#because I expected people to be surprised by that but also they shouldn't have been

[amtrak12]

Fic comments are so funny. I can get comments like “Lucifer was such an ass here” and “you totally nailed Lucifer’s characterization!” for the same chapter. It’s fab <3

I mean, they’re both right! Lucifer was an ass and he was in character! :P But it’s hysterical all the same.

[laroserie]

— character : yandere!omega oc

— content : x beta gender neutral reader , bullets point , yandere , unhealthy / toxic behavior , omegaverse , yandere!omega oc is a he / him pronouns && he is described as feminine , reader is 'you' and is kinda obvious

— authors note : this is more like small headcanons mixed with a bit of story. i had a shit ton of daydreams about it but urgh i hate it but i haven't posted in a while so

⦁ you and yandere!omega have been friends since childhood ! you both lived close, went to the same primary school so it was not surprise that you both became friends. up until high school you both had a pretty regular friendship, yes you were close but not too close.

⦁ at least it's how you saw it, to him you were his precious dear friend. he used to get bullied a lot because of his 'feminine' body and face but you were always here for him, to support him, telling him 'Asper, you are so handsome, they tell you that kind of stuff because they are jealous of you !'. he started loving you from that time onwards. he kept his feelings for himself wanting to keep being friends, just being at your side was enough for him

⦁ in middle school you both learned more in depth about 'secondary gender' and ... Asper had this fantasy of you both becoming a pair, he honestly didn't care either he'd be the alpha or omega, he just wanted you to be his counterpart so you could form a bond together and be linked together for ever.

⦁ and it was during your first year of high school that you got tested to know your secondary gender. Asper was ... ecstatic to say the least when he got his result - sure, being a omega may mean facing a bit of discrimination but he was a omega ! which mean he could be your mate ! he was so sure you were an alpha, he was so ready to confess his love to you and ask you to bite and claim him, for him to be your and for you to his.

⦁ after reading his result he directly turned to you - you were seated in the seat behind him, and he showed you the paper with the result, smiling at you.

"Look ~ I told you I was either a omega or an alpha right ! Soo what are you ?" He asked you, expecting for you to answer 'alpha'

"I'm a beta, I mean it was to expect so I'm not disappointed or extremely happy" You answered, showing him

⦁ it's at this moment that his world shattered. the future we prepared for the both of you got ruined. he wasn't expecting ... this outcome - in his mind it could be impossible for you, his beloved friend, to be a beta, he didn't have anythings against them but ! you both were made for each others, you both needed to form a bond, needed to be a pair !

⦁ it changed his behaviour toward you - he was being a little bit more on edge when you were talking to others people. he know that forming a bond could be impossible and so he needed to protect you ! from everyone, mainly others betas but also alphas and omegas !

⦁ to ensure that you could not get snatched away by anyone else, he could rub his scent all over you and yours clothes and of course get your scent all over him too.

⦁ anytime an alpha could start talking to you, Asper could get in between you two and start flirting with the alpha, it disgusted him and he felt so ... dirty doing that but he didn't know how to have them give up on approaching you others than making them put all of their attention on him - he thought that he may as well use being an omega to his advantage

⦁ he also used being an omega to manipulate others into leaving you alone or talk about how you and Asper are made for each others and that your secondary genders shouldn't matter

⦁ he showed you stories about omega and beta being together to send you 'hints' - he even directly told you,

"Honestly ... I think I could prefer dating a beta more than an alpha ~ They are such big pricks that think they are sooo much better because of their secondary genders. Betas are so much softer and kind ~"

And was quite distraught when you told him that you hoped 'he could find a good beta partner then !'

⦁ on the topic of you being obvious to him 'clearly' giving you hints, Asper steal your clothes and make a nest with it, and he doesn't hid it from you, directly asking you for your t-shirt or hoodie even if you are currently wearing them.

[greeneyed-thestral]

I MET MICHAEL SHEEN. 16/03/24, National Theatre

So, if you've read my post about booking tickets to see Michael, you know all about my what-ifs. But the day was finally here.

I arrived at the National Theatre, followed all the Nye signs and here's the Olivier Theatre. I made my sister buy me the show's programme, hoping I would be able to get it signed.

I find my seat, I'm not in the centre but the stage still feels very close and you can see everything (amphitheatres are always the best).

Lights out. The audience is in religious silence. Can't believe I'm actually here, this is happening.

[skip this part in smaller font, if you want to avoid spoilers] In the words of Staged, he really loses himself in his roles. First of all, it's great to hear him speak in a Welsh accent.

But then we also see him turning back into a child, and you can totally believe he's young and innocent again. His stutter feels so real, his struggle and sadness too. The entire ensamble is great during the classroom scene, where they all help Nye against their bullying teacher (using those big canes to make him look scary really works). Hearing young Nye confessing that at times he thinks he 'shouldn't exist' because of who he is was a gut punch; Michael's delivery of that whole part is incredible, in that moment he really becomes a little boy that allows himself to feel vulnerable and says something dark to a friend. The way he jumps while saying "I can visualise and enunciate!" made me wanna jump too, he was ready to give up and then he found the solution through books, it's the joy and relief you feel when you realise that there is another way and your life is not over.

Now, I've watched musicals all my life and let me tell you that man is meant to be in one. He opened his mouth and all I could see was someone that had been waiting a long time for the occasion to show his talent, truly showstopping. He was so free and happy and confident, singing and dancing spectacularly. I couldn't stop smiling and giggling, we all clapped.

It's clear he means every word he says, and when he points and shouts his political arguments at the audience, those who feel called out must be shaking; I thought 'This is how people in Ancient Greece must have felt everytime they went to the theatre'. His Nye is inspiring, passionate, someone you'd want to follow, he stands up for what he believes in and lets nothing get in his way.

We get to watch him flirt, on all fours, waggling his 'tail'; everytime we think we've seen all he's capable of, he does something like this and surprises us.

But most of all, we see him being scared, first of having to do something, and then of not being able to do enough for all of us. At one point everyone has requests for Nye and I was expecting him to shout "Heal yourselves!" like Jesus in JCS, it totally conveyed what it must have been like to be in his role at the time, overwhelmed with daunting responsibilities.

In general, I appreciated the fact that it wasn't a linear biography, they chose life moments that have universal situations everyone can relate too, like they do in bio-musicals. I loved the staging. The colour palette is so recognisable; the curtains and the beds are used in many different ways so everything is explored at its full potential.

He is on stage basically all the time for more than two hours (sometimes twice a day, can you imagine?). Also barefoot and in his pajamas from start to finish, he looks like a teddy bear you just want to hug and protect.

He bows, looks at Nye's achievements, then leaves the stage.

Standing ovation, applause. I go back to the theatre lobby, I was supposed to wait for my sister, but she's late. Meanwhile, a fan asks me how to get to the Stage Door. I start too fear that I'm going to miss my chance if I keep waiting inside, so I decide to go on my own. After no more than 5 minutes, he's outside with us. Forget Nye, I am living my fever dream. He has just finished his second show of the day and yet he's smiling and listening to each and every one, signing and taking pictures. I know many have said this, but he really is an angel.

My sister arrives, and as soon as I'm sure she has the camera ready, I make my way to him. The two girls next to me who were speaking to him needed a pen and I lent them my sharpie, so I got my chance to look generous in front of him.

And suddently it was my turn. This is as much as my scrambled mind allows me to remember: I tell him I'm Francesca and I'm from Italy, he asks me how long I am going to stay, I confess that I had arrived that morning and just to see him, that I would be leaving already the following morning. I can't even focus while he's signing my programme, I just want to find the right words. I manage to say how I enjoyed seeing his passion, all these different sides of him and how watching him sing and dance has been the highlight of my evening. We take a picture together, I feel his hand on my shoulder and I realise my arm is around the waist of this person I love. I had to thank him again, telling him that he only deserves good things and that we are so lucky to have him. He wishes me a safe trip home, and I melt. I leave and I can't stop trembling. On my way back to the hotel I hold on tight to my signed programme and the sharpie that was in his hands just moments earlier. Only later I will realise that he's also written 'Ciao!', 'love' and 'X', without me asking for it or anything! Seeing him act live was a big gift already, but what followed outside was beyond my dreams. I can't look at the photos without blushing, the way he looks at me in the video and then also strokes my arm for a moment, I mean pinch me now.

The more I think about it, the more I can't believe it happened.

I want to thank everyone that under my first post pushed me and encouraged me to see the pros of doing this, I share this beautiful moment of my life with all of you. <3

[comicaurora]

What are your thoughts on guardians vol.3? (If you have watched it) I went into it, expecting it went to the garbage like the rest of the mcu, but I was pleasantly surprised by its creativity, trope subversion, and how it wrapped up the previously unresolved arks of its characters.

That's what I've heard!

The thing is, Guardians 3 could be the most transcendent work of cinema ever made, and I'd probably still feel little to no motivation to watch it at this point. It's not Guardians's fault - it's just suffering from the same problem that superhero comics have been struggling with for decades: no matter how good an individual arc or run is, absolutely nothing good lasts or matters in the long term, and the stories are shaped in such a way that "the long term" is the only thing anyone gets to build towards.

Whenever I complain about the MCU I get a handful of people loudly complaining about my complaining, with the general thesis that if I don't like it I shouldn't watch it or talk about it - if I'm not having fun, just stop engaging with it. And the thing is, I have. I am intellectually interested in why this massive franchise is fumbling the bag so hard, which is why I still check in on it sometimes, but I've long since stopped turning to the MCU for uncritical entertainment. And even the good movies or shows with a lot of interesting ideas - good character arcs, fun concepts, interesting planting for future payoff - don't draw me in anymore, because they're hooked into a massive moneymaking machine that will scrap and squander anything if they think it'll make them more in the quarter. It doesn't matter how good the writing is, because the writers are not allowed to tell a complete, finished story, and they have no control over what happens to their characters outside of their own script.

Captain America's arc was set up from literally minute one to answer one burning question at the core of his character: does a world without a war still need Captain America? After that incredibly basic tee-up at the end of First Avenger, half a dozen movies failed to come up with a reason to say "yes," and now Steve is retired for good after getting fumbled through four different storylines that couldn't even pretend that they needed him (the unused Chekhov's Phone from the end of Civil War still haunts me). The foundational arc of his entire character never happened because nobody bothered to keep track of it past a single movie.

Taika did something interesting with Thor in Ragnarok - take away Mjolnir, force him to recognize what it means to be the god of thunder, give him a very Odin-y missing eye - and the very next movie undid all of it. Just kidding, never mind, here's an eye and a new weapon and also his old weapon again, and in one more movie we're even gonna give him his hair back, probably as an apology for all the completely unironic fatphobia we're gonna slather him in for two and a half hours. I'm not even surprised Love And Thunder was such an overblown mess that barely took itself seriously - why would Taika bother trying to give Thor another arc when the powers that be will just roll it back in six months anyway?

I hear Rocket Raccoon has a fantastic arc in this movie. That's great, and demonstrates that he's being written by a writer that deeply cares about him. But he's part of the MCU, and the MCU doesn't let anything end, so if current patterns hold, Rocket is going to continue to serve as quippy plushie-bait for the next dozen movies and none of that depth is going to come through in the long term. Hell, since they're making Kang noises for the Next Big Threat and Kang's entire gimmick is rewriting timelines, literally none of this is guaranteed to matter. By next year, it might not have even happened anymore.

The MCU has successfully shaped itself into a paradigm where the bright spots of good writing are overridden and lost as soon as the writers room turns over, and that makes it really hard for me to muster up the enthusiasm to watch even a really good movie that's locked into the exact same grist mill as everything else. I'm glad people liked it, I hope it gets to stay good this time - I just have no desire to watch it.

[hiraya-rawr]

everywhere, everything – alhaitham

synopsis !! somehow, you find yourself stuck in a broom closet with your academic rival, alhaitham— and oh? is that a mistletoe?

contains !! 2.4k wc , gn reader, enemies to lovers? fluffy drama! dialogue-centric post, some intimacy (obviously)— lots of fluffy love. flustered things, alhaitham can't hold back okay- FOR SOME REASON IM NERVOUS ABOUT POSTING THIS IDK the outline was way longer than I thought, hence the late Christmas post

note !! i joined my first christmas collab event by @dustofthedailylife ! aaaaah and im also practicing scenario events where the setting is restricted (like a broom closet heheh)

11:46 PM, Christmas Eve

You shouldn't have listened to Kaveh. It's his party, in his (shared) house, yet you nodded along when he told you to grab a broom from the closet. It sounded simple enough—

Walking over to the broom closet at the end of the hall, away from the bustling party in the livingroom. Grabbing the handle, pulling it open, almost shrieking when you spotted the actual homeowner standing with the most irked expression on his face, then—

There are hands on your back, shoving you in as the closet door slams, the bang muffled by loud music. Your breath catches in surprise. Your face plants firmly on the forbidden chest. There are clicking noises outside the door handle.

In front of you, Alhaitham scowls and you can practically feel the anger radiating off of him.

"Did- did Kaveh just—" You stutter, still confused from the whirlwind of events that happened within seconds.

"Yes. He did. That bastard, I swear I'll-"

You drown out the insults and threats spewing from his mouth as you turn to look around. The closet is small, very small, the type that shouldn't have people in it in the first place.

The door is firmly on your back and you can feel that Alhaitham's own back is up against the shelves. Next to you stand a broom and mop, taking up the remaining space in the room. It's dark and you could barely tell what's in front of you (this firm thing. . . it is his chest, right?).

"How long have you been here?" You wonder out loud.

"5 wasted minutes. After he knocked over a bowl of chips and told me to get a broom. Honestly, that imbecile–"

"He told me to get a broom for the chips too! What the heck. This was premeditated!"

"Doesn't take a genius to figure that one out."

Your eyes narrow at his comment, glaring at what you suppose was his face.

"If you're so genius, you could have escaped the second he opened up that door."

"Ha, I could have if it weren't for a certain someone getting shoved into me."

"I'm not a wrecking ball, Scribe Haitham." You scoff, shifting to face him better. Of all the people to get pranked with, it just had to be your academic rival —from the day you received second place in the akademiya entrance exams to the day you both proposed the exact same thesis topic— he was always a step ahead and that infuriated you.

5 years ago, Entrance Exam Results Day

Of course, it wasn’t that he’s a smidge better than you that you hate him; rather, it’s because he acts like he’s so much better than anyone else that you hated him — from staring you down the day you tried to congratulate him on getting first place, to refusing to cooperate together despite having the same thesis topic — you believe your reasons for hating him are quite valid.

“You’re Alhaitham, right? Congratulations on receiving first place on the exams!” You greet cheerfully, a hand extended for him to shake. It was the first day commemorating the start of your academic life and you figured you might as well surround yourself with the right crowd.

Yet, he stays frozen, an odd squint in his eyes and you wonder if you should keep your hand out longer.

“It was to be expected.” He states simply, lightly shrugging, before returning to the book he was reading.

To be expected? First place? In Teyvat’s most prestigious academic institution? The one you toiled day and night in, consuming mountain loads of information, just to deserve your rank? Internally, you decided that you didn’t like him and that he’s an arrogant piece of sh– no, good thoughts (Name), you should befriend your schoolmates.

“Hahaha is that so? I guess you really must be smart,” You force a laugh, retrieving your hand, “If you don’t know yet, I’m–“

“I know you. You’re the one who received second on the exams.”

Okay. It’s official. He’s an arrogant piece of shit.

You grit your teeth, smiling, “. . . It was nice meeting you, Alhaitham. See you when lectures start.”

11:53 PM, Christmas Eve

". . . Stop moving." He tells you.

"What?"

"I said stop moving."

"I'm literally just breathing here, do you want me to stop that too?"

"You're squirming like a worm. Do you want to knock over chemicals off their shelves?”

Oh yeah, this was a broom closet.

"I can't help it when you're taking up all the space!" You huff in his direction, trying to get a clearer view of him with squinted eyes in the dark.

"Unless you want to kiss me, I suggest you stop trying to shove your face into mine as well."

You feel your face heat up, a stutter evident in your voice, "W-what? Why on Teyvat would I ever want that!"

"It's a statement, I never said you wanted it." He scoffs. It was getting warmer in the room, the inescapable warmth of him spreading to you and you wonder if your heartbeat was always this loud. You shuffle uncomfortably, how could he even insinuate that? This arrogant guy!

Maybe it was the small space getting to you, or the tension of being so close to someone you clearly feel contempt for, but you couldn’t stop the next words you say.

“Maybe you’re the one who wants to kiss me! How would I know you didn’t plan this with your roommate?” You jibe back, “Honestly, what kind of homeowner gets trapped in their own broom closet!”

“First of all, we both know -as Kaveh’s mutual friend- that he’s a bastard with his mind in the gutters. This is all his mastermind plan. Secondly, if you want to kiss me that badly, you don't even have to provoke me. by starting a fight.” Before you could even respond to that (or manage to comprehend it), you feel him shuffling back, his muscular torso moving to the whims of his arm as it presses against your own chest.

You unknowingly hold your own breath. Thump, thump, thump– is that his heart or yours?

A sound of a chain, metal clinking, reaches your ears.

“H-hold on, what are you doing?!” You panic, flustered.

“I’m trying to grab the pull-switch for a light, what do you think I’m doing?” He all but hisses back, “Now hold still—”

Light floods the room at the clicking sound, blinding you temporarily.

"—Oh, how convenient, there's a mistletoe above us. Now here's your chance to kiss me." You hear him say and you freeze, quickly glancing up at the bright bulb to see the unmistakable mistletoe hanging next to it. Your jaw drops slightly.

"I— I am not kissing you! I told you that!" You exclaim, hands trying to shove him away for what little space you could muster. Kaveh is dead once you get out of here, you think to yourself.

You hear him scoff, "Again, I was only teasing you-"

"Then I suggest you stop!"

"-but I'd rather not reject tradition."

"W-what?"

5 years ago, Entrance Exam Results Day

Alhaitham believes in love. He understands everything about it– from the chemical compositions to the process. He understands the build up of love.

Naturally, it began when he saw your name only second to his first rank. It wasn't anything particularly special, you were a few points below the prodigy and he found it curious how someone managed to keep up with his wits.

“You’re Alhaitham, right? Congratulations on receiving first place on the exams!”

He's frozen. He knows he's staring. There's a hand outstretched for him yet he hasn't willed his own to take it. It's only for a second but internally, he recognizes the lapse in his act. Say something, Alhaitham, say it now–

“It was to be expected.” He states simply, lightly shrugging, before returning to the book he was reading. It lays flat on his hand and he rereads the same sentence, conscious of your presence next to him. He tries to rationalize– he finds you attractive, you seem to be his type, and it's natural for a man such as himself to eventually feel such things and react this way. Not even he, as logical as he is, could be an independent variable for love.

“Hahaha is that so? I guess you really must be smart,” You laugh and he finds the sound pleasant but forced as you retrieve your hand. “If you don’t know yet, I’m–“

He knows you. He saw your name and looked up the basic credentials already, it's natural as the soon-to-be-top student of your batch.

“I know you. You’re the one who received second on the exams.”

“. . . It was nice meeting you, Alhaitham. See you when lectures start.”

It seems he didn't make a good first impression; but that's fine, logically, he has no plans to act on his feelings anyway. As the elders would say– studies first before lovers.

5 years ago, Thesis Proposal Day

Logic was harder to act on when love was the opponent –as Alhaitham later realized– because, Archons, were you difficult to get rid of.

He notices you– everywhere. This shouldn't be surprising considering your similar academic strands and ranks, but that was exactly the issue! He was hyperaware of everything you did and what you would next do.

Alhaitham believes in love. He knows of all the ridiculous tropes, unable to escape the concept of it as it floats around even in one of the most highly rational spaces in Teyvat. He had no plans of pursuing love, it isn't something he wanted to fit into his intricate schedule,

Yet, he feels pulled by it.

He sees you in class, the seat next to you empty, and he wants to take it but he doesn't.

He bumps into you in the halls, your hands carrying stacks of research materials, but you could handle yourself as he glances the other way.

You ask him, almost hesitantly, shyly, if he would like to pair up for one of the most important thesis projects in your lives and– he flat out refuses, because -archons forbid- the remnants of his discipline and self-control be lost over sleepless nights with you next to him, working on something you both proposed.

No, he would not have that. It's not a part of his life plan (you aren't part of his life plan).

Yet, as he passes out papers in class, people's hands brushing against his, he can't help but compare yours– your hand, your fingers brushing on his, skin on skin, he feels it in his nerve receptors, electric despite not electrifying– yours is felt so much more than how he felt the others and he can't describe how.

12:00 AM, Christmas Day

And he feels it again now. The hyperawareness of you on him, like the day your fingers brushed– this illogical, subtle, uncontrollable feeling.

It must be love, he tells himself. He understands love and everything about it and it infuriates him.

But the closet is too small, you're much too close, he wants to do something. Then– he remembers. A mistletoe. Kaveh hung a mistletoe in the broom closet. Mentally, he knew this all along, but now it was becoming increasingly obvious that a mistletoe existed above him (Above you. Above you and him).

Thump, thump, thump– it's his heart beating. He shuffles to reach a chain, he needs to see it to believe it (that a mistletoe is there) but what good would that do? Is it to simply show you? To see how you'd react? A chance for him to act on these frantic feelings?

Love is illogical, it's breaking the bottle he so carefully closed.

“H-hold on, what are you doing?!” You panic, flustered.

“I’m trying to grab the pull-switch for a light, what do you think I’m doing?” He replies and he hopes he doesn't sound too rushed, “Now hold still—”

Light floods the room at the clicking sound, and it blinds him temporarily, but he feels everything– you being there, your clothes brushing against his and your skin on his, everything and everything–

–and the mistletoe, there.

"Oh, how convenient, there's a mistletoe above us. Now here's your chance to kiss me." He says and time unmistakably slows for him. His heart is steady, as if acting on his feelings were the only way to calm his fight with himself.

You look up at him frantically, "I— I am not kissing you! I told you that!" You exclaim, hands trying to shove him away for what little space you could muster.

He scoffs, "Again, I was only teasing you-"

"Then I suggest you stop!"

"-but I'd rather not reject tradition."

"W-what?"

You freeze as he tests the waters. He understands love, he understands all the tropes, the build-up, the chemicals, but -holy dendro archon- is he taking risks.

"I'm asking if I could kiss you."

"Wha-what!"

"You're repeating your words now. Would you like me to ask again or should I give you time to clear your ears?"

Under the warm light, he sees you visibly gulp. He can't help the way he leans in closer, an arm resting on the door beside your head.

"I don't need to clear my ears! I just- I thought you, well, hated me," You hurriedly reply, looking away from his own gaze. The floor is way more interesting, it seems.

"Hated you? Whoever said that?"

"W-well, you acted as though you did. Always avoiding me, always pulling away–"

"I'm not pulling away now, am I?" As if to prove his point, he leans closer, slipping his fingers under your chin to face him directly, "But it seems like you're the one shying away."

You're sure you stopped breathing at some point.

"To be fair, I was trying to avoid you back then. But not in the way that you think." His thumb brushes over your lower lip, "It was never because I hated you. In fact, it's quite the opposite."

Silence lingers in the air at his subtle confession. At the lack of a reply, Alhaitham sighs, "If I'm making you uncomfortable, we can break this door down and yo-"

"I'm not uncomfortable!" You blurt out, "I- I just didn't think you- you felt this way."

"Then may I?"

"May you?" You repeat questioningly.

"Mistletoe." He states and stiffly, he feels the slightest nod of your head on his fingers and–

The door swings open.

"MERRY CHRISTMAS, LOVEBIRDS! How are we doing? Is my dear housemate finally getting some action in his bleak life?"

"KAVEH!!!"

prompt !! "oh, how convenient, there's a mistletoe above us."

ko-fi !! commissions !! best m.list

taglist !! @absolut-wildflower @boundedbyfate @sadlonelybagel @eissaaaa @ladycoleigh @nejibot @milkypompon @bloodreaper08 @irethepotato @x-zho @roriver @mich-cola @mxsomn @ackrylik @nicebonescomrade @starforecasts @stygianoir @yuminako @eccedentesiast-sapphic @nebulaera @nuttytani @klutzkat @stygianoir14 @shizunxie @bluriie @aestellia @abyislan08 @scooterscoob @lordbugs

[lani-heart]

|| series masterlist || next // previously ||

genre(s) -> angst, fluff, non-idol, hybrid au, poly au paring(s) -> kang yeosang x reader warning(s) -> mentions of abuse, words -> 1.2K

abstract -> "...I need to get used to it. feeling loved.."

y/n's perspective

“I can do–” “Yeosang” I said again and he smiled awkwardly. “Right, sorry” he said. 

His training was so hard to overwrite. Everything anyone does for him. He tried to repay. It was hard to find a way to break this cycle of expectations for him. 

He tries to find a way to pay me back and it saddens me… he asks what he can do with his sparkling eyes and a soft smile. 

“It’s hard… I feel like San and Wooyoung do a lot and I just sit around and look at your routines. It's… hard” he said and I nodded and ruffled his hair causing him to chuckle.

“Don’t feel bad, besides they decided to do that on their own. Wooyoung cooks because he likes it, and San helps me write because he likes my room. They're not doing it for an incentive… have you thought about doing sessions yet?” I asked. It was a suggestion Kun made last week. It's been a month with him around… and he said sessions would help him realize what he was used to wasn’t what I expected of him. 

“I don't know yet… believe it or not I don’t like being around people'' he said and I nodded. Wooyoung was still the one accompanying me outside the apartment despite his excitement. San wants me to have one of them around for safety… but Wooyoung gets distracted easily. 

“You don’t have to. I just want you to be comfortable here” I said with a smile and he nodded. “Y/nnie!!!” I heard Wooyoung run towards me and hug me.

“I need groceries,” he said calmly, making me laugh. “Let me get dressed, then,” I said and he nodded. “Can I go with you?” Yeosang asos, surprising me. “If you're okay with that,” I said and he nodded. “I'll stay here with San then,” Wooyoung said as he started writing what he needed. 

I went over to the window to see how it was outside. It was gloomy and rainy… 

“You should wear something warm” I heard as I saw yeosang was still with me. “Yeah, I know… besides the grocery store is also cold, '' I  said and he chuckled. “Do… you want help?” he asked and I smiled. 

“If you’d like to go ahead~”

I knew Yeosang knew fashion. He was a social media influencer… or the closest a hybrid could get to famous. He laid out a warm and comfortable outfit for me. 

“Maybe I should make you my stylist~” I teased as we were now in the elevator down to the grocery store. I noticed his ears twitching and his tail wagging slightly. “I would love to,” he said genuinely. It shocked me… I didn't question it, however…

As we made it outside he grabbed the umbrella to hold it over our heads. “Wooyoung gave you a big list,” he said and I chuckled. “Well we are the size of a family, and besides San and him eat a lot,” I said and he chuckled but I noticed his flushed look. “Family, huh?” he asked and I smiled. 

“Don’t you think?” I asked and he chuckled and gave me a wide smile. “I like to think so,” he said and I was happy he saw us that way. He got along well with San and Wooyoung. The two love to tease him. 

I noticed he was slightly getting wet making me grab his hand to put it in the middle. “You're gonna get wet” he whined. “But you're already getting wet, '' I said and he got closer. 

Yeosang… he was such a well-behaved hybrid. I sometimes wished he’d have a little fun and think selfishly. 

“Do you see how many bags there are?! Wooyoung, you should be more considerate” Yeosang scolded Wooyoung. We carried a lot of bags back to the apartment. 

“Ah… sorry” he apologized and I smiled. “It's fine, you’ll make us something tasty right?” I asked and he nodded as he started putting things away. 

“Give him a break, he didn’t do it on purpose,” I said when I saw Yeosang still sulking and he nodded. “He shouldn't be making you do too much,” he argued and I smiled. “I helped him with groceries… I did it because I wanted to, " I said and he chuckled. 

“I get it… you do these things without asking to be repaid” he said and I nodded. “Besides… I like doing my part around here. I know you want to help… but Wooyoung is the cook. He’s already kicked you out of the kitchen and San does his best to clean around here even if he hates it. I want to help… I do the same thing but Yeosang... You sometimes have to let people do kind things for you” I said and I noticed his eyes turn glassy.

“I'm fine, don’t worry… it's– I need to get used to it. Feeling loved I mean” he said and I smiled while hugging him. “You’re a part of our family now. Don’t push yourself too much, okay? We accept you just the way you are. We’re not asking for anything in return” I said and he nodded. 

“I sometimes feel that I suffered everything that I went through to meet you,” he said, shocking me and he chuckled. 

“I’ll forever be grateful for you, and I owe you a lot even if you say I don’t, '' he said and he grabbed my cheeks to kiss my forehead. 

“I’ll do the sessions. It’ll help me right?” he asked and I smiled. “You don't have to–” “I want to. I want to accept everything you give me. I want to do it to get over my old life” he said and I nod. 

“Anything you ask of me, I'll do my best to fulfill it” I said and he chuckled. 

“You really are an angel” 

Yeosang started sessions. Kun would give me reports every week on his progress and his mental status. He… wasn’t a happy hybrid. Not when she was his owner… He’s just as damaged as San, and just as scared of the future like Wooyoung. I tried my best for him… it's all I could do. 

He also thinks he hasn’t found a place in our little life. 

He’s definitely what San and Wooyoung needed. An older brother to play with… He also took the stylist thing I said seriously. He started planning my outfits… whether i'm going out, hanging out with the girls, or just staying at home. I would wake up to an outfit at the edge of my bed. 

It was… cute. 

Yeosang was now a crucial part of my routine… just like San and Wooyoung. 

Waking up to the three hybrids saying good morning in their own ways was reassuring. San would grumble good morning since he only wakes up early because Wooyoung threatened him with no breakfast if he woke up late. 

Wooyoung said good morning and gave me a hearty breakfast, while Yeosang would knock on my door to fix my hair and call me that nickname. Angel… I don’t understand why he sees me that way but I accepted it, like how I accepted him. 

I wouldn’t trade any of this for anything

@wonuangel @danirael @angelsaway @krissroo @minkysmilk @mayonnaise-on-toast @robertsbbygirl @superbbananananana @hyukssunflower @kitty4hwa @justconniez @senpai-of-doom @kibs-and-bits @caityelise99 @ilovekinny @ateezennie23 @wooahaelemons @purplelady85 @watamotee33@chidess97 @littlelostdemonofthelight @maliamaiden @burntarm1n @spooo00oky @eastleighsblog @momo-peachy @kitstar1117 @quartzpirate @sunnyhokyu @iwishiwasrichasfuck @theginger543210 @pandolinka @ddaeing @kpopnightingale @slid3er @kekdo-520 @puppyminnnie @sparklinghwa222 @calicanbeevil @itsvxlentine @atinism @loumin908 @smally97 @rxnexxi @acetruepunk @majesticbeluga @namjooncrabs @tashizxy @itstheghostofmypast @smilefordongil @teeziny @totallynotlyntv @kyeos4ng @prodsh00ky @acescavern

please don't be a silent reader !! reblog, comment, and like <3

[elipri]

My maybe unpopular opinion is that Damian and Anyas dynamic shouldn't change in significant ways until Anya actually views Damian as a genuine friend and not a shiny prize. Because at this point her motivation isn't exactly better than all the other girls' and Damian can probably sense that, it's just that he can't figure out her why.

This post is based on a pretty interesting discussion in a DA server I'm in where some fellow fans have criticized Endo's writing, mainly because there wasn't as much impact after the bus arc as people expected (which is ofc valid crit). I just want to share what I wrote:

Late to the whole convo, but I lightly disagree that the da dynamic didn't change *at all*, however it does seem as though there wasn't as much impact from the bus arc as hoped. However, we did get some subtle shifts that should be noteworthy, namely Damian actually getting jealous and shivering at the mere *thought* of Anya getting "stolen" from him. This has never happened prior to the bus arc and is now a recurring development. That and Becky now teasing Damian in addition to cheering on Anya, especially when comparing her very open hostility towards him earlier in the story. Not only is she friendly to him now, it seems like she has seen through his crush too. I don't think that Endo will change the dynamics too much anytime soon, especially because of how little time has passed in the sxf universe. Keep in mind that damian doesn't really have a proper role model who actively helps him unlearn the toxic mindset he quite literally grew up with; the closest he'd get is his mother wishing for him to be friends with Anya too, but that is only something he heard from Jeeves and not Melinda herself. But he definitely was reflecting on that in the cake chapter. I also think that Damian is in his "I'm too grown-up for this kiddie shit" phase, he probably thinks he's better than *everyone else*, not just Anya (like him scoffing at Bill). He really doesn't want to dance with anyone and is just annoyed with all this attention imo. But he's also jealous and doesn't want Anya to dance with anyone else, but ofc won't actually admit that because he's a brat. He's just a kid with many Big Feelings™ going on that he doesn't understand and doesn't even get the privacy to unpack, so ofc he's lashing out and acting even worse than usual. I wouldn't be surprised if he just runs away in the next chapter because he's just so fed up with everything and everyone. I feel like us fans keep forgetting that Damians boundaries are straight up being pushed if not disrespected, he's been saying multiple times that he doesn't want to dance and literally everyone is ignoring him as a person with feelings (except his friends who probs set the competition up in order to reject everyone on his behalf) Nobody but his two best friends actually care about his feelings on this whole matter, he's just a shiny prize to everyone else *including* Anya.

Anyway I think Endo is saving the big dynamic change for something far more significant such as the telepathy reveal 👀

[ratatouillewastakendammit]

Unsteady

Paring: Miguel O'Hara x Nurse!Reader

Summary: It's barely been a week since the movie came out and I hate myself. Enjoy a miguel smut everyone

Warnings: smut; vaginal fingering; slight blood (typical nurse shit); language; not proof-read; almost added some Spanish phrases because it's hot but my white ass would've easily botched that shit

Word Count: 1.8k

'When it comes to a snack-pack I can't lie'

"I wanna ride." You hummed along with the song, voice rising slightly higher to match the background singers. "Ride."

The speaker echoed throughout the room, disrupted only by the slight pitter-patter of medications falling into their correct places with each passing minute.

Organization had always been moderately calming to you, but it definitely helped to have music in the background, turning what some would call monotonous chore into a mindless state of productiveness.

Of course, this was also quite effective at stealing your attention.

The satisfaction of each pill finding its proper section had apparently replaced your spatial awareness, along with the realization that someone was standing in your door.

"Where's the doctor?"

“Shit!” You jumped, surprised at the unexpected voice. The nerves got even worse as you spun on your heels, meeting the stone-cold gaze of none other than Miguel O'Hara.

"Sorry, but he's not in right- " You fiddled with the speaker, finally managing to pause the music that suddenly seemed much too loud before clearing your throat and turning to face him again. "Oh, shit! What happened?!"

Considering the infinite possibility of universes, it really shouldn't have been all that shocking that this one was home to an arachnid-themed physician.

But for someone living in a spider society, you definitely couldn't identify as a spider-man, woman, or any other unworldly alternative that managed to find its way in your path.

You were, in essence, a completely normal person, a little factoid that didn't aid your constant surprise at all the different webby variants that this place had to offer.

It had all started a few months ago when your world cracked apart.

What many could describe as a boorishly typical day quickly turned into cosmic devastation. You couldn't even remember when the hole opened up, swallowing your home and all the people with it into its murky abyss.

Horrifying was an understatement.

In the midst of this chaos, in all the screaming and tears and crumbling buildings that you had once shopped or stayed in, your line of sight caught wind of a large, bright light.

People were running from both it and the blackness, terrified of whatever supernaturally apocalyptic entity that had come to wreak havoc on their lives.

Still, this bright alternative seemed vastly more inviting than the inky chasm fracturing main street.

So, pushing away the common sense in turn for the human instinct to avoid certain death, you had jumped.

Obviously, when you had leaped into the unspecified glowing hole, you hadn't been expected this.

But fear had quickly been replaced with relieved gratitude when your new comrades hadn't thrown you back into your quickly vanishing world, but allowed you to stay.

Over time, you had acclimated to their society, even picking up a nursing assistant position under their own spider-medic.

Regardless, you found yourself constantly nervous around most of these people, despite their usual friendliness.

It also didn't help that you were simultaneously terrified and attracted to your current boss.

Your boss who was standing in the doorway with a large gash above his elbow and a stream of blood leaking down his arm.

"Did you get stabbed?"

"I'm fine."

The statement wasn't exactly surprising.

Miguel was a closed-off person, even if that meant patching up the non-lethal injuries by himself. Despite the constant abundance of danger the man put himself in, he didn't visit your office often.

Still, you took hold of his free arm and dragged him towards the medical bed. "Uh, no offense, but then why are you here?"

You watched his jaw harden slightly, eyebrows furrowing in what you quickly recognized to be agitation. "Byte locked me out of the computer system and wouldn't let me back in unless I came here."

Spider-byte, or Margo, was one of the most technologically skillful individuals here, and someone you would consider to be your closest friend at the moment.

Somehow, she had been able to pry out your attraction to the organization's leader.

According to her, she was under the impression that Miguel was fond of you, but you honestly couldn't think of any other reason for his lessened hostility besides that fact that you were one of the only people here without superpowers.

But if it was pity-masked by his tolerance, it wasn't hard for you to become increasingly attached to him over time, a fact that someone as perceptive as Margo was easily able to pick up on.

And seeing as she knew both Spider-medic's and your schedule, it wouldn't exactly surprise you if she chose today, specifically at 3:37 in the afternoon, to nag Miguel about the importance of medical care done by a professional.

"So... what happened?" You twisted the cap off the bottle of saline solution and allowed it to fall over a cloth. "The usual, I'm guessing?"

"Basically," he nodded, barely moving when you gently cleaned his wound. His left sleeve had been cut away, leaving his entire bicep exposed.

While this made for a quick job...

Oh, fuck

Swallowing, you tossed the cloth to the side, reaching for the roll of gauze and keeping your eyes to the floor.

Shit, his thighs are ginormous.

They caged your own in from the sides, leaving it almost impossible to ignore the heat of his gaze burning into your skin. The warmth of his own tickled the tips of your fingers as you wrapped the newly cleaned wound.

"Are you okay?"

"Huh?" You looked up, almost physically recoiling when you realized how close your face was to his.

He cocked an eyebrow. "You're nervous."

Scrunching your expression, you quickly took note of how fast your heart was beating against your ribs. "I thought you didn't have that weird, spider-sense thing."

"I don't." Miguel grabbed your wrist, barely leaving his wound properly secured. "Your hands are shaking."

Blinking in surprise, you shifted your gaze to your arm. It was small, but there were ripples of tremers coursing through the creases on your fingers.

The unsteadiness was unconscious, unaffected by the strength of your mental begging.

"Do I make you nervous?" A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth and you could've sworn that you were moments away from going into cardiac arrest.

"I... uh..."

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" The hand not gripping yours pushed a fallen strand of hair behind your ear. "Having trouble concentrating?"

He leaned forward slightly, warmth of his breath tickling the edge of your chin before he quickly moved back. His movements came to a sharp pause, a serious expression overcoming his features. "Do you want me to stop?

Your answer was almost immediate. "No."

"Good girl." His words sent an unconscious shiver down your spine, earning you a low chuckle. "Do you like it when I call you that?"

I'm gonna combust.

"So shy," Miguel clicked his tongue, running his thumb over your lip as the rest of his fingers forced your chin upward to meet his gaze. "Answer, princess."

Backing away, he slid his arms under your thighs and pulled you upward so you were straddling his.

You swallowed, watching his hands slip under the fabric of your coat, snaking around your bare waist. "Yes."

Red irises burned into yours, only beginning to match the intensity in his expression. "Any other appointments today?" His fingers toyed with the top of your jeans.

"No," your breath hitched. "But you spider-people always manage to get yourself into deep shit."

He drew forward, pressing his lips against your neck as his touch traveled under your waistline. "I'll make this quick then."

The feeling of his mouth sucking on your collarbone sent warmth sparking into your abdomen, the heat only growing as his thumb grazed over your clit.

"I think it's cute." He grinned, canines threatening to break the tender skin. "How nervous you get around me. I was guessing that you were either terrified of me or wanted me to fuck you."

You groaned when two of his fingers pushed into you, slowly pressing against your core in a way that had you turning to putty in his arms. "Both, probably."

He chuckled, continuing to trail his kisses over your skin, taking a moment to swallow the soft moans falling from your lips in his.

A part of you wondered if the door was properly locked, if the shades were completely shut, or if the room was soundproof. But every ounce of common sense seemed to leak out of you with each stroke of his thumb over your clit, each squeeze that he gave your thigh with his free hand.

And then the phone rang.

Panicking, you turned around, shaking hand reaching for the receiver. Miguel took your wrist into his free arm, pulling you back into him.

"It's okay, princess." He pressed down on your clit, pulling a cry from your lips. "You're almost there."

He was right.

Each thrust of his fingers into your core sent your mind further into a blissful haze, the subtle shaking of your thighs over his going unnoticed. It was only a moment later that he had you coming undone around his hands.

You took a few seconds, head resting on his chest as he slowly took you down from your high. It was odd how warm he felt, a large contrast to what many would describe as a cold demeanor.

The heat made you want to stay there forever, the only thing yanking you out of your pleasured mindlessness the incessant ringing of the device three feet away from you.

"Hello?" You cleared your throat, trying to get rid of the falter lacing your tone. "This is, uh, the spider... doctor office?"

The sound of your name echoed through the phone and you immediately recognized the voice of your current mentor. "Sorry again about leaving you alone for the day, hun. I just wanted to check and see if everything was okay back at the office."

"Oh, I'm fine! Take as long as you need!" You heard a line of praises coming through, but they barely registered in your mind. "Gotta go, kay, bye!"

With a breath, you set the device down in relief, barely recognizing the soft smirk gracing Miguel's lips.

"So... how’s your arm?"

Miguel laughed, a sound that was completely foreign to you, and the rest of the organization, probably.

"Fine." The limb in question slipped around your waist, pressing your body further into his. "But Byte told me that if I didn't ask you out then she'd add a matching scar to my other one."

You grimaced in embarrassment, the feeling slowly fading away as he laced a gentle hand through your hair, more affection that you had seen from the man in your entire time here.

"Of course she did."

[shanastoryteller]

Happy holidays shana! can i get yona of the dawn? thank you!

a continuation of 1 2

Soo Won is helping her put on her armor, having declined to participate in the tournament considering how her father got positively twitchy whenever Soo Won picked up a sword around him. He's going to be furious enough with with Yona entering, no need to make things worse

Usually he'd been helping Hak, but Hak is mad at him because he'd found out that Soo Won had bet against him, which is also why Yona is feeling particularly tender towards him at the moment.

"Yona," he says as he buckles her leather in place around her calf. She wants to feel fluttering and swoon over this, but the truth is that they've done this for each other too many times for it to feel anything but practical. "What happens if you win?"

She doesn't understand the question. "I show up every uppity warrior and noble who thinks they can win a kingship with some fancy footwork."

"Okay," he says. "And when you prove you're better than all of them, except maybe Hak?"

Except maybe Hak, who's first loyalty has been to her for years.

She probably should have known better than to think that she could pull one over Soo Won. Hak is easier to mislead, because she never lies to him, exactly.

That's a trick she picked up from Soo Won.

"I leverage my right to fight against my father's desire to surrender," she says, and tries to soften her words by adding, "How does my father expect me to make an advantageous marriage otherwise? No one wants to be king of a shrinking nation."

This is her land and her people and she's tired of giving them away.

It shouldn't surprise her father, but she knows it will. He should know better. She's spoiled and greedy and everything that's hers, she keeps. But he keeps giving away what belongs to her.

Soo Won ducks his head and it doesn't quite hide his smile. "Very good, Princess."

[maidragoste]

Worry

Aegon II Targaryen x Reader

Summary: Aegon is worried about Jaehaera's future.

This is part of the universe of "The Queen and her husbands" but it can be read independently without having read the series. The only thing you have to know is that Helaena is dead, as are Jaehaerys and Maelor. And Reader is Aegon's second wife.

Aegon and Jaehaera are very important to me so I wanted to write something related to them for a long time. I hope you like it 💖💖

REBLOGS, comments and likes are always greatly appreciated 🥰🥰💖💖

Disclaimer: English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes.

You entered the cameras you shared with Aegon and Aemond. You found the king with a glass of what you supposed to be wine and watching through the window like Jaehaera flew with Morghuel while she was followed by her siblings and they dragons. You weren't surprised to see Aegon alone and thoughtful. You knew that the last meeting with the Council was not to his liking. Nor was it from yours.

Aegon turned for a moment when he heard the sound of the door open but his attention soon returned to his daughter.

"Do you think I'm a fool to refuse?" He asked.

During the last meeting, Jaehara's possible nuptials had been discussed. After the last day of his daughter's name, they began to receive proposals for her hand. Now that Jaehaera is sixteen, the court thinks she is ready to marry but Aegon could disagree more. Or maybe he was the one who was not ready to see her leave.

Jaehaera was the last thing he had left of Helaena. Aegon may haven't loved her sister romantically and her marriage may have been unwanted but he loved her just as he loved all of their children. He had to protect Jaehaera as he had been unable to protect Jaehaerys and Maelor. He owed it to Helaena.

If Jaehaera married, she was expected to go live on her husband's lands. If his daughter was away how was he supposed to protect her? He couldn't trust her future husband to take care of her. He couldn't trust anyone. Years ago people whispered about how strange Jaehaera was, how she sometimes seemed immersed in her own world, how she rarely smiled. Now those same people were fighting for his attention so they could marry his daughter, the same girl they didn't want to be around before because of her supposed weirdness.

Aegon wasn't stupid, he knew that they only wanted Jaehaera because they thought the house she married would get more power, they assumed that he would get them more lands and receive more favors from him.

“Of course not,” you responded as you hugged him from behind. You felt your husband's body relax a little. “I would be more worried if you had said yes” you confessed, resting your cheek on his back.

Aegon took one of your hands from around him and kissed it before placing it back on his chest, where your hand was before.

“If Jaehaera gets married, people will expect her to give her husband children. I don't want him to go through the delivery bed. She's too young,” he declared and took a long drink of wine, trying to get the image of her daughter bleeding on the delivery bed out of her head.

He also didn't like thinking about Jaehaera having a baby. She was only sixteen years old—the same age as him when she and Jaehaerys were born—she shouldn't have to worry about raising a child when she was still a child. He wanted to continue watching her grow, he wanted to continue seeing her flying carefree with her siblings, he wanted to see her making flower crowns with her siblings, he wanted her only worries to be taking care of Morghul and taking care of her gardens. Jaehaera didn't need a husband. She was happy as she was.

"I don't want to lose her or for her to end up hurt. I want her to always continue enjoying her freedom."

You frowned as you heard the defeat in your husband's voice. As if he thought that it wouldn't matter what he wanted, Jaehaera would end up getting married and suffering because of it. You couldn't let him continue thinking that so you took the glass out of his hand and then left it on the table and took his face in your hands to get his attention. "Remember that you are the king, love. You have the power. Not the court or the council. No one can force you to get Jaehaera married" you reminded him with determination in your eyes "Don't let yourself be carried away by the pressure. Don't make the same mistakes as your father" you advised him.

Aegon couldn't help but grimace at the mention of Viserys but still valued your words. He was grateful to have you by his side, you always helped him open his eyes and come to his senses. The truth is he wouldn't know what he would do without you. If it weren't for you, it would surely take forever to find the solution to his problems or he would be making mistake after mistake. Taking you as his wife was the best decision he had ever made.

"Please don't mention Viserys again. I can't stand it," he complained and feigned retching exaggeratedly.

"You needed to come to your senses" You defended yourself with a shrug "Desperate situations call for desperate measures" you joked.

Your husband laughed before kissing you. You hummed happily and satisfied that you had gotten him back into a good mood before kissing him back, pulling him closer to you.

At the next meeting with the council, Aegon announced that Jaehaera would not marry anyone unless she wanted, not knowing that his daughter at that very moment was on Dragonstone having a Valyrian wedding. But that's a story for another day.

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[happy74827]

Loosing Control

[Gideon Graves x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: Your love is a thing of magic. It's strong and apparently real and Gideon doesn't quite know how to deal with it.

WC: 2489

Category: Slight Lime/Spice {Gideon’s POV}

I’m actually surprised that so many people love my Gideon fics. The AMOUNT of anons I’ve suddenly started to receive this past week just because of this man is astronomical and I’m totally here for it!! (Also this gif got me feeling all types of things 🫣)

『••✎••』

Gideon Graves was at a loss for words. He didn't know what he had expected from this meeting, but it certainly wasn't this. He wasn't exactly in a position to be calling anyone out on the carpet, so to speak, but it had been at least an hour since you had burst into the office—pounding on the door, demanding to be let in—and Gideon had done nothing to stop you. Instead, he sat on his sofa, staring at you in silence. He'd already known you would be upset. He didn't need you to tell him that.

"Look," he said.

Gideon Graves was a genius. He knew that. His ability to multitask and think fast on his feet had gotten him far in his career and had garnered him numerous accolades and awards, from the Pulitzer to the Nobel Prize. And yet he hadn't expected you.

He wasn't sure what he had expected. You had been his assistant for nearly five years now. Gideon had made it clear from the beginning that he was not interested in anything more than a professional relationship between the two of you, but that didn't mean he hadn't thought about it. There was just something about you. The way your mouth moved when you were speaking. The way you stood so close to him in the mornings that he could smell the soap on your skin and the coffee on your breath.

"Just give me a minute," he said.

You blinked at him. "What?"

Gideon stood up and paced the room, adjusting his glasses and running his hands through his hair.

"There are so many things I want to say, but they all seem like the wrong things," he said. "I've never really been good with words."

You pressed your hand to your lips, shaking your head. "No, no, I get it. It's my fault. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have come here like this."

"You're not making this any easier for me, you know."

"No, I—I know." You drew your hand away, and your face flushed. You sat on the edge of the sofa, pulling your knees to your chest. "You don't have to make excuses for me or anything. I know I just barged in here."

"You always do that," Gideon said. He leaned his hip against the edge of his desk, resting his weight on his elbow. "You've been my assistant for five years now and you never knock."

You smiled. "You told me not to. You said I was always allowed to come into your office without knocking."

Gideon shrugged. He had been trying to get you out of his hair, to be completely honest. You had been such a nuisance—so nosy and needy and persistent—and yet he found himself drawn to you. He never meant for things to go this far. He was a lot of things, but unprofessional was not one of them.

He wasn't sure why you had come here. What you had possibly thought you were going to accomplish. Gideon Graves did not feel. Not in the way other people did. He could love, sure, but it wasn't in the traditional way. He could want and need and desire. But he wasn't capable of love. He hadn't loved his mother. He hadn't loved his father, though he had always been fond of the man.

Gideon had not loved you. Not at first. In fact, you had been an irritation, a nuisance. And yet, as time went on and you had learned to read him better, to anticipate his needs and desires, your presence became comforting. He liked being with you. He enjoyed listening to your voice, the way you laughed and smiled, and how you always looked so pleased with yourself, no matter how small the task you had completed.

"You have to understand," he said, "I'm not..."

Gideon searched your eyes. You were beautiful, he realized. You were soft and warm and kind, and he had never really thought of you as anything more than an assistant, but there was something about you now, something that made you look different. He couldn't quite explain it.

You were staring at him, your gaze fixed on his face.

Gideon cleared his throat. "You need to know what you're getting yourself into before we go any further."

Your brows drew together. "What do you mean?"

"I'm a broken man," he said, holding his hand in front of his face. He ran his fingers through his hair, tugging at the ends. "I can't promise you anything; I'm not... I’m not good at this sort of thing. You have to know that."

You tilted your head to one side, studying his face. He could see the worry in your expression. Gideon had seen that look before so many times. His father had given him that same look when Gideon had first told him he wanted to go to college. His mother had given him that same look when he had decided to move to Toronto alone. Even his own reflection in the mirror had looked at him with that same worried expression when Ramona had left him.

You looked at him as though you were afraid of him, but you didn't speak. You just looked at him, waiting.

"I don't know what I'm doing," he said, "and I can't promise that this will end up working out. It never has before, and it probably won't this time, either."

"Is this about Ramona?" you asked, your voice soft. "Is that what this is about?"

"No," Gideon said quickly. "That's in the past. That was... I was young and foolish."

"You weren't young," you said with a laugh. "I was literally there when you made the whole league thing. Then you got your ass—no offense—kicked by Pilgrim and that girl with the beautiful scarf.”

Gideon had never talked to anyone about that moment. He didn't talk about his failures, at least not when they were that severe. Even he had to admit that getting his ass kicked had been a bit of an embarrassing moment for him.

"Yeah, let’s not talk about that,"

You laughed again. "You know what this sounds like to me? It sounds like you're trying to talk me out of being with you."

"Well..." Gideon frowned, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "I guess that's true."

Your expression softened. "That's because you think it's not going to work out, isn't it? Better not to try than fail, right?"

Gideon didn't speak.

You moved across the room, crossing the floor until you were standing in front of him. You placed your hands on his chest, sliding them up the sides of his neck and cradling his face in your hands. You were looking at him, searching his eyes.

"I know it's hard for you to trust people," you said, "but I've been by your side for five years, and you don’t need to use a chip for assurance that this will work."

“Wait a minute, hold on—”

You leaned into him, kissing his lips. You smiled against his mouth, giggling softly. You were kissing him. You were kissing him. You were actually kissing him, and Gideon didn't know what to do about it.

You pulled away and kissed him again, harder this time. You moved against him, pushing him back so that he fell against the edge of his desk. His heart was pounding in his chest. You had your hands on his shoulders now, pushing his coat from his body.

For once, Gideon didn’t have control, and he wasn't sure how he felt about that. He liked being in charge. It was what he was used to. He knew what he was doing and how to get things done. Yet, here he was, watching his jacket drop to the floor, feeling your hands on his body.

“Do you still think you need that chip of yours?” you asked, pressing your lips to his ear.

Gideon sighed, tilting his head back as you kissed his neck and his jaw. You were undoing his tie now, letting it drop to the floor.

“Listen, I had a perfectly good reason for that chip. Ramona, she was...I had a lot going on with her, and it just made sense at the time, but then—shit—I didn't mean—I didn't—this is—it's really complicated, okay?”

You were kissing him as he spoke. You kissed the corner of his mouth. You kissed his neck and collarbone. Gideon had to remind himself to breathe. He had to remind himself how to move. How to think. How to do anything.

"You really are all over the place," you murmured.

Gideon glanced at you, panting due to the lack of oxygen in his system. His eyes were full of you, the shape of your face, the sound of your voice. The curve of your nose. Your smile. Your lips.

You had your hands on his shoulders, that same soft, pleading look in your eyes. You looked at him as though you wanted something, and it was hard for him to deny you, but it wasn't that simple. It never was.

"I can't promise you anything," he said.

You nodded. "I know."

"I'm not the easiest person to be around. I don't even know how I'm supposed to...to..." He swallowed. "I just don't know how to do this."

You stepped away from him, taking your hands from his shoulders. You seemed to know the right thing to say. You always knew the right thing to say. "Don't worry about that right now."

Gideon turned from you. He needed to get a hold of himself. He couldn't be weak like this. He needed to be in control. He needed to focus.

"I need to get back to work," he said, rubbing his eyes with his hand. "We've been away for too long."

You stared at him for a moment. You seemed to be waiting for him to change his mind, but he didn't. He knew he needed to focus. He needed to do what he had always done. He needed to bury himself in work until it was all that consumed him, and there was nothing else to do but sleep and breathe.

"Okay," you said. “Okay, Gideon.”

He didn't look at you as you turned to go. You hadn't even given him a chance to ask you to stay. He couldn't look at you right now, so he didn't turn around as he heard you open the door, close it behind you, and leave.

You hadn't left him mentally, though. Not yet. He could still smell your perfume in the air. He could still see the shape of your body in the chair in front of his desk. He could hear the way you sighed, the way your voice had been soft when you had said his name.

Gideon needed to get back to work, but all he could think about was you. He didn't even know how he had managed to convince himself that it was a good idea to push you away. He did the opposite with Ramona, forcing her into his life until she was a part of him.

So why was it when you had actually wanted him, he had pushed you away?

It had never happened with anyone else, not like this.

Gideon reached up to his neck, touching the skin where your lips had been. It had only been a kiss, a simple touch, but he couldn't remember the last time someone had made him feel like this. You were so soft and kind and... beautiful.

He reached down for his fallen coat that you had tossed to the ground. He lifted it, carrying it to the back of the sofa. He picked up his tie, too, and placed it into the pocket of the jacket, folding it neatly.

There was so much he didn't understand about himself. There was so much he didn't know and would likely never know, but he knew how he felt about you. He could admit that to himself, at least, even if he couldn't admit it to you. Not yet.

“Idiot… Idiot.” Gideon groaned, burying his face in his hands. He sat down on the edge of the couch, falling onto his back. He stared up at the ceiling, his mind drifting back to you.

When Scott Pilgrim had won that battle against him, Gideon was left to wake up and realize that there was a whole world out there that he had no control over. It was a frightening thing for him to come to terms with, but there it was. The world was going on with or without him, and he couldn't change that.

You were there for him, though. You had always been there for him. You had been so soft and kind and gentle. His ego was completely shattered when Scott brought him to his knees, but you had been there for him, comforting him as he recovered emotionally.

And yet, that wasn't all you had done for him. You have helped him in so many ways since you started working with him. You were the perfect assistant—attentive, thorough, and never a bother. He could ask you to fetch anything for him, and you always had.

You also knew when he wanted to be left alone and respected his boundaries. He had to be very careful around people. If you use the wrong words or the wrong tone of voice, everything could fall apart. And it had—it was—with Ramona.

Ramona. It still hurt to think about her, but he could admit that what he felt for you was far different than what he had ever felt for Ramona. What he had felt for Ramona had been a sort of hyperfocus. That was what he told himself anyway. She made him feel things that no one else ever had, but it had never been real. And Gideon knew the difference. Ramona wasn’t love; it was obsession.

You were love. You made him feel so... so human. He didn't want to get into the nitty-gritty details of that, but you made him feel alive. You made him feel real.

Gideon sat up and crossed the room. When he was stressed, or upset, or upset because he was stressed, he found himself pacing. It was one of the few that helped him focus. As he paced, he glanced at the door, staring at the knob as he imagined you coming back through it.

That’s it, he thought. He needed to do something. He needed to go after you to make things right. Make sure that you knew he was serious. Make sure that you know what was at stake here.

Gideon wasn't good with words, but he knew that he would figure out a way. Figuring out ways to fix things had never been a problem for him.

He was the smartest man in the world. How hard could it be?

God, I need to learn how to write actual endings instead of leaving everything open 😭😭

Conclusions are the bane of my existence istg

[suzukiblu]

Day ten of fic NaNoWriMo, obligatory sugar daddy Tim/sugar baby Kon AU.

The waitress comes over with another steaming mug of hot chocolate for Kon and Tim awkwardly orders not-Robin's-coffee-order, which since he's panicking he defaults to Caroline Hill's usual for. She's a med student, she drinks enough caffeine for his tastes. And also she likes extremely sugary drinks, which is definitely to his taste. 

Look, Robin can't drink an iced brown sugar oat milk espresso with six extra pumps of syrup and four extra shots of espresso, especially in front of the exact teammate who would tease him the most mercilessly for having a finicky drink order, but Caroline Hill can drink anything she wants, and Tim Drake is just gonna be channeling her for this conversation, he guesses. Her Twitter account already got him here to begin with, so he might as well.

“That is a concerning amount of caffeine in one drink, dude,” Kon observes with a raised eyebrow instead of teasing him over either the syrup or oat milk, which is not actually what Tim expected to hear. But, well, he's not Robin right now, so maybe Kon isn't feeling the same urge to start shit that he usually seems to. 

Tim's not sure how to feel about that. But Robin is, technically, an “authority” figure and a fellow superhero, and Tim Drake is just some guy, so . . . 

Actually, Tim doesn't really know how Kon gets along with civilian guys. He's seen him flirt up plenty of civilian girls, obviously, but he doesn't really seem to talk to all that many guys. Like . . . ever, actually. 

Weird, he thinks, repressing a frown. 

“How would you know, you're Kryptonian,” he says. 

“Half-Kryptonian,” Kon says, then waves a hand around the café. “And like, you know, also this entire planet is full of people who can just tell me these things. Five thousand milligrams is the minimum lethal dose of caffeine for a healthy adult, which is something like seventy-five shots of espresso, but more than four or five shots in a day is still not gonna be great for you, and you just ordered six.”

“. . . how the hell do you just know that off the top of your head?” Tim asks, blinking at him in absolute bewilderment, and Kon smirks in smug amusement.

“Dude, I was programmed by exhausted grad students pulling six months straight of all-nighters,” he says, pointing at his own temple. “I know every possible thing there is to know about every possible caffeine delivery system. Including the illegal ones and the ones the government hasn't yet realized should be illegal.” 

“Huh,” Tim says, still more than a little bewildered. That does make sense, he guesses, but since Kon's already told the team he has absolutely no useful background in any kind of science or math past the absolute kiddie-level basics when they were all exchanging information about all their personal training and experience, it's still a surprise to hear. Shouldn't Cadmus have prioritized an actual education over things like safe caffeine intake for baseline humans, especially since Kon's safe intake level is probably different from a baseline human's anyway? Which–well, he guesses Kon did get cracked out of his cloning tube early, but still. They at least should've been building up the basics for him. Like–more than the kiddie-level basics, he means. 

Cadmus is definitely not capable enough to be in charge of Kon. Like, at all. Ever. Tim has fewer and fewer regrets about this whole plan every minute, in fact. If anything, he should've started drafting it the day he met Rex Leech, never mind the fact that Kon hadn't technically existed yet at the time. Or after the Poison Ivy incident, maybe. At the least he should've done up an outline or two after he and Kon and Bart had helped Suzie escape recapture and then collectively lied to the government about it.

“You work for those guys, right?” he “asks” as Kon takes a sip of his new hot chocolate, because while the best time to start this whole plan was months ago, the second-best time to start it is now. “Project Cadmus?” 

"Yeah," Kon replies, looking a little surprised by the question. Tim reminds himself to con the team into brushing up on the superhero version of stranger danger, because Kon answered that question way too easily. "Well, just started to. I'm a field agent. How'd you know?” 

"I've done some research on you since we first met," Tim says, which isn't even a lie; just some careful phrasing. "I really appreciated what you did for me. And to be honest, I think we'd get along."

"Oh yeah? Tell me all about it," Kon says as his posture shifts a little and he flashes him the kind of smirk he normally reserves for, well . . . 

Huh, Tim thinks in vague bemusement.

Kon's flirting with him. 

. . . huh. 

Not actually the angle Tim was intending to take here, but . . . well, he's not above taking it. And anyway, Kon's just a flirt in general, so it's not like it means anything. 

Admittedly Tim hasn't actually seen him flirt with a guy before, but presumably Kon's just feeling out an opportunity to experiment or not ready to be out to the team yet. Tim's not, so he'd hardly blame him for that. Tim's not even out to Steph.

And he's definitely, definitely not out to Bruce. 

Well, ideally he'll be a supervillain before that becomes necessary, assuming his life goes to plan. 

Robin was always going to be a temporary gig, after all. 

"I don't know," he says, and lets the corners of his mouth curl up in amusement. "You just seem like my type of guy." 

"Your type of guy?" Kon says, his smirk widening as he leans in towards Tim, who decides to pretend that particular bit of flirtatious implication was actually intentional. Tim is . . . not all that great at flirting, admittedly, but it's not like Kon has particularly high standards past “didn't explicitly tell me to fuck off”, so Tim figures he'll be able to get by for long enough to have this conversation. 

Not much longer, but all the same. He has a plan to pitch, that's all that actually matters here. 

“Yeah,” he says. “And I wanted to thank you for saving me, so . . .” 

“You wanna thank me, Tim Drake?” Kon asks with a slower, wider smirk, leaning in a little more again, and Tim instantly turns bright red as he realizes how that actually sounded. 

Yeah, okay, he is actually the worst at flirting. Fuck. 

“Uh, yes!” he says quickly, very much needing to clarify that statement before his stupid fucking hormones try to talk him into maybe just . . . leaning into that particular miscommunication a little. Not the goal here. Definitely not. “I mean–being a field agent doesn't sound particularly lucrative? And I know being a superhero isn't.” 

“Lucrative?” Kon blinks, expression turning puzzled. “I mean, I guess not. I don't need that much money or anything, though, I just live at Cadmus these days.” 

“You live in a lab?” Tim says, letting himself sound as incredulously horrified as he felt the first time he heard that. “Why?” 

“I dunno, saves me a commute,” Kon replies with a shrug. “Also, like, it's not like I have a credit score to get my own place with. Or a legal identity. Or, you know, money. Landlords tend to want those.” 

“Hm,” Tim says. “Do you want one?” 

“Huh?” Kon wrinkles his nose in confusion. 

“Your own place,” Tim clarifies. “I really would like to thank you. I could help you get a place.” 

“Uh, thanks? But I still couldn't afford rent, even if somebody cosigned for me or whatever,” Kon says, looking puzzled. “I really don't make that much.”

“No, I mean I'd pay your rent,” Tim explains, which is in fact an insane person thing to offer somebody, admittedly, but it's not like Kon has all that reliable a grasp of normal social mores. “Or just buy you a place outright and pay your property taxes. Whichever you'd prefer.”

Kon blinks. Tilts his head. 

“So like, you're just a very extra dude, huh,” he says after a moment, his eyebrows slowly raising as he pushes his sunglasses up into his hair. “Like you're the guy who blows the budget on the friend group's Secret Santa out of the water every year.”

“Possibly,” Tim says, putting on a sheepish smile. Kon laughs and folds his arms on the table, looking amused. 

“You wanna buy me an apartment?” he asks. “What, just for saving your life?” 

“I really think you're undervaluing that particular achievement,” Tim says. 

“I think you're overvaluing it,” Kon replies with another laugh. “No offense, but I didn't do anything but block one lousy bullet.” 

“One lousy bullet is enough,” Tim says, and doesn't think of any bodies he's seen. Kon tilts his head again, then takes a sip of his hot chocolate. 

“Okay, fair,” he allows. “But I'm bulletproof.” 

“I'm not,” Tim says. 

“You were as long as I was touching the same floor as you,” Kon replies with a shrug, and takes another sip. “It wasn't like I did anything hard.” 

He hasn't actually said “no” to the apartment. Tim's pretty sure that's just because he thinks he's either ridiculous or just not being serious, but he's not above pressing the advantage anyway. 

“You didn't have to do anything at all, though,” he says. "And buying you a place wouldn't be all that hard for me either. Besides, you deserve a little gratitude for your efforts, don't you think?” 

"Sounds like supervillain talk, dude," Kon says, his mouth quirking in amusement around his next sip. Tim resolves to dial back on that at this point in his career. He's laying groundwork, yes, but subtlety is still the wiser course of action. 

"You say that like you've never socialized with a supervillain before," he counters dryly. 

"Well, usually ones who wear a bit less," Kon replies, lowering his mug to grin wickedly at him. Tim figures if a little more flirting might soften him up on this whole idea, well . . . 

It's not the most altruistic thing he's ever done for a plan, admittedly, but if it works, it works. 

"So you're telling me I should invest in a crop top before I try to take over the world and remake it in my own image?" he asks still more dryly as he raises an eyebrow at Kon with a little smirk, and Kon laughs and leans in a little closer again, giving him a not very subtle up-and-down with his eyes. 

"Only if you're trying to recruit me for your evil plans, pretty boy," he says, grin turning sharp. Tim feels vaguely faint, and also wants to lick the bastard's stupid perfect teeth. Jesus. "So I dunno, what are your feelings on Daisy Dukes?" 

"I'm going to be honest, I'm not actually that much of an exhibitionist so at this point we're just describing my ideal costume updates for you," Tim informs him. 

"Oh yeah?" Kon asks with another laugh even as he straightens back up to visibly preen at the suggestion. Tim is all for that, personally. Both the preening and the theoretical updates, in fact. And, a little more weirdly, just the idea of having anything whatsoever to do with what Kon might ever decide to wear. Especially whatever he might decide to wear for his costume. 

Yeah, that's probably a later thought, Tim decides. Like, a private-time kind of later thought. Specifically “behind locked doors in an empty house” private-time, actually.

"You're solar-powered, aren't you?" he says reasonably, because apparently he likes to suffer and also make himself low-key insane. "Showing a bit more skin can't hurt." 

"I wonder if Superman would buy that excuse," Kon says musingly. 

"Power Girl exists," Tim replies still more reasonably. "And Supergirl wears a miniskirt, last I checked." 

"Valid," Kon says, putting on a mock-thoughtful expression and tapping the side of his jaw. "Maybe I'll put in some cutouts and go for a lower neckline, tell the big guy he's making the rest of us look like prudes. What do you think, bikini or high-cut bottoms?"

"I don't know the difference," Tim lies, desperately trying not to overheat and die at that question and every single accompanying mental image that his useless brain has so helpfully decided to supply. "You'll have to provide examples."

"Will I now," Kon says, grinning all over again and pointedly striking a very suggestive pose in his seat. Tim valiantly struggles not to melt. "What, pretty boy, you want a fashion show?" 

"Well I did want to be a photographer when I was a kid," Tim says, although it was definitely never that kind of photography he had in mind. Kon laughs again and shifts in closer again, though, so it's worth it. Tim is mortified, but also undeniably into just . . . all of this, really, just everything about this conversation. Robin can't flirt with Superboy, but, well . . . Tim Drake still isn't Robin, now is he? 

He's probably taking advantage of the situation a little, Tim can admit to himself, but it's still just . . . nice. He's wanted to flirt with Kon for way too long, at this point. Indulging in a little bit of it isn't the worst thing he could do. 

And again, it's Kon, so it's not like it's serious or anything. The guy won't even remember this conversation tomorrow, much less anything about Tim Drake. 

. . . admittedly that'd be counterproductive to Tim's long-term goals here, but still. He's willing to take his time on this. There's a plan. It has steps. Layers. Processes. 

"I like you, man," Kon says with a wider grin, which is in absolutely no way whatsoever in the plan. "You're funny."

Tim stares blankly at him as it occurs to him, almost disbelievingly, that he might've . . . made a good impression on Kon? Somehow? 

Well, that's weird.

"I'll never get a fashion show out of you if I'm not at least funny," he says on autopilot, as someone who's been well-taught both when and how to press an advantage. Kon, yet again, grins at him, and gives him another much brighter laugh than usual. 

Actually, he kind of hasn't stopped grinning at him, has he. 

Huh. 

. . . huh. 

Tim really did not plan for this. This is just . . . not at all what the plan was. 

“Well, you definitely are funny,” Kon says, biting his lip around a warm little smile and ducking his head just enough to look at Tim from under his lashes, and Tim decides he can probably just amend the plan.

He's a Bat, isn't he? They know how to improvise when they have to.

[hoseokslefteyebrow]

( Titleless)

Pairing : Platonic Miguel O' Hara X Teen, Daughter, Symbiote Reader

Genre : Mostly fluff, canon level violence, tinge of angst

Summary : Hiding your symbiote from your father was pretty easy. Until it wasn't anymore

Requested/idea by: @graesage

Wordcount: 1.2k

Miguel O'Hara Masterlist

You really shouldn't have messed around back in the day in Alchamex. While your father had been off and about his about multiverse research, you had slipped into the hallway and into a seperate room where you found a bunch of funny liquid looking vials.

There, you found Toxin. It had escaped from it's vial, and slipped under your skin. It was so quick, you thought it was okay. That nithing remoteable had happened, though you did have a funny feeling.

Until you had looked into the mirror that night, surprised to see someone completely different in there. Because it was still light outside, you had shaken your head, thinking it was just a funny trick of the light. It wasn't, and you fainted when you found out that it could speak.

When you woke again, you were on the couch. And you weren't alone. There was a new voice in your head, a new kind of power in your system.

Eventually, you got to test it out. And testing you did. Now you just had to hide it. You couldn't let your father know. Your father is spiderman after all, so hiding the symbiote was much more easier than expected.

He was always busy running the multiverse. And now, from time to time, you would join in to help. Your watch is concealed by Toxin's skinlike suit, which leaves people in question how you really enter different dimensions when you jump out of the same portal they do. Lyla was the one who had given you the watch, helping you keep it a secret.

For a good while, you manage to hide your identity quite well.

" What hapened?" You ask your father as he steps into his lab.

You were helping him do his job as you so often do, looking at his screens while he's out. You're munching on a bar of chocolate as he steps in.

He looks a little roughed up, which is expected after the rough fight with a Mysterio variant.

" That spiderwoman showed up again." He huffs, approaching the platform.

You hum.

" Is that bad?"

" Yes and no. She's helping out for some reason. But we can't manage to track her signal. Which is annoying. Also you should really lessen on the chocolate. You've been eating as much as an addict would the past few weeks." He points out, barely glancing at the treat in your hands, stepping onto the platform.

" I've always been addicted though. Besides, if this spiderwoman is helping, why is she an issue?" You point out.

He starts messing around with the screens.

" Not like the past few weeks, you haven't. I'm surprised you didn't gain weight. And because I don't know her intentions. A lot of villains were a friend before they turned sides." He points out.

" My chocolate addiction isn't that bad. But you're saying she's a spiderwoman. What's the harm? Maybe you should invite her on the team." You huff before shrugging.

" She's usually gone before I get as much as a chance to do so. And I'm not sure if she really is a spiderwoman. Her suit is just,, different."

-

It all comes down when a Clash variant escapes. You and Toxin were less prepared than expected, as Clash's powers involved high frequencies, including the ones you're sensitive to.

" You! You're no spiderman!" Clash calls to you, engulfed in Toxin's form.

Toxin cocks its head. " So what?" It asks before charging.

Clash fumbles around with his machine, before it releases a high pitched sound, which disturbs Toxin's form. And so the inevitable happens.

Toxin pulls back into it's liquid like, globby form, jumping away midair against its will. Meanwhile, you're now stuck falling towards the ground, with absolutely nothing to protect you.

From a distance, Miguel's eyes widen, and he reacts quickly. Setting off, he webs his way towards your plummeting form. He catches you barely a few metres from the ground, and you look up at him sheepishly while he glares down at you, obviously not happy.

" I can explain-"

He sets you down on the ground, glancing at your watch, the pieces falling in place in his mind.

" Go home. We'll talk later."

He turns around, readying himself back into the fight. You sigh. You don't want to stay on the side. Knowing arguing with him is useless, you turn, leaving in a random direction to find Toxin.

However, you're not paying attention, and your eyes widen as a piece of rubble comes right for you.

-

When you wake up again, you're in the med bay. You've been here to visit your friends when they're injured. It feels a little weird to be the injured one now.

You're not alone. You're missing Toxin's presence, but Jess is by your side.

" Hey." She smiles.

You try to smile too, even though it hurts. Everything hurts. The rubble got a good piece of you. Your entire body is hurting.

" I know you're in pain, sweetheart. Miguel's on his way, said he went to get something that might help." She tells you, setting a hand on top of yours.

You carefully nod, before closing your eyes to rest again. Jess stays with you, a comfortable silence settling over you.

Your mind is a bit of a mess. Toxin doesn't belong in the universe it's left behind in, which makes it an anomaly. You're worried for it's wellbeing. And you don't doubt that your father is mad at you. You just hope you can convince him to find Toxic, who can in turn heal you.

About twenty minutes pass before you hear the door open. And by the footsteps you can recognise it's your father.

" Hey. Can you leave us for a moment?  I need to talk to her." Miguel asks Jessica.

She sighs, but stands up nonetheless.

" Don't be too rough on her." She tells him, setting a hand on his shoulder before leaving.

The minute she closes the door behind her, you open your eyes.

" Dad, I-"

With a sigh, he sets a hand down on your own, and you're left surprised when a glob of red and blue forms and passes through his skin, and over yours, before settling itself into your skin.

Miguel watches with concealed amazement as Toxin's form devolps yours, your IV and whatever else was attached falling off as he speeds up your healing process. It only takes a moment, and soon enough he shrinks back into your skin, and you're feeling much. much better.

' I'm back.' Toxin's voice sounds through your mind.

" No shit." You whisper.

You stretch before turning to face your father.

" Does this mean I'm on the team?"

To your surprise, he nods. His hands placing themselves on his hips, signaling he has more to say.

" But we're going to set rules. I'm going to mentor you. And you'll need to listen to what I say, got it?" He tells you with a strict eyebrow up.

You smile as you nod enthusiastically.

" Yeah, of course!"

" And no more secrets, okay kid?"

" None. I promise!" You grin, engulfing him in a big hug.

He easily returns the embrace. a small smile making it's way onto his face.

[ A/N: If anyone knows a title feel free to share I do not lol. ]

[noacfapologyst]

birthday wish - matty healy

(the birthday party; day one)

summary: matty, as his very best, has one of the best birthdays of his life and receives one of the warmest surprises he has ever had, with all the people he loves.

warnings: flufly stuff, sickness mentions. nothing more than this, is tender as well.

a/n: thank to @abiiors and @the1975attheirverybest for organize this incredible project! both are such an angels. the dates do not coincide in reality, so do not expect truthfulness in it, 'cause the tour continues in this universe and there are no haircuts, and also the english is not my first language.

wordcounter: 5,1k

Matty wants you to be with him at the exact time when the clock strikes midnight. It doesn't matter if you're an ocean away, just wait to hear you sing her happy birthday.

He knows that even if he wants you to, you can't come out the door. This shouldn't make him sad because it's something he's been facing for years.

You work for the UK's most influential finance company, and while the insistence on doing the work outside has been almost unbearable, Matty knows that you love being in your office or doing the work in the house where you both live together. God, that sounds good.

Officially he's a year older, and without wanting to touch sentimentality, he just feels tired when he rests his head on the white pillow in the hotel room. He doesn't look at his phone screen for a long time, just think about how you're going through the flu that kept you from coming with him to New York.

In the meantime, you have other plans that doesn't involve fever, soup, and phlegm.

You look at your phone screen, you know it's past 12 in New York, so Matty is oficially 35 years old.

It's four in the morning in England, and once again you confirm how much you hate such an abysmal difference in schedules. You could call him now and tell him you still have the flu, but he'd end up figuring out the trick.

Maybe when it's six o'clock in the morning you can greet him with more credibility.

For now, you finish arranging the house and the final touches before taking the suitcase as you sigh out of the house.

--

"Honeeeeeeeeey" Matty literally jumps into bed making them both jump. You rub your forehead and he gives you an innocent smile. It's not an argument at all, but he's gone dumb. "Come on, fly with me to York.

"Matty, I can't." You straighten up on the mattress, giving it room to rest its head on your trunk. "I would love to go, but it's impossible." You wrap your fingers around her hair and massage it into circles. You hear him purr like he's been waiting for him all day. "I have a lot of work, we have like fifty new clients or something like that. I can't apart myself from the company, i really sorry."

"I'm not saying you get apart, you still can work through your computer." He turns to see you with a pretty sad look in his features. "I don't want to be annoying, it's just…it will be my birthday. The first with you as my girlfriend."

"Hey, i can't even say how much i'm sorry, but i really do." You grab his right hand and squeeze his, on your way to kiss his head a desperate fit of coughing interrupts you. "Shit, I'm ill."

It doesn't sound so convincing, but if all goes well, an idea begins to form in your head that might consecrate you as bride of the year.

"But hey, babe, I'm going to reward you when you return. I promise." You see him unravel at your touch, watching him as he indulges in sleep. While he is awake closing his eyes, you whisper into his ear. "You're going to have an incredible birthday, Matty."

- - -

Even though spring has been running through London for over a month, the dawn suddenly turns cold. Not only because you got sick in the course of two days, (even if you did it on purpose and forced yourself to sneeze around the corners), but also because everything feels a little tense in your room. Matty's not mad, obviously he knows he can't get you out of the country in the middle of a flu outbreak let alone by force, but he's pretty sad about getting used to the idea of spending his birthday away from you. It's satirical to him, they've officially been together for nine months, but you've spent more birthdays near him than it looks. By chance or fate, they were always in the same bars or pubs where they celebrated their years of life.

What's ironic, too, is that they met after a financial argument. It was 2017, you were relatively new to the company and Dirty Hit needed a safe backing, betting on the company you still work for. At first there were no complaints, until a money leak was triggered and backing the company you basically went to the studio to talk to Jamie in pretty strong terms.

In the end, there were no dead to bury, everything worked out. What you did bury was your washing soap shirt, thanks to Matty literally spilled his coffee machine on you when you were about to leave. It wasn't a good day for anyone, your folders just fell off and picking them up you bumped into Matty, in a semi-sleeping state with coffee running over your skin and a cheap apology as he opened his eyes surprised enough. Then it just happened for some reason, they both found fun in the same places. It was too many years of seeing each other at nightclubs maybe four times a year, saying hello from afar and going on, until a year and a few months ago they needed an insurance upgrade, which gave you another visit to Dirty Hit, no spilled coffee this time.

Matty asked for your number, then he bought you a drink, and here they are, saying goodbye to each other.

"Hey listen, call my mom if you feel bad or if you need something. At least promise me this." Kiss your head as they both walk towards the front door, you wrapped in a blanket and him between bags and suitcases.

"I'll do." You reassure him with a broad smile. "Stay safe, love you."

"See you soon, love." You and him kiss quickly as he presses his thumb on your cheek. "Love you, too."

"Matty."

"¿Yes"

"You're forgetting something, dude." You unlock your chain with a small white stone hanging, to lock it around her neck later. "Now it's okay." You steal a hug and when they finally part, the taxi comes to the door. "Bye."

"Bye." He greets you with hishand and throws the first accessory he has at hand, his bracelet.

You hate to say goodbye to him when he goes to the airport, and even though you'll see him in two days, you still hate him. You're so used to waking up with him, having its scent all over the house, that when that bubble disappears, you hate what it's created at some point. It hasn't been five minutes and you miss him like you haven't seen him in months.

You squeeze his bracelet. It's their little tradition. Every time one goes on a journey, both exchange accessories in a way to show the other that they are still there even at a distance. You don't remember when it started, but you like the sentimentality of the issue.

Now, of course Matty's right: you'll call Denise. You already have, actually. She's aware of all the deception and she's the one who's most excited about it. He talked to Tom and Louis while you talked to Adam, because he's the least likely to reveal it to your boyfriend. It's not that you don't trust others, it's just that he's wiser for this.

- - -

You touch your head down because actually if you feel sick, maybe you've been too extreme, but you hope it's worth it. Denise calls on your portal with the car horn pulling you out of the trance, you get in the car and when you want to say something else you just fall asleep in the backseat.

Half an hour later, she wakes you up gently rocking you. She's so much like Matty you could cry, you love everything her family is and how you've been treated from the first day you walked through that door. Even if she's your mother-in-law, they get along incredibly well considering how fast they've connected.

"Are you sure about this?" She asks, handing over the car keys and lowering the suitcases from the trunk. "I mean, you look really tired."

"I know, I know. I spend the day thinking if i had everything, and thinking about the gift, and trying to organize the things with Adam, meanwhile i tried to not being colapsed by the numbers." The two laugh, she looks at you with a more relaxed expression and just lets her walls fall down.

"Matty is so lucky to have you." She murmurs with bright eyes and genuine happiness. "I don't know if I've ever met someone capable of getting sick just for surpise his boyfriend in his birthday…on the other side of the world." You think she's about to get emocional when her eyes start stinging, and she notices it. "I get a bit emotional but you know, my son is growing up next to someone who truly loves him, and as a mother you don't know how important it is to know that."

Well, now you'll cry.

"Oh god, I love you Denise." You drop your bags and embrace her with the greatest affection you've ever had. "I'll might cry."

She laughs tenderly. "Keep the tears for the show, darling."

----

The belief that it would be a seven-hour flight (plus the check-in hours, obviously) that would be somewhat exhausting and that it would take time to pass becomes part lie and part truth. You actually have a lot of fun with Denise telling you anecdotes of her life in the span of waiting time to board, you can't lie, but then on the plane you start to get bored after a few hours: you've seen a movie, you've slept, you've saturated your Spotify and you only think about how Matty will be. You feel guilty about the birthday message because you know he'll be worried thinking that something is up, but later you'll ask for forgiveness.

Happy birthdayy Matty. I love you so much, i hope you ́ll always be happy.

This is too short, but i feel totally sick. I'll send you a large text later.

Matty tosses and turns in bed heavily after waking up with that message as his first course. He sighs as he goes to the bathroom, looks at himself in the mirror running a hand through his hair. It feels terrible.

Well, you haven't forgotten his birthday, but he feels that you have. Maybe it's not that.

He knows you don't like him smoking too much, but you're not here and it's the only thing keeping him sane so he doesn't yell at you if he's done something wrong. He opens the window and collapses on the balcony floor, a cigarette between his lips. He exhales, he can't believe he's spending the time like that on his birthday.

He feels like he has a dagger stuck somewhere in his body, he feels tense and knows he's not in the bliss mode that someone should have on their birthday. But God, he hates to blame himself and blame you for things.

You've been weird for days, and yes, maybe you're sick, but in the months you´ve been with him you've never been this weird. Overthinking things isn't something he likes or does too much, but now he's debating whether something has happened and you don't want to tell him. He exhales again and relapses into the state of his cuticles, but as a cumpulsive reflex he bites them. Has he done something wrong? Has he crossed any limits? Did you get angry about something he didn't do? Did he forgot your birthday? No, he hasn't forgotten that.

Trata de no permitirse pensar en la pregunta más dolorosa para él: ¿Hay alguien más? ¿Estás cansado de él y de su vida de poca estabilidad? Bueno, en cualquier caso te merecerías algo mejor.

Adam knocks on the door as an answer to problems. He knows he has to take care of him until you make your appearance, but everyone is aware that he may not be in his best mood.

"Hey, birthday boy, how did you wake up?" When Matty opens the door, he hugs him and Adam knows his best friend needs him. "Matty, tell me."

"It's just…No, it's a silly thing." He regrets it fluttering his eyes, but collapses on the bed tiredly. "I'm tired, that's all."

"No, it's not. Something is affecting you, so definitely there is something more than being tired. You dońt have to fake it with me, you know." Adam knows the reason why he is like this, and although he wants to tell him that she's really on her way, he can't.

"It's her, Adam. She ́s been in a distant mode for days, acting strange." He shrugs, Adam sits on the other end of the mattress, sinking it. "Her greeting was a bit cold, or too generic. It's not typycal for her.

Adam feels really bad lying to his friend, he feels like a traitor, and he really struggles to find the right words. "Didn't you tell me she was sick?" He asks, and Matty sighs, nodding. "Should be this."

"yes, but.."

"Listen to me, really." Adam cuts him off and thinks about how much he can take this like this, he can't allow his partner to collapse before the show, much less the surprise. "She loves you, i d on't know the reason for his behavior and I would love to know so I can tell you, but unfortunately I don't know." Guilty, liar. "Despite that, you just turned 35, it's too early for the midlife crisis for a congratulation. The day is not over yet

Matty slurps as he swallows without the strength to continue the conversation, not in this tone at least. He doesn't have any argument to play in his favor and that makes him a little angry.

"You have a birthday show tonight, it will be nice."

- - -

Madison Square Garden will never cease to amaze you and seem practically huge. You do not manage to make the connection between the measures of the venue, it seems much bigger than it is. You have entered more than once, both as a spectator of shows or as you are now, as an accompanist of the band that presents on the day, and still it leaves you breathless how massive it is. Not in your best dreams would you imagine having the chance to tour it.

But, what makes you more sensitive is to hear so many people divided into the branches and sections of the seats and the standing field cheering, shouting and even crying with a euphoric amount of adrenaline in the body by the celestial and pink lights that illuminate the stage, decorated in its scenography representing a house with all the rooms. It's still hard for you to believe that you're dating the lead singer of a band that has mobilized so many people around the world for years. They have come to see the four of them, they have come to hear what is the story they have to tell and to show them their affection and loyalty as they identify themselves in tears in the four chords of their best songs.

In a way you think that's everything a singer expects, and that by the same token, it's the most sincere reason for the fans in front of Matty's birthday. Because even though you don't spend too much time on the floor, you manage to see posters related to her birthday.

The whole Healy family, followed by you, take refuge in George and Adam's dressing rooms, because even if you came out of a cake in Matty's dressing room when the delivery changes, you'd lose the idea you planned. Now, you just hope Matty doesn't find it weird enough that they switched The Birthday Party to Act 3, and Guys is almost after. I wouldn't have to do that, in fact, since it's a pretty emotional and pretty setlist to play on your birthday.

When Matty's nightmare act ends and he descends from the second stage you try to make as little noise as possible next to his dressing room, mainly because you're going to scare him. The one you're scaring is George, but he's covering it up by saying there was a spider in his dressing room. Then with a thumb sign him shows that everything is ready for the next step. When the act of Still at their very best (the last of the show) begins with If you ́re too shy, you get ready, two songs later you have to get the whole audience to see you, but not Matty.

Then, It ́s not living reaches the middle with a consecrated closure between the drums and the guitar. Cheers fill the place. The action then begins when all the screens change focus and signs appear saying that, in front of the people you will see now, keep quiet because it is a surprise for both Matty and the fans. There are confused looks, intertwined, nobody understands anything but they keep singing so as not to show that the screens have changed again.

The crowd wants to go crazy, and some screams escape when it's you who's seen go behind the scenes. For the sake of greater care, you go behind George's drums and ask everyone with your fingers to be silent on the subject. You sit behind the biggest drum and you see it over your head.

There he is, dressed up in his black pants, his white shirt and previously the suit jacket with the pants. His tie's almost untied, and it makes you laugh, you don't think he knows he tied it wrong. The curls fall in front of him out of control due to tiredness and sweat, but you think he's never looked better in years.

"Thanks for coming to see the greatest band in the world, the 1975!" The sticks resonate on the drum, the play of grey lights makes everything a little psychedelic. The crowd bursts into cheers without differentiating the why. "And today it's my birthday, so thank you for coming here. I love you guys."

There's a mixture of exasperated emotions all over the compound. Even you have glassy eyes to see him smile in such a pure way, his place has always been and always will be the stage in front of the fans, when he is freer than ever and where he feels comfortable. This particular show is not just important because of this event, but because in fact, it's the end of the tour. It's emotionally sad, the melancholy is reciprocal in the stadium because nobody knows when there will be a new tour of them.

"Yeah, I know, this is sad. It ́s ironic that my birthday will be the last show of the tour." He grins and laughs showing his teeth to the audience. "But, thanks for being here, is my biggest gift."

So, Matty freaks out when he hears a noise behind him.

"And it's not over yet, friend of mine." Absolutely everyone is surprised to hear George through the microphone resonating in the stadium, Matty doesn't understand what's going on either. "Ladies and gentleman, please everybody look at the screen."

What happens next is the best and the worst that Matty has had in front of him, cataloging it as the worst because when pictures of him appear when he was little with his mother and father, playing guitar or just being a kid, it makes him wiggle and feel like he could really die right there from the excitement. Without looking away, dazzled and uncertain but motivated to keep seeing him, he sits on the edge of the stage.

The atmosphere is automatically warm, but even the noise does not break it. The screen now changes, and begins with a greeting from George, pointing to a picture of when they were 13, how they have grown up so far and how you can't imagine a life without him, then closes Charly telling how much she enjoys talking to him, and how much fun he is in any situation. Then comes Adam, along with Carly, telling how he is the youngest of the group, but how important he is for both of them in their lives. Finally there is Ross, who talks about how fortunate he is to have him as a friend, how proud he is of everything he has accomplished and how much he appreciates his friendship.

Screen in black. Matty takes care of the tears because he suspects it doesn't end there, but his eyes turn to candy, all his factions calm down and he refrains from leaping into the arms of his friends.

You can't tell how many, but suddenly fans appear in the video, talking about how they've saved their lives through the band, the refuge it's for them and how much the band has done in terms of connecting them with their closest friends, and giving them a reason to keep fighting. Everyone laughs when they hear the reactions of the fans appearing in the video, realizing it.

Now yes, everything seems to indicate that it's over. Matty tries to stand up, but something stops him.

Her mother. On the screen.

Satirically, her greeting begins by asking if she thought they had forgotten about her, but without giving any room to react, Louis and Tom appear on the screen, their entire family in one place.

Really, Matty feels like the luckiest person in the world to have so much affection around him, he doesn't know if he deserves it, but he accepts it and feels like the feeling of familiarity and brotherhood envelops his body as his brother and his parents talk about how he's changed everyone's lives, the support he's been in his brother's life, and how the little boy who played the guitar off-tune at four o'clock in the afternoon has become a man made and upright, able to love and defend his people, with a exemplary talent.

Matty blinks, doesn't know how to go on now. He simply knows that he cannot ask for anything else for his life, he is loved by those he loves, and is reciprocated.

The screen lights up for the last time. You and Mayhem.

You look the at George, who cries just like you. He notices your gaze but responds only with a quick smile.

"Hey, honey, this will be short because I hope you know how happy I am to have you in my life." Matty stops controlling the tears, bathes in them, his shirt is full of water right now. So he remembers your message today, and he knows that you were behind all this, no one else would have done it this way otherwise. He sees his dog move his front legs and really misses him: "Happy birthday, I love you more than my words can prove. Thank you for being the most amazing, sweetest human being I've ever met. You're an angel and I love to agree with you." The greeting ends when you send a kiss to the camera, followed by Mayhem's osico in the foreground with a heart, with an M drawn.

The legend of The End stands on top. Everyone has cried, the makeup has gone off but this is the most intimate thing that everyone has experienced today. Everybody's grateful for coming to celebrate Matty.

"Could you please close your eyes?" Adam asks, and Matty is not the one who could say no.

Matty continues sitting, not moving. He can't process everything his head is telling him miles per second. He knows that he can't speak well enough after crying and will only say silly phrases, But it has to. Ross comes to his rescue and has a hand to lift him up. They hug with Matty crying on his shoulder while continuing to repeat that she loves him. Ross pats him on the back and points to Adam on the microphone.

He smells something as smoke, and he's right. Behind the scenes of the three entrances appear his mother, his father and Louis beside him with a rectangular cake with porcelain figures of the little house, and the four figures of the band, with a 35 as a candle.

Ross lets Matty go, and when the distance is unbearable, you're the one who runs to grab his hands when everyone screams to open his eyes. He opens them and finds you embraced to his body more tightly than ever. By inertia, he tightens the grip on your waist without ceasing to hug you. Now neither of us knows who to blame for the water running down the Briton's white shirt.

"I love you. I love you. I love you." You whisper incessantly, as he stabilizes in front of you, trying to get out of the surprise and accepting that you're actually in front of him, it's not a dream, he looks at the cake and cries again. He watches the audience feeling their heart pouring out into their hands. "Happy everything, my love."

He pulls you away from the grip when the birthday song rings out and has the cake in front of him without realizing it, but holds your hand in his fist. He coins it, and he protects it inside him. His smile is sadly short, but he has never had a greater look of genuine love on him than now. His wet eyelids, his face full of dry tears and his eyes glowing like never before. All thanks to you. He looks back at the cake and makes a face of utter surprise when he sees his figure made of porcelain sitting on the piano.

"Hey, that's me!" He's chirping like he's a kid who just ate a paddle he's seen in the store. Its essence is discovered there, that immeasurable happiness that creeps through all present.

He couldn't even think about how much he loves you because everything happens too fast, but he knows that after this he could never leave you. He doesn't know it yet, but this is the moment when Matty would close everything else. After this he would decide that you would be the woman of his life, that he would marry you and that they would have a family. You just kind of signed a sentence saying that he would never let anything happen to you and that if he had to lay down his life for you, he would.

George, Adam and Ross approach Matty as well, along with Polly, John and the rest of the band, all standing in a semicircle in front of the stage. The fire lights up Matty's face who has refused to block the touch of you two. You literally have to whisper his name in his face with a silly smile so he'll let you go and be the only one in the middle of the round.

The flashes of the phones illuminate the scene, there is the same chorus symphony composed of dozens of voices that work at the same time without prior coordination. No, it's not a movie and it's not a dream that someone's going to wake up from, it's really happening.

The fire dissipates, again the sound of clashing palms comforts the place. Denise leaves the cake on the piano and hurls herself at her son. She loves him so much, and is so happy that he can be really happy being who he is. The sequence is quite fast, his family hugs him, then the four hug and the difference in height is noticeable between the four males. Then goes Polly, Jhon and everyone else who's there. The show is delayed for the same reason, but nobody really cares about sacrificing a song to be part of this moment.

He opens his arms towards you and makes you fly through the air for a second before giving you his best Chesire Cat smile. Seize the moment to steal a quick kiss leaving behind the expanse of euphoria that surrounds them. For Matty there really is nothing else right now than him and you on the whole ethereal plane he's met at the age of 35. Fans disappear, the band and their parents too, as long as it merges into you in touch can only feel how they function the same way, being really a single soul trapped between two bodies. God, he's lovesick of the love he has for you, and he could throw it up right now, but surely all he could do is throw up his heart.

The contact ends, and finally he approaches the microphone.

"I really have the greatest persons and the greatest fans in the world. I ́m incredibly glad about it." He runs his hand through his hair and laughs, shedding his last tears. "Saying thanks it wouln ́t be enough, and I could never finish thanking you for all this, but i love each and every one of you, honestly."

Matty grabs his acoustic guitar almost the second he says that. The chords of The birthday party are heard. Everything is extremely special about this song and it is something narrow and deep, there is a truth to count on the song at this moment so charged with sentimentality.

Matty has spent years of his lost life without having a reason to keep him going, floating around while surviving, or trying to. He has come and gone as far as anyone could imagine, has suffered perhaps too much to expose his vulnerability. Indeed, he felt lost in hell during the most unbearably difficult years of his life. He's driven so many people away by his personality and by neglecting so many ties, but now he knows.

He has alienated so many people by his personality and by neglecting so many ties, but now he knows that although he may be late for some, he has enough with him. All your friends are here, in the same scene, no matter what that means.

The following of Guys in a much calmer tone makes everyone end up crying, their most personal song as a band. Matty feels the same as before, his friends have been the best thing that's ever happened to him, and they've saved his life thousands and thousands of times. He could not get used to the idea of lose them, because he would crumble without them in his life.

Just like he would do without you.

In the end, Matty makes fun of himself for being so bitter all day. He really had the best birthday of his entire life.

in my head this is a tender idea of ​​how much I would give way to see matty happy, so I hope that was achieved. also, happy birthday weekend matty you are the best.

let me know what you think, also let me know if you want to be on my tag list <3

[crabdrabbles]

Hiii Crab so happy to see you write outside of our rants/idea chats and my fellow delulu cod enjoyer! Would love to request Platonic!141 + Reader (sorry if this is long and somewhat confusing lol). You can do headcanons, drabble or whatever you comfy for. An idea that popped in my head kinda semi personal: Civ or 141! Reader though has parents and family is the reader is quite something else. Reader despite having somewhat normal upbringing still feel empty; they shouldn't be feeling this numb and empty deep inside of them. The reader craves the love that they give but couldn't or lack of receiving it back, though they don’t expect it or selfishly want it. Just someone who understands them even in their deepest darkest secret or flaw then boom cue the task force 141 unexpected yet welcoming to their life and maybe the one that the Reader can lean and let them be vulnerable on (finally).  

Take your time on doing this Looking for to your other writing genuinely -Cee, your fellow Soap delulu

GN!Reader & 141 (Mostly Price)

Warnings: Slight angst Ships: None. A/N: This absolutely ran away from me and I do not at all regret it, hope you enjoy, Cee!!! Words: 3549

Almost your entire life had been a cycle of self doubt that also started to churn and twist into self-hatred. You blamed yourself for the feelings. Afterall, you had a relatively normal upbringing. Two parents who were both present in your life, both of whom worked so that you all had food on the table and a roof over your head. A luxury that very few had.

The least you could do for them is follow the path that they wanted to put you on, no matter how much you didn’t want to do it. Because you loved them. 

So you excelled in your education, studying hard to try and impress your parents– to make them love you just as much as you loved them for everything that they did for you for your entire life. They wanted you to do all three sciences despite the additional workload it would add to your already stretched thin time? Then you would do them, take any extra classes after school in order to keep up with the work and not lag behind any of your peers. 

There was no such thing as a social life, either, not when you had homework and projects due. Friends were few and far between. Generally, most people left when they realised how hyper focused you were on your grades instead of social interaction. 

Did a classmate get a higher grade than you on a test? Well obviously you didn’t study hard enough, you just needed to dedicate more time to school even though school was all you had.

Did you get the highest marks in the class? Good, that was what was expected of you. Why didn’t you get full marks? You were better than that. You would do better because you loved your family. They showed it in their own way, of course, by encouraging you to study harder and get better grades. That was their love language, and yours was doing as they asked without a second thought. Because, at the end of the day, you were lucky to have an upbringing like you had. You would ignore the hollow void clawing at your chest because you had no right to feel that way– not when you had a roof over your head and parents that loved you(?).

It was when you came top of the class with full marks in a recent test, you came home with a beaming smile on your face and proudly showed the test to your parents. They took the papers from your hands, flipping through your work with critical eyes, before handing the papers back to you. 

‘Well done, we’re so proud of you.’ That was all you wanted them to say to you. That was all you needed to hear. To know that they loved you. 

‘Your penmanship is terrible.’ Was what you got instead. When you tried to point at the big 100% in green pen, you were waved away. ‘How are you expected to get a job when you write like a child? I’m surprised the teacher could even read your answers’. 

After several years of balancing a work and educational life and paving a way for a line of work that you didn’t want for parents you should have been grateful to have, you decided that enough was enough. 

No matter how hard you worked, no matter how high your marks were, they would never be proud of you. They would never return the love that you had for them until you nearly killed yourself trying. 

Spending your entire childhood, teenagehood and all of your current adulthood trying to please your parents predictably would damage one’s psyche. You had no friends, family who had never been devoted to you as you were to them, and high grades serving as the foundations to a prison-like future.

You dropped out of University. The only option forward that you saw was joining the army in the vain hope that the empty feeling inside of you would dissipate when you actually did something that you believed was more worthwhile than any University course. 

So you threw yourself into the military, working harder than all of the other recruits and training at every chance you could.

Your skills and determination became widely recognised amongst your peers. It took several years, but you eventually caught the eye of none other than Captain John Price. 

Impressed by your willpower that not many soldiers possessed, he offered you a place on the 141. 

Naturally, you agreed. You believed that being part of such a well renowned and respected team would finally beat back the lingering self doubt and emptiness that had curled itself around your heart.

It didn’t. If anything, it made it worse.

You were invited to join the 141, sure, but they had already established their own relationships between each other, had already bonded into a close knit group, and you were simply an outsider. Yes, you had been hand picked by Price himself, but that didn’t mean you were part of the team. They had their own inside jokes that they told to one another, leaving you feeling left out on most days.

And you felt… lacking around them. Ghost was stronger, Gaz was faster, Soap was smarter (he was a demolitions expert for crying out loud!), and Price was almost all of those rolled into one. They all complimented each other as a team. Meanwhile you felt like a spare tyre, a master of nothing and barely a jack of any trade. 

Despite how you felt about it all, they all called you ‘kid’. Regardless of age gaps between yourself and the rest of them, the nickname stuck mostly because you were the newbie. It came as a surprise that it wasn’t spat with vitriol as your peers before had, but it was in fact said with… an affection you couldn’t quite place.

You couldn’t ignore the hole in your chest that had been chipped at over the years, forming a gaping maw that no reassurances could really mend. 

Doubt lingered in the back of your mind, chipping away at your sanity as you prepared for the worst. How long would it take before they realised you weren’t good enough? 

You were so deep in your doubts that you didn’t realise that you had been distancing yourself even more than before until you overheard a conversation in Price’s office a few months down the line.

“-- they don’t belong on the team.” Gaz said as you passed Price’s office and your heart dropped. It was only the tailend of what he had been saying but you had gotten the gist. You wanted to stay, to listen to the conversation more and listen to what your team had to say about you, but you didn’t. What you were going to hear were likely things you had already told yourself right from the start. You keep walking on, ignoring the sting of tears burning in the corners of your eyes. The blood rushing in your ears prevented you from heating the rest of the conversation. 

“-- not only are they acting like they don’t belong on the team, but they’re acting like they’re not good enough.” Gaz continued, sighing in frustration.

“Maybe they need more time.” Ghost rumbled in reply, “Let them come out of their shell a little bit. Best not rush these things.” He was talking from experience, after all.

“Aye… maybe I can invite them out for drinks or sommat? I wouldn’t want them getting transferred before we got to know them a little more.” Soap had been the one that had tried the hardest to get close to you but had also tried to give you space so as to not suffocate you with his personality. 

“They won’t be getting transferred.” Price said with conviction, tapping his desk, “I chose them to be part of this team and this is where they’re going to stay. Let me have a word with them first.”

“Aye, sir.”

— — — — — —

You found yourself in the smoker’s shelter outside the main building. It was late enough that most of the soldiers had gone to bed or off to do their own things elsewhere so you doubted that you would be bothered for a little while. Just enough time for you to get your thoughts together. Your tears had dried in your eyes a few minutes ago, making them sting in the cold air. You didn’t need to look in your reflection to know that you probably looked like a wreck– entirely unbecoming of a soldier of your apparent status. 

You didn’t want to get transferred. Despite your distance with the 141, you didn’t hate them. Far from, actually, you held a great deal of respect for each and every one of them. It was just that you felt like you didn’t have your place amongst them. Not good enough to be associated with them. 

“Bit late to be out here in the cold, chuck.” A voice startled you out of your thoughts– one that you would recognise anywhere from the low rasp of a smoker's lungs. 

“Captain.” You croaked, wincing at the patheticness in your voice. There was a scuff of boots as Price came closer, leaning into your line of vision with a furrowed brow which only furrowed more as he took in your dishevelled appearance.

“Something on your mind?” He asked kindly, perching on the arm of the bench to give you some personal space. He left his question open, allowing you any chance to steer the conversation how you wanted to. There was no judgement for catching you at your lowest, no disgust at your red rimmed eyes— just polite understanding and a non verbal offer of pleasant company. 

“Why did you pick me, Captain?”

The question made him tilt his head, a frown beginning to tug on his features. You were worried you had insulted him.

“What brought this on, huh? Someone say something to you? Need me to have a word with them?” He straightened his back, scowling. Whilst you felt like you didn’t have a place in the 141, you could never deny the shield of protectiveness that Price held over his team. You remember in the back of your mind the day that some General who thought he was hot shit had the audacity to undermine Soap as nothing more than a ‘yappy dog’ when offered the Scot’s demolitions expertise. Price had appeared almost out of thin air and almost ripped the General a new one and things would have escalated into a fist fight had Laswell not intervened. It wasn’t as though Price didn’t think his own soldiers were capable of defending themselves, but he couldn’t care less about punishments aimed his own way over that of his Sergeants and Lieutenant. It was just a surprise that the protective streak extended over you, too, despite your distance to your teammates.

“I’ll sound stupid.” You mumbled, looking down at the ground as if expecting him to chastise you like a child. He didn’t.

“I’ve had my fair share of stupid over the years. Try me.”

“... and ungrateful.”

“I once had a guy punch me in the face two seconds after I took a bullet that would have killed him.” Price countered with a cut off chuckle once he remembered what was probably a mission long finished and cleared his throat. “C’mon, tell Captain what’s on your mind.”

And he sounded so sincere when he said it. Sounded like he genuinely wanted to hear what was going on in your head– that he was willing to waste what was already his important and limited time on someone like you. 

“Sir—”

“John.” Price corrected gently, crows feet more noticeable at the corners of his eyes scrunched up when he smiled, “We’re off duty, you don’t need to be so formal.”

“... John.” You echoed, finding that you really didn’t like saying that. It felt like calling your teacher by their first name in primary school or a classmate’s parent other than their last name. 

“Now, c’mon, tell me what’s on your mind. Might not be a therapist, but I’m better than bottling it up.” You wondered in the back of your mind how often Price did this. Sat with his soldiers and talked with them, offered them a listening ear to hear their vents and fears. You couldn’t help but feel honoured to be one of the few he willingly offered said time to. Your silence stretched on as you thought of the words to say, how to phrase what you wanted to say without sounding unappreciative of the opportunity that Price had offered you when he requested you join his team. 

“I don’t feel like I belong here.” You blurted once the silence had stretched on for long enough to border on uncomfortable. John’s face fell and you quickly realised how bad that sounded and rushed to correct yourself.

“No, no, wait, let me explain–” the Captain closed his mouth to allow you to continue speaking, but you could tell that it was hard for him. “I just… you could have anyone better than me, you know? I’m not a demolition expert. I’m… I’m not the best Sniper. I’m the slowest on the team, pretty sure I’m the weakest–”

“Nope.” Price interrupted, finally breaking the bubble of your personal space as he took a proper seat next to you on the bench but still respecting the distance enough to keep a few inches between you. “Nope, not lettin’ you say another word.”

“But–” 

“Nope.”

“Cap–”

“No.”

“But you could have anyone better—“

“But they wouldn’t be you.” He deflected easily. Far too easily. He leant back on the bench, crossing one leg over the other as he folded his arms over his chest. His fingers twitched and you could tell he was itching for a cigar but didn’t light one out of respect. 

“Alright, sure, I can ask Laswell to give me one of the best soldiers in the SAS and have them brought here tomorrow. They could be the best of the best, top of their class, better than you and maybe even better than me. But that’s a bit of a stretch.” He winked and earned a weak chuckle from you. “But they won’t be you. I don’t pick just on skill alone, kid, I pick based on how I feel people would fit into the team. I chose you because I knew that you’d be perfect.”

“As for not being a demolitions expert, let  me let you in on a little secret. I’ve no fucking clue about demolitions, either. And you don’t have to be on the team to be the ‘best Sniper’. You’re better than most, and that’s what’s important. As for being the weakest– did you or did you not bodily lift Gaz in a fireman’s carry during training the other week while he was trying to act as an injured civilian? Quite dramatically, might I add. Swooned and everything.”

You remembered that practice mission. Quite fondly, actually. Gaz was a civilian and , after being struck by a foam bullet from Soap, had dramatically screamed in agony and crumpled to the floor. When you had lifted him up and over your shoulders, the bastard continued to wail something along the lines of telling his non-existent spouse that he loved them and that his money be given to his equally non-existent children. Soap got in another shot to the man’s head, knocking off his cap in the process. Distracted as you were trying to haul your teammate out of the danger zone, you couldn’t help but laugh thinking about it now. 

“Last time I checked, Gaz is somewhat heavier than a sack of flour. Don’t tell him I said that, I’ll hurt his feelings.” Price was right, you supposed. You were more than capable of carrying Gaz over your shoulders, maybe even Soap or Price himself if the time called for it. Ghost you weren’t so sure about, though. The man was a walking mountain. 

“What I’m trying to say is that you have to give yourself more credit. You’re more than good enough to be on my team. I chose you for a reason.”

You… did not expect that sort of reassurance from Price. You had hoped for something along those lines, yes, but perhaps with a thrown in criticism or three. You waited for a ‘but’ that never came. The man snorted beside you and when you gave him a quizzical look, he waved off your concern.

“Shit, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think the next thing out of your mouth would be that your parents never hugged you as a kid.”

Your silence made him slowly turn his head towards you. It would have almost been comical if the situation wasn’t. His face crumbled and a wounded sound emerged from his throat.

“Sometimes they did!” You rushed to defend the people that raised you. “And they gave me food and shelter, clothes when I needed them–”

“Fucking hell. No, that’s what they’re supposed to do because they’re your parents. What about telling you that they were proud of you? That they loved you? I saw your records. Top of your class in not just your training but in your education, too. Triple sciences, mathematics, all of it. They had to be proud of you for that? My parents would have killed for me to get even a passing grade in my GCSEs.” You looked down at the ground and it was Price’s turn to have his eyes fixed on you. 

“They were proud of you, weren’t they?” He asked again, leaning forwards so he could catch your eye, his own filled with concern. “Kid?”

“I don’t talk to them much anymore.” 

Price inhaled sharply and he leaned back again, looking around and clenching his jaw as if fighting back his anger. His fingers twitched again. You admired his self control as he was still yet to grab a cigar that you knew he kept on his person. Usually in his breast pocket while his lighter was in his right pocket.

“Listen to me.” The Captain said, a more stern edge to his voice now that he had gathered his thoughts together. “Whatever your family said to you— how they treated you? Forget it. They showed you obligation. Not love. They didn’t want what was ‘best’ for you, they wanted bragging rights. What you’ve achieved– here, in bootcamp, in university and in school, is something to take pride in– no, no, look at me.”

Your gaze had trailed to the side so you avoided looking at your Captain in the eyes. He noticed and clicked his fingers to gain your attention back on him.

“Don’t look away from me because I want you to listen to what I’m gonna say and I want you to look at my face as I say it.” Your eyes met his blue ones, “You should be proud of everything that you’ve achieved in your life. I’m sorry that your family never told you that and I’m sorry that I haven’t said that enough to you since you joined 141.”

You opened your mouth to say something– to argue or disagree but he shook his head.

“No. It’s my turn to speak now. I’m proud of you. I am so proud of you. Everything you’ve done and everything that you’re yet to do, I will always be proud of you. You’re an exemplary soldier and I knew the moment I saw you that you would be a perfect addition to the 141 and you have proved me right time and time again. You belong on this team just as much as the rest of the boys. Do you understand?”

So many words– proud, proud, proud. That’s all you had wanted to hear for so many years from someone whose opinion mattered to you. You wanted to be seen and Price, this godsend of a man, had seen you and more.

“Kid, do you understand me?”

You nodded once and then realised that Price wouldn’t have been able to tell through your shaking. Tears blurred in the corners of your eyes and you nodded again, not trusting your voice in case it shattered. 

“What do you need from me?” Price’s voice was oh so soft, like he was talking to a frightened fawn. He could see how much his words had affected you and it clearly broke his own heart.

“A hug.” Your bottom lip wobbled and his face softened as he opened his arms, twitching his fingers to urge you closer.

“I can do that.” 

You leaned into him and he quickly wrapped his arms around you, drawing you in close. You could smell the lingering scent of his last cigar. The smell of his office and cleaning oil. You felt his chin on the top of your head and felt how his chest rumbled as he spoke.

“You’re part of the 141 whether you like it or not, alright? Me and the boys want you here for as long as you want to be.”

At that moment, for the first time in your life. You felt wanted. You felt appreciated and you felt seen.

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[piracytheorist]

FINALLY

Thoughts on episode 2x01!

I'm so making a crack recap out of this. Idk if it's going to be this week, but I may have to skip all the other episodes up to this point XD

Ok for those of you who don't know, the bullet-in-butt date (which I can finally mention openly as it's not manga spoiler anymore!) was the only manga chapter that hadn't been adapted that I read from very early on, way before I decided to stay anime-only so I knew everything about it. So I expected the beginning. I actually like that we don't see Yor do her slaughter at that place. She's like a ghost, or a legend, as the short-lived survivor calls her.

Look at her! So cute, covered in the blood of her victims 😌

I do have to say, I was surprised by the amount of blood they showed. I think they actually put the violence up a notch in comparison to the previous season, bringing it much closer to the manga levels of violence.

It's also a bold choice to like, actually open the season with this. It's serious business and I appreciate that. I'm not too big on violence but I also don't like it when it's "purified" or whatever. We're watching a show where two of the main characters kill people left and right. Blood is a prerequisite at this point.

Anyway! GRANDE upgrade on the animation, oh my god! It's all in the little movements and additional "swerves" of the characters' forms. I don't have the time to make a gif now showing that but it's obvious they took the money they made the previous year and put a lot of it on animation budget! Love it!

Aaaaaaaand new music! Most of the new stuff is quirky and funny, perfect for Anya and Franky's shenanigans :D Looking forward to see what new pieces we'll get with this season!

I had some frail hope they would have titled the episode "Date with a Bullet in the Butt". Can you imagine. We were robbed. Robbed!

Ever since I read that chapter I went like, Yor says she treated the wound... does that mean she got the bullet out? Or is she actually walking with the bullet in her buttcheek all this time? I mean... it is called the "bullet-in-butt date" after all...

The way all of this could have been solved by Yor going like "I tripped down the stairs and fell on my butt and now it hurts to walk and sit". But then we wouldn't have this! It's the funny miscommunication that makes them, really <3

The way Anya worries about her! I felt a little sad for her because this is the first time she sees her mama so beaten down by a job, I think?

One of the ways you see the upgraded animation: the way Yor trembles as she straightens up after reassuring Anya, and then the dizzy walk to her room as she goes to rest. Awesome.

Yor just walks it off and Anya is like "Mama is actually immortal, wow" meanwhile Loid is losing his absolute shit

"WIFE IS SAD. THE WORLD IS ENDING. I SHOULDN'T HAVE ASKED HER TO GO GROCERY SHOPPING. I AM A HORRIBLE HUSBAND."

Oh, I adore the different colouring on the memory scene. I also love how the gossip trio just falls on Yor the moment she slips out that oh no they don't do all the conventional couple things!!

Dude is genuinely confused. BestTM SpyTM of WestalisTM, flabbergasted by a woman with social skills in the negatives.

It was eight in the morning. On a weekend. Yor was way too excited for the date she ran to get ready and they were out all day. My god. When am I gonna get my learning date with my emotionally constipated fake husbando

Twilight has a smug grin on his face as Franky accepts the cheque as payment to do chores. I love that addition!

As I love this

Franky grabbing Anya's hand and waving to them for her. They really knew how to handle an already funny chapter and use animation to add more humor to it!

Look at him, starting off so smug but then

He's truly an intelligence agent, trying to work with the information he has on hand. Since he doesn't have the information that Yor is injured, his plans are doomed to fail.

The way Franky is down with everything crazy Anya proposes. I love that duo.

I also liked the way they allowed Bond to sit this episode out, since that manga chapter takes place before the Doggy Crisis arc and Bond is not yet part of the family. I do have some thoughts about the timing of this episode but I'll get to that later.

And here we have the angst punch in the gut, as others talked about it, it's a point in Twilight's character to not see anything fun about the spy work that it's not even fun to play spy. Since one of the moments adding to that is an anime only scene (from the part where Anya makes secret codes) and the dialogue here is just slightly different from the same scene in the manga, it looks like it's a deliberate choice to make anime Loid more sensitive about this specific thing. Interesting!

I gotta say, it would be so easy to objectify Yor and her body with where her wound was. But even though they showed her in a pants-tight-enough-to-hurt-your-butt-wound situation, it was still pretty clear what the focus was. I really appreciate that.

Yor says no to the tight pants and Loid apologizes??? Why wasn't that in the translated version of the manga??

Like here especially, with the face they gave him and the way Eguchi delivered that line it was pretty clear that Yor's reaction made Loid feel like he crossed a line with what he told her. What happened in the manga translation???

VERY interesting picture choice for the movie poster! Ostania gots propaganda to do, after all!

I love how Anya fell asleep during the film while Franky cried his eyes out. Poor sap XD

And LMAO Anya seeing her parents leaving from the spa and trying to get Franky to move but he's too busy getting a massage! And then some added wackiness with Yor being so tense from her wound that she made a murder glare enough to scare a bear!

And Loid is still like DAFUQ AM I DOING WRONG

I like though, that he is not blaming Yor at all. He doesn't consider her irrational or ungrateful for the date, he just sees it as him not having done enough research... and in actual reality, he doesn't have all the data needed, specifically the whole "bullet-in-butt" thing. I'm sure he would have planned differently had he known that XD

Poor Franky XD at least he's finding ways to vent XD

The way they animated Yor's reluctance to sit was great, lol. I'm not sure it was clear she was "hover-sitting" but it was funny in any case.

I loved the tension when we saw the surviving Red Circus member! It was handled so well dropped right in the middle of a funny episode.

This had no right being this funny. But also. Anya is imagining a "default" kind of guy because even though she's reading the guy's mind she doesn't know how he looks like, so she's just making up a face to play out her imagination. Great detail from the manga already.

Anya imagines Loid saying he'll abandon her if he finds out about Yor being an assassin. That's another angsty punch in the gut but also for another post probably XD

The timing here feels a little weird. This chapter was supposedly long ago, when the family was still getting used to living together. Franky sees Anya worried and goes like "Even though they're a fake family, she worries so much?" and seeing that in the anime, practically two episodes before this one he went like "Hey do you love your dad and mom" and she said she does... idk maybe in the adaptation process some things could be left out so that they can make more sense.

How did neither Yor nor Loid suspect something wrong with the suddenly very thick and muddy cocktail she was offered?

Once again, upgraded animation as Yor drinks the pufferfish poison! I love it! Hopefully it'll keep being that good for the rest of the season :D

I remember the tension I felt when I first read the manga in that moment. I was like oh no! And then I was Anya

Gremlin Anya is back and I love it

Anya goes ahead and Home-Alones too close to the sun and fucking makes a bomb. That's a whole other level. You really don't want this girl turning evil, she'll take over the world XD

She should have seen her entrance as Thorn Princess' ally! She was epic!

There was some violence censorship there, as the bad guy in the manga is shown a little burned and bleeding after the explosion, but in the anime he's just... ruffled or whatever.

Idk they probably decided it would be too much to show that a child caused such violence XD

So does Loid go on thinking that Yor was in a super bad mood and then everything went away as soon as she downed a glass of cocktail? I also just realized she just went bottoms up on it, lol.

The episode was great and the date was funny and cute at the end. But.

GIVE ME BLUSHING LOID YOU COWARDS. SHOW ME THAT BLUSH. YOU GAVE US "HIS SMILE HIDES A HINT OF REAL EMOTION" YOU CAN AFFORD GIVING US A BLUSH. *screams* *eats drywall*

The date ends well and with fun! Then the monster wakes up again the next day.

Loid's got a lot to learn. Who knew humans can be complicated!

Overall, a great introduction to the second season! I'm happy we got the bullet-in-butt date and I'm so excited to venture into new stuff that I know next to nothing about :D