#And how everyone else would react/recover from that | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

evilmenenjoyer · 1 month ago

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Dead-end roads.

Pairing: Shane Walsh x fem!Reader.

Word count: 5k

Warnings: age gap (legal, reader is 24 years old and Shane is somewhere in his mid-late 30s), drinking, drunk sex (as in both parties are drunk), rough sex, gratuitous use of the word "kid" as a pet name, grief and implications of past familial abuse. Both of them are a mess basically.

A/N: thank you so much to the anon who requested age gap Shane/Reader! I had so many ideas I had to split them into different parts or this would've been ridiculously long, so let me know if you would like to see part 2!

You, Shane, trauma, and way too much booze for your own good. What could possibly go wrong?

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Sneaking out of the camp was easy. Dale likes to keep watch on top of his RV, but even he can’t see everything, and when you’re determined to leave a place even trained eyes can’t seem to catch you. With everyone else busy trying to recover from the massacre and digging graves for the dead, it felt like the perfect opportunity.

The graves. You couldn’t bring yourself to watch them do it, much less to step in and help. Four deaths just last night; Ed, Amy, a man whose name you regret not memorizing. And your mother.

You haven’t shed a single tear yet.

Instead, you find yourself alone in the heart of Atlanta, in the apartment you used to live. Your legs dangle from the edge of the tiny balcony, and in your hand you clutch a half-empty bottle of vodka. It’s cheap, the kind you can’t hold back a grimace every time you swallow, but it gets the job done — and more importantly, quickly. Five big gulps in and you can’t even taste it anymore.

The city looks so eerie from up here, empty and dead silent save for the distant groans of walkers below. Every now and again you’ll see one drag itself along the street, aimlessly making its way into one of the nearby buildings or further into the city, oblivious to your presence ten stories above. You briefly entertain the thought of tossing the cap of the bottle down into the concrete, just to see if you could hit one of them from this distance, if they’ll be smart enough to look up and spot you.

Just as you’re considering the pros and cons, the sliding door behind you opens.

Your heart jumps inside your chest and it feels like the vodka hits you all at once, making the world spin and blur around you. You whip your head towards the sound, your eyes taking a second longer to catch up to the movement and to make sense of the shape invading your vision.

“Shane,” you gasp, half in surprise and half in relief. Not a walker. You don’t want to think about how, if it was one, you’d have nowhere to run to except maybe jumping down and taking your chances with the pavement. “What are you doing here?”

“Lookin’ for you. What else would I be doing here?” Shane looks pissed, like he can’t decide whether he wants to snap at you right now or if he should wait until you’re not half-hanging out of the frail balcony fence. He draws in a deep breath, seemingly in an attempt to calm himself down. “You can’t just sneak out like that. We were worried.”

“Sorry.”

You’re not sorry. You don’t even try to sound sorry. You bring the bottle to your lips, swallowing down a mouthful of vodka that goes down your throat like liquid fire. You only vaguely feel it, like your entire body is a limb that has fallen asleep.

Of course Shane would know you’d be here. None of the other remaining survivors in the group would know where to look, but he’s not just any stranger you’ve been camping with for the sake of survival. He had rescued you and your mother from this very place in his departure from Atlanta, before the bombs from the military started coming down on the city.

Shane crouches down beside you, his eyes taking note of the bottle but not lingering on it.

“We’re leaving the camp today,” he tells you. You don’t react save for a tiny nod around another sip of vodka.

“Where to?”

“CDC, or Fort Benning. We’re still working it out.”

You don’t voice your opinion; both sound fruitless to you. Silence stretches on for long enough that he must get the hint, because he takes the opportunity to say, “You’re coming with us.”

“Thanks, but I’m fine here,” you reply, your words slurred as the alcohol works its way through your system.

“You can’t be serious.” He rubs at his face, the same exasperation in his gesture as in his voice. “You’d die in a week, kid.”

The pet name instantly gets on your nerves, even if he’s called you that since the day he met you.

“I come here all the time and I’m still not dead.”

“For supply runs. How the fuck do you expect to live here? All alone? Look around you,” he gestures to the street below, where a walker crosses the street towards an abandoned store. “You’ve never even killed a walker.”

“I can learn.”

“It ain’t that simple.”

“How hard can it be? Everyone else does it.” You can’t pinpoint the exact moment you went from buzzed to drunk, but you realize now you’ve crossed that line a long time ago. Your voice goes from soft and nonchalant to increasingly, irrationally annoyed at his concern. “‘Sides, if I’m that useless why’d you want me to come along? I’d just slow you down.”

The worst is you know he has a point. You’re not a fighter; never have been, really. Your entire life, the one thing stopping you from becoming a sitting target was your ability to run, both literally and figuratively. You’re fast, sneaky, crafty. Qualities that have served you well, but they can only take you so far in this new brutal world. What happens when you can’t run? What happens when someone else is cornered and you can do nothing to help them?

There’s still blood from last night under your nails, no matter how hard you scrubbed your hands clean at the river.

“I’m sorry about your mom.”

The words, the genuine, unexpected gentleness of his tone, it feels like a knife being jammed into your stomach. You only shake your head, unable to look at him; unable to, even now, admit that you can’t decide whether you’re devastated or relieved that she’s gone. That that woman was capable of leaving you with the deepest scars without ever laying a finger on you.

You stare down at the street. You still don’t cry.

“She would’ve wanted you to keep going,” Shane insists.

Your eyes finally meet his. “You clearly didn’t know my mother, Shane.”

You watch the surprise in his eyes as he tries to make sense of it. Still, he doesn’t relent. He pushes himself back to his feet.

“Come on, we need to go while there’s still daylight.” When you don’t move nor give any indication that you’ve heard him, you feel a hand circle around your forearm.

“I said no!” You yank your arm back like he burned you, even though the touch was gentle. “You’re not a cop anymore. You can’t tell me what to do.”

“I sure fucking can when you’re bein’ a danger to yourself.” He grabs you again, this time firmly enough to pull you to your feet. You stumble, too drunk for something as simple as balancing yourself. “Let’s go.”

You do the only thing that crosses your mind — you swing the bottle at him.

It doesn’t break. There’s just not enough power in the movement, no real intention to hurt him; you just want him to let go. It hits him on the shoulder, splashing vodka everywhere as it falls and crashes into a million pieces in the pavement below.

The crash is so loud in the silent city.

Shane’s got you back inside the apartment in an instant, in the bedroom that was once yours. You thrash around in his arms like a wild animal, the differences in strength between you and Shane as well as the alcohol running through your veins making your attempts at best comically futile.

“Stop! Christ, the fuck’s wrong with you?”

“It’s pointless, Shane!” You keep on fighting even when you know you’re overpowered, when you can barely move against his grasp. “I’m dying either way! What difference does it make if I die here or at Fort Benning or wherever the fuck!?”

“You ain’t dying, that’s what I’m tryna stop from happening!” He’s got you effectively trapped, your back pressed against the wall and his arm across your chest. “Why do you gotta be so fucking stubborn?”

You try to move away; you can’t. His arm applies pressure across your chest, making it hard to breathe. Or maybe it’s just how close he is — close enough that you can feel the body heat emanating off him, your faces inches from touching. You can see every pore on his skin, the light stubble starting to grow, the way his nostrils flare with anger.

“You think you’re the only one who lost someone?” he says. “We all did. And you’re the only one needin’ to be cared for like a little kid.”

“Who did you lose?” you snap back. “Far as I can see, everyone you love is doing just fine. That boy, your girlfriend. Even your buddy came back to steal her away.”

He pushes you even harder against the wall for that, his muscles flexing with how impossibly tight he’s gripping you. Your breath caught in your throat, you try to kick him away only to find his knees also trapping your legs in place, so much of his body pressed flush to yours it’s making you a little dizzy.

“You gonna drag me back, or are you gonna fuck me?” you ask, all drunken defiance and bravado. There’s no way a sentence like that would ever leave your lips if not for the copious amounts of alcohol clouding your judgment. “‘Cause I’m getting some mixed signals here.”

You can tell you’ve caught him off-guard, but neither of you have an opportunity to react to what you’ve just said. Somewhere in the hallway, there’s a bang as something is pushed to the floor, followed by the unmistakable groans and heavy footsteps of a walker.

Shane spins you around so fast you nearly fall over again. His arm circles around your waist, and before you can even think to object, his free hand clamps over your mouth.

He drags you both into the walk-in closet, closing the door as silently as he can. It’s a dark, cramped space, the mess of clothes making it feel even smaller. Shane’s right behind you, his chest molded against your back and arms wrapped around you, his hand still covering your mouth even though you wouldn’t dare to make a sound.

All you can do is listen: Shane’s breath so close to your ear, your own racing heartbeats inside your chest, the walker that has now found its way into the bedroom.

For a few long moments you’re both still as statues, listening in to the sounds outside the closet. Your mind races with the worst possible outcomes; what if there’s more than one walker? What if they realize you’re both here, with no way to escape except for the same door you came in from? What if you both end up dead, and it’s all your fault for coming back here in the first place?

Seconds stretch into minutes that stretch into what feels like an eternity. The walker — or walkers — circles the room quite a few times, in no rush to leave. At some point, you see its shadow right in front of the door, standing there for several beats before it finally, finally walks away.

Shane waits even longer, until you’re certain you can’t hear anything on the other side. Only then does he slowly unwrap his hand from your mouth. He reaches for the door, still holding onto you, pushing it open just enough that he can peek out at the bedroom.

“I think it’s gone,” he whispers. “It probably went to the other room, but we can—”

He looks at you, and his voice dies out in his throat when he realizes you’re weeping.

You don’t know when it began, but the tears just keep on coming, rolling down your cheeks and into your shirt. They’re silent save for a few quick pauses for air, and your body shakes ever so slightly with your sobs, so soft and subtle it could’ve just been mistaken for fear if he couldn’t see your face. You want it to stop, to get your shit together or at least hide from Shane, stop him from watching you fall apart like this.

His grip around your waist loosens, but doesn’t release you. Instead, he carefully wraps his other arm around you as well, cradling you in an embrace.

It’s like the final pillar holding you together crumbles, and you let it all pour out of you, all those emotions you don’t even know how to name taking the shape of tears. Shane feels like a warm blanket at your back, reminding you that things can still feel good, somehow, in the midst of so much sorrow. He coaxes you to turn around to face him, and you immediately burrow your face into his chest, arms clinging to him like a lifeline.

“It’s okay,” he shushes, resting his chin on top of your head. “You’re gonna be okay.”

“You can’t know that,” you breathe, your voice quieter than a whisper, but he hears you.

“Yeah, I can. Y’know why?” He pulls back just enough to see your face, the gun callouses on his fingertips scratching your skin when he wipes away a tear. “‘Cuz I’ll be right here the whole time, and I’m not gonna let anything bad happen to you. I promise.”

You know it’s an empty promise, that this is something he can’t possibly guarantee. But he says it so earnestly, like really means it. And, for a moment, you let yourself believe it, let him pull you out of the closet and into an imaginary world where things will be okay.

CDC was the right choice, after all. It’s disheartening to see it empty rather than bustling with doctors and scientists, but there’s electricity, there’s hot water, and there’s dinner with plenty of food and wine, and that’s more than you could ask for.

You continue the party in the room you’ve claimed as your own, with yet another bottle you managed to sneak from the cabinet. It takes you nearly the entire bottle and over an hour of psyching yourself up before you bring yourself to knock on the door you’d seen Shane retreat into.

He doesn’t answer for long enough that you wonder if you should knock again or go away. Right when you’re about to make a decision, the door opens.

“What’re you doin’ here?” he asks, his voice slurred.

“Just wanted to ask if you wanted a drink.”

He looks like hell. Attractive, of course, as he always is, but disheveled. His hair is all over the place, shirt ruffled and open just enough for you to catch sight of the tattoo on his chest. There’s an edge to his gaze, matching the red, angry scratches on his neck.

Even in this state, he cracks a smile when he sees the bottle in your hand, the liquid inside not even enough for a full glass.

“Drink what? There’s barely anything in there.”

You smile back. “You have more, don’t you?”

Of course he does. He’s just as drunk as you, and you know for a fact he didn’t get to this point by just drinking a couple of glasses of wine at dinner. Shane runs a hand over his face, pausing to softly pinch the bridge of his nose.

“Look, kid, ’s not a good time.”

You try not to let your disappointment show, or to feel discouraged. “Come on, I bet I could cheer you up.”

He doesn’t look convinced, but perhaps he finds your confidence endearing, or he simply doesn’t have the energy to send you away. With a tiny sigh, he steps aside to let you in.

You and Shane, alone in a room with a bottle of liquor. It sounds like something you would only dare to fantasize about in the depths of your brain, except it’s happening right now. He doesn’t turn on the lights save for a small lamp at the corner, engulfing the two of you in warm dimmed lighting as you sit on opposite ends of the couch.

“D’you always do that?” he asks.

“What?”

He nods at the bottle in your hand just as he reaches for one of his own, a liquor you can’t make out in the darkness. “Drink like your liver is indestructible.”

You breathe a light chuckle as you bring the bottle to your lips. “Considering everything, I think my liver is the least of my problems. And you’re not too better off tonight.”

“Yeah, well, I’m a grownup. I can drink.”

You roll your eyes with a scoff, finally finishing off your bottle.

“I’m not that young.”

“How old are ya, anyway?”

“Twenty-four.” You leave the empty bottle on the coffee table. “And you?”

“Older than you.”

“No shit.”

“Too old for you, kid.”

Here it is; the closest either of you have gotten to giving voice to whatever it is that exists between you. There’s a part of you that had hoped he’d never notice it — the stolen glances and excuses to spend time around him and the way your smile lingered the longest for him than for anybody else —, while the other desperately hoped he felt it too, that he would make the first move you couldn’t find the guts to make.

The rejection burns, as subtle and implicit as it was. If you were sober, maybe this would be it; but you’re not, and your booze-soaked brain refuses to give up that easily.

“I’m not a child, Shane.” You hold out a hand, vaguely gesture to the bottle he’s drinking from. He lifts an eyebrow, but hands it over.

You’re expecting wine; it’s whiskey. You try to push through the burn down your throat, but you choke on it just a fraction of a second later, covering your mouth with your hand as you cough.

In the midst of desperately trying to swallow down the last bits of it, you hear Shane laugh.

“Yeah, sure you aren’t.”

“Fuck off.” You huff in embarrassment and genuine annoyance, taking a deep breath to steady your voice again.

“I believe ya, no need t’drink yourself into a coma to prove it to me.”

“There’s a lot of things I could do to prove it to you.”

The sentence just jumps out of your mouth before your brain even catches up to it, surprising you as much as it does him. He recovers quicker, snatching the bottle back from you.

“I’m cuttin’ you off, you’ve had enough tonight,” he says. It’s his turn to take a generous swig of the whiskey, swallowing it down like it’s nothing.

You watch him as he drinks, near-mesmerized for a brief moment. The scratches on his neck are in full view now, exposed to you, but you don’t dare to ask where they came from. His jaw is a firm, set line, clenched and tensed. You’ve seen him stressed enough times to know that this is what it looks like.

“What’s wrong?” you ask.

“Nothin’.”

“Is it this place?” He doesn’t respond, but you discard the possibility. This is by far the safest, most comfortable place the entire group has spent the night since fleeing the city. Your mind flies to the one other issue that could be on his mind. “… Girlfriend problems?”

Shane sighs, and you can’t tell whether it’s resignation or a warning, like he’s telling you to tread carefully.

“Stop calling her that. She ain’t my girlfriend.”

“I’m sure she isn’t now that she’s got her husband back, but—”

“Never been.” He peels off the edges of the label of his drink. “There’s nothing goin’ on between us.”

You wish that were the truth, yet you doubt it. You shift on your spot so that you’re turned fully towards him.

“Then why do you look at her the same way I look at you?”

The silence that follows is heavy, building into something unknown. You force yourself not to look away when Shane finds your gaze, to not take back your words even though your heart is doing cartwheels inside your chest. To your surprise, he doesn’t scoff dismissively, doesn’t blame it on the drinking or point out your age difference again. He only regards you with those dark, glassy eyes, as if this is the first time he’s ever seen you clearly.

“What good is looking if you won’t do something about it, sweetheart?” his voice is low, raspy, daring you to take a step further.

He doesn’t look away. Neither do you.

Breath caught in your throat, you push yourself to a stand. It feels like the floor under you is spinning, but it’s slow and gentle, like you’re dreaming rather than just shitfaced. Somehow, you manage not to stumble in your own steps, not to make a complete fool of yourself as you make your way towards him. For a moment all you do is stand there right in front of him, eyes locked on his like his gaze is pulling you in. Then, slowly, you plant your knees on both sides of his legs on the couch, and lower yourself onto his lap.

Adrenaline runs through your body like you’re fighting for your life. You’re barely able to think, consumed by the glint of hunger in Shane’s eyes.

He rewards you by laying his broad hands over your hips, pulling you forward until your body is flush with his. He tastes like whiskey when you kiss him — you must taste the same, because he parts his lips for you immediately, greedily sliding his tongue into your mouth as if he wants to intoxicate himself through you. You return the kiss with the same enthusiasm, the exact same intentions.

You exhale a soft gasp into his mouth when his hands slide up your waist, taking your shirt with them, brushing against your bare skin in the process. His hands are so warm and you feel like you’re burning up, skin blazing everywhere he touches. You let him pull the shirt up and off your body, even if you breathe a disappointed whimper when he breaks the kiss to stare at you.

You expect those hands to explore the skin that’s just been exposed, but instead they settle into the small of your back, pushing you into a deeper arch. “This what you wanted?” he asks into your ear, drawing a shiver out of you.

“Want you to fuck me.” As usual, the alcohol makes you bold, but honest. There’s so much more you want to do with him — getting on your knees for him, for starters, or feeling his thick fingers stretch you out —, but you can tell neither of you will last that long in your drunken state. There’ll be more time for that later, you hope.

You’re only wearing thin shorts while he still wears denim, the roughness of the fabric drawing a moan from you as you rub yourself over the growing hardness between his legs, your knees digging deep into the couch cushions.

His lips press kisses down your neck, along your collarbones. You buck your hips involuntarily when you feel a wet tongue circle your nipple. “Shane,” it leaves you in a small sound, embarrassing if you weren’t far past the point of caring. Shane replies by pushing his hips up against yours.

“Take it out,” he orders. “See what you’ve done to me.”

Your usual defiance and disregard for authority goes out of the window as you find yourself immediately obeying, bringing your hands down to his belt. He removes his shirt while you work to pull his cock out from his boxers. You can’t resist wrapping your fist around it and giving it a few slow pumps.

The sound he makes goes straight to your groin. You pull away to kick off your shorts and underwear as quickly as you can, and Shane grabs you impatiently, pulls you back into his lap like you never left. Your hands are on his chest immediately, covering as much bare skin as they can.

You feel dazed when he lines up his cock with your entrance, unable to see or think about anything other than the way he grunts and shuts his eyes as you slowly sink down on him. For a moment you’re floating, but gravity is soon to pull you back, quite literally; the stretch more intense with every inch you take inside of you.

“Goddamn it, hold on,” you tell him, even though he hasn’t moved yet, even though he’s not even all the way in and you know it. He’s bigger than you’re used to, and you haven’t done this in a long time. You pause for a few moments, thighs trembling with the strain of keeping yourself still.

Shane’s chest heaves with soft pants, but he lets you take your time. He has the beginnings of that usual infuriating cocky smirk at the corner of his lip, like he loves watching you squirm and struggle to take him in.

Only when you start to slowly, tentatively circle your hips does he move, his hands grabbing rough and possessive where your ass meets your thigh. “Gonna take me all the way in, baby?” You feel yourself spread open even more under those strong hands, feel yourself being lifted up with just that grip, then pushed back down. Your head drops to his shoulder with a long moan. “I’ll help you.”

And he does. He guides you to move up and down his cock, controlling the pace with a tight grip on your hips. It starts slow, with long thrusts that demand you feel every single inch of him, gradually growing into a frantic pace that has the room filled with the sounds of skin slapping on skin as well as your combined sighs and moans. It occurs to you that you’re being too loud, that you should probably keep it down, but every sound of approval that leaves Shane’s lips just makes you ride him even harder, eager to hear more.

Once he feels like you’ve got the hang of it, he lets go of your hips and lets you move on your own. His hands run up your body, circling your breasts and your throat before a thumb presses over your lips. You part them obediently, welcoming it into your mouth without losing your momentum.

It’s when that thumb comes to press against your clit that your hips stutter, pulling almost all the way off Shane before you all but jump back down on it.

“That’s it.” He strokes you in firm circles, grunting when you clench hard around him. “That’s good, kid.”

“Fuck, d-don’t call me that.”

You don’t know how to feel about the fact that this is what tips you over the edge despite your protest, his raspy voice in your ear and that damn pet name echoing in your mind. You can’t even feel the strain on your thighs anymore as you keep on moving, uncoordinated but desperate not to lose that high. Shane thrusts up into you and it drives a broken shout of you, like the sensation takes you by surprise, intensifying the pleasure that runs through every vein of your body.

When you come back to Earth, you’re all but collapsed against him, shuddering in his arms that he wraps around you like you’re cold. He’s still inside. Still hard, poking into your sensitive walls. He’s merciful enough to give you the lightest, gentlest thrusts, helping you ride out the last few waves of your orgasm but giving you time to recover.

Out of strength to lift up and down, you focus on clenching around him as hard as you can, on grinding yourself down against his pelvis.

Lifting your head off his chest, your eyes settle back on the mysterious scratches on his neck. Without thinking about it, you lay your lips over them.

It’s like you can feel the heat of them burning into your own skin, before it goes cool against you and you have to push a little bit harder to feel it again. You trace the cuts with your lips, with your tongue, the coppery taste of dried blood overflowing your senses.

Shane moans your name like a warning. It only makes you take the skin there between your teeth.

He growls, a rumble deep in his chest, and before you can soothe the bite with a kiss he’s grabbing at your sides and pushing you to lay down on the couch. You give a sound that’s half a moan, half a yelp of surprise as he digs back inside you, fucking you like a ragdoll. His pace is harder and faster than before, thrusts too rough and erratic for you to push back into any kind of rhythm, to do anything other than lie there pinned under him and take it.

He comes in just a few seconds, a few hard thrusts before he’s pulling out just in time to shoot his release over your stomach. He buries his face into the crook of your neck, grunting and breathing hard against it, occasionally kissing it like a quiet apology.

Shane moves just enough to give you more room, and you feel him fall asleep just a second before you do, both of you still clutching each other tight.

The hangover hits you before you even open your eyes in the morning; the worst one you’ve had in a very, very long time. You sigh, wrap your arms around the pillow underneath you, scared that any sudden move might make you sick. You’re naked, but wrapped up in a warm blanket. The pillow and the cushions still carry the warmth of someone else, but you’re alone.

The memories hit you in flashes, one after the other — surreal, dizzying, unbelievable. But you never once wonder if it was just a dream.

You close your eyes again, promise yourself to stay here just a few more minutes, just in case he comes back. He won’t, and deep down you know it, but you wait anyway. Just in case.

#oops is it too late to post this #shane walsh x reader #shane walsh x you #shane walsh smut #jon bernthal x reader #the walking dead x reader #jon bernthal smut #the walking dead x you

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rjunhuang · 4 months ago

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how the harry potter boys would react to you hooking up with someone else.

featuring: harry potter, ron weasley, draco malfoy, fred weasley, george weasley. part two.

warnings: lowercase intended. gender neutral reader. informal writing?? they're a bit toxic.

note: can you believe i wrote this in 2023? it was an unfinished draft featuring more characters. i might make a part two w them included. also i do NOT like draco lol so i'm a little biased when i write him. honestly send in some requests on what other prompts you'd like to see w them

divider by enchanthings | comments & reblogs are appreciated! <3

harry! he'd highkey be so salty about it. at first, he's just completely off put and hurt by the thought of you going out with someone else. HE THOUGHT Y'ALL HAD SOMETHING GOING ON </3

his literal initial reaction would be, "oh.. montague, huh.. hm uh.." before walking away from the conversation all together.

if you're a dumbass, you'd assumed he's just incredibly awkward when it came to hearing about other people's relationships, but supportive nonetheless. oh, you're wrong though. he walked off because he had no idea whether to be angry at himself for not pulling any sooner or at you for choosing someone slimey as graham montague to swap spit with or maybe just montague himself.

the longer this fling lasted, the more comfortable harry would be about expressing his distaste on the whole relationship. he'd given you lectures about how you shouldn't like those type of slytherins. you'd probably lost track on how many times he had indirectly called montague ugly.

he would visibly show attitude whenever montague interrupted a conversation between you two. eye rolled and scowled like crazy, but he doesn't want to step the line as he's just seen as a friend by you —

"hey, mate, can't you see i'm trying to have a chat with her?"

he'd have dreams about hexing the shit out of graham though. maybe he'd slyly done it in the middle of class when no one's looking too.

if you accuse harry of doing so, he'd simply just shrug, "don't look at me." but would add a silent, "he had it coming though."

it's like a silent warfare between him and montague soon enough. both of them would be throwing attitude around when you're lowkey oblivious to it all. harry won, obviously, and this would be the breaking point - montague had enough of dealing with harry so he'd just ended things with you. of course, harry's going to comfort you if you do get sad about it —

"i just don't know why he'd do this out of nowhere." you sulk under the hold of harry, both sitting on an empty hallway's staircase. harry has his arm wrapped around you, rubbing your shoulder. "yeah, wonder why.."

he'd had a massive ego boost knowing he was the reason graham montague won't go near you anymore. literally would have to hide his smirk the entire time when comforting you. but he wouldn't be harry potter if he wasn't ending it with a snarky comment. he's not sure whether you'd slap or kiss him for it, but he surely wouldn't mind it being both.

once you and harry finally ended up together, the thought of montague wouldn't even cross his mind. he wouldn't care less about some random troll-looking fool. probably didn't even notice the dirty looks from montague because his eyes are on you. you had his undivided attention.

ron! he'd thought it's some sick, twisted joke. you'd told him the news that you're hooking up with cormac and just watched ron's face morph from being mortified to plain old disgusted. regarding situations like these, i think ron is a bit emotionally immature so he definitely wouldn't react well.

it had been saturday morning and almost everyone fifth year and above were recovering from a wild friday night common room party. that was the first night you hooked up with mclaggen and this morning, on the way to the great hall, he had pulled you aside to suggest making it a common occurrence — "some fun, no need for any strings attached." were his words. you had brought this up in the table during breakfast when hermione pointed out your flushed expression. the news leaves everyone shocked, but most especially ron. hermione had opened her mouth to begin reasoning with you, "i don't thin—" "THAT'S DISGUSTING!" ron wouldn't even beat around the bush, cutting off hermione. his mouth would be full with scrambled eggs and toast since he had stopped bothering to chew the moment you mentioned the word 'hooked up'. you'd mutter back a petty, "bold coming from the git with his mouth full." obviously hurt by his words.

it only worsened from that point onwards. the beautiful friendship you had with ron would crumble in a matter of time. it's constant fights with you two, ron's almost waiting for a reason to scowl or scoff whenever you're around. good luck even mentioning cormac in front of him, he'd just burst. the jealousy was so undeniably obvious yet you'd be so caught up in the anger of all of it to even realise. had it been someone less athletic than cormac, ron would've jumped him the moment he found out.

he'd be a petty little bitch but all the dramatics are to hide his insecurity. of course you'd chosen the conventionally attractive hunk over him. he'd be pretty rough on himself because of it; it's pure heartbreak for him. he'd never admit it but he's cried once or twice after storming off from a fight with you.

the end of your friendship with him would be in a final argument. merlin knows how it started, you never do. but almost a month into your fling with mclaggen, you've grown tired of ron's immaturity. so this time, you ask him.

"why are you even so pressed about this?!" you'd shout to ron. to which he'd counter with, "because he's a dim-witted fool who's only going to hurt you!" the frustration was unbearable as you lick your dry lips, raking a hand through your messy locks. ron is standing opposite to you, chest heaving from the intensity of the situation, yet he shamelessly takes a glance at your lips. "then if you're such an expert at this, tell me who i deserve to be wit—" ron must have a knack for interrupting others because he pulls you into a kiss, frowning as he does so. it's his final desperation for you to just hear him out. and you do, you kiss back and you're hit with the original passion you've always felt for him that these fights had blinded from you.

it's the end of your friendship and the beginning of a romance.

draco! draco's love language is definitely cliche bullying. without a doubt, he doesn't know how to show affection to anyone at all so you two would definitely be enemies of some sort. i think he'd lowkey be oblivious to the fact that he's straight up mean to you but you've literally had enough of it. you'd had a crush on him since your first year together probably and eventually you caught his eye as well — except for all the wrong reasons. he grew a knack for constantly belittling you in some kind of way even remotely possible to him. though, in his eyes, he always saw it as flirting and you being into all of it. you accepted the attention for what it was and grew to expect his taunts during classes. shamelessly, you did enjoy the fights the two of you shared. however, 'banter' could only last for so long and you eventually grew insecure of the words spat from malfoy. your friends encouraged you to move on and you finally decided to take their word. you supposed you had a type for slytherins, seeing how harper soon enough came into your life. he was a good distraction from malfoy to the point that even the (apparently natural) platinum blond took notice of your distancing. you stopped countering draco's remarks with snarky quips nor did you even bother to spare a glance at him anymore. draco hated the feeling he failed to recognise as heartbreak. he was so caught up in this feeling that he ordered crabbe and goyle to snoop around and find out what changed about your life. it didn't take much investigating to discover the budding romance between you and harper. draco was far more distraught than he thought he'd ever been about the news - but what malfoy's goons failed to communicate was that you and harper were barely anything serious.

despite that, draco was consumed by emotion. his immediate reaction after his minions left his dorm room was to owl his father with a letter demanding to expel harper from hogwarts. lucius' response, though, was an eerily formal letter telling his pissbaby of a son to never waste his time with such nonsense again. in other words, his father had completely shrugged him off. thus, draco hopped onto the plan b — which was to gang up on harper with his goons. draco liked to claim no one is on his level enough to be his friend, however, he had grown to like harper before this situation arose. they both shared interests in quidditch and shaming others of their blood status.

soon enough, he had been on harper's case, constantly mocking the other slytherin boy whenever draco found the chance. it was no secret draco had a superiority complex over the fact that harper was the reserve seeker on the slytherin quidditch team whilst draco himself was the main seeker — so this became draco's number one target towards harper.

"your girl couldn't get the real thing so she opted for the knock off instead, yeah?" draco would sneer, adrenaline pumping from the audience that had surrounded him as he insults harper. he tosses a few kicks at the fallen over boy before crabbe and goyle take over with more aggressive ones. he'd snicker at the sight of the dishevelled harper, adding one more comment before walking away, "don't worry, she'll be running back to me soon enough."

fred! if you think fred weasley's demeanor would even remotely falter at the news of you hooking up with someone else, you are wrong. even the fact that the special guy was viktor fricking krum wouldn't be able to stop the ginger from continuing to shamelessly flirt with you. fred's mindset was the literal definition of 'never back down, never give up'. he was not going to let you go simply because krum was snogging you on the sides.

it's lunchtime on a wednesday where majority of hogwarts is present in the great hall, along with the selected students of beauxbatons and durmstrang. you were seated next hermione granger at her designated house table, discussing the slight change in the structures of the upcoming exams. so deep in your conversation with the girl, you had somehow failed to notice the presence of the infamous weasley twins with lee jordan right by their side — obviously. fred is the one to interact with you the most whilst the other two gryffindor boys do their own thing. the older twin's hand is pressed down on the table, leaning his whole body weight against it as he hovers over you. you notice a peculiar shadow cast beside you and turn your right, immediately being greeted with a wickedly grinning weasley. you can't help but notice the veins and slight muscle peeking through his rolled up sleeve from his dominant arm being supported by his weight. hermione, having read the room, turns around, joining a conversation with neville longbottom and ron weasley. "hey, love." fred spoke up, almost purposively being loud enough for others around to take a quick glance. you tense up at the publicly proclaimed nickname, and though you have heard it leave his mouth several times before, this time there is a bulgarian national quidditch player who might just overhear. it doesn't take more than a second for you to spot viktor, who's looking right to your direction, obviously having heard and seen fred. the muscle in krum's tense jaw twitches as he sharply watches the two of you, while on the other hand, fred's gaze on you hasn't budged. in fact, he lifts his left arm up, fixing the position of your head to face him with the grasp on your jaw. "eyes up here, angel." he instructs before going on a tangent about how professor sprout had seperated him and george during class.

to say viktor krum wasn't pleased with fred's public display of affection towards you would be an understatement. apparently in durmstrang, they do things a little differently — such as rounding up your friends and beating up whoever crosses them, rather than the usual duels at hogwarts. so the sight of a bloodied fred entering your dorm had you leaping to your feet to question and aid him. despite the cuts around his face, fred's cocky smile never left his face. clearly he didn't get krum's message, seeing how he took every opportunity to hold your waist as you wiped the cuts clean off his face. krum truly wasn't getting to him. merlin, he seriously enjoyed pissing the guy off.

or so you thought until you caught onto fred's sudden interest in constantly pranking krum and the durmstrang boys. at first you assumed this could be revenge for ganging up on fred, but then you watched the weasley during one of his quidditch practises. beaters already had such an aggressive role — yet in your handful of years knowing fred, you'd never seen him play this aggressive. it was honestly impressive really, how he managed to keep a cool demeanor until he, well, couldn't.

george! george never could understand what had gotten into you to start hooking up with adrian fucking pucey. seriously, all george could think about was how closely pucey resembled to the troll his younger brother and friends fought during their second year. despite his thoughts, he never uttered a single word out loud. he was far from supportive of the relationship but he did his best to stay respectful — maybe you were in an 'i can fix him' phase. though george had no idea how anyone could remove the definite troll genes from the slytherin.

so sure, george kept his mouth shut and a respective distance from the whole relationship ... wrong. oh, come on, there's always a twist with the weasley twins. see, whilst publicly he was an angel .. behind closed doors and alone with you was a whole other wizard. the guy knew if he were to harass pucey with his pranks and stand against him, you would only push the ginger away. he didn't even want to risk such a thing. yet, he still wanted to be close enough to remind you of how much he cared. solitary moments with you begun gentle — he didn't want to cross any line, but still needed to have some sort of idea of where exactly that line was. it wasn't out of the ordinary for just the two of you to hang out — you were best friends after all. however, the more days spent with you, the more flirtatious george grew to be around you.

what starts with light touches on your elbow, soon grows into the two of you laying on the common room couch together, your head on his shoulder and his arm wrapped around you as he talks sweet nothings with you. it was the same old george before you met pucey — how can you ever walk away from this? almost having read the room, george's gaze flickers onto your lips, the talk from him slowly dying out despite the fact that he hadn't even completed his sentence yet. your brain grows fuzzy at the sight of george slowly leaning in, your own gaze fixated on his lips. it was unfortunate that adrian had to step into your common room during that tender moment, clearly in search of you. knowing him, he was in need of some snogging right now. the darkening look in his eyes as he spots the two of you clearly highlights his distaste towards the whole scene. he had practically marched over to the couch, grabbing george by the collar as he slams him onto the nearest wall. you have to admit, the height difference of the five foot nine pucey compared to george's six foot three makes the whole interaction look a lot more silly. "fuck you doin' with my girl, weasley?" snarls adrian, his irish accent thick with rage. yet george seems less than phased, his arms raised as a smirk grows onto his face. "if she was your girl, mate, she would have pulled away." george calmly adds, glancing at you behind pucey with the most flirtatious eyes known to wizard kind. you can't help but feel stunned at the look, almost melting. "want to be the judge of this, darling?"

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beloveds-embrace · 5 months ago

Note

more angst dukedom i beseech you🙏

I gotchu 🫡 cw: implied suicide attempt

John Price had always carried burdens- command, the lives of his men, expectations he never wanted but accepted nonetheless. He bore them all without complaint, because that was what men like him did. They wore their regrets like scars and moved forward, no matter the pain.

But this was different.

There was no strategy, no enemy, no path forward that didn’t feel like wading through a graveyard of his own making.

The enemy was himself. And he had already lost.

The room was too quiet.

You lay in the massive bed, fragile and still, as though the sheets would swallow you whole. Candlelight flickered over your face, highlighting the hollows beneath your eyes, the unnatural stillness of your features. You weren’t asleep, but you weren’t here, not in any meaningful way.

John had seen death before, had buried men with his own hands. But he’d never felt a loss like this. Because you were still breathing. And yet, you were gone.

A part of him had known you were suffering. He had seen the signs, felt the shift in the house, in the way the light had dimmed in your eyes long before your body followed. But he had ignored it. Too busy. Too distracted by his duties. Too used to the idea that you, as a noblewoman, were meant to endure.

He had never stopped to see you.

And now, looking at you- this hollow shell of the woman he had legally sworn to protect- he knew with crushing certainty that he might never be able to bring you back.

His fists clenched at his sides.

The guilt weighed on him, suffocating him, pressing against his ribs. How had he let it come to this?

The doctors said you’d recover. But what was survival if there was nothing left to live for?

He sat beside you, careful, as though one wrong move might shatter what little remained of you. His hand hovered over yours before finally touching it, his calloused fingers brushing against your skin.

You didn’t react. Not even the slightest twitch.

He closed his eyes briefly, whispering, hoarse and broken

“I’m so sorry, Duchess.”

The words were too small, too late, too inadequate for what had been done. But he said them anyway. And he would keep saying them, even if you never heard them.

The manor is silent.

Not the comfortable hush of a home at rest, nor the solemn quiet of a place draped in dignity. No, this silence is heavy, suffocating, thick with something that clings to the skin like damp earth after a burial.

It is a mausoleum now. A grand, gilded coffin filled with ghosts that still breathe, still walk, still whisper their regrets into the very walls, as if stone and wood can grant them absolution.

But the dead do not listen.

And you are dead.

Not in the way the world recognizes, not in the way the priests preach about with their incense and hollow comforts, but in the way that matters. The way that leaves the soul hollowed out and emptied, a once-beating heart now reduced to something that merely functions. The way that makes a woman rise from her sickbed not because she wants to, but because the weight of stillness is unbearable, because even nothingness is preferable to lingering.

So you move.

Because what else is there to do?

The doctor tells you that you can begin walking again, so you do. You do not celebrate this, nor acknowledge the hesitance in his voice, the way he measures his words as though afraid one wrong syllable might shatter you further. He is the family doctor. He had ignored your aches and pains before, but he is still perfect for everyone else, so there is no reason for him to leave.

You simply nod, and then you leave.

No fanfare, no grand proclamation, no shared relief with the servants who dare not meet your eyes, nor the men who have spent too many sleepless nights outside your door, drowning in their own grief.

You pass them all without pause.

Johnny, standing near the stairwell, his mouth parting as if to say something, his hands twitching at his sides, unsure whether to reach for you or let you pass. He says nothing. He does nothing.

Kyle, leaning against the corridor wall, eyes shadowed, his usual confidence stripped raw, his lips pressed into a tight, remorseful line. You do not look at him.

Simon, silent as ever, standing at the threshold of the hall, watching, watching, watching. Always watching. But what good were his eyes when they had never seen you before?

John, waiting at the foot of the stairs, as if he expected you to stop, to say something, to acknowledge him.

You do not.

You step past them as if they are furniture, as if they are just another part of the grand, empty estate that holds no warmth for you. You feel like an unwelcome guest in this house.

Thankfully, they do not follow you.

Perhaps they should. Perhaps once, a long time ago, they would have. But now, there is something in the way you carry yourself- a frigid, unyielding nothingness- that warns them against it.

You do not stop until you reach your office.

It is the one place in this house that still belongs to you, still exists outside of their guilt, their whispered apologies, their feeble, desperate attempts to undo the irreversible.

The papers on your desk are still neatly stacked, left undisturbed as if the very walls themselves had been mourning your absence. The ink in your inkwell has dried, a stark reminder of how much time has passed, how much has been lost.

You sit, you pick up the first document, and then you begin to work.

It is not a statement. It is not an act of rebellion, nor is it an attempt to prove anything to anyone.

It is simply something to do.

A way to fill the hours, to keep your hands moving, to avoid the empty spaces where grief might creep in, where thoughts might fester.

The servants try, at first. They hover, unsure whether to acknowledge you, whether to speak. They bring tea that grows cold on the desk, untouched. They set down meals that go ignored, waiting until you are gone to take them away in silent defeat. They do not try to talk to you anymore.

They understand now; you are done with them.

You are done with all of it.

You are not cruel. You do not snap at them, nor raise your voice, nor offer even a fraction of the coldness they once gave you.

But you don’t speak to them at all.

And in some ways, that is worse.

Because there is nothing they can do to thaw the ice that has settled into your bones, nothing they can say that will undo what has been broken.

There is no… warmth left to give.

#noona.asks #noona.writes

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bunnis-fanfics · 20 days ago

Text

Yandere!Kurapika doesn't understand that someone could hold him dear to their heart.

He's tossed his life aside so much that he almost views himself as insignificant in comparison to his goals. His health, his previous ambitions, hopes, and dreams didn't matter anymore once his clan was massacred. He wasn't the boy who wanted to explore the world anymore, he just wanted to go home.

He wanted to have a home to return to again.

So when you open up your doors to him, carving out a spot in your home that's just for him and nobody else it's almost overwhelming.

He's spent so long pushing his heart into a crevice in his body and now you're tugging at it and it's uncomfortable and it hurts but it also feels so warm and sweet that he doesn't know how to react

Game nights and holidays and home cooked meals were things he doesn't think he deserves, but you invite him to them anyways and make sure he feels included and loved.

It's hard, part of him thinks that he doesn't deserve to experience these good things anymore because his clan can't, but the other part of him craves an ounce of normalcy in his cold and tired existence where everything is about vengeance and getting to the end.

And when you just hold him and let him rest for a while he can't help but want to melt into your arms and never get up again. Would it be okay, if he found some comfort in you for just a little while? Can he bear the sin of enjoying life on his back when the weight of his clan never getting to smile again bears down on him like a cross until he crucifies himself in the name of vengeance and justice?

Everyone has their cross to bear but fuck does his weigh down on him to the point of digging him into the ground at times.

And with your hands that could never understand his pain, you lift up some of the burden of his trauma and let him rest and recover. Does he really deserve you, when he can't give you the normal and happy life you deserve?

You always answer the same way. "It doesn't matter if you deserve me, you have me, and I'm not going anywhere."

And he doesn't know if that answer will be enough to stop his heart from aching when he catches you crying over his well being, but he hopes that you will really still be there when he's ready to settle down. He wants you, but he's not sure he'll ever actually have you.

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0coffeeplease0 · 3 months ago

Note

uhh forsaken killers and survivors w a shelly reader from Dw?Like the particular reason they got forsakened was because they kept on getting ignored?

Yessir as shelly main I will do it.

Anyways I was mostly inspired by that headlock meme ivyfideo made in tik tok.

Forsaken Survivors + Killers x Forsakend Shelly GN Reader

Note: this is gonna be a one-shot and headcanon.

Warnings: Violence, Blood, Death, gore, bad words :)

NOTICE ME NOW...

☆~~♡~~☆

You were fixing a machine, the round had started not long ago. You start hearing footsteps you look around to see Noob, you waved, and Noob looked like he hadn't noticed it. You should have expected that.

Everyone ignored you, forgot about you, you were and outcast, not even the most decent people like Dusekkar noticed you.

You start to remember how the others acted with you, Elliot would have given someone else a slice of pizza while they have more HP than you do, you had asked Elliot if you could have a slice but he always acted as if you're invisible...

The killers, they don't seem to notice you either, but if you get in their way they won't hesitate to kill you. You were tired of it, tired of being the one who is forgotten, you just want them to notice you and talk to you...and in this round that would be the final straw.

You were running away from the killer, you tried to find Shedletsky or Chance to help, of course, everyone was gathered around together. They seemed had to notice the killer, but not you, before the last second of the timer stopped everything...everything was pain.

You fell to the ground and looked down, you were cut in half by the last second, you try to get someone to help you but they walk past you...

You feel anger, a feeling you haven't felt before.

Fine.

If they aren't going to notice you while being friendly then they will notice you by murdering them.

You felt your body transforming, it was all painful.

With the survivors.

Noob was talking with elliot he seemed worried for you, he had spoken about it with Elliot but Elliot only told him, "Don't worry about them I'm sure they are ok."

He feels guilty for ignoring you most of the time, maybe he could try and make it to you...that is if he dosent forget you in the process. Noob kept walking right behind the others, but he stopped for a bit, he heart loud footsteps before he could react something had chomped down on his neck, he couldn't scream, Noob felt the teeth of whatever was biting on his neck, sink deeper. Then, crunch...

Everyone turned around, everyone was shocked, it was you...you were different, your torso, composed of an exposed rib cage which looks like a dinosaurs bone, with the tips of each rib sharpened. Your entire skeletal torso is covered in some black gooey substances.

Then you attack, clawing at Elliot in the chest, Elliot had little time to recover as you had stomped on his head, blood splattering. The others ran, a new timer has been set, you began you're chase.

You were after Dusekkar, you were after him, you were so fast, Dusekkar felt his stamina drain he was getting tired, but before he could worry any longer, Shedletsky had striked. He had stunned you...but it didn't last long as you came back to your senses quickly, and swung your tail, hitting Shedletsky, and he was sent flying until he hits a wall, before he could get up and make a run, your clawed hand had grabbed Shedletsky by the neck and 'snap'.

Dusekkar who had witnessed this, felt helpless, he wondered why you turned this way... but of course he knew why...everyone had forgotten about your existence, and they were to blame for it...and he felt guilty. But suddenly Dusekkar felt a pain, something was, no, something chomped down on his head, but then it all went black.

It wasn't long as you killed everyone 1 by 1, the satisfaction you had felt even if anger was still drowning you, you looked around to admire what you had done, blood surrounded the place scared across the walls, limbs, guts...

As you ripped Chance's vocal cords out with your clawed hands the timer ended.

After everyone had recovered from the events they looked at Builderman who was holding a chart, the new killer...was you...and they knew that you were a serious threat, but they all were guilty of the way you had become...

☆~~♡~~☆

☆Headcannons☆

Noob

•He felt very guilty.

•He blames himself for everything that had happend with you.

•He is afraid of you.

•He wants to apologize but he knows that if he does, his apologies will fall to deaf ears.

Elliot

•Elliot feels even more guilty, he has seen you almost die but he never gave you a slice.

•He thinks that if he had healed you sooner you would still be you.

•He regrets not helping you or even noticing you.

Chance

•He genuinely feels like cr4p, He knew you were real, that you actually had feelings but he never talked to you.

•He feels slightly guilty, but he's more worried on how to outlive you in the rounds.

Two Time

•Did the Spawn punish them?

•they think that it's your fault.

Guest 1337

•He is more worried on how everyone can survive you, bit you were to big to even do much, you had changed into something dangerous.

•He does feel guilty, he has noticed you, has walked by you, but never really said anything to you.

Shedletsky

•He feels like an a-hole, but he can't feel guilty at this time, he needs to find a strategy to make sure no one dies much whenever it's your turn in rounds.

Builderman

•Feels bad for you, but he dosent have time for those feelings after you had demolished his machines in one go, he needs something stronger.

007n7

•Very guilty, he knows it's not entirely his fault in why you became a killer, but he also knows that you had a good reason to.

•He fears you, he really does, he wonders just how creative you can get with killing.

Dusekkar

•He saw it all coming but he didn't think that it would be so soon, still shaken up after what he had witnessed.

•Even if you are long gone, he makes sure to keep your stuff clean, that dinosaur book you had in there? Not a single spec of dust.

Taph

•Youa re a bigger threat, he can see it, but he knows that he has to deal with it.

•He wishes to help you go back to who you were before, but if you did, they would keep forgetting you...

☆~~♡~~☆

Kilers

1x1x1x1

•After he had spectated, they haven't said a word, she tried to talk to you but you had snapped at him.

•He knew you were going to be a very strong killer, maybe he could try and manipulate you.

John Doe

•He didn't do much after what had happend.

c00lkid

•He thinks you are so cool like this but also he is terrified, after spectating you he had witnessed the way you killed his dad, this made him scared...

•But you wouldn't hurt his dad like that if he asked you kindly, right?

Azure

•Thinks that it was Two Time who had provoked you.

☆~~♡~~☆

Ending note: ima leave it here I'm doing this at 4:08 a.m. because I couldn't sleep and now I feel tired.

#forsaken #forsaken x reader #roblox forsaken #roblox forsaken x reader #dandys world x forsaken

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xjulixred45x · 2 months ago

Note

For me while reading the au I imagined yuu to be abt 17-19 like most of the boys so I was wondering what you think the boys reactions (or at least the Housewarden + Jamil) would think/react to finding out Yuu is pregnant!

TW: Sensitive topics (implied)

Honestly, at first, most people are a little worried about Yuu, mostly about whether the baby is unwanted or not (or how the baby was conceived...) and they want to be 100% sure that Yuu truly wants to be a mother so young above all else, that it's HER decision and no one else's.

If Yuu comes from a bad background, the dorm leaders will act as support for her and try to be safe spaces in their own way. The same goes for the first-years.

Riddle continues to act protectively toward Yuu, but at the same time he demands academically (without going overboard, obviously; he's much softer with Yuu than with the other Heartsabyul students), precisely because he believes that if Yuu is going to have a baby, he has to give it a good future from a young age. The further along the pregnancy progresses, the more anxious he becomes and the less strict he is. He definitely doesn't take lightly the harassment/bullying Yuu might receive for being a teenage mother; any transgression of that kind gets immediately a "Off with your head!"

When the baby is born, Riddle probably personally talks to the teachers about getting Yuu off homework for a couple of weeks. He has two doctor parents, and he KNOWS the effects of giving birth. He's still tense about baby Sheila (as I decided to name the baby) but isn't opposed to keeping an eye on her so Yuu can study properly. Riddle is definitely the type of person who talks to babies like adults; it's funny (Cater has the Riddle and Sheila "conversations" on video for everyone's enjoyment).

Leona is worried, even if he doesn't show it. Did you see when she meets Yuu in the greenhouse? He probably realized she was pregnant at that moment and left right away. He may be an idiot, but not an jackass. After the events of Book 3, he probably has Ruggie or Jack check in on Yuu from time to time (either by helping her with homework, bringing her snacks, or something like that).

Leona isn't one to pry into Yuu's personal life, and if she continues with the pregnancy, it's because she wants the baby. He respects that, so, surprisingly, he can get quite defensive of Yuu (in the "only I can make fun of them (affectionately)" kind of way), even when Sheila is born—or rather, ESPECIALLY when Sheila is born. He'll definitely criticize Yuu more for being impulsive now that she's a mother. Shouldn't he be thinking more about her daughter? Gosh…

Azul would feel a little bad about trying to take a dorm away from a pregnant teenager, yes, but at least he's not heartless enough to not give her another option. He doesn't ask questions about the baby, but he makes certain assumptions based on what Yuu tells him and builds a mental picture from there (both good and bad). It takes him a ridiculous amount of time to convince Yuu to eat at Monstre Louge (for free) as her pregnancy progresses.

When Sheila is born healthy and Yuu recovers well, Azul is quite relieved (he was definitely very stressed seeing the mortality rate of teenage pregnancies in humans), and on more than one occasion he offers to let Yuu study in the VIP lounge while Floyd and Jade take care of Shayla (or "mini Shrimpy"), of course, constantly checking that everything is okay, he wouldn't trust a baby to the twins for too long either...

Kalim doesn't really treat Yuu any differently if she were an adult or if she were his age. He continues to bring the baby a ton of gifts, gives advice that helped his mother when she was pregnant, and continues to offer help at Ramshackle if she needs it. The only difference is that he also offers to form a study group so that Yuu doesn't miss any classes once she starts missing due to her advanced pregnancy.

Jamil, on the other hand, is a bit more cautious. He's more aware that in this scenario, Yuu might not have wanted the baby at such a young age, so he's quite surprised to see her excitement about becoming a mother; it's almost contagious. Along with Riddle, he's the one who offers to prepare bentos or nutritious meals for the pregnancy, and he also tries to prevent Kalim from overdoing it with gifts or things that might harm Yuu/the baby.

Vil is mostly shocked when he realizes Yuu is pregnant, but he doesn't comment on it; he's unusually reserved around her, actually. The truth is that Vil, on the one hand, doesn't understand why Yuu would want to be a mother so young, while on the other hand, he admires that she still wants to continue her studies, being perseverant and enjoying the things that make her happy. He respects her greatly.

When Sheila is eventually born, it's a MUST that the members of Pomefiore take care of her. She ends up with several new onesies, a tiara, three plushies, among many other things, just for being adorable. Meanwhile, Yuu gets a skincare routine for the first time in weeks, much to Vil's delight.

Idia doesn't interact differently with Yuu if she's an adult or a teenager. He still believes he's going to ruin the baby somehow because "that's just how he is," but he's willing to help her with things like ultrasound equipment, medicine, using Ortho to check on the baby, etc. He was definitely super scared when he heard the screams on ramshackle. He genuinely thought Yuu was going to die and almost fainted from relief when they told him she and Sheila were okay.

Would Malleus even notice the difference between a teenage Yuu and an adult Yuu? Regardless, Malleus is protective of his pregnant daughter of men, no matter how old she is. He'll view any sudden or unwanted approach as a potential threat. Want to take Yuu by surprise? BOOM! Electrocuted. Want to touch Yuu's pregnant belly without asking? Electrocuted! Want to wake Yuu up after a sleepless night of kicking? Guess what happens :)

Malleus is extremely careful with Sheila once she's born. He holds her with both hands and looks her in the eyes VERY DIRECTLY while talking about the same topics he used to talk about while she was still in the womb, as if resuming a conversation.

In general, they're a little more cautious about the subject, but just as encouraging and supportive.

___________

(ESPAÑOL)

TW: temas sensibles (implícito)

Sinceramente, al principio la mayoría se preocupa un poco por Yuu, mas que nada por si el bebe es deseado o no (o como fue que el bebe fue concebido…) y querrían asegurarse al cien por ciento de que Yuu realmente quiera ser madre tan joven por encima de todo, que sea decisión de ELLA y de nadie más.

Si Yuu viene de un mal entorno, los líderes de dormitorio actuaran como soporte para ella y trataran de ser espacios seguros a sus maneras. Lo mismo con los de primer año.

Riddle sigue actuando de forma protectora con Yuu, pero al mismo tiempo le exige en el ámbito académico (sin sobrepasarse obviamente, es mucho más blando con Yuu que con los otros estudiantes de Heartsabyul), justamente porque cree que, si Yuu va a tener un bebe, tiene que darle un buen futuro desde joven. Mientras más avanza el embarazo, mas ansioso se vuelve y menos estricto es. Definitivamente no se toma a la ligera el acoso/Bullying que Yuu podría llegar a recibir por ser madre adolecente, cualquier transgresión de ese estilo es fuera con sus cabezas en el acto.

Cuando el bebe nace, Riddle probablemente habla personalmente con los profesores para que Yuu sea exenta de tarea durante un par de semanas, el tiene dos padres médicos, SABE los efectos de dar a luz. Sigue siendo tenso con la beba Sheila (como decidí ponerle a la beba) pero no se opone a vigilarla para que Yuu pueda estudiar adecuadamente. Riddle definitivamente es el tipo de persona que le habla a los bebes como adultos, es gracioso (Cater tiene las “conversaciones” de Riddle y Sheila en video para el disfrute de todos).

Leona esta preocupado, aun si no lo demuestra ¿viste cuando conoce a Yuu en el invernadero? Probablemente se dio cuenta en ese momento que estaba embarazada y directamente se fue, será un idiota, pero no un imbécil. Después de los eventos del libro 3, probablemente hace que Ruggie o Jack chequen a Yuu de vez en cuando (ya sea ayudándole con la tarea, trayéndole snacks, cosas por el estilo).

Leona no es de indagar en la vida personal de Yuu, y si ella continua con el embarazo es porque ella quiere al bebe, el respeta eso, por lo mismo, sorprendentemente, puede ponerse bastante a la defensiva de Yuu (del tipo “solo yo puedo burlarme de ellos (afectuosamente)”), incluso cuando Sheila nace, o mejor dicho, ESPECIALMENTE cuando Sheila nace. Definitivamente criticara más a Yuu por ser impulsiva ahora que es madre ¿no debería pensar más en su hija? Cielos…

Azul se sentiría un poco mal de intentar quitarle el dormitorio a una adolecente embaraza, sí, pero al menos no es lo suficientemente desalmado como para no darle otra opción de domicilio. El no hace preguntas con respecto al bebe, pero hace ciertas conjeturas basadas en lo que Yuu le llega a contar y se arma una imagen mental a partir de ahí (tanto para bien como para mal). Le toma una estúpida cantidad de tiempo convencer a Yuu de comer en el Monstre Louge (gratis) cuando su embarazo avanza.

Cuando Sheila nace sana y Yuu se recupera bien, Azul está bastante aliviado (definitivamente estuvo muy estresado al ver la tasa de mortalidad de embarazos adolescentes en humanos), y en más de una ocasión ofrece que Yuu estudie en la sala VIP mientras que Floyd y Jade cuidan de Shayla (o “mini Shrimpy”) claro, checando que todo este bien constantemente, el tampoco confiaría un bebe demasiado tiempo a los gemelos…

Kalim realmente no trata de forma diferente a Yuu si es que fuera una adulta o si fuera de su edad, le sigue trayendo un monton de regalos al bebe, da consejos que le ayudaron a su mama cuando estuvo embarazada, le sigue ofreciendo ayuda en Ramshackle si es que la necesita, la única diferencia es que tambien ofrece hacer un grupo de estudio para que Yuu no se pierda de ninguna clase una vez que ella empieza a faltar debido al embarazo avanzado.

Jamil, por otro lado, es un poco más cuidadoso, es más consciente de que en este escenario Yuu podría no haber querido al bebe siendo tan joven, por lo que se sorprende bastante al ver la emoción que tiene al ser madre, es casi contagioso. Junto a Riddle, es quien ofrece preparar bentos o comidas nutritivas para el embarazo, también trata de evitar que Kalim se exceda con los regalos o las cosas que puedan dañar a Yuu/El bebe.

Vil esta principalmente shockeado cuando se da cuenta de que Yuu está embarazada, pero no comenta al respecto, esta inusualmente reservado cuando está cerca de ella en realidad. La verdad es que Vil por una parte no entiende porque Yuu querría ser madre tan joven, mientras que por otro lado admira que aun así quiera continuar con los estudios, siendo perseverante y disfrutando las cosas que la hacen feliz, la respeta mucho.

Cuando eventualmente Sheila nace, es una NECESIDAD que los miembros de Pomefiore la cuiden, termina con varios onesies nuevos, una tiara, tres peluches, entre muchas cosas más, solo por ser adorable. Mientras tanto Yuu se hace una rutina de cuidado de la piel por primera vez en semanas, para la alegría de Vil.

Idia no interactúa de forma diferente con Yuu si es adulta o adolecente, sigue creyendo que va a arruinar a su bebe de alguna forma porque “él es así”, pero está dispuesto a ayudarla con cosas como equipo para el ultrasonido, medicinas, usar a Ortho para checar al bebe, etc. Definitivamente estaba super asustado cuando escucho los gritos en ramshackle, pensó genuinamente que Yuu iba a morir y casi se desmaya del alivio cuando le dijeron que ella y Sheila estaban bien.

¿Malleus siquiera notaria la diferencia si es una Yuu adolecente o una Yuu adulta? Indiferentemente de eso, Malleus es protector con su hija de hombre embarazada, no importa la edad que tenga, tomara cualquier acercamiento repentino o indeseado como una posible amenaza ¿quieres tomar por sorpresa a Yuu? BOOM electrocutado ¿quieres tocar la panza de embarazada de Yuu sin pedir permiso? ¡electrocutado! ¿quieres despertar a Yuu despues de una noche de insomnio por culpa de las pataditas? Adivina que pasa 

Malleus es super cuidadoso con Sheila una vez que nace, la sostiene con ambas manos y le mira a los ojos MUY FIJAMENTE mientras le habla de los temas que solia hablar cuando estaba en la panza, como si estuviera retomando una conversación.

En general, son un poco mas cuidadosos con el tema, pero igual de alentadores y solidarios.

Shares, reblogs and comments are very welcome!

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hargreeves-duncan · 11 months ago

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Hey, I read your last Five fics which I absolutely loved and I was wondering if I could request a (Five x Reader) or (Five x OC) in which Five betrays the MC with Lila in the subway and when they come back MC leaves him and meets someone else who she falls deeply in love with (probably married her new partner and even has children) and years later Five finds her and he tries to fix everything because he realized that whatever happened with Lila was not real love and then he witnesses MC with her new family and realizes that it could’ve been him if only he would’ve treasured her love and stayed loyal to her?

I just love angst with a happy ending for the person who was betrayed and a miserable life for the traitor.

pt. 1

visual is for vibes only, reader’s appearance is nondescript!

pairing: five hargreeves x fem!reader

summary: you’ve moved on, five’s still recovering from the life that could’ve been

warnings: cheating

word count: 2.2k

a/n: i’m inclined to agree, bad people deserve to get what’s coming to them!! i know everyone really wanted a pt. 2 to the cheating!Five fic and that’s what this turned into so… hope you enjoy!❤️

Five checked the address in his notepad for the hundredth time since he’d left his apartment. He looked back up at the house with its neat entryway and wide, glorious front garden. There were cream roses spiralling around the white picket fences and he wondered if you were the one who’d painted them. You'd always had a knack for fixing things up and making them shine better than they had without you, himself included. Your entire house, no, home, was beautiful - but what else did he expect? It was yours, after all.

He took a deep breath, wringing out his hands that were already sweating profusely. He hadn’t felt nerves like these in years. It had been so long since you’d last seen him and your life looked so perfect and picturesque without him in it that he felt selfish for dirtying your lawn with his presence.

Things had been difficult during the split, you couldn’t even hold his eye or be alone in the same room as him after the events of Christmas Eve. But even after everything, you’d still been straight with him, and civil too, when you told him that you were going to stay somewhere else for a while. You'd needed some time before the two of you could be close again and, of course, he’d agreed. To tell the truth, at the time he hadn’t even minded. He had Lila then. Why was there any need for you to stay around?

But after a while, she had left too. For Lila, their seven years together really only had been a fling, a spur of the moment. She went back to her husband, her family. And Diego, being softer than you were, let her, no matter what she’d done or how badly she’d hurt him. The two of them had pushed forward and eventually they’d made it to the other side. They weren’t the same couple as they had been, but they were doing better, and for them that was enough.

After that, Five had grown bitter towards you and the way you’d reacted. Why couldn’t you see things the way Diego had? Why hadn’t you taken him back and reassured him that you would fix it all, like his brother had done for Lila? That was how things were supposed to go.

He was angry at Lila for a while too, for choosing her family over the future he wanted with her. He hadn't understood how their affair was formed by circumstance, not love. He knew better now.

Looking back, a small part of him actually respected you more for turning him away. It was strong of you to choose yourself for once and he was proud of how you’d pushed through, even when he had begged and pleaded for you to take him back.

He wouldn’t do that today, he promised himself, as he marched on and up the steps of your front porch. He brushed his hair out of his face and then he reached up, knocking on the door. He heard the soft thump of feet on the hardwood floors draw closer.

The door opened and there you stood, smiling, “Hi!” You paused as you registered who it was that stood in front of you. Shocked, you said, “Oh! You are not the mail.”

Five laughed softly, shaking his head, “Uh… I am not, no.” He silently looked over you, taking in the ways you’d changed since he last saw you. Your hair was slightly longer than it used to be, but it looked good, suited you. As did the outfit you were wearing. He didn't dare to say that out loud though.

“I… Hi, Five. What can I do for you?” You asked, stepping out onto the porch and gently closing the door behind you. He’d missed your soft-spoken voice and hearing it made a dreamy smile form on his face.

“I wanted to check on you, see how you’ve been.” He gestured to your front door, “May I…?”

You hesitated for a moment but then you sighed, nodding and smiling weakly, “Yeah, of course. Come on in.” You say, opening the door again and leading him inside. You’re walking three strides ahead of him as you ask, “Can I get you anything? Tea? Coffee?”

“Uh, yeah. Coffee would be great, actually.” He says, blinking up at you in slight surprise as he steps into your home. He was expecting more resistance. The interior of your home is just as nice as the outside. It’s warm and so clearly full of the love that you’ve put into it. His eyes are drawn to the pictures on the shelf in the walkway.

There are a few of you with his siblings. He’s not surprised about that. In the wake of your divorce, it was you that they’d sided with and, even now, they were still treading lightly around Lila and him at family functions. What does surprise him are the two children that Klaus has his arms wrapped around in the family portrait at some celebration or other. They feature in several photos, dressed in pretty dresses and sporting toothy grins in almost every one.

Before he can overthink it, your voice is calling out to him, “Five?” You poke your head out of the kitchen door and he smiles resignedly. He stands up and follows you into the kitchen. He sits on one of the stools at the island.

The only sound comes from you, pouring out his coffee. You fetch yourself a water and then slide his mug towards him. He smiles gently, taking the warm beverage into his hands, “Thank you, love.”

Leaning on the counter, opposite him, your head snaps up to look at him as you laugh nervously. Catching his mistake, Five shakes his head, laughing a little himself, “Sorry. I guess it's still a force of habit.”

“It’s fine.” You say with a small smile, sipping from your own glass. The silence becomes comfortable. There was something familiar about this routine, enjoying the quiet company of one another and it settles any nerves left in Five.

Steadying his breath, his eyes search the kitchen for answers of what your life has looked like these last few years. More than a few times, he’d asked his siblings and they’d given little or sometimes even nothing to work with. He wished he still knew your ins and outs like he used to.

He finds his answers hanging up in a frame on the far wall. It’s a nice photo of you, your happiness shines out of it and watches over the room. There’s someone else in it too. Five doesn’t recognise him but by the placement of his hands, he knows what he must mean to you.

Five clears his throat, pointing to the photo with his mug, “Who’s the guy?”

You look up and feel your cheeks flame as you find the photo you had taken on your last vacation, “He’s my partner.” You say and your smile is shy as you talk about him. One mention of this guy and you’re already indescribably smile-y.

It makes Five’s stomach churn when you say, “We’ve been together for nearly five years now.”

“Oh, wow…” He says, eyebrows raising. He’s trying and failing miserably to mask his surprise and pain. It’s not as if he expected you to come running back into his arms with some crazy love confession or anything, but he didn’t think you’d have moved on either.

What hurts the most is how happy you look to be talking about your new partner, your eyes lit up with affection that used to be reserved for him, “That’s… that’s amazing, congratulations.”

You smile softly, wrapping your arms around yourself as you set your glass down, “Thank you.”

“And the kids in those photos in the hallway…?” Five says, glancing over his shoulder as if they’ll come barreling in at any second. He’s not sure he could face two girls with eyes just like yours staring back at him.

You nod, “They’re mine, yeah. They’re three. At pre-school right now, but, you know…” You answer, shrugging and smiling at the thought of your twin little girls.

After your time at The Commission, you’d been terrified of the mother you'd be. Some days it still felt like you were waiting for the other shoe to drop and for you to turn into a cruel, awful person. But, you hadn't so far and your partner was always there to soothe you when those thoughts started to creep up on you.

You were still learning that it was okay to be a mother and have had your own life before that as an assassin. Being a good killer didn’t stop you from being a good mother and you were more than capable of giving your girls the love they deserved. Everything you did was for the good of them and you were doing an amazing job at giving them a happy and completely normal life.

“Jesus, wow…” Five laughs to himself, running a hand over his face as he looks back at you. He’s speechless, hearing about the wonderful life that you’ve built yourself. He feels a deep-rooted guilt spring up in him. He never gave you that life but it was plain to see how much you craved it and how you were thriving in it.

He’d spent so long saying that maybe, one day, in between all of the chaos of your lives, you’d find time for a quiet life like this. He’d spent every waking moment pushing the future and its commitments as far away as he could, arguing that all he wanted was to focus on you whilst he had you in his arms. But he had never given you what you wanted and now you’d found it with someone else.

Swallowing down the ache in his chest, he pulled his mug closer to himself, seeking out the warmth of it on his palms to ground him, “You look really happy.”

“I am, I really am.” You say, smiling softly at him. You were happy that Five had come here today, that you could get some true closure on your time together, it felt like a lifetime ago now. Sunlight poured into the kitchen and your bracelet shimmered under its rays, a dazzling silver.

A strained smile makes its way onto Five’s face at the sight of it, yet another symbol of the fact that didn’t belong to him anymore. It hurt to admit it but silver suited you far better than gold ever did, and he’s sure that there’s a metaphor somewhere in there but he wasn't ready to face the truth behind it yet.

You take another sip of water and there’s a peaceful silence that falls over the room that gives you both the chance to absorb everything that’s passed between you in the last two decades. You look over his features and tilt your head to the side, “What about you, though? How’re you doing?”

Five could answer with what he’s really thinking - that he’s sorry for putting your dreams on the back-burner and that he didn't treasure you the way should've the first time around. He wants to tell you that if you go with him right now and give it all up that he can be the one to provide for you instead and he wants to tell you that he would be so much better than your new partner ever could - but he won’t, he promised he wouldn't.

Instead, he smiles weakly, shrugging his shoulders as he sits up, “I’m doing okay.”

You’ve said it yourself, you’re happy as you are and, unlike him, you're not hung up on the 'what ifs' and the 'could've beens'. You don't need him anymore and he's not selfish enough to risk ruining your happiness just to make some pathetic promise that you both know he won't keep.

“Yeah? That’s good. I’m glad.” You smile and the genuinity in your voice is the real kicker. You’re such a good person that you still care enough to want to know that he’s alright after everything, when he's still weighing up whether he should ruin your relationship or not.

He can’t help but question if he ever deserved you in the first place.

There’s a knock at the door and the both of you jump slightly. You laugh, “That must be the mail.” You set your glass down, padding out of the room.

He chuckles to himself, nodding, “Looks like it.” He mutters, finishing the dregs of his coffee and places the mug down on the counter as he stands up. He has to get out before he ruins your life all over again with words that you don't want to hear.

Walking back into the room with two boxes on your hip, you watch as he picks up his coat, “Oh! Please, don’t feel rushed, you don’t have to leave yet. I don’t have to go get the girls for another few hours.”

Five shakes his head, “No, it's alright. I’ll get out of your hair.” He says, walking into the hallway, “Thank you, by the way, for the coffee.”

“Of course, you’re welcome.” You say, following behind him as he walks out of the door.

He hovers on the porch and you smile kindly at him, “Just... please, don’t be a stranger, Five.”

“I couldn’t even if I wanted to."

#fanfic #fanfiction #the umbrella academy #five hargreeves #five hargreeves x reader #request #anon

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yesimwriting · 1 year ago

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thinking about bestfriend!felix who's known for being touchy within his social circle, so when he holds your hand as you walk around campus and leaves giggly kisses against your cheek, your jaw, your neck after a few drinks, you think nothing of it.

especially because it comes up in conversation from time to time. everyone that hangs out with him regularly enough has at least one story: felix smoothed circles against my back until i fell asleep on the bathroom floor after a party; he's kissed the top of my head twice; i've never seen him end a hug first.

and you've seen things--at parties, while studying, while out with friends in general. so you genuinely have no reason to think there's anything strange or different about the way he treats you, and neither does anyone else.

at first.

one night, when you're still new enough to felix and his world that you feel extremely out of place at a party that he invited you to, he calls you over to where he and his friends are sitting. you walk over to them, greeting everyone politely before moving to take the available space next to felix.

he grabs your wrist before you can actually sit. you're confused, but given little time to react. felix mumbles an absentminded, "c'mere" before pulling you towards his lap. it's a little flustering, but you sit, because that's just how felix is.

okay. normal enough. conversation continues. no one thinks twice about it. farleigh thinks it's a bit of overkill, but just assumes it's a combination of alcohol and maybe an attempt at laying the groundwork to hook up with you a little later in the night.

then, someone asks about potential vacation plans over break and farleigh brings up an inside joke from the last trip he and felix went on. it's casual, but it's clear that felix is supposed to say something.

farleigh looks over in time to see felix holding one of your hands to his lips. alright. still not the most egregious display of platonic affec--felix takes his time pressing kisses to each of your knuckles.

it's not just the gesture. it's the way felix watches your reaction through his lashes and the amount of care in his focus. as if you're the only one in the room. there's a patience there that's practically devoted.

maybe farleigh had it wrong. he thought you were just one of those platonic friends that felix would cart around for a few months before getting bored. maybe it's more romantic, or at the very least sexual.

then felix's eyebrows draw together. "you're cold." you start to say that you're fine, but before you can get the words out, felix is holding both of your hands between his.

in the beat that it takes farleigh to recover from the slightly nauseating display, the rest of the group has gone quiet. they're all watching felix dote on you like you're the reason for the moon hanging in the sky. annabel whispers something about the "unsuspecting".

farleigh eventually tries again, directly stating felix's name. he finally looks up, a little confused, as if coming out of a trance. farleigh repeats his earlier comment, finally getting a reaction from felix. the group recovers because while the moment had been almost uncomfortably intimate for something so casual, this is far from the first time felix has started (casually) seeing an 'outsider'.

some time passes and you finish your first drink. when felix notices, he asks if you want another. you tell him that you don't mind getting your own, but felix is insistent. you stand so that he can get up.

a part of you wishes you could have found an excuse to go with him. the gesture, in theory, is nice, but without felix's protection, being left with his friends feels like he's thrown you to the wolves.

annabel, a little tipsy and now curious asks, "so, how long have you and felix..." she trails off with a knowing look.

you kind of get what she's implying, but it feels like too random and too unfitting of an assumption to be accurate. "oh, we've been friends since around right after syllabus week, felix ask--"

"no," she shakes her head, "i mean--" she tries again, this time asking with precise language.

your face grows a few degrees warmer. "oh." the slight laugh that follows the syllable is too genuine for it to be you playing coy. "no, it's not--we're friends."

friends. you genuinely believe it. annabel fixes you with a tight lipped smile that makes something in your stomach knot.

you decide that her question must have been prompted by you sitting on felix's lap. you've also heard enough stories about them to assume that they have an on again off again, sort of thing, and because you really don't want to make an enemy of her, you try to justify it, "that was just--you've known him way longer, he's just like that."

oh my god. he's fooled you. completely convinced you that that's normal. before annabel can really react, felix comes back. he hands you your drink and kisses your cheek before sitting down next to you. he doesn't ask you to go back to where you were sitting before, but he does keep a hand on your knee.

----

some bestfriend!reader concepts ft oliver

another bestfriend! felix blurb :)

bestfriend! felix and reader basically dating

#kind of want to write more bestfriend!felix at some point #saltburn x reader #saltburn imagine #felix catton x reader #felix catton #bestfriend!felix #jacob elordi #jacob elordi x reader

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thewildernesschooses · 2 months ago

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My Man, a readerxtravis oneshot

a criminal lack of travis content. he’s so fun to write! oh well, i guess i have to be the change i want to see in the world and whatever.

reader and travis knew each other before the crash. You weren’t friends but something changed out there.

Travis was a dick, there was no denying that. You knew that before the crash and you had no expectations that a freak accident would make him kinder. But this was beyond the pale.

He didn’t get to be a dick to Javi like that. You understood that he was grieving, even understood how his complicated relationship with his father was making this worse, but he needed to buck up.

Javi was a good kid, he was stubborn sometimes but who wasn’t? You cared about that little boy, you babysat him back when you were JV. When Travis was recovering from his surgery there were so many appointments and hospital stays. Coach didn’t want to cancel any practice and god forbid he let his assistant coach assist him in coaching a varsity game.

You guys would order pizza and watch Pixar. You didn’t even have a license yet so you couldn’t do anything fun. Javi was always nice though, a sweet boy who listened well and never wanted to cause any fuss. You weren’t ever particularly good with kids but Javi was an easy person to be around. That’s why when Travis started to wrestle Javi too roughly you lost your shit.

You stormed out of the cabin to hear Travis yelling at his brother to spit something out, you can only assume he’s talking about that stale gum Javi couldn't let go of. You were actually going to talk about it with him after lunch, about coping with grief, but of course, Travis was too impulsive to move slowly.

“Hey, dickwad, let him go!”

But it was too late, Travis had forcibly opened Javi's mouth and made him spit out the gum. You were hoping he would be able to voluntarily release it, that it would help Javi psychologically accept the loss like how you talked about in AP psych. Obviously, Travis could only get into the bullshit health class where they don’t teach you anything about being a normal, decent person.

Javi didn’t react well. He stormed off and you were going to follow him until you looked at Travis and your heart broke for some reason.

“You shouldn’t have done that.” You knew he knew that. “The world is only going to get harder on us, the least you could do is be gentle with him.”

Everyone still seemed to be committed to rescue but you knew it had been too long. You went a weird way on a sketchy private plane. Nobody knew where you were and it increasingly looked like you only had each other.

Travis looked up from the ground with his big, sad eyes. “I…I just wanted him to stop smacking on that gum and…I don’t know.” You believed that he came in with no solid reasoning or plan, that sounded on brand for him.

You stepped closer because he was talking quietly. You kept going until you were closer than you had been in the four years you had spent catching rides home with Coach Martinez because your mom worked late. “Listen, you should find him in a little bit and apologize. I know you don’t mean to hurt his feelings but you need to cut all of this out.” Travis didn’t even have the heart to argue with you. “I know this sucks worse for you than for anyone else but with coach Ben’s leg, you’re the man here. You need to be level-headed and strong. Not just for Javi, but for all of us.”

All of Travis’s life, he had only wanted to feel like a man. Out there in the real world, he had failed. He wasn’t athletic and for a good portion of his adolescence, he was literally medically advised against exercising or lifting weights of any kind. When all the boys in middle school were doing push-up contests, he was going to orthopedic specialists for back brace fittings.

But Travis’s spinal fusion was successful, even if the healing was brutal. And he was seeing a place to prove himself. He needed to show his dad he could step up and be a man. He could take care of Javi and the girls and he would go back and take care of his mom too. This is the last time he and his dad will be in the same place and Travis will leave here a man if he can help it.

He oddly wanted to prove it to you too. You were around when he was worse off. One of his father's little pets he liked to keep from the team. You saw how debilitating the pain was before the surgery, saw how recovery was slow and isolating. And you saw all the in-between at school. Flex.

He never quite put together that you would have a lot of insight on him but now that he thinks about it, you may be the person to know the most. Which is sad because you don’t even seem to like him that much.

He takes your advice, though. Javi doesn’t accept it immediately but it seems like they eventually figure it out from your point of view. Of course, Travis is the same angry boy but he’s trying to temper himself into something stronger, less likely to break.

Travis keeps coming to you for advice. You’re not sure why, you never got along. You spent fifteen minutes with him 3 days a week (at the very least) for the last four years and you had developed no camaraderie during that but desperate times, you guessed.

It started with just his relationship with Javi. You were his babysitter after all and the kid talked about you like invented the Lion King DVD. You were more sensitive to him than Travis naturally was. Neither of you would acknowledge that this was the dynamic Coach Martinez and his wife had but you both felt the weight of it. You were the closest thing Javi had to parents out here. It didn’t matter if either of you liked it, you were mom and dad.

After a while, Travis started to ask you about more things. What plants were edible, how you mended things so well, what you did to make his dad like you so much. You didn’t have a clear answer for the last one. Travis seemed to know what you meant when you said you had no idea how Coach felt about you except for the fact he trusted you enough to watch over Javi. He was a man that spoke more with actions but that meant so much was left unsaid. You wished you had asked him why he took a shine to you. You weren’t the best defender. Was it pity for not having a dad? Or a mom that worked too much? You’ll never know now.

Then things got complicated when he started coming to you about a girl. He wouldn’t say who he needed advice about but you could assume. He had spent so much time alone with Natalie, it could only be her.

It made sense too. They both had a compatible jaggedness that seemed to slot together well. They both had to feel the pressure of being hunters, and the judgment when they came back empty-handed.

You weren’t expecting for it to… affect you. You couldn’t tell what it was at first. Initially, you thought you just didn’t like the idea of some poor girl being subjected to Travis’s courtship. Then you realized that he had grown and someone out here could maybe have a lovely relationship with him. Then you thought it was an extension of that irrational judgment, that the hunters should be focused on game and not frivolous crushes but even that was off base. You thought he and Nat deserved some respite.

It wasn’t until you were making sure Javi was tucked in well on a cold, rainy fall night that you realized it was because you were jealous. Travis slept one spot away from you with Javi in the middle and you looked at him already looking at you two. You thought about how glad you were he wasn’t closer to the door with Natalie.

Neither of you looked away for a minute. It felt so domestic like you were over at his house while his parents were out. Watching Bambi after Javi had fallen asleep halfway. What it maybe could’ve been if either of you had given the other one a chance.

You looked away first to make sure Javi was breathing deeply. You went to bed with the heavy feeling that you were helping push the boy you liked towards a much prettier girl, with more experience and bravery than you would probably ever have the chance of gaining at this rate.

The next day, you and Travis were stringing up herbs to start drying them in the meat shed when he asked, “How do you let a girl know you like her and not have it blow up if she doesn’t like you back?”

“Well, I don’t know how to answer that because no one’s ever liked me like that.” It was painful to say out loud but if you weren’t willing to admit that here and now, where would you?

He stopped what he was bundling and looked incredulous. “You mean, you’ve just never had to tell someone you don’t like them, right?

And man did that make you feel like a loser. Even perpetual virgin Travis was in disbelief at the lack of play you got back home. “No, that’s not what I meant,” you said quietly, cutting off some twine.

It was silent for a minute. God, he was awkward. Why did you even like him? He was just looking at you all weirdly and he hadn’t gathered the next bundle so you had idle hands.

He obviously deduced that you had a slight (massive) thing for him. You were too obvious last night, forcing him to play house with you. You were practically Misty Quigley-level delusional.

“I’m sure some guy has been pining after you and you just don’t know.”

“Oh yeah, that’s why I wasn’t rejecting boys left and right back home, I’m just too intimidating for anyone to ever confess to me.” The sarcasm was plain in your tone. “I’m just too pretty and smart for anyone to ever believe they could have a chance with me, is that right?”

“I know you’re trying to joke right now but you’re not wrong.” He said it all fast, like the words tripped out of him. He made his eyes go all big and soft which made it impossible for you to continue being aloof with him.

“Shut up, you don’t have to lie and make me feel good.”

“What if I’m not? What if I know for a fact that I’m right? That there is a guy out there pining over you.”

You laughed. It was torturous because the delusional part of you believed he must be talking about himself but you knew better. You didn’t get the boy in the end. You don’t get what you want.

“Yeah. Who? Sean from trig? I watched him pick his nose and put it under his desk like two weeks before our plane crashed, I’m good.” Joking usually helped you out in situations but it seemed to frustrate Travis further. He must be really weirded out by your liking him.

Travis took the twine and the knife from your still hands, the task abandoned long ago. He got close to you, the way you had gotten close to him that first time. “No. Not Sean. Me. I’ve been pining after you in these stupid woods and you’re the only one who can’t see that!”

“You mean Natalie? You’ve been asking me for advice on how to make her like you for weeks!”

Travis started pulling at his hair. It had gotten so long out here and had made him unfairly attractive. He shouldn’t distract you like this during serious conversation. “I’ve been asking you for advice on how to make you like me! Jesus Christ, aren’t you usually smart?”

“Oh.” Wow. That was not what you were expecting at all.

“Oh? What does that mean?” You never told him how to tell the girl without making it awkward so he didn’t know what to do after this. You just frustrated him into transparency like you usually did.

You were looking at his face for a moment, checking if this was a trick or something. When you only saw sincerity, you said “I like you too.” He exhaled, apparently waiting on bated breath for your answer.

He took the hand that was holding the twine and held it between his, just holding it, warming up your fingers. He stepped more into your space. He whispered, “I…I don’t know how to do this.”

You returned his intensity with your eyes, really just dropping down the walls you had built around letting your feelings for him show.

“I don’t know how to do any of it either. I was telling the truth when I told you no one has ever liked me like that before.”

He scoffed, “Their loss.”

“Yeah,” you quietly laughed out. Anything louder would’ve felt like yelling.

Then he kissed you. It was both of your first kisses, but he kissed you like a man. He put one hand on your hip and another caressed the side of your neck as he dropped that last physical boundary between you too. You couldn’t go much further because of your mutual inexperience and general breathlessness but it was more than satisfying to you both.

You would both have to leave the shed soon. You needed to check on Javi and talk to him about his whittling. You were trying to talk to him about historical events and books you remembered from school. Fall had come and he should be back in school.

You both lingered. Finally having some type of resolution to anything felt significant out here where things get started but never properly finished.

“So…Are you my girlfriend now?”

You grinned a little. At least this thing between you was good, sacred.

“Yes, and you’re my man.”

#travis martinez #travis martinezxreader #travis x reader #natalie scatorccio #yellowjackets fics #yellowjackets x reader #travis martinez x reader #x reader

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bones4thecats · 11 months ago

Note

If you're still accepting requests, can I make one for Leona, Jade, Jamil, and Vil (Picked them for their Signature Spell. Feel free to pick someone else if you have someone in mind) reacting to a Male Reader who, given to be from another world, is immune to any and all magical spells inflicted onto them.

Simply put, any magic spells, such as being blasted by a fireball, will not affect him, as well as their Signature Spells. However, he still could be hit by any debris the spell caused.

Another downside, any and all magic includes any beneficial magic, such as any spells that heals wounds, forcing him to recover the hard way.

Hope this is good, thank you!

Their M! S/O w/ an Immunity to Spells

Characters: Leona Kingscholar, Jade Leech, Jamil Viper, and Vil Schoenheit Requester: @beawesome04 A/N: These are shorter than intended, but I do hope they're good! ⚠️ Spoilers/Trigger Warnings for: Mentions of near-death experiences, unknowing-attempted murder (Leona's Part), unknowing-implied attempted-slavery (Jamil's Part), and accidental-attempted cursing (Vil's Part) ⚠️

╔══════════════════════════════════════════╗

╚═════ Leona Kingscholar ════════════════════════╝

🦁 Early on in your relationship, Leona had overblotted, which resulted in multiple people coming close to being affected by his unique spell

🦁 As the magic spread throughout his mind, he began to act more erratic and animalistic, which allowed you an opening to tackle him down and try getting him to snap out of his rage-driven state

"Y/N!" Yuu screamed.

"King's Roar!" Leona yelled, gripping your arm tightly as everyone around looked in fear.

🦁 You smirked and lifted your opposite arm, and everyone saw you were holding your wand. And as you angled it to knock Leona out, his pupils began to widen, changing from his blot-form to his normal one. The one where he loved you and cared for you... not the one who would try harming, nonetheless killing you

"Y/N..." You heard him mumble.

"Night, Leona."

🦁 All of a sudden, the Housewarden fell to the ground unconscious. Which made everyone around look at you in shock -how did you survive his unique spell?! Whenever it was cast, whatever he touches would turn to sand. So why weren't you sand?!

🦁 Dodging the topic of your immunity limits and how it worked as Yuu, Grim, and the other first years looked at you with both shock and curiosity, you spoke aloud to all hearing you

"His blot should wear off here in a couple minutes. But be prepared for him to be slightly more aggressive than normal, okay?"

"How in the name of the Great Seven?!"

╔══════════════════════════════════════════╗

╚═════ Jade Leech ════════════════════════════╝

🍄 You were planning a surprise party for Jade and Floyd that week, as their birthday(s?) was(were?) approaching. So, while you normally stayed completely calm, you couldn't help but be more peppy and happy the past few days

🍄 Jade was curious on why you were more giddy, so, in his normal fashion, he had approached you with a plan of his own in his mind

🍄 He knew you were immune to magic and couldn't change what affected you and not, but maybe you would react differently to his magic? Perhaps with the time you've spent in this world, your magic evolved?

"Y/N, may I speak with you in private?" Your boyfriend asked.

"Huh? Oh, yeah! I'll catch up with you in a little bit." You told Azul over the phone, as he was in on the whole birthday-plan.

🍄 Jade walked with you into his room, closing the door, but not locking it behind him. And as he walked up to you and had you look into his eyes, you knew what he was going to do

"Shock the Heart."

🍄 You made your face look slightly dazed as he smirked and cooed you, patting your head as he began to ask you the predicted question

"What are you hiding from me?"

🍄 Deciding to tease him a bit, you kept your act up and answered in a slightly-drawling tone

"Azul and I wanted to give you a raise for your birthday."

"Oh~ How interesting! I must admit that is quite sweet, my love."

🍄 Reaching up and pulling his hat off your head before running off with it being on your own, you laughed and yelled back at him

"Sorry for the lie, Jadey! Just had to cure my boredom! You will never find it out until later!"

🍄 You poor, naive magic-user... Jade always gets what he wants. He did get you after all~

╔══════════════════════════════════════════╗

╚═════ Jamil Viper ════════════════════════════╝

🐍 As you calmly spoke to Kalim a ways away, you noticed a couple students anxiously walking away from the kitchen, more speed being taken into account until they slowed as they got further away

🐍 Your eyebrows furrowed sadly as you realized why they were doing that. Jamil had overblotted a couple weeks ago and nobody wanted to be around him except Kalim, Yuu, and obviously his lover, you

🐍 Looking at Kalim, you excused yourself before walking inside the kitchen to check on Jamil

🐍 You noticed how empty the kitchen was, so you followed the closest footsteps you could hear, which eventually led you to your boyfriend's dorm room

🐍 Holding your hand up and knocking, you heard Jamil tell you to leave, to which you scoffed and opened the door with your spare key before closing it behind you carefully

"Alright, Jamil. I understand why the others are avoiding you, but why are you avoiding me so much?"

🐍 Burrowing his face deeper into his pillow, you sighed, walking up and sitting beside him and reaching up to pull his hood down and massage his scalp like you would after a long day was finally over and you decided to stay over

"I tried using you without your consent... I should be asking you why you aren't avoiding me..." He grumbled, making your eyes widened slightly before going back to normal as you giggled. "Why are you laughing?"

"Jamil. When we first got together, I swore that I wouldn't judge you for any kind of mistake, no matter the size. You promised the same thing. I know if I did what you did, you wouldn't hold it against me or fear me, so why would I do anything else than the same?"

🐍 Looking into your eyes before tearing up, Jamil sat up and hugged you, his face burrowing into your stomach as you smiled gently and reached for your phone to tell Kalim that you and Jamil were going to take the rest of the night off due to 'personal issues'

"I'll always be there for you, Jamil. No matter what."

"Thank you, Y/N."

╔══════════════════════════════════════════╗

╚═════ Vil Schoenheit ══════════════════════════╝

👑 You knew how Vil's unique spell worked because Rook wouldn't stop talking about one of the first times he had ever needed to use it during class

👑 He asked if you were immune to everyone's spells, to which you shrugged. You hadn't had anyone just walk up to you and try blasting you into space yet, and you didn't plan on it happening yet either

"Understandable." Rook said, looking around before gasping dramatically, wishing you goodbye, and running into the nearby wooden-area surrounding Pomefiore.

"He's an oddball..." You thought.

👑 Walking through the halls and into Vil's room, you popped your spine and sat down on his bed, making sure you wouldn't do anything wrong to the sheets or flooring. Your boyfriend may love you, but he still loves the cleanliness of his room

👑 When he finally arrived, you began to tell Vil about everything that happened that day. From Riddle overblotting back in Heartslabyul and you befriending the magic-less human from another world, much like you, you told him everything in so much detail

👑 Vil began to get annoyed as you spoke, it wasn't that he hated you speaking. Not at all. He just needed a couple minutes to silence to calm down his pounding migraine

"And then a member of his own dorm began egging him, which sent him into a typical frenzy-"

"Fairest One Of All."

👑 As Vil touched your forehead, you looked at his hand, wondering why he was telling you to fall asleep until he kissed your forehead, and when he opened his eyes and saw your confused face, he looked at his hand in shock

"Oh Great Seven... I did not just try using my magic against you... did I?" He asked himself.

"I guess. Eh, it ain't that bad. I guess I can answer Rook's question now though. Unique spells don't work on me either. Sweet."

"Y/N take this seriously!" He said.

"I am! Maybe I could make good money on this..."

"Y/N!"

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finnbbl · 9 months ago

Note

Hey, I saw your requests are open. Would you write something for 3Racha where something sad happens and the reader turns non-verbal to try and cope with it?

It's just a problem that I always have and I would like to know how you think the boys would react :)

3Racha when you’re nonverbal

3Racha Written

Prompt: Being friends with the main producers of a music group had its perks. But when you’re asked to accompany them a certain gathering, you hesitate when you figure out who will be there.

Genre: Angst/Comfort

Gender Neutral Reader

Warnings: Implications of trauma, alcohol and dr*g mention, I don’t think there’s any swearing, reader goes nonverbal.

A/N: I wanted to first start off by saying I apologize it took me a bit to get out. I’ve been in my own slump and I’ve found it super hard to find motivation for anything, especially writing and posting.

I wasn’t sure if you wanted a specific incident to happen where the reader goes non verbal, so I hope this is okay. I also wasn’t sure if you wanted it romantic or not, so I just kind of wrote what felt right in the moment. I tried to leave the situation vague so it could match with anyone’s experiences. I personally don’t like it too much (I honestly hate my writing so it could just be that LOL) so I can make a separate post with a text version, of course it would be a little bit different than this. Please let me know your thoughts 🙏

Requests - OPEN

Masterlist

Please read disclaimer in masterlist

Parties were the absolute worst. If you were forced to choose a least favorite thing on the planet, parties would be it. They’re loud and crowded; Worst of all, he’s always there.

3Racha had been nominated for an award. They had been invited to a big award show, a one where afterparties usually follow. You were incredibly proud of them, knowing just how hard they worked. They meant the absolute world to you, and to see them put their best foot forward and exceed tipped you over the moon. Previously, you’d turn them down when they’d ask you to attend with them, and you had a very good reason. Firstly, parties just weren’t your thing. You never fit in with everyone else growing up. Secondly, you knew that he was going to be there. You didn’t know what to call him. Putting a label on things had never felt right to you before. If someone were to ask him, he’d tell them you were together. But if someone were to ask you, you’d say it was complicated and you were content with how things were. You did that with everyone that seemed to be more than friends with you, commitment was a scary thing. But you did know that he was someone you never wanted to be around ever again.

You remember the way he’d always ask you to accompany him to one. He was the partier in the “relationship.” However, you’d always preferred to stay in. Nice and cozy in your blankets. One night, you decided to try and get out of your comfort zone. You wore something different, and put effort into your appearance. The moment he let his hand “accidentally” linger over your ass was the first sign of a mistake. The night only went downhill from there. Next thing you knew you were drugged and taken advantage of. It took you months to recover, months to find the will to get out of bed. Only Chan out of the three knew of this incident, but only very very vaguely. He only found out because he was the one nursing you back to your normal self again. You avoided giving him details, he doesn’t know the person, time, nor the place. You wanted to stick to using being tired as an excuse to politely turn them down. There was no way you could let them find out that you were just too weak to attend said gathering, especially because they don’t know what happened.

You listened to the boys explain how excited they were for this one. How this was such a big award, and how it was going to be so much different. The excitement that laced their voices made it hard for you to deny the question you knew was coming. “Do you think you could go with us this time?” They knew the answer every time they asked this question. A hesitant no, almost as if you were thinking about it. In reality, your mind was fighting off bad memories. It was hard not to think of it when even the topic was brought up, there’s no way you could bring yourself to revisit the place it happened. He was always going to be there, just like he was at every one while you knew him. Again, parties were his thing. So you were confident no matter which one you attended, he would be there. You were scared, to say the least. Scared of seeing him, scared of being pushed back into that dark room, scared of reliving what had made you feel so lifeless.

However, Han’s unintentional puppy eyes drew you closer and closer to the edge. How you wanted to see them happy. You weren’t sure if it was only platonic or if there was some hint of romantic feelings for them there, but you knew you loved them so much. Although the three knew the usual answer, they still proceeded to ask. They felt as they should always invite you, even if they know what your answer would be. However, this time you surprised them. With a quick purse of your lips, the words fell from your mouth. “Fine, but only this once.” The way their faces lit up when you agreed to go to with them brought a smile to your face. Though it quickly dissipated as your brain grabbed back at those awful memories. The guys were too lost in excitement to notice, but you’d prefer it that way. Everyone else had their own problems, so you hated adding your own on top of them.

The last few nights leading up to the award ceremony were filled with anxiety. Sleepovers with Chan were a mutually agreed way to get both of your minds off of stress. However your anxiety still managed to claw its way through what was supposed to be a comforting barrier with him. Chan was next to you, fast asleep which was something that was rare for him. Meanwhile, you silently cried next to him. Hours passed and you were still unable to fall asleep, too busy fighting off the horrible memories. Horrible memories of a time in your life that left you numb. You couldn’t shake it, knowing that he was going to be there. He was a popular artist, and you’d already checked the lineup for the event. His name was there, and now you were petrified. You couldn’t bring yourself to tell them you changed your mind. They were so excited, so you dealt with it.

The night of the party arrived. You’d isolated yourself for the day, hoping to prepare yourself enough for what was about to come. Hours passed and next thing you knew you were sat between Chan and Changbin on a fancy couch. Despite it being a fancy event, Han sat on the back of the couch with his feet on either side of you, his hands slowly running through your hair. It was a common thing for you to do with the three, often being very touchy with each other. It was to the point where you questioned if you were more than friends. While you didn’t kiss, or do anything beyond that, you were very hands on. Cuddling, hugging, playing with each others hair or outfits, you name it. However, you couldn’t decipher whether it was platonic or if there was a hint of romance in there.

Suddenly, an all too familiar voice snapped you out of the peaceful thoughts that managed to distract you for.. at least a little while. Soon enough, your worst fear of the night happened. He placed himself on the couch right across from you guys. The first 20 minutes or so, he had the subtlety evil smirk on his face.

However, you knew it would dissipate sooner or later. Based on your experience with him, he was an extremely jealous person. And given, how important skin-ship was to you and the three boys, it was only a matter of time. It happened when Han noticed you were quieter all of the sudden. His fingers came to a slow stop in your hair to travel down to your shoulder. His head leaning down to your ear to whisper something.

“Are you alright, jagiya?”

It was quiet, quiet enough where only those within a 3 inch radius could hear. So you wonder why you saw that man who you feared, drop his smirk to a frown. Maybe he read Han’s lips and noticed the word ‘jagiya’ ? Either way, you ignored it, and with a nod and a small smile which was noticeably forced, you brushed off Han’s worries insisting you were just tired. Changbin took notice of his member’s concern, and leaned in close to reassure you that the event would be over soon. You gave him the same smile and quietly thanked him.

Thats when he suddenly started staring daggers at you from across the room, his hand clenching onto the almost empty soju bottle. He was drunk, for sure. That had to have been the scariest part. It only added more fuel to the fire, you were silenced. Except nothing was physically stopping you from speaking. Your head dropped down, staring at your nails that now started to dig into the palms of your and in an attempt to quiet the voices in your mind. It was a bad habit you picked up when you got anxious. Recently, it’d been worse so you currently had crescent shaped markings left behind on the center of your hand. Han noticed the tension in your body, and leaned down to express his concern once again.

“Are you sure you’re alright? You’re very tense.”

No response. As much as you wanted to reassure him that everything was okay, you couldn’t. It felt as if your throat was closing up, you couldn’t speak or move. You were anxious, overstimulated and all you wanted to do was jump out of the window. Anything to escape.

Your eyes were now staring daggers into the floor, and your body was completely still. Did you even hear him? He wondered at your lack of response, however it didn’t take long for him to pick up on it. But before he could say anything else, Chan’s hand gently but swiftly grabbed yours. Holding your hands in such a way that your nails couldn’t fight their way through your skin again. Chan was a very observant person, so it didn’t take him very long to notice the marks on your hands. That’s when Han recognized what was going on, Changbin following in their suit not but a few moments later. Once again, Han leaned down to say something. He was well aware that you were nonverbal right now, but he said it anyways hoping you could at least muster the energy to tell him you wanted to leave. You suddenly felt a hand on either shoulder, which were now rubbing soothingly into your tense muscles. “Do you want to leave? Chan still has to say his goodbyes to everyone, but I can take you outside.” This sentence was whispered into your ear, and the word ‘leave’ sparked your attention. You nodded almost too eagerly.

With that, Han motioned for you to stand up, saying something to you excuse yourselves. Chan let your hands slip out of his, looking over at his band mate and Changbin to silently communicate everyone would be leaving soon. You were unsure of what he said, now focused on not making eye contact with a certain someone right across from you. The closer to you that Han got, the more anger you could feel emitting off of the man in front. That only left you more anxious. Suddenly, Han put his arm around your waist gently to guide you out. The anxiety started to die down as you stepped out of the building, but the tears you were fighting didn’t. “You okay?” Han softly questioned as your eyes looked up to meet his. It took him not but a brief moment to notice your glossy eyes. He immediately pulled you in for a hug, which caused you to break down. Still unable to speak, you only mumbled out incoherent words that the male tried so hard to pick up on. Fortunately for him, he was able to make out a few words which told him everything he needed to know.

You felt unsafe is what it was. Although he wasn’t sure why, it was a step. Han would be lying to himself if he said he didn’t sense anger and tension in the room. The reason was what he couldn’t figure out. His head rested on yours, gently rocking you back and forth hoping to calm you down. Suddenly the door opened, but you remained still. As Chan and Changbin walked over, your breathing began to slow down. “Sorry n/n, I did my best to get us out as soon as possible. They don’t know when to shut up.” Chan apologized and rubbed his hand up and down your back. “Come on, we’ll talk later. Let’s get her out of here.”

Once you all arrived home, everyone went to their dorms. Except you stayed back at Chan and Jeongin’s. Although the younger was in the middle of a brand deal, which left you and the latter alone in the dorm. The trio agreed it would be better if you stayed with one of them for the night, so they decided on the leader’s as it would be the calmest. Your body lay next to him on his comfortable mattress, the lights set to a soft and comforting purple color with the tv playing a movie on the lowest volume. The male laying next to you, with his hand running up and down your back. Your eyes followed the movements of the character on the screen, but your brain wasn’t absorbing any of the plot. It was obvious this was a difficult night for you, but Chan just had to know.

“Feel free to not answer, I know you’re still not in a talking mood..” He led on, and your head raised to make eye contact with him. “Was that the guy… from you know.”

You did know, you knew exactly what he was talking about. Your facial features remained still, looking back and forth between both of his eyes as you mustered up the energy to get some form of response out. With that, you only nodded before turning back to the movie. Chan could swear he felt his heart break and everything suddenly clicked in his mind. If he had known it would only cause you anxiety, then he wouldn’t have pestered you to go for so long. “I am sooo sorry y/n.” His other arm found its way around you as he rested his head on yours. “We wouldn’t have pressed so hard if we knew what was going on.”

Although you didn’t respond, your hand found its way to his and gave him a light squeeze to reassure him that it was okay. “I know I don’t know the whole story but you can always talk to me about how you’re feeling, alright?” A small smile formed on your lips and your head nodded against his, nuzzling further. He let out a light and squeaky giggle as he ran his fingers over your knuckle gently. It was in this moment that you realized it was all going to be okay.

#stray kids #skz #skz imagines #skz x reader #bang chan #changbin #han #3racha #stray kids comfort #stray kids x reader #skz scenarios #han x reader #bang chan x reader #changbin x reader #changbin comfort #bang chan comfort #han comfort

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zaltynn · 5 days ago

Text

data corruption

a03 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/67028905

fandom: ava: alan becker's animation vs animator

characters: the chosen one, the second coming, blue, red, green, and yellow

summary:

Ever since the fiasco with Rocket Corp., Chosen had unwillingly adopted recurring glitches and they have yet to see it go away for longer than an hour. They're usually just short disruptions, colour duplicating him in flashes that are over in a blink, smooth lines turning into rough ones, or small pixels of himself ripping away and quickly snapping back.

Yeah, usually is the keyword there.

the colour gang witness the chosen one's glitching on a really bad day and asks too many questions

tags: emotional hurt/comfort, invasion of privacy (asking too much), hollowhead siblings

read below:

The six of them were all seated around a Minecraft dining table, with Chosen and Second up at the head and the colour gang assembled around the sides. Second was telling Chosen about their latest misadventures in Minecraft and Red, Yellow, Green, and Blue happily piped up with their own words often. It made for a chaotic retelling, with attempts to speak over one another on what ‘really’ happened, et cetera.

Chosen was listening attentively though, asking questions occasionally about what this-or-that was. They all were happy to take the occasional side-tangent to explain mechanics and block origins, making the dinner long and everyone's pace of eating quite leisurely.

The color gang has offered on numerous occasions to teach Chosen all about Minecraft in hopes of him playing with them, and while he's thus far denied actually picking up the block or entering a portal, he was very lenient in hearing them out. Whether this was him being patient with them concerning their interests or an actual interest in playing the game when he finally felt comfortable to, was unclear.

None of them would fault him for distrusting PC games, as it had taken considerable convincing to get him to accept making regular visits to ALANSPC in the first place.

They all kind of hoped to convince him to join them sooner rather than later.

As the story wound to a close with smattering chuckles and blameless finger-pointing, the conversation came to a near halt, five of them quieted with a food coma from Blue’s delicious cooking.

Chosen was still slowly picking at his plate, which was unusual behaviour from him. It had earned a few questions about whether he liked it or not, to which he had insisted that it was as delicious as anything else Blue has ever served him.

Him finishing eating last only brought attention to how he kept getting interrupted by various glitches warping across his body. They’d crawl up his arm and he’d pause until it passed, lest he drop his fork. It wasn’t long after that that the others noticed how frequently Chosen was glitching that day.

It was almost jarring to watch at times, but they all came to accept it. Chosen was just glitchy now, like a TV whose screen was starting to corrupt. Not enough to affect the audio or make the video unwatchable, it was just something to work around.

None of them could tell whether the glitching was hurting Chosen or not. He never seemed to react to it; it didn't affect his gait (although he did have a limp and that was something else Chosen refused to ever talk about), and it didn't seem to affect his strength or his speed. The glitching did, however, interfere with his powers at times. It didn't happen often and when it did, Chosen recovered quickly enough they weren't too worried.

The five of them had all been requested a while ago by Chosen to just ignore his glitching altogether. They initially asked the hollowhead all sorts of things, but when faced with continual dismissals, they eventually conceded with questions unanswered.

Today, Chosen couldn't seem to go a minute without glitching. Each glitch was stronger and lasted longer than usual.

He's glitching bad, and they're trying really hard to give him his space. They let the conversation lull until he’s finished, letting him get through it on his own, and then they all resume speaking.

But it just kept coming back, and they started getting longer, and then he was glitching out for nearly a whole minute at a time as the evening went on and dessert came and went. His form was fuzzing and pixleating rapidly and intensely, and he’d hit the table or knocked into his glass or plate several times with involuntary jerky movements. He was clearly in distress over it, panting whenever it stopped.

It was Blue, who finally broke the metaphorical silence, “Chosen?”

“Hmm?” Chosen looked over with a red afterimage shadowing him.

“Are you…” Blue hesitated, but persevered, “Are you alright?”

His response was an intense stare, in which Chosen had another glitch strike him, black and white noise filling his lines and a buzzing noise ringing in the room.

Second put his hand down heavily onto the table, “Blue! We aren’t supposed to-”

Blue ignored Seconds' protest, his eyes on Chosen. “We-we’re all just a little concerned,” they said while waving a hand in the direction of Red, Green and Yellow, who all shared the same worried expression Blue had. “You don’t normally glitch this frequently,” Blue fiddled with their hands to refrain from putting a hand on Chosen’s shoulder.

“I asked you not to ask about this,” Chosen protested, visibly pulling into himself.

After giving Blue a stern look, Second reached out to put a hand on Chosen’s arm, “You don’t have to answer that if you don’t want to, it’s okay.”

Chosen continued to shrink back, glitching fiercely and refusing to look in the others’ direction.

“Sorry, Sec,” Green piped up, dropping an elbow onto the table and gestured loosely to their guest, “But this has clearly gotten worse since the last time he’s been here. Isn’t that worth asking about?”

Second looked almost betrayed for a moment, glancing between his brother and his friends, “If Chosen doesn’t think he needs to-”

“It’s not gotten worse,” Chosen interrupted. His voice was rough, and hesitant. He’s holding onto himself like it could withhold the glitching, but the white noise crept up his arms anyway. “It just acts up every so often, it’s fine.”

The others stare at him, stunned at the revelation. Despite it being by a forced hand, this is the most Chosen has ever told them about his condition.

Yellow tapped the table repeatedly, a question visibly on his tongue. He glanced at the others, biting his lip and asking, “What’s it triggered by?”

Chosen’s head snapped in Yellow’s direction so fast that Yellow flinched back, ducking his head down with an instinctive, “Sorry.”

The hollowhead’s hands clenched hard into his clothes, but whatever retort he was about to say was cut off by a violent glitch, distorting Chosen into several layers of colours and pixels. Chosen flinched, hunching over until it passed. He rested his head on the table, taking a greedy gasp as though he’d been holding his breath. The glitching hit him again a second later.

“See? This is exactly what I meant,” Green pointed.

“Are we sure it doesn’t hurt him?” Red asked, hugging himself.

Chosen suddenly got to his feet, bracing himself on the table and effectively silencing the room with the motion. He glitched hard, neon colours clinging to him as he stumbled towards the doorway with not a word.

“Wait!” Second burst to his feet, easily catching up to a teetering Chosen and stopping him in his tracks. Holding onto Chosen’s arms, Second begged, “Please don’t go.”

“I don’t want-” Chosen glitched again, and Second felt him press into his arms, like it was hard to keep himself upright through the attack. The sensation of it felt weird at Second’s fingertips, like touching a static-filled screen. He helped Chosen into the nearest seat, nodding at Red who’d jumped up to help.

Second waited until his brother steadied before speaking, “Won’t you stay for a little longer?” He glanced at his friends, and pointed at them, saying, “We won’t ask about it again.”

The others nodded, and Red even mimed zipping his mouth shut to drive the point home.

“Please,” he pleaded, “Just until this calms down?” Second offered an open palm to Chosen, an invitation.

Chosen glanced at each of them, his expression guarded aside from his clear exhaustion. He sighed, and accepted Second’s hand, nodding.

Second smiled, and wrapped his free arm around Chosen in a hug. “Thank you,” the younger stick whispered. He held tight even after he felt Chosen return the hug hesitantly. Chosen seemed to melt into it after another glitch tore through him, digging his hands into the back of Second’s shirt in a tight grip.

Second let the hug stand as long as he could, giving one final squeeze before letting go. Stepping back to address his friends, he put his hands on his hips, taking on what the others liked to call his ‘bossy’ tone of voice, “Alright! Operation: Sleepover is a go!”

“What-?”

“YES!” Red shouted, pumping his arms in the air before running out of the room.

“Oh!” Yellow sounded excited, “I’ll get my laptop!” He ran off, pulling his phone out, looking for their ‘movies to ask if Chosen’s seen them’ list that they made for exactly this purpose.

“I call building his room,” Green yelled, raising a hand before following after the other two.

Blue sputtered, “I thought I was-!” They huffed and glanced back to Second and a baffled Chosen.

“Go,” Second waved them off.

Blue lingered at the doorway to say, “We’re sorry for prying, Chosen.”

Chosen gave a single slow nod to the cyan stick figure, who returned it with a small smile, then disappeared around the corner.

“‘Operation: Sleepover’?” Chosen glanced at Second, amusement in his voice.

He chuckled lightly, “We’ve been kinda wanting you to stay over for a long time,” he scratched his chin nervously. Maybe he shouldn’t have used the name out loud, oops.

His brother's lighthearted chuckle was cut off as he was wracked by another rough glitch as Red reentered the room, burdened by a large, heavy grey blanket.

Second smiled instantly, “That’s a great idea, Red!”

Red had a shy smile on his face as he came closer and draped it gently over Chosen’s shoulders, “I thought it might help.”

Surprised by the weight, Chosen grasped at the edges and pulled it closer, hunching under its folds, “What’s this?”

“It’s a weighted blanket, for comfort! It helps when you’re anxious or stressed,” Red played with his hands, clearly nervous.

Chosen’s face pinched, and he started to push the blanket off. A desperate tone was in his voice as he said, “No, no, I- I’m not-”

Second reached over and readjusted it back in place. “You don’t need to tell us anything, Chosen. Sometimes it’s just nice to cuddle in a good blanket, right?” Second glanced at Red, searching for an agreement.

Red happily obliged, “Right!”

Chosen hung his head, almost in shame. He buried himself further into the blanket, the next string of glitching harder to spot due to the sheer size of the blanket wrapping around him. “...yeah,” he agreed with a whisper.

Red was quick to run off again, citing the blankets and pillows he had to hunt down for the ultimate pillow fort they needed for their movie-watching later.

Second let the two of them linger in silence for a minute more before he sat down on the chair next to Chosen. The other glitched again, Chosen appearing to turn red, then blue, then back to black.

Second softened his voice as he spoke, keeping his eyes over on the doorway rather than on his brother, “I don’t want to force you into anything, you deserve to be able to tell us when you’re ready; but I want you to know I’m here to help, and so are the others. We all care about you.”

Second could feel Chosen’s eyes on him, burning and curious all the same. The silence stretched on, and he swore he could hear Chosen’s heavy swallow.

When he heard Chosen open his mouth to speak, he had to shove down the hope that Chosen would tell him the truth. About the glitching, about the limp, about who The Dark Lord was, about what his relationship with Alan was, anything. But Second had to be patient, and believe that Chosen would find his place here by his side eventually. He believed in his brother.

“Thank you,” Chosen whispers.

Second looked over, seeing a soft smile on Chosen’s face. He gave a large one in return, and jumped back to his feet, offering a hand back to his brother, “C’mon, lets go pick out a movie to watch!”

With less hesitation than earlier, Chosen unfolded enough from the blanket to latch onto Second’s open hand.

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maximumzombiecreator · 10 months ago

Note

I would actually like to know what you consider the basics of improv to be! If nothing else, you phrase these things really well and in ways I haven't heard before, and I'm also aware there's a lot of things I don't know (I'm in a student run college improv group, our theory might be a bit lacking)

Be glad to. A lot of improv stuff is just oral tradition at this point, passed down in musty school drama rooms and community centers, so everyone has to pick it up somewhere. When I've taught people before, beyond the basic definition of what an improv scene looks like, I usually focus on a set of do's and don'ts.

Do's:

Make offers, and make them good offers. A good offer should be strong and elegant, like a power lifter in a ball gown.

Broadly speaking, I'd say the strength of an offer refers to how much it establishes about the scene, and how much what it establishes is different from a theoretical "default" scene. Typically, you think about how much an offer is establishing in terms of the questions words: who are the characters, what are they doing, where are they, etc. An offer that establishes "two characters who are old friends since high school meeting up at a coffee shop to catch up" is establishing a lot, but it's still a weak offer because it's such a typical scene. You're not adding much that can't just be taken for granted.

When I say a good offer should be elegant, I mean that it should be as compact as possible while still doing a lot. The typical inelegant offer is verbose and unnatural. A character walks into a scene and says, "Hey, big brother Billy, I hope you're recovering from the illness you've had for the last six months, ever since our father died," or some other expository nightmare.

So, the best offers are both. They create a lot of unique, interesting details about the scene, and they do it quickly. Let's say you stagger into the scene, miming carrying something under your arm, and say, "Doctor! I've been decapitated again!" In five words, you've established who you and another character are, where you are, and why, and you've implied a lot of very unusual details about the scene, world, and your character's history.

When thinking about elegant offers, it's also worth noting that a lot of offers that you should be making are physical. Depending on the type of improv you're doing, you might be physically embodying objects and the environment, and if you're doing background like that you can add a ton of detail that the audience can pick up without friction. But even if you're not, you can establish location through miming actions, you can create details about your character through how you walk and hold your body, you can endow others with traits through how you physically react to them.

That brings us to the next do: make strong character choices and enhance other actors' characters. People have written whole books on what comprises a "strong character" but for improv purposes I'd focus on three details: quirks, status, and connections.

Quirks are fairly straightforward: what makes this character unusual? Establishing character quirks is the focus of a lot of improv games and exercises, and the best quirks are quick to establish, significantly inform the character, and are handled with enough sincerity to make the character compelling rather than only funny.

Status refers to how powerful and important a character is. High status characters will command the room, low status characters will be ignored or mistreated. Status might shift over the course of a scene. The sheriff is a high status character until the king shows up, for example. Status might seem like an obvious thing to figure out from a character's role, but it's useful to play with it. What does a low status king look like? What does an employee-boss scene look like if you decide your employee is higher status than the boss?

Connections refer to the relationships between characters. This is going to drive scenes more than most other character details, and you almost always want to avoid unconnected characters. Choosing a connection to an existing character is a very good first choice when entering a scene, as it should immediately suggest a direction for the scene to take. This is also a reason to favour unusual connections. If two actors are in a scene where they're arguing about a fender bender they've been in, you could choose to enter as one of their friends, but it'll be far more dynamic if you choose a more unusual connection. What if you're one of their anger management therapists? Their boss? Their dominatrix?

In addition to creating your own character, you should add to other actors' characters. The main way you do this is endowment, giving the character traits through your offers. Direct endowment is when you simply ascribe them a trait. If you say, "Bill, you've been mayor for the last ten years," then you're obviously giving them the trait of "mayor." But there's also indirect endowment, where you add something to a character through part of how you react to them. If you flinch when another character moves suddenly, you're endowing them with the traits of being dangerous and erratic. If you speak to them very slowly and simply, you're implying something about how intelligent your character perceives them to be.

Putting it all together, the last big thing to do is build up. There can be a temptation in improv to build out, to add new details to scenes that sort of sprawl outward from the original premise. Try to avoid that. When you add new details, make them ones that build on the existing details. Instead of adding new tensions or conflicts, raise the stakes of existing ones. Reincorporate and re-contextualize things that have already been established. Incorporate audience suggestions repeatedly, using them to colour other offers.

Don'ts:

No blocking. This is the one even people who don't know improv know. If someone adds something to the scene, go with it. Don't reject or ignore offers, incorporate and build on them.

No wimping. Whatever the scene is, whatever your character is, whatever offers are made, fully commit. Bring all your energy to it. If someone says your character is on fire, don't just stop, drop, and roll and then go back to whatever else was going on. That's wimping. Be the most on fire that you can be.

No dithering. When you're in a scene, always be adding to it or moving it forward. Saying something that just fills space, at best makes a joke, and doesn't add to the scene is bad form, it doesn't give other actors anything new to work with. If you're dithering, you're forcing other actors to pick up the slack. This is called "gagging" if you're being funny by not adding to the scene, and is a great way to be popular with the audience and have everyone else hate you, don't be that person.

Don't make yourself look good at the expense of your scene partners. It's okay to get laughs at the expense of other characters, but not at the expense of other actors. Help others get into the scene, develop their characters, and give them things to respond to, add onto their offers.

Related to the above, don't steal the spotlight. If there's a scene going on that you're not the focus of, you should be trying to figure out how to enhance what's going on. Everyone can tell when an actor can't bear to be in a supporting role, and it's not a cute look.

More than anything, don't betray the trust of other performers. All theatre requires trust, but improv requires so much trust. If you lose that trust, you're done, you've got nothing.

#ask #improv

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