal 5. I have added optional rules as i know not everyone has every pack , so if you want to chose some of these to do that's fine or even all of them if you have the correct packs. If you don't, they are not necessary to the challenge

If you decide you wanna try the challenge feel free to tag me with #simthesiaspokemonlegacy so i can see it !

Generation 1 - Pikachu

Pikachu (Japanese: ピカチュウ Pikachu) is an Electric-type Pokémon introduced in Generation I.

You wanna be the very best , like no one ever was ! You're goal is to be the best at your career , solve lots of crimes and to fall in love with that special person! You love your friends, tomatoes, and are generally always happy! You have a big fear of water and struggle even taking a shower. You quite like getting electrocuted and thunder storms are your absolute favourite !

Traits: Cheerful, Self Assured, Ambitious. Aspiration: Soulmate Career: Detective, Secret Agent

Rules: Master Handiness Skill Learn at least 1 Instrument Have at least 3 Best Friends ( Max Friendship ) Marry your first and only love! (optional: must be called Ash lol) Have at least 2 Children Reach level 10 in chosen Career

Optional Rules: Master Dancing Skill (optional with GT) Everytime there is a ThunderStorm throw a thunderstorm party and celebrate! (if you have seasons)

Generation 2 - Bulbasaur

Bulbasaur (Japanese: フシギダネ Fushigidane) is a dual-type Grass/Poison Pokémon introduced in Generation I.

You love all things nature, and your happy place is being outside among the plants! You feel as though sometimes they even speak to you. You want to achieve all with nature that is possible and gardening is your biggest passion in life. You love to meditate and just be at one with your thoughts.

Traits: Loves Outdoors, Neat, Vegetarian (if you don’t have CL, you can use a random trait) Aspiration: Freelance Botanist Career: Gardener (can only earn money from selling plants unless you have Seasons !)

Rules: Master gardening skill Have at least 20 different plants inside and outside the house Attempt to create every type of Hybrid Plant Have 6 Children and refer to them as your 'seedlings' Marry as a Young Adult and then have your spouse die tragically after completing your family

Optional Rules : Master Herbalism (if you have OR) Master Floristry (if you have seasons) Master Wellness Skill (if you have Spa Day)

Generation 3- Charmander

Charmander (Japanese: ヒトカゲ Hitokage) is a Fire-type Pokémon introduced in Generation I.

You're a fiery personality with the opinion your above everyone else ! You never fit into your family seeing them as 'weak' and want to strive to be the best, and when you can’t it causes you a lot of anger You're loyal to those who earn your trust but are reluctant to let people in Nothing is really ever good for you , you always strive to be better, and your family come second to work

Traits: Hot Headed, Snob, Perfectionist Aspiration: Mansion Baron Career: Engineer (if you have DU) /Run your own business if you have GTW or Business if not

Rules: Reach level 10 in Chosen Career Max skill in Logic and Programming Marry as an Adult, but always be very suspicious of your spouse When you get halfway you can change a trait , as you mellow out Have at least 2 children with spouse, but you aren't a very good parent Achieve 500000 simoleons in money ( no cheating for this)

Optional Rules : If you own Discover University this sim must attend university , with the intent to do a degree relating to the Engineer career Beat Spicy Curry Challenge (if CL is owned)

Generation 4 - Squirtle

Squirtle (Japanese: ゼニガメ Zenigame) is a Water-type Pokémon introduced in Generation I.

The opposite of your parent you are super mellow and love a good joke ! You also love to play pranks on your family and friends You love water and always want to be in the sea or the pool, and strive to protect it at all costs. You also love food and are not afraid to take other peoples!

Traits: Glutton, Child of the Ocean (if IL not owned choose any), Goofball Aspiration : Beach life (if playing in Sulani) OR Master Chef Career: Conservationist with Marine Biologist (if playing in Sulani) OR Culinary

Rules : Must live in a different world to parents (if island living is owned it must be Sulani) Max Cooking Skill and Mischief Skill Reach level 6 in fishing skill Have triplets (you may cheat for this ) and they are your only children. Refer to them as your Squirtle squad

Optional : If Island living is owned , they will strive to become a mermaid as they love the ocean and all things water

Generation 5 - Eevee

Eevee (Japanese: イーブイ Eievui) is a Normal-type Pokémon introduced in Generation I.

You have always wanted a big family and to just be the best parent you can be! You love children and caring for others! Your weakness is food just like your parent but you are very particular about where it comes from, and will only eat food you have cooked yourself. You have a creative streak and love to get arty.

Traits : Family Oriented, Foodie, Creative Aspiration : Super Parent ( or Big Happy Family if you don't have Parenthood) Career: Culinary or Stay at Home Parent (earn money from painting)

Rules Must have 8 children and one on these has to be adopted Marry teenage sweetheart and stay married to them for the rest of your life Master Parenting Skill Master Painting Skill Master Gourmet Food Skill Be at least good friends with all of your children Move to live in Newcrest

Optional: Take a family holiday every summer season (if OR or JA is owned )

Generation 6- Mew

Mew (Japanese: ミュウ Mew) is a Psychic-type Mythical Pokémon introduced in Generation I.

You love to wonder around and explore, you don't like to stay in more than one place at once, and you prefer to be alone. You want to see everything you can and hate being tied down. You love to collect things and hoard them in your house, you could be considered messy. Your child is not ideal for you but you love them all the same.

Traits : Loner, Non Committal, Genius Aspiration: The Curator Career : Begin as a Scientist, leave Job and become a Critic, leave job again and Freelance

Rules : Have only 1 child Move at least 6 times and must live in at least 3 different worlds. Master Rocket Science Skill Go to Sixam Complete Elements Collection Find Sylvan Glade Find Forgotten Grotto

Complete fossils collection

Optional Rules : Have a trusty companion , either a dog or a cat who follows you everywhere you go (Cats and Dogs only ) Explore the Selvadora Ruins (if JA is owned ) Master Photography Skill (if Get to work is owned)

Master Selvadoradian Culture Skill (if JA is owned)

Generation 7 - Porygon

Porygon (Japanese: ポリゴン Porygon) is a Normal-type Pokémon introduced in Generation I.

The opposite of your parent , who loved travelling, you want to live a more grounded life, and prefer to be inside and stable and everything to be clean. You love computers and your passion is gaming, you want to be a top esport athlete and so put all your time into practice, hoping one day you can be the best. You also have a very unique look , some would say mismatched but you think you look amazing. You don't really like other people, you have a lot of social anxiety and going outside is a struggle.

Traits : Neat, Geek Aspiration : Computer Whiz Career: Tech Guru

Rules: Master Video Gaming Skill Master Programming Skill Win a top esport tournament Have 4 Children You refuse to celebrate any holidays as you hate socialising Cant marry a human

Collect all the Mysims trophies

Optional Rules : You build your own Servo and marry it (Optional with Discover University) (if you do this and want the children with the servo, use cheats to become pregnant by yourself or adopt) Master Robotics Skill

Generation 8 - Absol

Absol (Japanese: アブソル Absol) is a Dark-type Pokémon introduced in Generation III.

You have a dark aura about you, and feel a pull to the evil side of things. You love fitness and exercise but at the same time you cant help your desire to become a criminal as you just love to steal things and cant help it Your not necessarily evil just misunderstood and people generally fear you and keep away from you, partly due to your strange upbringing. You also love making drinks and seeing what blends you can come up with. You like going out to strange bars and pubs

Traits: Kleptomaniac, Gloomy, Active Aspiration: Public Enemy Career : Criminal

Rules: Reach Max Fitness Skill Reach Max Mixology Skill You meet your partner who turns out to be Law Enforcement Officer When you reach Criminal level 8 you can optionally have a change of heart and leave your bad path behind you ( must complete public enemy aspiration first) and become an athlete Have at least 2 children. Make at least 3 enemies and regularly torment them

Generation 9 - JigglyPuff

Jigglypuff (Japanese: プリン Purin) is a dual-type Normal/Fairy Pokémon introduced in Generation I. Prior to Generation VI, it was a pure Normal-type Pokémon.

You love everything musical and are a master performer with a beautiful voice ! You want to be famous and will do anything to get there. You are quite extravagant and love to show off your wealth and love modern luxury

Traits : Music Lover, Materialistic, Aspiration : World Famous Celebrity (if Get Famous is owned) if not chose Career: Actor/ Actress (if Get Famous is owned ) if not Entertainer

Rules: Master Piano Skill Master Singing Skill Master Violin Skill Master Guitar Skill Have 5 children Your partner needs to be another celebrity , and you are viewed as a power couple

Collect crystals and display them in your house

Own a home worth more than 300,000

Optional:

Become a 5 Star Celebrity (if Get Famous is owned )

Generation 10 - Goomy

Goomy (Japanese: ヌメラ Numera) is a Dragon-type Pokémon introduced in Generation VI.

Naturally curious you are a very strong personality , you've grown up with a famous parent and lived always in the spot light and are a very confident individual. You want to be the 'hero' of your own story and are convinced you are a modern day 'superhero or James bond type character' Your heart is in the right place, but you've always been a little wacky and out there. You want to have adventure and then write books about yourself. You have a fun spirit and many people enjoy your company and find you fun to be around

Traits: Outgoing, Insane, Bookworm Aspiration: Strangerville Mystery (if you have this pack )OR Grilled Cheese Aspiration Career: Secret Agent

Rules : Solve the Strangerville Mystery (if you have this pack ) Reach the top of the Secret Agent Career Path Max Writing Skill Write 3 Bestselling Novels -Once you have finished your books you may change the Insane trait to something else Have 6 Children who love your fun spirit Date 5 People before you find the right person Die as an Adult in an accident leaving behind a brilliant legacy

You can obviously carry on after this if you like!

Thank you for taking a look and if you decide to try it like I said let me know

I will be playing my challenge myself on my youtube channel https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCyiWXIF0SurXUhO-ktDsaWw?view_as=subscriber

link if you want to see it !

#pokemon sims4 sims4legacy sims4legacychallenge sims4newlegacychallenge sims4pokemonlegacychallenge simthesia sims410genlegacy sims

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victorluvsalice · 4 years

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AU Thursday: Tell Me Where To Find Shelter -- Layers of Victor

Saw this meme going around the #fallout4 tag a while back (I believe I specifically ganked it from @radbeetle), and thought it might be fun to do for my Sole Survivor!Victor. And my Malkavian!Alice, but let’s start with SS!Victor. XD

LAYER ONE: THE OUTSIDE

- Name: Victor Fitzwilliam Van Dort

- Eye Color: Very dark brown – it can be very hard to tell the difference between pupil and iris!

- Hair Style/Color: Black, generally combed back with two "tufts" of bangs falling over what little forehead he has

- Height: Six feet three inches (and thin as a rail)

- Clothing style: Relatively formal pre-War – he grew up in a household that impressed upon him that you wore ties and suits whenever you were in public, and often even in private. Post-War, he spends a lot of time switching between a pair of upgraded Vault suits from Vault 111 while looking for clothes that actually fit his lanky frame. He's a lot more casual in his style once he does – though he still likes a good sweater vest, and he keeps a few suits if he needs to look fancy.

- Best physical feature: Victor would personally say his hands – he's a pianist and a tinkerer, and he appreciates his long reach over a keyboard, along with his ability to finely handle delicate parts when upgrading or repairing things!

LAYER TWO: THE INSIDE

- Fears: Total darkness (as in you can't see ANYTHING – as long as there's some sort of light source, he can manage); blindness (related to previous); small enclosed spaces (being locked in a cryonic pod will do that to a guy); losing those he cares about again (he – has a lot of trauma from seeing Victoria shot, Shaun kidnapped, then trying to open Emily's pod after he finally got out, only to see her corpse half-rotted inside)

- Guilty pleasure: Pre-War, it would have been comics – he was always a little embarrassed about how much he continued to like the adventures of Grognak and the Unstoppables and whatnot after his teenage years (not helped by his mother sneering at the stories). Post-War, though, he ditches the "guilty" part – especially after meeting Kent Connolly and getting to play Silver Shroud. XD I'm not sure he has one post-War – he occasionally feels weird about how much he enjoys modifying his weapons and armor? But that's quite practical as well as pleasurable, so. . .

- Biggest pet peeve: Being rapidly promoted in organizations that he's only just joined (Preston, you're easily one of his best friends, but SERIOUSLY, dude, GENERAL?)

- Ambitions for the future: To continue keeping his little portion of the Commonwealth safe, and start training up someone with some more Charisma to be the General of the Minutemen once he retires (he's still not sure why people follow him when he's so socially awkward)

LAYER THREE: THOUGHTS

- First thoughts waking up: Depends on what wakes him up. If he's waking up on his own, it's generally a variation on "Breakfast? Where breakfast?" If someone else wakes him up, it's generally "Why are you shaking/licking me, I don't wanna get up yet." And if it's combat nearby, it's generally "SHIT WHERE'S MY GUN oh wait are they shooting at me still should find gun."

- What they think about most: All his various responsibilities – finding his son, acting as General of the Minutemen, working with the Railroad, helping the people on the settlements, wondering what the hell is going to happen between him and the Brotherhood of Steel, or him and the Institute. . .it doesn't do much for his anxiety, is what I'm saying.

- What they think about before bed: If he's not exhausted enough just to collapse onto the nearest sleeping surface, then probably what I mentioned above. He's probably up late trying to plan routes to help settlements that have called for assistance and follow leads on the Institute and whatnot.

- What they think their best quality is: Victor would consider it his willingness to be helpful whenever possible. He generally enjoys helping people, and it makes him feel better in general to help improve the Commonwealth in some small way. (Not to mention, him helping out personally with the problems of a lot of the families/communities in the Commonwealth has earned him a lot of friends for his Minutemen! A General so hands-on seems to impress people.)

LAYER FOUR: WHAT’S BETTER?

- Single or group dates: . . .this gets a little harder to answer when he was in a polyamorous relationship pre-War, you know. XD But yeah, Victor prefers one-on-one, or one-on-two in the case of Victoria and Emily. A group date puts the pressure on him to perform like the perfect boyfriend/husband, and he doesn't need the extra stress. Maybe he'd be okay with a double date if it was with some very close friends.

- To be loved or respected: Victor would rather be loved, or at least liked – though part of that is low self-esteem telling him people aren't going to respect him. (Or like him, for that matter.) It's what informs his desire to help people, at least in part.

- Beauty or brains: While Victor isn't immune to a nice face or body, he really likes having someone he can talk to about stuff. Sharing interests is fun, and he appreciates someone who will at least try to keep up with his nattering on about butterflies and robots and whatnot.

- Dogs or cats: Dogs! Victor gets along decently with cats, but he is first and foremost a dog person. He had a dog named Scraps when he was a child, and he, Victoria, and Emily were making plans to adopt one before the bombs fell. Meeting Dogmeat at the Red Rocket really helped pull him out of his post-War "almost everything I knew is gone and I'm a stranger in my own state" funk.

LAYER FIVE: DO THEY?

- Lie: Yup. Victor will tell the usual social "white lies" (even if he's not very good at them), and he's done bigger lies in the past – like not telling his parents that Emily was more than their "roommate." (Of course, that was done not to have a family blowout about him and his wife having a girlfriend.)

- Believe in themselves: Not usually – as stated, Victor has pretty low self-esteem, thanks mostly to growing up with a mother who was criticizing him and everything he was when she wasn't absent doing social climbing stuff. It's hard for him to think of himself as being someone who has worth, sadly. He gets better when he starts seeing more results of his actions in helping the Minutemen and the Railroad, and realizes he's genuinely making a difference for people.

- Believe in love: Yes – his relationship with Victoria and Emily was one of the high points of his pre-War life. He was utterly heartbroken when Victoria was shot, and Emily later died due to the life support to the other pods being cut off. But then later he meets Alice, and. . .well, it takes some time, but he manages to come around to loving and being loved again.

- Want someone: Pre-War, not really – he was in a happy threesome and wasn't currently looking to expand. Post-War, most of his life precludes wanting anyone – though he does develop a bit of a crush on Piper as time goes on. And then, of course, he meets Alice, and eventually ends up wanting her. . . (Yes, in-game I intend for him to romance Piper – and there's a chance in the AU he, Piper, and Alice would end up in a poly situation. We'll see where this goes!)

LAYER SIX: EVER?

- Been on stage: Pre-War, never officially – Nell had him play piano at some of her parties (which was always stressful, as he felt all her guests were either judging him or just hated him for being related to her), but that was as far as performing got. He of course had the speech he was asked to do that he was practicing the day the bombs dropped, but – well, the bombs dropped. Post-War – he probably will have to give some inspirational speeches to his Minutemen troops, which he will somehow get through and then go have a little quiet panic attack somewhere.

- Done chems/drugs: . . .I have occasionally toyed with the headcanon that Victor was unwillingly dosed with Psycho, or a drug like it, back in his Army days and has been haunted by the experience ever since. But other than that, not the hard stuff – Victor doesn't even smoke (he tried once – after nearly coughing up a lung, he refused to ever try again) and he tends not to drink (he's tried that too, and discovered he's an embarrassingly chatty drunk, so he doesn't typically indulge). He will, of course, take Rad-X and Rad-Away, because those are freaking necessary to survive in parts of the Wasteland.

- Changed who you were to fit in: Occasionally attempted, never stuck. He's not good at keeping up a facade. One of his most embarrassing memories is trying to ask a girl to dance at a party his mother dragged him to when he was about 16, imitating the more popular "jock"-kinda guys, and getting laughed at so much he retreated to the buffet for the rest of the night.

LAYER SEVEN: FAVORITES

- Favorite color: Blue

- Favorite animal: Dogs, butterflies

- Favorite movie: Victor will confess to a love for schlocky monster movies, so he was quite enamored of Night of the Fish Men's Revenge when it came out (he's quite excited when he sees it in the projector in Eden Meadows Cinema, and quite sad that he can only get it to play the title screen). He also enjoyed Another Day In the Monster Factory for much the same reasons.

- Favorite game: With his affinity for comic books and a secret love of roleplaying (which becomes not-so-secret once he starts Silver Shrouding), Grognak & The Ruby Ruins quite appeals to him. He likes that it has some replay value too, with changing up your party and whatnot. The action of Pipfall appeals to him too, though that time limit can be stressful!

LAYER EIGHT: AGE

- DOB: June 9th, 2050 (he was 27 and a few months when the bombs dropped)

- Day of their next birthday, they will be: His next birthday according to the game would be June 9th, 2088 – he'd be 238 in terms of time passed, 28 in terms of biology

- Age they lost their virginity: Twenty – Victor had been yanked by the Army into Canada to help with the Sino-American war shortly after graduating high school, but got some leave around his twentieth birthday to go home. He immediately caught back up with his high school sweethearts, Victoria and Emily, and ended up doing the deed with Victoria. They managed to keep it a secret from their conservative parents, fortunately.

- Does age matter: In general? Victor is willing to listen to advice from those older than he is, certainly – though he tends to take it with a grain of salt depending on their obvious biases. In a relationship? Unless one of the parties is a minor, Victor won't get involved, though bigger gaps will probably make him wonder what exactly they see in each other. (He allows this is hypocritical of him to a degree, as Alice is much older than him even taking into account the freezing – but on the flip side, she was Embraced at 20, he was frozen at 27. . .)

LAYER NINE: IN A BOY OR GIRL

- Best personality: Victor likes people who are sweet and kind, but have a tougher or sassier side to them as well. Victoria leaned mostly toward the "sweet" side, but was also pretty determined when it came to getting what she wanted from him; Emily was cheerful and enthusiastic, but if you angered her – wooo boy; Alice of course is snark incarnate, but is kind to people and generally likes helping others. Even Piper is one of the kinder companions, but doesn't shy away from sarcastic comments.

- Best eye color: Well, Victoria and Emily both had blue eyes (of differing shades), and Alice's green eyes were one of the first things that struck Victor about her, sooo. . .blue or green!

- Best hair color: I'm not sure Victor has a preference here – Victoria was a super-light brown, almost gray; Emily was a blonde; Alice has dark hair that looks black or brown depending on the light/how well cared for it is (and she says her hair was almost red when she was a kid!); Piper has dark brown/black hair. I guess pre-War he went for lighter; post-War he goes for darker?

- Best thing to do with a partner: Victor likes finding some sort of creative interest they can share, or at least do at the same time. He would sit in the living room and draw while Victoria embroidered in the afternoons; and he and Emily both played piano, so they'd often have little duets. With Alice, he probably ends up illustrating some of the stories she tells – maybe eventually they throw together a book of sorts, with Piper's help!

LAYER TEN: FINISH THE SENTENCE

- I love: Alice! And the rest of my friends too, of course.

- I feel: completely out of my depth, most of the time.

- I hide: how anxious all of this makes me – not sure how well I'm succeeding, but. . .

- I miss: the life I had before, in Sanctuary.

- I wish: that Victoria and Emily hadn't – that t-they were still here to meet the friends I've made.

#tell me where to find shelter #layers meme #sole survivor Victor #I did alter the wording of a question or two #to make them more comprehensible #I'm not sure what the original wording of the 'date of their next birthday you will be' was going for #but yeah I liked doing this #I'm not sure about the Psycho thing #especially since I have Victor has a field mechanic during his time in the Army #but on the other hand this is the Fallout verse #we know the government was pulling some shit #the movies I grabbed from the Fallout Wiki looking for in-universe entertainment #'Night of the Fish Men's Revenge' is one of the movies 'playing' at the theater in Far Harbor #and 'Another Day in the Monster Factory' shows up in poster form #it's apparently an inside joke for the character creators at Bethesda?#I mean I know who I thought of when I saw that #Final Pam approves?#queued

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smileyjaeminies · 4 years

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Love Again

Synopsis: Childhood friends, to strangers, to… Nothing? Jae is quite the puzzle, figuring him out won’t be the easiest thing you do. But you do want to try.

Word Count: 4,2 k

Genre: childhood friends au!, concert au!

Warnings: none

Member: Jae, ft. the rest of Day6

A/N: I had so much fun writing this work. I tried to make the concert experience a lot like my own, although I have never gone to a Day6 concert. I gathered all my information from Google so sorry if anything is different from the actual concert!

Waking up in yet another chilly morning in Korea, you think of every step that has led you in this dorm, in a country quite literally across the world from your home. The university you attended offered almost all its students the opportunity to study abroad for a whole semester, to learn, see and explore, not only the country and your studies but also one’s self.

Most students jumped at the opportunity to leave home and travelled within the first year. Not you. You wanted to keep your head in the game, to fall in love with your studies before falling in love with another country.

So there you were, only a semester away from finishing your studies, in Korea. Why Korea? Well, why not? It was so different from anything you had known back home… You figured if you were going to do this, you would go all in.

Being completely honest, K-pop definitely helped. You couldn’t lie to your own self, seeing some of your favorite artists would be a pleasure. There was a certain someone… But you brushed off the thought.

As you got ready for your day, you conversed with your roommate, Haseul, about this and that. You debated about the days agenda, finally settling on a gallery and lunch afterwards. Heading out, you felt excited, you could tell this was going to be a good day.

When you arrived at the gallery, you were instantly certain you were going to love it. You thoroughly enjoyed each painting and picture, immersed in each of their mysteries and stories. You took photos of your favorites and posted them on your Instagram story.

You tried to keep as much of this trip’s memories recorded on your Instagram. You only had a couple hundred followers and all of them were more or less people you knew, a friend of a friend and such.

As you finished walking around the gallery, Haseul grumbled about being hungry. You wanted to stick around for a while longer, a bright painting of a landscape catching all your attention, but your stomach begged to differ. You complied, allowing Haseul to shine in her own element, searching for restaurants around the area. After going back and forth for a little, you settled down at a small seafood restaurant.

You opened your phone to document yet another moment of your day, when you found yourself trying to bite down a scream at the message that popped up. You checked and checked again to make sure your eyes were not deceiving you.

The message stared back at you loud and clear: “You’re in Korea?” His username shone in bright black letters.

“WHAT THE FUCK?” you finally let out, a little too loud for the other customers’ liking.

“What? What happened?” Haseul asked, concerned. You couldn’t even speak, so you just handed her your phone.

“He replied? He actually DMed you?” she asked in disbelief.

He could only be one person of course. Park Jaehyung, Jae, your childhood best friend. You had met him at first grade, both of you a little more than toddlers. You became fast friends with the boy with big framed glasses, who didn’t like toy cars as much as you did but still played with you.

However, fate had different plans for you. After almost three years of knowing one another, you had become inseparable. A change in your mom’s career would turn that around, making you move to Canada.

You believed that to be the first time you had known heartbreak. Jae took the news just as hard. When you left, you both vowed to call at least once a week and to never forget each other. The latter was obviously easier, one could hardly forget Jae, his bright nature and big heart making it hard not to love him. The first proved to be harder. First you forgot, then him, then it completely fell out of habit. You were little kids, so he slipped your mind, until one day you didn’t even miss him anymore.

That changed around a year ago. You had met up with a few friends from uni when someone announced that his best friend would be joining the group. The minute he started walking towards you, you couldn’t mistake him for anyone else. His big glasses had changed a hundred times over, his hair was now dyed a bright yellow, but his easy smile was always the same. He was Jae.

You thought that meeting would change everything. You talked throughout the course of the night, catching up. You found out he was in a band now, he was singing and playing the guitar. In Korea! You thought you would be reconnected after that night. Apparently not.

As abruptly he walked back into your life, he walked right out. Although you had exchanged social medias, no message ever came from Jae. He was following you, but he never replied or even read your attempts at reaching out.

You were disappointed to say the least. You thought you would have a chance to actually discover the man the little boy you knew had become. You were wrong. But while before your meeting, he was a thought that came and went, a part of a funny memory, now he plagued your thoughts more often than not. Especially in the previous days you had spent in Korea.

You were shocked. After almost a year of being radio silent… This? How on earth were you supposed to react? You had been in Korea for about 10 days, why did he text only now? As all those thoughts raced through your mind, your phone vibrated in your hand.

“Where are you right now? Let me know, I’m nearby” the message read. Seemingly impossible, your heartbeat sky-rocketed. You almost felt dizzy as you looked at Haseul in disbelief.

“I’m gonna… go” she said as she saw the new message.

You looked at her, lost and still unable to speak. She typed the restaurant’s address along with a simple “See you in a bit” and paid for the things she had ordered. After a quick kiss on your cheek and a “Good luck!”, she was out of the door.

You sat frozen, trying to calm your racing heart. You tried to look in your head, to find where this anxiety came from. Admittedly, since the last time you saw him, Jae has become a regular thought in your mind. You had followed him closely, his music and performances captivating you every time. In the process, you fell in love with K-pop.

Dowoon was your official bias, but your eyes always drifted to Jae. A crush? On Jae? It would explain a lot… But no. How could you have a crush on him, you barely knew him anymore.

Just as you managed to calm down, he walked in. The smile he gave you sent your heart on a frenzy again. He was so effortlessly perfect, clad in black jeans, white T-shirt and black hoodie.

You got up to greet him and he immediately crushed you in a hug, now several inches taller than you.

“Gosh, Y/N, it’s been too long!” he said letting go.

“I could say that I tried… Where have you been?” you asked.

“Sorry about that… The tour was absolutely crazy! What are you doing in Korea?” he asked sitting down.

As you explained, he placed his order. You conversed over delicious food, him filling you in on his tour and you on your first impressions of Korea and your classes.

Talking to him was effortless, just as it had been when you were only children. The conversation flowed to different matters entirely as you “argued” about which flavor milkshake was better and which horror movie was actually scary. At some point, his voice got serious as he got a sip of his beer.

“I saw you were at The Rose’s live Saturday” he said.

You had to blush. You had uploaded some stories of you screeching at your bias Hajoon (yes you had a thing for drummers, so what?) and badly singing lyrics back to Sammy.

“I was” you managed “I had a blast too. They are great performers.”

“Do you listen to a lot of K-pop?” he asked.

“Yeah actually, a lot of boy groups to be exact.” You replied, not sure where he was trying to get with this conversation.

“Oh. So do you listen to my music as well?”

“Of course! I like your band’s music a lot.”

“I see… Do you have a bias?” he asked. You could see that he was fidgeting, a sign he was nervous. So that hadn’t changed.

“I… do. But you’re not going to like it” you told him with a laugh, trying to lighten the atmosphere.

“It’s Wonpil, isn’t it?” he asked.

“Close enough, it’s Dowoon” you told him.

You heard him mutter something under his breath, but he brushed it off when you asked him about it. After that weird exchange, he was right back to normal, laughing and teasing.

Looking at the time, you realized it should be best for you to go if you wanted to get home before Haseul screamed at you for staying out late. You told Jae and he got up.

“Where are you going? We haven’t paid!” you said.

“We have, I paid” he told you.

“No. No Jae sit down, we should split it! You being a K-pop idol doesn’t let you off! It’s not right!” you said.

“Y/N, calm down! I only did it because I wanted to. My treat, for your welcome in Korea. Please?” he tried, holding your hand.

“Fine. Ugh, you can still make me do you bidding, I hate you” you said shoving him slightly.

“Ha! You wish. You love me” he scoffed.

“Meh, you can’t prove that!” you said, walking out from the restaurant.

“Y/N! Wait, there’s another thing. Let me walk you to the subway station” Jae offered.

“Sure, what is it?” you asked.

As you walked side by side your heart felt like it would jump out of your chest. Every brush of his fingers against yours, every deep breath seemed to hit you like a ton of bricks. You tried to remain calm and not think about how much you would scream if Dowoon were here.

“Okay so… I want to see you again. I mean I really felt like shit not being able to talk to you all those months, I wish I could change that. Things were hectic and very different back then. My agency… Well, they have let us off a tiny bit now. What I’m trying to say is, I know I was a dick. And I'm sorry. I’d like to make it up to you.” He finished.

“Jae you don’t have to. Really, I understand. It wasn’t the best feeling when you didn’t reply, but I know how it is. Did it sting a bit? Yes. Did it suck a whole lot? Sure it did, but I get it. I really do.” You told him.

“Just let me do this one thing…” he started.

“You already paid for food! It’s fine, really, especially now that you seem to want to make an effort.” You stopped him.

“Well, let me do another thing” he said, pulling something out of his pockets.

When you saw what it was, your eyes opened wide. Your mouth dropped to the floor and you had to bite back another scream. Jae was offering VIP tickets and backstage passes to one of their lives in Seoul. You tried not to fangirl too much but judging from Jae’s amused look, you weren’t doing too well. You opened and closed your mouth, trying to come up with something, anything.

“Just come to the show… Please? If not for me, for Dowoon” he tried, pulling the best puppy eyes you had seen in a while.

“Jae… I don’t know what to say. Thank you so much you really didn’t have to-” you started.

“I wanted to.” He said with determination, pushing the tickets and passes in your hand.

“Thank you… so much. I’ll be there. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” You told him with a smile.

By then you had gotten to the subway station where he was supposed to drop you off.

“I’ll look for you. It’s going to be a bit busy right now, but I’ll try to see you for coffee and muffins as soon as I can. You still like chocolate muffins, right?” he asked.

“Of course I do. I’ll see you soon” you told him, wrapping your arms around his waist.

He let go first, dropping you a soft smile and turning around. Just as he was leaving you, you called back to him.

“Jae!” you called, catching his attention. “If you don’t at least drop a haha at my next meme, I’m not coming!” you threatened.

He laughed lightly, eyes closing and hands going to his stomach. Your heart did several backflips at the sight, a smile growing in your own face. He nodded in you direction and finally disappeared in the backseat of a taxi.

When you got back, you had a lot of explaining to do. Haseul was basically sitting at the very edge of the couch, ready to jump on you and shower you with questions the second you walked in. You tried to start from the beginning, telling her everything that happened. When you finally got the tickets out of your purse, she squealed with joy.

“I’m meeting my husband!!! Oh my God, what if Brian actually falls in love with me? Y/N what am I going to do?” she went on and on.

You laughed at the sight, making plans to go shopping because Haseul apparently hasn’t “Anything remotely decent to wear”. As you tucked in for the night, you thought back on your day. A smile quickly grew on your face and you fell asleep happier than you’d been in a while.

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

The concert day had felt too far away two weeks prior, but between your classes and assignments, exploring Seoul and meeting all kinds of new people, they flew by in a blur. Now it was the morning of the concert and you and Haseul were getting ready to hit the road, listening to a playlist Haseul made called “Day6 jams”. As you screamed the lyrics in each other’s faces, you took some pictures and finally headed to the venue.

You arrived early so you walked around, meeting fansites and getting free photocards and goodies from the fans that were there. You stood patiently in line to get your lightband and a shirt for Haseul. You talked about this and that, counting down the hours, then the minutes to the concert.

Walking into the venue, you were amazed by how many people were already there. Taking your seats, you found that Jae had placed you on his side of the stage. Taking a picture and sending it to him, you wished him a good luck and telling him you couldn’t wait to see them.

During the two weeks between your first outing and the concert, Jae had kept his promise. No matter how late or early in the day, he found time to reply to your texts, even briefly. You had met up for coffee and muffins as promised, spending hours talking and sharing stories from all you had missed in your lives.

Jae had held your hand as he walked you to the nearest subway station, making you blush like crazy. After dropping you off, he only said that he was really looking forward to seeing you at the concert, finishing up with a peck on your cheek.

You didn’t really know what to make of anything that had happened that day or otherwise. It was clear that Jae wanted you back in his life, but as what? You tried not to think about it too much, but the thought chased you at all times, unwanted. Jae was again plaguing your thoughts and staying loyal to Dowoon had never been this hard.

Your thoughts were drowned away from Haseul, jumping up from her seat and screaming.

“It’s starting, it’s starting, oh my God!” she shouted, pulling you to your feet and holding your hand tightly.

Excitement rushed through your veins as the lights dimmed down and five familiar figures arrived on the stage. The song started playing, almost shyly, tasting the waters. You recognized ‘Best Part’ and fangirling mode was: on. Screaming the lyrics back to the members, as well as the fanchants had you breathing heavily but the end of the song.

You continued being energetic and enjoying each song as the concert went on. When Dowoon stepped down from his drum set to join the boys you let out and huge scream, excited to finally catch a good glimpse at him. The ments from the boys were heartwarming, each one bringing their own colours and interacting with the fans.

You were on cloud nine, magically transformed and led through a way of notes, lyrics and feelings altogether too intense for your body to handle. You tried to stay in the moment, allowing yourself to feel Dowoon singing in ‘Wanna Go Back’, Wonpil’s melodic voice in ‘Like That Sun’ and Sungjin’s honey vocals in ‘I Smile’. Haseul held your hand tightly and cried during Brian’s parts in ‘I Need Somebody’, constantly screaming “WHO HURT YOU?”.

The boys’ solo stages were sprinkled throughout the concert, making you excited for what was to come next. Everyone was at the top of their game that night and you would be lying if you said you didn’t tear up as well at some songs.

As the night progressed, the boys took the stage to say some final words before the encore. Jae was the last one to speak up, but judging by the look on his face, he looked as happy to be there as you were. You marveled at all of them, sweaty and still pumped up from the energy the fans were giving them.

“So you guys, sadly the encore is about to begin which means the end is soon approaching” he said into his mic and the crowd screamed their disappointment, you included.

“I know, I know, sad times indeed. But I’d like to share with you all a reason why I’m so happy tonight.” He stated and the crowd screamed their support.

“Well, you see, there’s a very important person in this crowd here today, a person I cherish very much. They were lost to me for a while. But now I got them back. And I thought I’d take this moment right here to say that I love them. And I don’t think I want to let go” he finished and his gaze stayed to where you we sitting.

His gaze flashed through you, finding its target right into your heart. You were star-struck, tears filling your eyes and blurring your vision. You felt Haseul enveloping you in a hug and trying to calm you down. You could hear ‘Freely’ playing in the background as you realized the truth you were trying to avoid for too long.

The final songs passed by in a whirlwind of emotions, you trying to come back to the concert, but your mind straying away to one certain boy. You couldn’t take your eyes off of him, his eyes shining as he sang and played his beloved guitar.

As the last notes of ‘Better Better’ filled the air, the end of a beautiful concert had come at last. Final goodbyes were being said and Jae stuck around to wave to your side of the venue. You were waving back, although you doubted he would see you.

After the boys went backstage, everyone was up and in a hurry to leave. You and Haseul sat back down to catch your breaths before heading backstage.

“Are you okay?” she asked, testing the waters.

You looked back at her, giving her a smile. Since the first time you had met her back home, Haseul had been a very thoughtful friend, always taking good care of you and loving you so much with her big heart. Coming back to her, even in a strange country, felt like coming back home.

“I think I’m okay” you finally managed, easing her worried stare. “It was an intense concert…”

“It sure was. You think you’re ready to head back?” she asked, seeing the concert hall emptying.

“Let’s go meet your future husband” you told her, taking her hand and walking towards the backstage.

Showing your backstage passes to the guards, you were lead though a narrow corridor with doors on either side. You arrived at a final door that read “Artist” and had the Day6 logo right below it.

As you were pushed inside, you tried to silence your mind. You needed to be yourself, be genuine. Try to enjoy this. Walking into the room, you called “Hello?” with a small voice.

All the boys’ attention was now on you and Haseul. You tried hard not to panic and gave them a small smile which spurred them into action. They all got up to greet you together. Jae started walking towards you, a huge smile on his face. You decided to stir the pot a little, walking completely past him and into Dowoon’s arms. He laughed into your hair and your heart soared at the sound. After some hesitation, he wrapped his own arms around you and held you.

“I’ve been so excited to meet you, you don’t even know. I need you to know that I see the effort you put in. I appreciate you so much, I’m so super proud of you. I can’t wait to hear more from your singing, please keep pursuing it, it suits you so well. You are so amazing, so so talented I swear.” You rambled. You would go on, but judging by his amused stare you’d already said too much.

You moved on to Wonpil, hugging him tightly. “Hi” he said, half-laughing.

“Hey. I don’t need to tell you this but please never stop singing. Your voice touches so many people, it’s unreal. So don’t stop okay?” you asked.

“Okay, I won’t” he cutely answered back with a smile.

You hugged Sungjin quickly and stepped back to look at him in the eyes.

“Thank you for putting up with them, I don’t know how you do it. You are always deeply appreciated, I hope you know it. The way you allow every song to live through you is something I’ve never seen before. I’m sorry Jae is the way he is, I think I may have something to do with that.” You admitted

Sungjin only shook his head. “Jae is just… Jae. Thank you though.”

You moved on to Brian, hugging him tightly. “Your songs are too fucking real. I swear to God everything you write either comforts me greatly, or touches me in ways I don’t even understand… Thank you and also what the fuck.” You told him and you both burst into laughter.

“Thank you as well, you guys are the best” he answered.

“You bet we are!” Haseul said from behind you.

Jae was purposely left for last. You had done your best not to look at him before greeting the others, afraid he would read right through your gaze and into your heart. Turning to him now, you were faced with his expectant stare. He opened his arms wide.

“Saving the best for last?” he jokingly asked.

You walked into his arms, burring your face in his neck.

“Saving the most special for last” you whispered as you squeezed his waist.

“Really?” He asked, his tone low. His whole demeanor had shifted, no trace of the joking, playful look he had given you only a second before.

“Yes really. I heard what you said out there, which was stupid by the way. Now your company is going to be all up in your ass. But I feel the same way. I think I have for a while.” You said, smiling up to him.

“Really?” he repeated.

You laughed and buried your face in his neck once more, hugging him even tighter than before.

“Y/N” Jae started, cupping your face in his hands, thumbs caressing your cheek.

“If they make out right here, I swear I am going to barf” Brian announced.

“Nooo, look, it’s so romantic” Haseul cooed.

Jae placed a kiss on your cheeks between your giggles. “Later” he promised.

You didn’t know exactly what that promise would entail. Probably an abundance of sleepless nights, face times and texts. But you were willing to find out. For all the hugs and kisses, the smiles and the jokes.

“We’ll see” you told yourself.

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bxcksdoll · 5 years

Text

Don’t Go | Part Two

Pairings: Thor x reader

Summary: The second part of ‘Don’t Go’. Five years after the snap Y/N and Thor reunite but a lot has changed.

Warnings: endgame spoilers

A/n: my girl @xmarveled requested a part 2 so I delivered :)))) this is my first chubby! thor fic what the hell have i been doing smh. also I really should be studying but oh well-

Five years had passed. Leaving Thor was the hardest thing you had ever done but in the time you were away you had focused on your self-healing and protecting what was left of the world. Guilt had gnawed at your conscience for the past couple of years but you couldn’t bring yourself to go back to him due to a mix of embarrassment and fear.

When at New Asguard, you always knew that ruling wasn’t for you. You had felt as if you were forced into the role since Thor was dismissive of his position and, since you two were together at the time, everyone looked to you. Leaving New Asguard made you feel selfish but had helped you to focus on what was best for yourself and to also help the other Avengers at the compound.

For the past five years, you and Natasha worked together to protect the half of the world that was left after the snap. Up to now, you had believed you’d be doing this for the rest of your life, however your ideas of the future had changed when Scott Lang arrived at the compound.

Scott Lang had shown up and told you, Natasha and Steve his unbelievable idea to save the universe. He had suggested time travel through the quantum realm; you and Steve were extremely confused at his proposal but, after he and Natasha explained thoroughly, you eventually understood.

The four of you had set off to gather the Avengers that were still alive: Bruce, Tony, Clint and Thor. Bruce and Rocket has offered to go to New Asguard and convince Thor to help; they had asked if you wanted to join them but you refused - you weren’t ready to see him. Your stomach churned at the thought of seeing him after five years of leaving.

Sitting at the conference table of the Avengers compound, you played with your hands, nervously, as you gnawed at your bottom lip. Steve noticed your anxiousness, placed a hand on your shoulder and gave you a sympathetic look.

“It’s alright, Y/N, you shouldn’t be worried,” he rubbed your back, sitting down next to you.

“No it’s not alright, Steve. I left him. How will he react when he sees me? He won’t be happy - I’ll tell you that! What if his self-hatred has turned into a hatred of me? What if-”

“Y/N, stop thinking all of that. You know Thor could never hate you. Stop thinking about what could go wrong and start thinking about what could go right,” Steve advised, making you feel somewhat calmer.

“Thank you, Steve,” you breathed, giving him a small smile. “I’ll try to think positively.”

Seconds later, a quinjet was heard from outside the building. Your heart beat, ferociously, in your chest as you awaited Thor’s arrival. Steve stood up and began walking out of the room; you followed after a couple of minutes, making sure to walk slow.

You could hear the laughs and greetings of the group in the next room. Reluctantly, you put your anxieties aside and stepped into the room. At first, you couldn’t quite recognise the man in the corner, stood beside Bruce and Rocket.

Your eyes widened as you came to see Thor; his appearance had changed drastically - his hair back to its normal length, his bearded overgrown and he had put on a large amount of weight. As Thor saw you, he turned crimson and turned away, attempting to hide from you.

As you walked towards him, you could hear his pleading whispers to Bruce: “I change my mind, Banner, I want to go back home. Take me back. Please - she can’t see me like this!” However, Bruce denied his request, trying to get him to turn back around.

Whilst Thor turned around he caught your eye as you stopped before him. He quickly broke eye contact and took each side of his sweater, covering his body with it. He wouldn’t retain eye contact, looking everywhere but at you.

“Thor, you’re-you’re back!” you breathed, your stomach fluttering.

“Yes,” he mumbled, “I am.” He still avoided your gaze.

“We should, er, leave you two alone...” Rocket suggested as he and Bruce walked away.

Thor awkwardly played with his sweater, trying to make it cover his large stomach.

“How have you been, Thor?” you asked, knowing the answer.

At this, he looked up at you and leaned awkwardly on the wall behind him. “I’ve been good! Great, in fact,” he lied, smiling fakely.

A moment of awkward silence passed before he returned the question. “What about you?” he mumbled.

“I’ve been...as well as can be expected,” you have a sad smile but and he returned it.

“Hmm yes, I’m sure,” he replied. Another long silence followed.

You were so busy worrying that he would hate you that it never crossed your mind that things would be awkward between the two of you.

Finally, you broke the silence by addressing the elephant in the room, “Thor I-I want to apologise for leaving you. You weren’t well and I just abandoned you. I’m so sorry.”

Thor’s eyebrows knitted together. “You’re apologising to me? You don’t have to apologise or justify not wanting to be with me, Y/N, it’s perfectly alright,” he shrugged, looking down.

“No, it’s not alright. I feel so guilty that I haven’t been with you. I never should have left,” you almost whispered the last part as Thor looked into your eyes, with a sense of hope.

“I don’t want you to feel guilty, Y/N. It was my fault that I pushed you away; I couldn’t see it back then but I can now. Therefore, I should be the one apologising.”

“Oh, Thor, you’re the last person who should apologise to me,” you stepped closer but Thor seemehe seemed to shift further back, awkwardly.

“Then, how about we’re even?” he offered.

“Now, that’s a deal,” you agreed, holding out your hand. Thor was hesitant, at first, but proceeded to take your hand and shake on it; the two of you couldn’t deny the electric connection you still felt after all these years, just at each other’s fingertips. He, then, let go quickly and you felt he was quite embarrassed.

“If I recall correctly, Thor,” you continued, leaning on the wall beside him, proceeding to address the other elephant in the room, “I told you to take care of yourself. Are you sure you’re alright?”

Thor’s cheeks blushed to a crimson colour, once again, and he brought his sweater further around him. This time, you caught his hands and pulled them apart.

“Hey, stop trying to hide from me. Please don’t be embarrassed...” you stepped closer, holding his hands in yours.

“I, er, I don’t like you seeing what I’ve become, Y/N,” he replied as obvious tears began to gloss over his eyes.

“Well, from what I can see, you’re the same Thor you ever were. There’s nothing to be ashamed of - I still love you,” you admitted.

“You-you still love me? After all this time? Even when I look like this?” his eyes desperately searched yours, not believing you.

“Of course, Thor. I never stopped loving you so why should I suddenly stop now that you’ve put on some weight? I’m not leaving you this time,” you stepped even closer, able to feel his hot breath on your forehead.

“Really?” Joyous tears were pooling in his eyes as he moved his hands to rest on your hips.

“Really,” you assured him, leaning up on your tip-toes to press your lips to his. He responded gently, lovingly as you lay your hands around the back of his neck. His beard felt soft against your chin, tickling you slightly.

Breaking free for air, his forehead rested against yours. You stared into his one blue and one brown eye and told him how much you loved him. You assured him that you’d never leave again, promising to take care of him for the rest of your lives.

Tag list: @gbadwal

#avengers endgame #endgame spoilers #Thor Odinson #thor x reader #chubby! thor #thor #thor imagine #avengers #marvel #avengers x reader #marvel imagine

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imagine-loki · 5 years

Text

End Game Spoilers

Imagine you’re on the team that travels back in time to Thor: The Dark World. You lose Thor to his anxiety attack early on but manage to get the Aether with Rocket pretty quick with plenty of time to spare. Suddenly, a desire to see Loki alive one last time overcomes your rationality even though you know you shouldn’t meddle with the events of this timeline. When Rocket isn’t looking, you slip out of Jane’s room unnoticed and make your way to the dungeons. Poor Rocket can’t believe he’s been ditched by both Asgardians on this mission - you and Thor were supposed to be the experts on this time and place.

Down in the dungeons you make it into Loki’s cell (your sorceress skills helped you out here). The books Frigga had you pick out from the library lie in the corner, mostly untouched. You see Loki lying down on his day bed, eyes closed, flinging and catching the same object you had seen when you first arrived, sneaking by with Thor and Rocket. By now he was catching it purely from muscle memory— he must have been doing this for hours. You can’t help but think how beautiful he looks and more importantly how alive. You think to yourself that you need to get out of there ASAP before you screw up this timeline but your feet are stuck in place. You let out a sigh, some sort of mix between relief that you get to see him one more time and frustration that there’s nothing you can do to change the course of history. That sigh has major repercussions: he opens his eyes. Before you have a chance to turn yourself invisible or apparate the hell out of there you hear him get up and say “Y/N?”

You try and play it cool, squeaking an unnaturally high-pitched “Hi”.

Your real self from this timeline would not have seen Loki since before he fell off the Bifrost and before he broke up with you for literally no reason (you later found out he did it to protect you). You would have been pissed at him for the shit he pulled off on Earth and Asgard before that — yet here you stand not angry at all, just sad and a total mess. You consider getting the hell out of there now - you’ve already done one history-altering mistake, you really can’t afford to do another one. Maybe you could trick him into thinking he’s hallucinating —but who were you kidding? Tricking a trickster? There was no turning back. That’s when you blurt out: “I know about Thanos. ” Dammit - second time-altering mistake.

Loki’s lips press into a thin line, his eyes become dark. “Did he hurt you?” he asks. You frown. “No,” you say as your eyes start to burn. The voice is your head continues ‘he does worse’ but you refrain from actually saying it.

He almost looks relieved. He spent the last couple of years fearing that Thanos would use you or his family against him; torture you, kill you to get his way with him. You became a secret that Loki wanted to hide from Thanos at all costs. That’s why he had to appear so ruthless and incapable of love, why he didn’t try to defend himself during his trial and why he never confided in you despite years of him living in the same realm as you under the guise of Odin. He knew the whole of Asgard would try to go after Thanos with a blind eye. He just wanted to protect you, protect everyone.

Due to your strange behaviour, coupled with the fact that you’re wearing weird earthling clothes acquired in New Asgard, it doesn’t take Loki very long to guess you’re a Y/N from the future (like Frigga does with Thor), even if you deny it at first.

You reach for his hands, something he’s more than willing to give. He’s missed you too, or at least some version of ‘you’. You just need to feel him one more time, know he’s real. You contemplate telling him that you love him but somewhere deep inside you know this isn’t your Loki and you decide against it. This Loki belongs to the other you, the you from this timeline and the thought of their fate completely tears you apart. You let the tears flow free from your eyes. You want so bad to spare the Y/N of this timeline the sorrow and heartbreak you’ve been feeling for the past five years. But what should you say? What can you say? You were running out of time. You think of maybe telling him not to pose as Odin. Or not to bring the Tesseract on the ship. But what if all that doesn’t mean anything anymore? You’ve already changed history just by being there. There’s no guarantee that those specific events will happen. You had to think: what is inevitable?

“…He will kill you.” Your words hang heavily in the air, words that hold the weight of the universe.

You dread his reaction. Is he going to ask questions? How would you answer them? Is he going to live the rest of his life in constant, resurgent fear? You start to regret telling him already.

His actual reaction, however, catches you by surprise: he’s laughing. You’re so confused that you’ve stopped crying.

“Darling, do you really believe that?”

At first you think this is ‘overconfident Loki’ talking. Or maybe you look so pitiful right now that he feels sorry for you, enough so that he’s willing to lie to your face about everything being alright.

But then he starts relating to you a story of how he’s been planning on deceiving Thanos into thinking he’s dead so he can break free from the horrible pact he made with him while under his influence. He planned to fake his death, wait around 5-10 years until he was sure Thanos had forgotten about him or was killed. You try and process these words, staring at an imaginary spot on the floor. Your heart begins to race when he starts naming all the ways he’s planned on faking his death.

“Which one was it, Y/N? Falling off a cliff? Drowning? Spontaneous combustion?…”

You keep staring at the floor, your heart beating ever faster as he continues to name a shockingly long list of ways to die so nonchalantly.

“…Asphyxiation?” he continues and your eyes shoot right up to look at him. “Ahh,” he says, smiling, “interesting.”

You hate how handsome he looks in this moment, smiling so mischievously. It’s completely preventing you from forming any kind of coherent sentence in your head. Luckily for you, he keeps talking.

“You know, I’ve even thought of these dramatic monologues to recite in case there are any witnesses. It’s really too funny, listen to this one: “Oh mighty Thanos, spare me for I hereby pledge to you my undying fidelity.” Do you get it?” He laughs again while you stare at him dumbfounded. Those words were not too dissimilar to those Thor had told you when he shared the story of their last few moments on the wrecked half of the Asgardian refugee ship.

All of a sudden, it hits you like a ton of bricks: holy shit, your Loki is alive. He faked his death. Again. Your heart continues to beat like crazy, you break out in a cold sweat. You think you’re going to be sick. You want to ask him so badly ‘What happens after? Where do you go? Where can I find you?’ but nothing comes out. Just then, the time-space GPS starts beeping. You’re out of time.

#Loki #Others #Imagine #submission #end game spoilers #avengers endame spoilers #darklyfearfullyafar #team #asgard #cells #thor #anxiety attack

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