#but it doesn’t shake my discomfort when I make people uncomfortable
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PHASES — LUKE HUGHES
luke hughes x fem!reader
summary: in which luke is pining for the girl he knows he’s destined to be with
notes: 4.3k words. this is a new style of writing for me and i truthfully don’t know about it but it felt right for this fic.
Luke Hughes knows a lot of things.
he knows hockey. he knows history. and he knows that in this moment, drunk on cheap beer and lip locked with the prettiest girl he’s ever seen, she and he are destined to be together.
but life and love are never simple. drunken hookups between best friends don’t just automatically make them a couple. and no matter how badly he wants to scream that she should be with him, he knows he has to wait it out; give her time to come to the same realization that he did two years ago.
her back digs into the armrest of the battered couch, her legs draped across Luke’s own as his fingertips grip her upper thigh. their faces are drawn together, her hands tangled beautifully in his curls, pulling him closer toward her vodka soaked lips.
“Lukey,” his name rolls off her tongue like a whispered prayer, causing a singular beat to skip in his heart.
“what do you need, doll?”
“you.”
and her singular word is the driving force that brings Luke to his feet, her hand laced with his as he leads her to his bedroom. the people in his apartment cast away from his mind, only one person occupying that space.
her.
surely, Jack can handle the party that he threw, no one would miss Luke.
and that thought is what leads them to his room, their bodies pressed together in mere minutes. the next few hours spent tangled between cotton sheets. his feverish touch making her body shake, and her soft sounds causing an intense sensation of need within him.
hot breath mingles, their lips rarely straying from each others. sweat coated skin sticking together as they christen his bed for the umpteenth time. neither mind clear, they find solace and pleasure with her legs wrapped around his waist and his sloppy thrusts bringing them to the highest points.
and when they call it a night, Luke’s hand slamming the car door shut after she falls into the backseat of an uber, he falls back into the same spot he started the night.
waiting for fate to bring her home to him for the final time.
***
the restaurant feels suffocating, her dress itchy, causing her to wiggle uncomfortably in her chair.
her date doesn’t even seem to notice, rambling on once more about how cool it is that she works for the New Jersey Devils.
“i mean, you must get to be around the players all the time, right? how did you even get that job?” what was this one’s name? Carter? Carson? it started with a C, right?
“i went to University of Michigan. graduated a year early with a degree in sport management, and after working with the hockey team there, i was able to secure a spot working for the Devils.” she smiles, a weak timid thing that barely even reaches her cheeks, “but yeah, i do spend a lot of time around the players. kinda my job to get content of them, ya know?”
maybe-Carter chuckles, nodding his head, “so are you like, friends with any of them?”
‘oh, here we go’ she thinks.
“i went to school with Luke Hughes, he’s kind of my best friend.” it was an instinct really, an involuntary reaction; for a smile to creep across her lips when she talks about Luke, “but i can’t really say much about him or the guys, they’re people too and they deserve their privacy.”
“right, totally respect that,” he nods, his lips falling into a tight line, and she can’t help but notice that they aren’t as pillowy as Luke’s.
his lips don’t nearly look as comforting to kiss. and his curls; they don’t… curl the way Luke’s do. rather he has a head of tighter curls, unlike Luke’s unruly mess of loose curls and waves mingling together. his eyes aren’t the right color either, erring on the side of a blue closer to Jack’s; which makes a shiver run down her spine, discomfort settling within her.
“are you cold?” he asks, catching sight of the goosebumps that spread across her skin. he huffs a condescendingly toned laugh before continuing, “maybe you should’ve brought a jacket, restaurants run cold.”
that was where she drew the line. with his obnoxious attitude combined with his interest, which only peaked when discussing her job, y/n was surprised she lasted as long as she did.
and if the fact that he wasn’t similar enough to her best friend played a small part in her leaving? well, could she really be blamed?
after all, it was Luke’s fault.
it was Luke who made the first move his freshman year of college, both of them tipsy on drinks made by Dylan and his heavy hand with rum. it was Luke who made the sophomore girl fall for him two years ago. it was Luke who drunkenly tells her he loves her as he buries himself inside of her, knowing exactly what to do to tip her over the edge. and it was Luke who has her going on at least five dates a month, trying to force the Devils rookie out of her heart.
or at least, she blames it on Luke; because she couldn’t allow herself to admit that she fell in love with him of her own accord. she can’t allow herself to confess how quickly their drunken hookups turned into something more for her. and she certainly can’t dwell on the fact that she hasn’t put a stop to them. how could she? those are the only moments that she can let herself believe, even for a moment, that she could be his.
because despite how badly she wanted it, she could never be Luke’s. not in the way she wants to be. no matter how hard she tries, she can never find the words to express how much he means to her. how much she loves him.
*
Luke laid on the couch, the springs digging into his back uncomfortably.
“dude, we really need a new couch.” he huffs, “and why am i laying like this? i don’t think people actually lay down in therapy outside of tv shows.”
“shut up, i’m taking notes.” Luke’s eyes drift to his older brother, who occupies the space of the living room chair.
“notes on what? i haven’t even said anything!”
“you don’t need to. i’ve listened to you bitch and moan about y/n for two years, i’m writing what i can remember.” Jack explains, his brows furrowed in focus as his pen scribbles messily across the notepad on his lap.
“why did i let you talk me into this?” Luke rolls his eyes at his brothers antics.
“because you’re pussy-whipped and you’re playing like shit.” Jack looks up from the notepad, straightening his posture and settling his focus on Luke.
“is that a medical diagnosis?” Luke jokes, his brow raising as he chuckles.
“no, that’s brotherly criticism. you get that for free, courtesy of the nine months we each spent in mom’s womb.” Luke cringes at his brothers words, shaking his head.
“don’t talk about mom’s womb.”
“just speak, dude. what’s going on in that curly head of yours?”
Luke sighs, his eyes drifting towards the ceiling. his hands fiddle with the cellphone that lays on his stomach, impatiently waiting for the text that he knows will come through.
it’s 10pm on an off day, he knows she’s got a date tonight. he also knows how her date will end; soon enough she’ll be texting him a long paragraph about how men suck and asking him to remind her why she can’t become a nun.
“well, i told you, i know she and i are meant to be together. i can feel it.” Luke starts, quickly cut off by the familiar grating voice he’s known his entire life.
“yeah, yeah, you’re a simp. move on.”
“has anyone ever told you that you’d make a horrible therapist?” Luke questions, head turning once more toward his brother.
“i can’t say anyone has, no.”
“yeah? well then, i’ll be the first.” he glares, “stick to hockey.”
“just keep talking, Lukey.”
“i think it’s getting harder to wait for her.” Luke confesses, and it feels like a small weight has been lifted off his chest; progress.
“so you wanna move on?” Jack asks, his pen scrawling along the paper again.
“no!” Luke huffs, sitting up on the couch to turn towards his brother, who quickly strikes out whatever he just wrote down, “i’m just saying that- that this whole waiting game is fucking with my head. Phil said i had to wait it out. he told me not to pressure her. practice my patience and let her come to the realization on her own.
“but, what if it goes on too long? she’s always going on dates, what if she meets someone else? what if it takes her ten years to realize what i realized like a month after we met?! what if she gets married before she realizes?”
“too many ‘what if’s’, dude. you’re hurting my brain.” Jack groans, pinching the bridge of his nose.
Luke, already in an emotional spiral, rolls his eyes, “what brain?”
“hey! i’m trying to help you here! don’t insult me!” Jack stands up, notepad falling to the floor and his hands drawing to his hips as he glares at the rookie defenseman.
“well you’re not much help.”
“you want my advice? either keep waiting and playing like shit and making easily avoidable mistakes, or say fuck it to your friends advice and tell her how you feel.”
“i’m going to bed.” Luke grumbles, pushing past the shorter man to go to his room.
“don’t forget, no morning skate tomorrow!” Jack calls out as Luke’s door clicks shut.
as Luke strips down to his boxers, his phone lights up on his bed, vibrating amongst the cotton sheets. and as he sees her name flashing on the screen, butterflies flutter in his core, making him swallow harshly in attempt to stop them.
he doesn’t even get a word out after accepting the call, her voice filtering through the speaker, “men suck.”
“oh yeah?” Luke can’t help but laugh at the repetitive cycle, “tell me more. how do we suck?”
“you just do, okay?” her tone is biting before she takes a sobering breath, “all he wanted to talk about was the team. i could practically see the walls shut down around him once i told him i couldn’t dish out the hot goss on players.”
“i’m sorry, y/n.” he’s not sorry. not even a little.
“remind me why i can’t be a nun?” her voice is distant as she takes the phone away from her ear so that she can unlock her apartment door.
“no tiktok and no sex.” Luke echoes for what feels like the hundredth time.
“right.” she kicks off her shoes, bumping the door shut behind her as her cat darts around between her legs, rubbing against her nylon tights, “you ready for the game tomorrow?”
“yeah.” no.
“good. i’m gonna go eat my weight in ice cream and scroll tiktok. goodnight, Lukey. thanks for the reminder and for listening to me rant.”
“any time. goodnight.”
as Luke lays in bed, he falls asleep with Jack’s advice echoing in his head.
keep waiting and playing like shit and making easily avoidable mistakes, or say fuck it to your friends advice and tell her how you feel.
meanwhile, y/n slumps on her sofa, a pint of ben & jerry’s in her hand as she looks down at the little ball of black fur that’s taken up residence by her feet.
“have you ever been in love, Sir Nightingale?”
the cat blinks back at her, patiently waiting for her attention. which comes in the form of her fingernails scratching lazily under his chin.
“i have.” she continues the one sided conversation, “it fucking sucks. never fall in love.”
***
the game was an absolute shit show.
Luke had taken a shoddy penalty in the first period; for delay of game, out of all things. which lead to a power play goal by the opposing team and leaving the Devils down by two.
it was only about five minutes later that Luke got an assist on a goal of Jack’s, but ultimately, the game still ended six to two, not in the Devils favor. not only did the team get yelled at for their lack of adequate effort, but Luke was singled out for at least two turned over pucks, which lead to opposing team goals.
and to make a bad night even worse, when all was said and done and Luke was finally showered and ready to just go home and wallow in the loss, he left the locker room to find y/n chatting with one of the equipment managers, Ben.
her hair twirled around her finger as she laughed at something Ben said, a red flush on her cheeks. Luke felt deflated, to say the least.
it was always someone else.
never him. never Luke.
he felt overlooked, and perhaps even unnoticed. it was like she never even saw him as an option, only ever the object of her desires when they were both tipsy and horny and already together.
and yet the feeling was still there. settled low within his gut, he still knew; he’s the one for her. he knows. he’s fairly certain that deep down, she knows it too.
is it his age? it’s only a year’s difference, surely it doesn’t matter, right? it was something else. it had to be, but he truly didn’t know what.
“y/n.” his voice carries through the hallway, settling in her ears and catching her attention.
turning towards him with wide doe eyes and parted lips, she smiles, “hey!”
“am i still giving you a ride home?” Luke’s expression is stony, giving nothing of his feelings away. though, he can’t help the way his eyes gravitate to the man behind her, Luke’s blank stare making the man cower just slightly.
and Luke almost felt proud of that. almost.
“actually, i think Ben and i are gonna go for some drinks. i’ll catch up with you tomorrow, yeah?”
his shoulders slump, his posture crumpling the same way his heart did in his chest.
“yeah, see you tomorrow.”
Luke barely gets two steps closer to the arena exit before her voice calls out, stopping him in his tracks. her heels click against the floor as fast as she could move, before she pops up in his vision.
“you played good. a few mistakes are normal, it’s your first full season, the most games you’ve ever played,” her voice is gentle, her eyes peering up at him softly through her wispy lashes, “i’m proud of you. don’t be too hard on yourself, alright?”
her arms wrap around his torso before he can even respond, her face buried in the chest of his suit. and before his heart can reach a normal pace again, before he can wrap his arms around her in return, she’s pulling away.
with a wave of her hand and a small but awe-strikingly beautiful smile playing upon her lips, she’s walking away. back to Ben, who waits for her by the arena exit now.
and once more, Jack’s voice is back inside Luke’s head. driving him absolutely insane as he watches the love of his life walk out of the building, giggling at something another man said.
keep waiting and playing like shit and making easily avoidable mistakes, or say fuck it to your friends advice and tell her how you feel.
*
keep waiting and playing like shit and making easily avoidable mistakes, or say fuck it to your friends advice and tell her how you feel.
tell her how you feel.
tell her how you feel.
tell her how you feel.
“tell her how you feel.” Luke wakes with a startle, his head knocking against his brother’s, who was leaning over him.
Jack curses, hissing in pain as he holds a hand his forehead.
“what the fuck are you doing in my room?” Luke groans, voice groggy as he takes in his surroundings.
“i got up to take a piss and i could hear your phone blowing up all the way from the bathroom,” Jack explains, “shit, you have a bony ass head.”
“it’s called a skull. i know yours doesn’t house anything inside of it, but even i assumed you’d know what it is.”
Jack huffs, rolling his eyes. “ya know what? just for that, i take back my advice. fuck off and die alone, what do i care?”
“why were you giving me advice at-” Luke slides his phone off his nightstand, checking the time, “two in the morning?”
“she’s blowing up your phone.” Jack scowls, “something something men suck something something maybe being a nun is worth the no tiktok?”
Luke feels an odd sense of relief as he looks at his recent texts, finding exactly what Jack had described.
well, without the ‘something something’s.
“pretty sure you were saying her name in your sleep too,” Jack smirks, backing away towards the bedroom door, “tell her how you feel, dickhead. put you both out of your misery so i can get some sleep and not listen to your incessant whining.”
with that, Jack leaves, the wooden door clicking shut in its frame behind him.
reading through the texts, Luke gathers that she and Ben didn’t get very far into the night together, seeing as her messages were still legible, something drunk her could never accomplish.
the thought brings him an unnecessary amount of joy. but then he’s hit with an overwhelming sense of annoyance, remembering he’ll have to go through this process all over again soon.
truthfully, he doesn’t know how much more he can take. he’s not giving up on her, on the contrary, maybe Jack is right. maybe Phil couldn’t give advice for all women and maybe Luke should just stop waiting.
she wasn’t coming to a realization quick enough and honestly, Luke is fucking tired. tired of drunken hookups. tired of listening to her rant about failed dates and sucky guys. tired of being overlooked as an option. tired of his feelings going unnoticed.
the dial tone was ringing in his ear before Luke even realized that he had made a decision, like his hands were working on autopilot. like his heart knew what he would decide before his brain did.
“hey! did i wake you?” her words weren’t slurred, Luke noted. that’s good, she doesn’t even sound tipsy. she’s in a sound state of mind for his confession.
“no,” he shook his head, despite knowing she could see him, “well, yes but no? you didn’t wake me up but Jack did, he could hear my phone buzzing.”
“oh shit, i’m sorry! we can talk tomorrow if you wanna go back to sleep, i’m just about to-”
“i love you,” immediately, Luke is regretting this decision; the silence on the other end of the phone making him bite his lip in anxiety.
“what?” her voice cracks as she giggles, “Luke, are you drunk? did you drink before you went to bed?”
“no,” he groans out, his head dropping back in frustration, “i swear, i haven’t touched any alcohol tonight. just listen to me.”
“i’m always listening to you, Lukey.” her eyes widen as she sits on the edge of her plush bed, “i just don’t understand what you’re saying.”
“i love you,” he repeats, rolling his shoulders in attempt to psych himself back up before he takes a deep breath.
“i’m in love with you. i have been since freshman year. i think that somewhere deep down, you know just as much as i do, that you’re meant to be mine. and i’ve waited two years for you to realize it. i’ve been patient, i’ve held back, i’ve waited on the sidelines while you go out on dates and i’ve listened to you rant about men. and that’s no problem; when i’m done, if you decide you’re still not ready, i’ll continue to wait for you. because even if you’re not mine, i’m yours, y/n. but, i need to get this off my chest and i need you to know that i’m in love with you. my life isn’t complete without yours. and when you’re ready, i’ll be here waiting for you. i’ll always be here. when you’re ready for the drunk hookups to turn into sober love, i’m gonna be right here. because i think that’s our fate. i think that we were destined to find each other and i think we were meant to have this storyline in our love story, and i know that one day you’ll realize it too. you can tell me i’m insane, you can tell me you don’t feel the same, you can even tell me to fuck off, if that’s what you wanna do. i’ll back off, i won’t say another word, but i’ll still be waiting.”
y/n is silent, her hands shaking as she breathes through the tears that roll down her cheeks. in return, Luke is quiet too, patiently waiting for her to digest everything he just confessed. every built up feeling that he just let slip out of him.
“i love you too.” it feels like all the weight she’s been shouldering has been listed off of her with the utterance of those four simple words.
“you do?” he feels like he can’t breathe, like he’s just been knocked against the boards and his lungs forgot how to take in oxygen.
“yes. Luke, why do you think i go on those dates? have you not noticed that almost every guy i go out with resembles you? i didn’t know if you felt the same way, i didn’t know how to tell you how i felt without risking our entire friendship going up in flames. Luke, i’m so fucking in love with you and it hurt. for two years, i’ve reveled in our drunken moments because i thought that was all i’d ever get. i dreaded the day that you would meet someone and tell me it has to stop. i fell for you so hard and it was so scary and i just- i had to try and move on. i had to try and meet someone before ultimately, you did. because i knew that if you told me you met someone, and i was still in love with you? i would never recover from that, Luke. i wouldn’t. and now you’re saying this and i, god i feel so fucking stupidly in love with you. you don’t have to wait anymore, because i realized i love you a long time ago.”
Luke pushes out of his bed, any interest in sleep lost to him. pulling on a hoodie and an abandoned pair of sweatpants from his bedroom floor, he doesn’t even bother telling Jack that he’s leaving.
“god, i need to kiss you.” he slips on his nike slides, his fingers nimbly plucking his keys off the hook by the front door, and as quickly as he could manage, he was out of there.
“you can kiss me tomorrow, Lukey.” she smiles, finally rising from her bed to finish her nightly routine.
that is, until she hears a key turn in her front door. her eyebrows pull together as she wonders out of her room, greeted by sight of a disheveled Luke in her apartment doorway, who looks like he just ran down the stairs to get there.
hanging up the phone, she grins back at the tall boy.
“or i can kiss you now.” a playful smirk pulls at the corner of his lips as he taking wide glides over to her.
his hands find her cheeks, his thumbs wiping gently over the supple, tear stained skin. the apartment is silent, their heartbeats racing as she gazes up at his beautiful eyes.
“or you can kiss me now.” she echoes, her words mumbled and low.
that’s the final straw, the confirmation Luke desperately needed, and finally, he allows his head to dip down. her lips were warm and soft, tasting faintly of mint ice cream, and warmth spreads across his body, starting at his chest and almost blossoming across his body. Luke feels at home.
her hands desperately cling to his hoodie, as though he’ll disappear if she lets go, and his slide back to cup the nape of her neck. she has no desire to pull away, but her lungs spread with fire until she’s forced apart by the need to breathe.
“i love you.” she whispers, eyes closed as she rests her forehead against his own, teeth digging into her bottom lip as she bites back a lovelorn smile.
“i love you, sweet girl.”
“please don’t go back home. spend the night?” she finally opens her eyes, her head tipping back as he straightens up.
a pink hue glows upon his cheeks, and she can’t resist letting the backs of her fingers gently graze over the heated skin.
“not going anywhere, baby. staying right here.” his lips brush against her forehead, leaving a fleeting kiss in their wake and making her heartbeat flutter within her rib cage.
it feels right, the way they go about a new bed time routine. luke’s arms wrapped around her waist as she brushes her teeth, his eyes boring into her reflection. her head on his chest as they fall asleep, his alarm on for them to wake up for morning skate, together.
and if they were holding hands when they walked into the rink, if they were a cheesy couple who kissed before he entered the locker room, if his smile was a bit too wide in the tiktok she filmed for the Devils socials, if she chose the question ‘do you believe in fate?’ solely because of him, could they really be blamed?
#luke hughes#luke hughes x reader#luke hughes imagine#luke hughes fic#luke hughes blurb#nj devils#nhl fic#nhl imagine#faithlynn’s writings <3
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If your requests are open could I pleeease have moon boys helping you on your period? I’ve got a bad one and need some comfort 🥲 <3
Period Comfort
A/n: Ofc you can! I’m sorry you’re having a difficult time, I hope this helps!
Warnings: none, light pain and discomfort, fluff
Afab reader but Gn pronouns Masterlist
Steven
King of taking care of you
Need pads or tampons? He’ll run to the store. Literally
And he’ll muster up his best death glare at anyone that mocks him for it
Want some snacks? He’s getting them
Want something home made? He’s learning how to make it as we speak
Need some cuddles? Move over, love, the Steven love bomb is headed your direction at full speed
While he doesn’t have much knowledge on periods, he knows when you’re uncomfortable and he‘d do anything to make it go away
Reads all about how to help cramps and what foods or drinks will make it worse
“I bought you chocolate, bananas, oranges, chamomile tea, and I’ve got a warm bath running.”
If you have a really bad period, like can’t get out of bed, he’s right beside you the entire time
He’ll read to you or just lay with you until you need something
If you’re hot, remove blankets, but encourage you to keep the heat pack on your stomach
If you’re cold, he’ll bring every blanket in the flat
If you bleed through, he’ll wave it off like it was nothing
“Don’t worry love, I’ve been cleaning blood out of my clothes for months, I can get this out in a jiffy! Why don’t you pick a movie and I’ll start on dinner?”
Will be very focused on how much pain medication you take and when you took it
“Sorry love, you’ve got to wait a few more hours, don’t want you taking too much and getting sick.”
Over all, he does research, very kind and soft, and always knows how to accommodate to what ever your feeling
Oh and don’t think he won’t take the day off of work, because he will gladly yell to everyone that his significant other needs him and if Donna wants to put him on inventory for the month, he’ll gladly take it to take care of you
Marc
He has more experience than Steven and Jake combined, but that doesn’t mean he’ll know exactly what to do
While he was married to Layla, he quickly found out women and afab people act differently on their periods so he’s a little hesitant on how to approach you, unsure of what you need from him
Buys anything you want because he can’t cook
Will kind of shyly ask what tampons or pads you use before going to the store and stocking up on them
Will absolutely argue with anyone that calls him weak or less of a man for buying you menstruation products
“You’re just sad no one loves you or trusts you enough to take care of them besides your mother!”
He’s not sure what foods help or don’t help, so he just gets what he used to get Layla
But he’ll gladly listen to any advice on how to help you if what he’s doing isn’t helping
Doesn’t do as much research as Steven, of course he’ll look up foods that’ll make you feel worse, but he prefers to ask YOU what YOU want
If you request a food that makes your period worse, he’ll suggest you eat something else, but doesn’t argue
You know your body better than Google
If you ask for cuddles, look out, the Marc train is rolling into the station
He loves give you affection so don’t be shy to ask for a kiss or just to be held
If you’re really emotional, he’ll be a little confused on what to do, but he’ll try his best
Isn’t as focused on what medications you take and when so he just kinda shakes out an amount and hands you some water
He gets beat up for a living and takes a lot of pain medication and it hasn’t killed him yet
As always, he’ll be very loving and soft toward you and please be upfront with what you want, he wants to help you as much as he can
Jake
He’s the boyfriend that would ask “what pussy size you wear?” when buying pads, but in a joking way
Don’t let that scare you though, he is very loving and will do anything for you
Anything
He will never be ashamed of buying you pads or tampons, he loves you and if anyone has the dumbass idea of calling him out for it, he’ll put them in their place
If you call him while he’s out working, whether it be while he’s a cabby or Moon Knight, and ask for cuddles or just his presence, he is dropping everything and running to you
Does a surprising amount of research
Not as much as Steven, but definitely more than Marc
“Cariño, is it true that everyone craves chocolate on their period?”
Tries to call your period something funny to make you smile
“What’s up, amor? Oh, are you having a red velvet cake?”
“Oh, it’s shark week?”
“Is the Red Sea giving us a visit?”
If it makes you uncomfortable, he’ll immediately stop
He never wants to make you uncomfortable, especially when you’re already in pain and uncomfortable for a whole week
This man never needs a reason to randomly hug you or give you a kiss so if you’re a very cuddly person on your period, he’ll be overly ecstatic that he gets to hold you all day
And for a whole week?? He might die of happiness
And if you don’t want to be touched, that’s completely fine with him
He’ll sit a bit away from you and talk your ear off about his day to try and distract you from the pain
“This cabrón walked right in front of the street and acted all shocked when I almost ran into him. Idiota absoluto. He’s lucky I’m an amazing driver.”
Will hold you all night, occasionally reheating your water bottle or taking the heating pad away to make sure you’re not gonna overheat
His life is always full of danger and running so he’s so glad he gets to be a part of these slow, domestic days with the one person he wants to spend them with.
Also, be up front with what you want from him
You’re his first serious relationship and he doesn’t want to mess that up so tell him what you want and when you want it
I promise he won’t get embarrassed, he loves you as you are and could never be embarrassed by anything you do
#starlight writes#Jake is the boyfriend that would pretend to eat a tampon#or call it a missle and throw it at you#jake lockley#marc spector#marc spector x reader#marvel#moon knight#steven grant#steven grant x reader#jake lockley x reader#fluff#gn!reader
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Hello!! Can I request an Eddie x male reader fic, where the reader is a vampire👀?!?🩸🩸
You sure can!! Sorry it took so long! I apparently couldn't just start it with him being a vampire, my gremlin brain demanded to write how it happened too. So, this is kind of a rewrite of the end of 4x06, 4x07, and some of 4x08 No vol 2 spoilers!!
Leave the Bat Biting to Ozzy | Eddie Munson x male reader
Summary: You were the other half of Steve's co-captain for the swim team, so it made perfect sense to you to dive into Lover's Lake in search for the gate to the Upside Down with him...much to Eddie's disapproval. Once you bite the tail of one of the demobats and can't spit out all of its blood, you start to feel weird...sucks to wake up next to your best friend that you're in love with trying to bite his neck and drink his blood. Good thing Eddie is more than okay with it, though.
Warnings: 18+ (just in case) blood, violence, demobats, protective Eddie, language, blood drinking, light angst (due to fighting demobats and reader getting anxiety about possibly hurting Eddie) but honestly it's more fluffy than anything, drug use
Words: 4035
a/n: I hope you like it, love! It kind of ran away from me. Requests are still open, send one if you'd like, my loves 💚
Masterlist
Not my gif!! Credit to creator!!
“No,” Eddie shakes his head, trying to push your shoulders to make you sit back down in the boat. “Absolutely not,” he says, pointing at Steve, “Harrington’s got this just fine.”
“Eddie,” you groan, rubbing the frustration from your furrowed brows, “if I can help-”
“I’m sure you can,” he nods, eyes wide, “but I don’t really care. I’m not letting you risk your life.” Eddie cocks his head at the indignant grunt, “no offense, Steve.” He just rolls his eyes, taking his shirt off and pelting your best friend in the face with it. “I deserved that.” Throwing the shirt into the bottom of the boat, Eddie puts a cigarette between his lips.
Robin promptly yanks it out and throws it in the water, “gross. Eddie, we really don’t have the time to argue about this right now. If he can help Steve find the gate faster and he’s willing to do so, there’s not much you can do to stop him.”
“Don’t forget,” you stand, taking your shirt off as well, handing it to Eddie rather than hitting him in the face with it. Though you kind of want to. But he was just denied nicotine, you’re not about to tick him off on top of whatever protective streak he has going right now. “I was co-captain of the swim team with Steve. If anyone else here is fit for the task, it’s me.”
“Just-” Eddie shifts in his seat, clutching your shirt in his hand. His discomfort is heartwarming, really. Makes the massive crush you harbor for him throb in your chest. “Be careful, please,” his brown eyes widen their worry for you.
Unable to resist the tease, you ruffle his hair, “‘course,” you grin when he swats your hand away. You notice Nancy giving Steve much the same interaction you and Eddie just had. And you know for a fact that she’s not over him. You have eyeballs and aren’t stupid either. But Eddie’s just your best friend and watched two people die painfully to Vecna. He probably just doesn’t want to lose his best friend in the same way. “See you in a bit,” you take a deep breath, nodding at Steve.
“Let’s go,” Harrington adjusts the bagged flashlight in his hand and dives in.
You share one last look with Eddie, the metalhead looking heavily conflicted before you follow Steve. The water is like icicles stabbing every inch of your skin. But you can’t let it stop you, following the soft golden light ahead of Steve’s fluffy hair. Reaching the bottom of Lover’s Lake, your lungs begin to make it known that they’d very much like fresh oxygen inside of them soon. You push on with the other boy, finding a trail of fish bones.
Steve looks uncomfortable and anxiety sours your stomach too. Swimming through the murky water, your vision turns red. You and Steve push on until you find a split in the earth. Glowing scarlett with what looks like veins around it. This has to be the gate. When Harrington tries to inspect it further with the flashlight, you too reach out without really thinking it through. Not only does the bagged light get sucked in, but a giant black tendril pops out of it, wrapping around your wrist, yanking you through the portal.
You scream, the last of your air bubbling out into the water before you're sucked through. Sputtering the rank water from your mouth, coughing as you’re dragged through the Upside Down. It’s been a long time since you’ve had to be here and you had hoped you’d never have to be again. Without your shirt on, the skin of your back stings with scrapes as you’re brutally pulled along the ground. You try to pry the vine off of your wrist, but it's got you in a vice grip.
“Oh shit,” you grunt, coming up to a fallen tree. You smack into it; hard. There’s at least three bruised, if not broken ribs and your shoulder screams in pain. But you stopped. Long enough to dig the vine into the sharp wood, freeing your hand.
But you’re far from safe. A high pitched, menacing shriek fills your ears and you see bats flying your way. Nowhere to run, definitely nowhere to hide, you reach for a branch at your feet. Swinging the wood, one of the bats with very sharp teeth goes flying away from you. Just as you make to swing at another, one wraps its tail around your neck and you’re slammed to the ground again, gasping for air. Lungs burning and no prying of your hands gets the bat off of you. As if being choked to death by a fucking demon bat…demobat?- you don’t care enough to think about that right now- two more swarm around you, sinking their teeth into your sides.
Screaming in agony, you thrash around, trying your best to buck them off of you. Wildly waving your hands to smack at them and the one strangling you. Your sides are killing you, it hurts so fucking bad. All you can do is scream, hoping that someone is coming. That Steve was able to get through or get the rest of them to come help.
“Y/N!” Eddie yells and the bat around your neck is stabbed in the face repeatedly, Nancy and Robin trying to beat away the ones eating you. “I’ve got you,” he says, the two of you working to get the tail off. The slimy cord lifts enough for you to bite a chunk out of it, gagging around the rancid blood in your mouth.
It hurts it enough to make it release you and that’s all you really care about, the girls having killed the other two. Everything hurts, rolling on your side you groan, spitting the blood you didn't accidentally swallow from your mouth. You feel a hand cup the side of your face, lifting your head for you. Struggling to keep your eyes open through the pain, blinking heavily, you see a positively distraught Eddie, trying to look you over.
“This is why I didn’t want you to do this,” he chastises. But you see the concern in his eyes. Eddie sounds hysterical, “told you you were risking your life, that this was dangerous,” his bloodshot eyes filling with tears. “You’re hurt,” his gaze drops to your torso. Any other time, you’d probably feel a little embarrassed about his focus on your bare chest. You’re in too much pain for anything to matter right now. “That’s a lot of blood,” Eddie’s face pales.
“You don’t say,” you deadpan, coughing out a laugh.
Steve drops to his knees beside you once the other bats have gone, “we can’t stay here.” He looks towards the portal and several bats have surrounded it, screeching in warning. “Looks like we can’t leave either.”
Eddie cups the side of your face, thumb brushing the skin softly, “can you walk?”
Taking a deep breath, you nod, feeling the pain subside to a manageable burn. But you grunt and grit your teeth, even standing up with the help of both boys pulls at your wounds. Flaring a white hot pain in your sides, you slump into Eddie’s arm, taking calculated breaths, “I’m okay.” You nod, trying to convince not only them, but yourself. “I’m okay,” you repeat.
“Bullshit,” Eddie remarks, wrapping his arm around your back to help you follow the group towards the woods. “I will carry you if I have to, sweetheart.”
Despite the blood loss in your torso, your cheeks burn with a blush at the name. Not the first time he’s called you that, but he just saved your life. You’re allowed a moment to be taken aback that your best friend that you’re head over heels for is not only calling you a pet name, but doing his best to take care of you.
—
A unanimous decision to go to Nancy’s house for guns was made while Eddie and Robin helped patch your wounds. Robin babbling about rabies the whole time, surprisingly keeping you in good spirits. You’re grateful for your friends, but you really want to lay down. Your head is throbbing like crazy and you can feel your heartbeat in the wounds on your stomach and sides. It’s not fun. Far from pretty. And it makes you nauseous. Not even sitting on the one loveseat in the Wheeler’s house not covered in Vecna’s vines next to Eddie is making the room stop spinning.
He’s holding you close, rubbing his fingers along your arm and it’s almost enough to get you to fall asleep. Almost. The constant thunder and bright red light keeps you right at the edge. “I’m sorry,” you mumble.
Eddie turns his head, his chin resting atop your head, “what are you possibly sorry for?”
“I didn’t heed your warning,” you grunt, an attempt at a laugh. Your limbs feel disconnected. Like they’ve fallen asleep. The repulsive scent from the wet tendrils surrounding the house seeps into your nostrils, furthering your desire to vomit. Everything feels too intense.
“It’s okay, sweetheart,” he kisses the crown of your head, holding you tighter, “I’m not mad at you. Worried, for sure. But I’m not mad. I’m just glad you’re more or less okay. Once they figure something out with Dustin, I’m taking you home and we’ll take care of those bites. The bleeding seemed to stop on its own, so I don’t think you need stitches or anything.”
“Thanks Eds,” you mutter tiredly, nuzzling into his neck. Not caring enough to try and hide your feelings at the moment. You’re in pain and he’s been the main source of comfort and safety for you for years.
—
Using bikes to get to Eddie’s trailer is the fastest and smartest option. You fully agree with that. Wholeheartedly. The actual act of doing it? You’re even closer to throwing up than you were before. Clutching to Eddie’s back while he pedals you both down the road. Every bump in the pavement has your stomach churning, demanding whatever remnants still inside be released. The throbbing in your head has reached an aggravating peak. A migraine on crack. Even in the darkness of the Upside Down, it still feels too bright whenever the red lightning crackles through the sky.
You cling tighter, pinching your eyes closed, “how much farther?” You grit out, carefully inhaling the scent of Eddie into your nose. More intoxicating than it’s ever been before. It’s almost making you dizzy on top of everything else. Salivating to the point of if you don’t swallow fast enough, you’d drool all over his shoulder.
“Just a couple blocks,” Eddie’s hand pats yours and you quickly twist your fingers until they’re entwined. He squeezes your hand and you’re sighing softly at the lifeline offered. “Hang on for me a little longer, sweetheart.”
“Is he okay?” Robin asks, keeping up with Eddie’s pedaling. “He looks a little green.”
“Rob?” You ask.
“Yeah?”
“Shut up,” you huff softly. Voices are almost too loud. Your stomach won’t stop its incessant churning. And now, your fucking teeth and gums hurt. Whatever bullshit this is, you’d kindly like it to stop. Every smell entering your nose is more intense than the last, only adding to the cocktail of discomfort.
“Shutting up,” she replies as you feel the bike turn.
The ride is even bumpier after that, like you’ve gone off road. Squinting an eye open, you see your assumptions are correct as Eddie’s trailer comes into view. “Eds,” your head lolls from fuzziness on his shoulder when he stops the bicycle. “Eds, I don’t think I can walk.”
“I got you,” Steve’s by your side, helping you stand long enough for Eddie to get off the bike.
The moment he’s off the bike, he doesn’t care to stop it from falling to the ground, opting to scoop his arms under your legs and lifting you into his arms. “A shower and bed is just moments away,” he tucks your head into his neck, heading into his alternate home.
You must have fallen asleep, because you’re jolted awake an unknown amount of time later, “mhmm, wha-” is all you’re able to articulate.
“I need you to go to Steve for a minute,” Eddie tells you.
When you open your eyes you see an opening in his ceiling much like at the bottom of Lover’s Lake. Dustin, Erica, Lucas, Max, Robin and Nancy looking at you upside down from Eddie’s actual living room. A few blankets have been tied together to make a climbing rope. Your eyes widen, “I can’t climb right now,” you sound frantic, clinging to Eddie’s vest.
“I know, I know,” he’s quick to rub your back in sweet, reassuring strokes. “I’m gonna give you to Steve and climb through. He’s going to help you through the gate and I’ll be right there to catch you. You trust me?” You stare at him skeptically, but nod just the same, knowing this is the only way you’ll be able to get home. “See you on the other side,” Eddie kisses your forehead, placing you in Steve’s open arms.
Your stomach does a sickening somersault watching Eddie climb the blankets and be sucked through, crashing into the waiting bed. You hadn’t even noticed you were shaking in Steve’s arms, until he’s holding you tighter in more of a hug. “We’ll be as careful as we can, okay? You know he’d never let anything happen to you.”
Steve’s words of reassurance help only just. Carefully, he stands on a chair with you still in his arms, Eddie standing on the bed on the other side, arms open wide for you. Grabbing the blanket, you hold yourself steady while Steve gently pushes you through. The moment your hands are in Eddie’s you’re sucked through, crashing on top of your best friend and onto the mattress. You scream out in pain, sides feeling like they’re tearing back open.
“Sorry, I’m sorry,” Eddie hugs you close for a moment, allowing you the time to calm down from the pain. “Come on,” he carefully moves you so he can get up and scoop you right back into his arms. “You guys good?” He asks the group, Steve falling onto the mattress behind you. They must nod or give him some affirming answer, because he says, “good, I’m gonna help him clean up and get him to bed.”
“Should you guys really stay here with an open portal in your living room?” Dustin asks.
“My house is empty,” Steve offers, “I have a spare room and everything. Pack a bag of what you’d need. Henderson’s right, you’re not staying here.”
“Not like we have a car here,” Eddie cuts in.
“I can take my mom’s keys,” Max suggests. “We rode here on our bikes, Steve can drive you guys home.”
You’re already shaking your head, “I don’t think I can handle a car ride right now. Just let me take a shower and rest for a bit. Then we can figure out where to go.”
“Fine,” Steve sighs, “but we’re staying here with you guys.”
“Fine.”
—
Eddie gingerly helped you into the bathroom, turning around when you’d taken your boxers off. He’d left you a towel and a change of his clothes, saying he’d wait for you in his room to give you some time to yourself.
It was sweet, but also not. Every time you closed your eyes you saw those fuckign bats feasting on your stomach. It must just hurt more than the actual damage, because the wounds aren’t as deep as you’d expected. You clean them with peroxide nonetheless and change into the clothes Eddie gave you. Your favorite faded Guns N’ Roses shirt of his and soft plaid pajama pants. Meeting him in his room, you can’t help the small laugh at the sight waiting for you.
Eddie propped against his headboard, lighting a joint, a steaming cup of tea tucked on the windowsill beside his bed. “Did you make me tea?” You ask, sitting beside him, taking a careful sip of the warm liquid. Chamomile floods your senses, warming you from the inside out.
“I smoke and sell pot,” he takes a hit off the joint, offering it to you which you gladly take. Hitting it generously, hoping it will make the pain go away and help you sleep for a bit. “You really think I wouldn’t have other natural kinds of sedatives? Come on now, you know me better than that.”
You chuckle softly to yourself, glad that you can do so without irritating your wounds. “Thank you,” you smile into your mug, polishing off the last of the drink. Setting the mug back on the sill, you settle into his bed, pulling the covers over your shoulder. “I’m glad we’re out of there.”
Snuffing out the roach, Eddie curls up beside you, pulling you into his chest, “me too. Thought I’d lost you,” his voice is above a whisper, lips moving against your forehead when he speaks. “I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you. Anyone, I can lose anyone…but not you. I can’t lose you, sweetheart.”
You cling to him harder, sniffling into his chest, the harsh reality that he’s right slamming into you. “I’m right here, Eds. You saved me,” nuzzling your nose into his shirt, you sigh.
“And I’d do it again,” Eddie assures you, tracing lines along your back and your heavy lids finally close. “I love you,” he says quietly. Something else he’s said countless times, but even in your tired state you can hear that it sounds different than it ever has.
But you’re far too tired to not only think about what it means or to even say it back. Falling asleep in Eddie’s arms like it’s any other night you’ve stayed over.
—
“H-hey, uh, sw-sweet- shit,” Eddie groans, sounding almost like a moan. “Sweetheart, what are you d-doing?” He asks, pulling your shoulders gently. “Not that I-I’m complaining. Oh my g-" his hips buck into yours, “I just- fuck.”
It’s the movement that makes you realize that you’re no longer asleep. Rather unconsciously licking and sucking on his neck. The sound of his heartbeat thrumming away in your ears like the world’s most beautiful drumline. His smell invades your nostrils, taking over every sense you have. Intoxicating and sweet, you bite at his neck in earnest, moaning when you taste a droplet of his blood on your tongue.
The taste earns your stomach a hearty growl and your eyes snap open and you jolt away. Startling yourself when in your haste, you’re suddenly on the other side of his room, staring at a wide-eyed, hard and thoroughly confused Eddie on his bed. Your gums are on fire and you can see the artery pulsating in his neck even from here. What the fuck is going on? You try to back away, confused and ashamed of yourself for having hurt him. You don’t even register that not only do your sides not hurt, but you feel better than you ever have.
“Sweetheart,” Eddie’s up on his feet, carefully walking over to you, arms out like he doesn’t want to startle you.
Too bad, you back away again, hitting his wall, “d-don’t,” you stammer. You have no idea what’s happening. All you do know is that you can still taste his blood on your tongue and you want more. So much fucking more. It makes your teeth ache and your stomach twist in hunger. You’re not stupid, you’ve read enough comics and seen enough horror movies. Foolish of you to think that in a town like Hawkins, Upside Down bats wouldn’t turn someone into a vampire if they survived. Or swallowed their blood. “I don’t want to hurt you,” you say, holding your hand out in hopes of stopping his advances.
It doesn’t.
Eddie’s inches away from you, reaching out to cup your face, examining your features. “Holy shit,” his eyes widen, thumb pulling back your top lip. “Y-you have fangs. And your eyes are red.”
Your stomach nearly falls out of your ass. “Eddie,” your eyes burn with tears, “tell me this is a joke. That I’m still sleeping.”
His finger comes up to where you’d nipped him before, a pin prick of blood resting on the pad, “sorry, babe, I don’t think it is.” Panic sets in, heaving your chest with painful breaths as the room spins. “Whoa, whoa, hey, it’s okay,” Eddie crouches to the floor as you slide down the wall, “you’re okay. You’re still alive. Just a cool ass vampire now. I mean, that’s fucking sick, right?”
“How is that cool?” You look at him dumbfounded. “Vampires feed on blood, Eddie. Blood! I didn’t even know what I was doing. I could’ve hurt you,” your own eyes turn to saucers, your hand covering your horrified expression, “I-I could’ve killed you!”
“Baby,” he pulls your hand away, cupping your face again, “you couldn’t hurt me. I know you. You’d never,” Eddie’s voice is so sweet and calm, settling your nerves. “We’ll figure it out, okay? But for now,” all you can do is watch as he moves his hair from his neck, tilting his head to the side in offering, “you need to eat. I’m not going to let you die because you’re fucking stubborn.”
“No,” you vehemently shake your head, ripping out of his hands and stumbling to his bed. Your hunger turns your limbs to jelly.
Eddie’s quick to catch you before you fall over, arms wrapping around you, turning you to face him. “I’m offering it, babe,” he smiles at you, “if anyone is going to feed you, it’s going to be me.” He finds the way you look at him like he’s grown an extra head hilarious, his chuckle vibrating through you. “It’s what we do for the ones we love, right? Take care of them however we can.”
“I-”
“So, if my best friend,” he brings your chests flush, “the guy I’m absolutely in love with is now a vampire who needs blood to survive,” Eddie shrugs. “It’s a no brainer, really.”
You don’t get to comment on his words, though you feel your heart clench at the admission that he shares your feelings. Because he’s cupping the back of your head, guiding your aching fangs to his offered neck. Instinct takes over once you smell his blood again and you sink your teeth into Eddie’s flesh. His fingers grip your hip hard, letting out a moan from the feeling. His blood is the best thing you’ve ever tasted in your life, tangy, but so fucking sweet.
Addicting.
“Sweetheart,” he whispers, pulling at the strands at the back of your head.
Removing your fangs from his neck, you lick the wound clean, watching in wonder as the two small holes heal. “Sorry,” you avert your eyes, not ready to look at him. Afraid he’ll be upset with you for drinking too much.
“It’s okay, Eddie says, gripping your chin to make you meet his gaze, “it was your first time. I’m sure you’ll learn how to not take too much. I’ll be fine,” he smiles warmly at you, lovingly. “Do you feel a little better now?” You nod. “Good,” Eddie looks at your mouth, dragging his gaze back to your eyes, “your eyes are back to normal again.” It’s an offhand comment before he’s locked on your lips again, “hey, sweetheart?” You hum in response, breath caught in your chest. “You didn't really tell me to fuck off when I told you I loved you. So…Can I kiss you now?”
You smile, chuckling through your nose, “that's because I love you too, Eddie.”
His lips brush yours softly. A featherlight touch. But then you both inhale sharply, crashing your mouths together. It’s feverish. Groaning into each other, hands grabbing whatever they can. Tongues and teeth clashing until you’re dizzy and gasping for air.
“It’s about time you admit it, Munson,” Robin’s voice yanks you apart. But she’s smiling at the two of you, “Steve you owe me twenty bucks,” she yells over her shoulder, making you and Eddie laugh. “So…a vampire?”
#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x male reader#eddie munson x you#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson angst#eddie munson#Match Writes
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talk about damon’s autism induced gifted kid syndrome in excruciating detail challenge go
HE’S SO. HE’S SO. HRGH.
damon acts like a pretentious prick, but unlike, say.. togami, (or even wenona, as an example to someone from damon’s home game), there’s hints that there’s more to it than just “being pretentious for the sake of being pretentious”.
most obviously, damon desperately insists that his talent is important and special. that, plus the way damon talks of most everyone else’s talents, to me, really gives the impression that he grew up being told/thinking that he HAD to contribute to the world/society in order to have a place in it (and given that he also hadn’t heard of any of the other ultimates in his class, it’s possible he was very sheltered, too.)
(and we will come back to damon’s view of his talent and the importance of it.)
damon’s bio mentions also how socially isolated he was, that he’d argue back to anyone who tried to confront him and got used to the idea of being alone- and it shows with how he acts in the prologue. he’s so used to being alone that when he thinks he’s being isolated again he just accepts it. doesn’t fight back or try to do anything about it.
but there’s still hints that, despite being used to it, he does desire company.
(a one-off line, but the impression it gives is.. a little sad, to say the least. i’ve kinda not made a post about it but this entire introduction with desmond made me desire for the two to be friends, to the point i wrote a fic about it.)
as for damon’s copium.. i think the prologue investigation is the best example, because talking to the other characters before he reaches the closet, he keeps insisting to them that the body’s just “a dummy, you don’t need to be so freaked out by it.”, which given that we’re told it was based on a real murder in-universe, does come off insensitive..
..until we see damon also trying to convince himself of that. even looking back over what the trinket tells them about the murder, he’s uncomfortable about reading what cara went through, and he has to keep himself from being physically ill when investigating the actual dummy. he’s scared. but he hides his discomfort behind a cool attitude.
coming back to damon’s attitude on his talent, the ending of the prologue.. really stuck out to me, for a number of reasons. the main one being.. god i have been in that position, not quite to that degree, but being in an argument and trying to explain my case, only to make it worse for myself? the rsd that comes from that sucks, and especially because for as much as damon made it worse, he was genuinely trying to help and believed he had the right idea. but also..
grace asks damon the big question, what makes him so special? what gives him the right to act the way he does? believing he’s so much more important than everyone else?
and that’s the thing, if damon truly believed without any doubt that his talent and he by extension was so special and important, he wouldn’t have faltered in his answer (even the voiceline for his response is the one where he stammers), he wouldn’t feel those words shaking his very being.
damon has convinced himself that he’s important, that his talent shines above all the rest, because he’s scared of the alternative. he’s clung to his talent his entire life because it’s all he has. because he’s convinced that without his talent, he’s nothing. just some nobody in the crowd. he’s dug himself into this hole because he doesn’t know any other alternative.
i really hope chapter 1 lets us see damon be more vulnerable, take away atleast some of that wall he hides behind, most importantly i hope that damon doesn’t actually end up as isolated as he thinks he’s going to be by the end of the prologue. he needs people to support him and show him he doesn’t have to think this way, that he’s worth more than his talent.
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There’s a popular headcanon/piece of fanon that Sasha can’t stand being touched. It makes sense for someone on the Spectrum, and he does use telekinesis quite a lot to avoid touching stuff so it’s a nice headcanon. I’ve also had my moments of discomfort with people touching me, to the point that people pointed out it’s strange that I have the tendency to lower my head/bow to people instead of accepting hugs/shaking hands.
I really like this idea, so I’m adding onto it.
Sasha’s reaction to being touched is completely involuntary, and has been happening for as long as he could remember(which is his entire life apparently since he remembers his mom). Whenever someone brushes by, shakes his hand, or grabs him suddenly his entire body suddenly stiffens, heart rate increases, and he gets unreasonably stressed. Over time he’s developed his signature control over emotions so he has really good strategies to reduce the stress and resets about 95% of the mental/emotional labor, though the 5% still sticks with him for a while. The act of calming down takes a little while, it depends on how much stress was involved, but still experiencing touch is an extremely uncomfortable inconvenience in his life.
The thing is that Milla seems to have physical touch as her primary love language, along with words of affirmation, but mostly physical touch. She’s ecstatic about it, always down to hold hands, hug and high five others. It could be that she likes to literally feel like she’s not alone, but it’s her thing nonetheless.
At first, Milla was deeply concerned and disappointed at Sasha’s sudden reaction to something as simple as holding hands. She initially took it when they had a budding friendship as a secret hatred/disgust of her, but was able to gather from others that it’s not just her, it’s everyone. So after they developed a little bit as friends, Milla asked if there was anything, “particularly offensive about myself,” that he felt towards her and was shocked when he said no. The greatest thing he could come up with was, “well sometimes I can’t rationalize the colors you choose to wear on a particular day, but it always looks good on you.” So then Milla just straight out asked what she wanted to say the entire time, and Sasha just explained that he just doesn’t like to be touched. Simple.
However, I like the idea of contradictory desires, because it’s realistic. You can love your family, but also don’t want to spend any time with them, for example. And for Sasha, he can’t stand being touched, but he’s also human and still wants affection, but receiving said affection would also induce stress… So it’s a ruthless paradox of being touched-starved.
When Sasha and Milla start “dating-not-dating,” Milla of course, wants a lot of physical affection. It’s how she shows/feels love and there is nothing wrong with that. She wants to do romantic stuff like hold hands in public, cuddle and be embraced with such warmth and comfort that even in the midst of a blizzard she’d risk getting heatstroke. But she knows that Sasha doesn’t like being touched so it’s a strange, impossible position to be in. Or so she thought.
The two of them figured out the brilliant, mind blowing solution of…just ask for permission first. They’re already practically experts at communication, and all Milla has to do if she wants to hold her boyfriend’s hand is ask “hey, wanna hold hands?” and it’s that easy. Even if Sasha doesn’t like being touched, he still wants Milla to be happy. She’d listen to him talk about aliens and space and constellations for five hours straight, so why can’t he put his own comfort aside for a little while to make her happy? Of course, they almost always ask telepathically, because it’s really their private business and it’s embarrassing in public if you verbally get turned down because the other person really isn’t up for holding hands right now.
But like how Milla wouldn’t particularly mind listening to Sasha infodump about special interests for hours, it turns out he doesn’t actually particularly mind touching Milla. Even if she asks, for example, to hold hands, Milla accepts the fact that even when Sasha says yes, he’s still going to tense up initially, because it’s an involuntary reaction. But he can still calm himself down even if they are still physically touching, it’s a combination of experience, strategies, preparation and just that he just likes Milla and secretly wants to be close to her. He can even get to a point that they’re both relaxed and acting like a “normal couple.” That being said, Milla wouldn’t want Sasha to change at all.
When they started dating, everytime Sasha would have to calm down enough to comfortably hold Milla’s hand he’d get embarrassed that it’s this hard to do something that’s really common. But Milla had a completely different view of it and he stopped feeling that way once she explained it. Milla often verbalizes her love a lot, she’d throw out an “I love you” similarly to how some people say “like” in a sentence. But even though Sasha barely says “I love you,” but when they do interlink their hands, Milla can feel the tension, but enjoys slowly feeling that tension lessen up and can physically feel Sasha relax around her. To Milla, it’s a constant reminder that he really cares about/enjoys being around her. And everytime it happens it feels like he’s saying “I love you” to her. It makes her so happy. One time, they ended up cuddling while watching TV, and she, again, liked watching the screen while feeling Sasha slowly relax. But then she looked away and was about to say something, she realized that he’d just completely fallen asleep and she was so happy that she nearly cried. She just loves her boyfriend so much.
After hearing her say all this, Sasha felt far less embarrassed about it. Whenever they hold hands he’d turn to look at her and she’d have the biggest smile and her joy, warmth and comfort is dangerously contagious. It’s the only type of germs Sasha’s okay being exposed to.
#psychonauts#psychonauts 2#sasha nein#milla vodello#sashamilla#headcanons#physical touch#love language#two precious people in love#yeah i said Sasha was touched starved but after hanging out with Milla he just seems to be happier for some reason#im sure it’s just a coincidence#they also have a strange habit of waking up in each other’s arms…#nah it’s probably just nightmare prevention nothing to see there
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Bitten
here it is on ao3. the sequel to my fic Snack, where Armand bites Daniel. set vaguely sometime in season 2
It’s been two days since Daniel sampled Armand’s blood. Two days, and it’s been all he can think about. That and how it might feel to have those fangs buried in his throat. It’s a strange desire, but one he can’t shake.
He gets the distinct impression Armand knows, from the amused little glances he sometimes sends Daniel’s way. Daniel suspects Armand is toying with him. Probably gets some kick out of making Daniel uncomfortable.
“Is that what you’re calling it?”
Armand’s voice comes from behind, just the faintest hint of mockery. Daniel shivers and turns. He’s on the balcony smoking, because after these last few days, he’s earned a goddamn cigarette. Armand strides next to him, looking almost angelic in white. This shirt is another white button up, but his forearms are rolled up to the elbows and the top few buttons are undone. There’s a bit of chest peeking out and it’s tantalizing.
To some people. Not to Daniel per say.
“Calling what?” Daniel says. He’s learned saying get out of his head does little good.
“How I make you feel,” Armand says as he lights up his own cigarette. His hair is slicked back and he’s wearing that eyeliner again. It isn’t fair that something so evil could be so beautiful. His head cocks to the side as he observes Daniel. “You were just thinking I made you uncomfortable.”
“Must be the constant mind reading. It does that to a guy.”
Armand smirks a little. “Discomfort is not what you feel.” He steps closer and blows out smoke. His arm is very near Daniel’s, they’re nearly brushing against each other. “Fear, yes. Arousal. Desire. Shame.”
Armand snubs out his cigarette and meets Daniel’s gaze with his own. “How often have you been thinking about me biting you, Daniel, since our tete-a-tete in the kitchen?”
“Not at all,” Daniel says and grinds his cigarette into the balcony railing. He needs to exit this conversation.
“I don’t think that’s true.”
“Think what you want,” Daniel says, and moves to walk past Armand.
He makes it halfway to the door, when Armand says, oh-so-casually, “I could bite you now.”
Daniel stops, despite himself. “You could go fu-”
“It is a one time offer,” Armand cuts in, as if Daniel weren’t speaking, “Leave now and I will not ask again.”
Daniel’s heart races and he turns around. “What makes you think I’d even want it?”
Armand’s lip curls up into a smile. “If you didn’t, you would have already walked away.”
“I’m just-”
“Posturing,” Armand interrupts, “Just posturing.”
“You’re a real bastard, you know that?”
Armand chuckles faintly, “A bastard whose teeth you want in your throat.”
Daniel wants to deny it, but just the thought of it sends a jolt down to his groin. He really does want it.
“We both know you’re going to give in, Daniel. So stop wasting my time, and come here.”
Daniel sucks in a sharp breath. He looks back to the door, thinks about turning around. And he walks to Armand.
Armand’s hand comes to the nape of his neck and he tilts Daniel’s head back. Daniel grips onto the balcony railing with one hand. Armand’s other hand comes up and pops at Daniel’s throat, the way Daniel saw Louis do to Damek. It sends a thrill down his body and Daniel very nearly moans.
There’s no foreplay–Armand seems almost impatient, like maybe he wants this as much as Daniel. There’s only the slight sting of the slap, followed by Armand’s breath ghosting over his pulse, then fangs pressing in. It hurts, but the hurt is exquisite. Daniel’s entire body feels alight, and he thrums with pleasure.
He can feel his heart beating rapidly in his chest, fighting against the hot, sweet pull of Armand’s mouth on him. And his mouth is so soft, and his fangs so deep. God, it feels better than sex.
An obscene noise comes out of Daniel’s mouth as he clutches at Armand's chest. It’s humiliating, but Daniel doesn’t care, can’t care. He feels too good to care about anything. His entire body feels like it’s flying. He’s dizzy and spinning and Armand’s arm goes around his waist, and it’s so much easier to let him support his weight. His entire body is burning and he can’t stop shuddering.
Armand’s fangs withdraw from his throat and he licks over the puncture marks, collecting the last bits of blood. Daniel shivers slightly at the feel of his wet tongue. Then Armand is pulling back and Daniel’s hand comes up to tangle in his hair and try to tug him back down. He just wants a little more, just a little longer…
His hand is wrenched away by Armand. Both of Daniel’s wrists are wrapped in Armand’s left hand and held between their chests. “Did I say you could touch, boy?”
Daniel’s breath catches and his heart races. His dick is hard in his pants and he has to hope Armand doesn’t notice. He doesn’t think he’s ever been so turned on in his life. “Sorry, sorry.”
Armand takes his right hand and brings it to his mouth. He pricks his thumb on a fang, then brings it to Daniel’s neck to brush over his bite marks. They heal almost instantly, too quick to really be able to feel anything. The touch sends tingles down Daniel’s spine.
Armand’s eyes flick over his face then back to his neck. He leans in and places a surprisingly gentle kiss to Daniel’s pulse point. “The next time I bite you, I’ll leave you wearing my marks.”
Daniel’s cock throbs. Armand smirks. “Would you like that, Daniel?”
“I-” before Daniel can say more, a finger comes to his lips and Armand shushes him.
“Skip the denials and tell me the truth.”
Fucking smug prick. Daniel hates him. “Yeah, alright? You happy?”
A thumb comes up to stroke over Daniel’s jugular vein. Daniel’s breath hitches. “I’m very pleased, Daniel.”
“Pleased enough to bite me again?” Daniel tries, because his dignity abandoned him along with his pride the moment Armand’s mouth touched him.
Armand laughs softly. “No, Daniel.”
Daniel tries not to feel disappointed. He fails, if the smug look in Armand’s eyes is any indication. He leans in near Daniel’s ear. “Not tonight, anyway.”
Daniel can hardly wait for tomorrow.
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Better Things Part 27 | Rivetra & Squad Levi AU Textfic
The truth is revealed
Petra struggles to hold back a sob as she hobbles through the quiet roads of Trost. She’s grateful for the blanket of darkness dotted with stars. It means less people to do a double take when they inevitably recognize her from the missing posters. Her legs and back ache from hours of an uncomfortable carriage ride.
Still, it is all worth it. She’s home. She’s free. She’s safe.
That isn’t a word that she ever imagined she would associate with a member of the Locke family again but fate has a unique sense of humour.
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“We should have gone to the MPs straight away. You need a doctor,” Carys Locke complains as she reluctantly stretches her long arms to ease Petra’s descent from the wagon. As soon as the redhead’s fingers clasp at her elbows, the brunette’slifts Petra’s waist with a strength that makes Petra stiffen in brief surprise as she’s lowered to the ground. “You could have seen your friends soon enough.” Carys adds. “I’m sure they would have come to you.”
“Probably,” Petra grunts as her joints ache from the movement. Her knees buckle briefly. She leans on Carys for a moment longer and the older female holds her wrists to steady her. “But I told you. I’m not ready for them to fire questions at me. I need to see my friends, my dad. I need them to see that I’m okay. I want to tell them about it first.” Something appears behind those beautiful amber eyes, something Carys couldn’t quite place. Something haunting them. It disappears once Petra refocuses her gaze on Carys’ eyes. “How you saved me.”
“I doubt anyone will believe I wasn’t part of it all. Especially considering I’ve hidden you from MPs at several checkpoints now.” Carys ran a hand over her face. “And being crammed into that secret compartment had to have done wonders for your injuries,” she observes as Petra grimaces in discomfort.
Petra simply shakes her head at her. “Don’t worry about me anymore. You did what I asked. When I do talk to the MPs, I’ll make sure they know it was my idea,” Petra promises, squeezing Carys’ wrists. “I promise. I won’t forget everything you did.”
“Or what my family did, I expect.” Carys adds sadly.
“No but that wasn’t you. You got me out of it. You and Frerio deserve to be free of them. I…” Petra bites her lip. “I never imagined that Nathan’s sister would be the one to save me,” she muses with a quirk of her lips.
“And I never thought my brother could be that vile. Life doesn’t play by expectations, I guess,” Carys agrees, voice tinged with bitterness, lowering her grip on Petra once she sees that she’s standing upright without difficulty. “I also didn’t think my family could be so fucked up.”
“That’s because you are so far from being fucked up,” Petra tells her, reaching for her arm to stroke it. ”You’re brave and kind and you listened to me. You could have forced me to go that hospital. I would have had a hard time fighting you.”
Carys folds her arms and leans against the wagon. “I think you’ve had enough of being forced, Petra..”
“You would have been doing it to help and that makes a change from everything your family did to me.” The scout insisted.
“All the more reason why I should escort you to Scout HQ. If some lowlife tries to take advantage, you’re not in a good shape to fight them off.”
“No I’m not but Trost doesn’t have a lot of those.” Petra assures her. “Anyway, I’m stronger than I look.” She gives Carys a brighter smile. At this point in Petra’s life, she can’t deny her own resilience. Somehow she’s still here. “As for the Scouts,” she continues, “they’ll assume the worst if I bring you along. But if I explain, I can convince them to hear you out. I can’t guarantee they’ll treat you all that kindly otherwise.”
It is Carys’ turn to smile slightly. “Maybe I’m also stronger than I look.”
“I don’t doubt it,” Petra grins. “But I’m still asking for us to do this my way.”
Carys huffs. “You know, I’m not in a great position to disrespect your wishes here, Ral. That’s sneaky. Very sneaky. But even so… let me find something to help.” She reaches into the back of the wagon and begins fumbling around.
Petra listens to the ruffling as she looks around them. The streets are so quiet now. The street lamps cast cozy glows on the roads. It’s late but there will be somebody on watch at HQ. Especially if the captain really is on guard, Petra worries. She tries to put that out of her mind for now. But now the thought is back, Petra can’t help but bring out her phone and stare at Levi’s menacing responses. Maybe she should be touched that he’s this committed to avenging her but the thought of his hatred being manifested near her gives her the shivers.
“Hey,” Carys holds something out that rattles slightly when she shakes it. Petra focuses on it immediately.
“A whistle?”
“Just in case,” Carys insists, dropping it into Petra’s raised palm. “And that is not up for debate.”
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Fighting back his emotions had never been more of a battle.
Hange’s warnings about the possibility that he really is being contacted by Petra are mainly locked away in the back of Levi’s mind as he paces around the courtyard. He doesn’t care what he looks like. The movement helps him to think and thinking helps him to keep the pain back. The pain that has obliterated his heart on too many occasions to count by now: his mother, Isabel, Farlan and Erwin. It swallows him up like a wave, stealing his ability to breathe. The art that is his wall has been perfectly crafted after losing his friends, or so he had thought.
She’d come along, with the others, all of them with their chisels, slowly working away at him, their efforts small but effective until suddenly Petra was slipping through the crack and holding onto him. That warm, bubbly heart that makes his beat just a little bit faster. She takes the cold chasm in his chest and fills it with warmth. It’s like a gift from Farlan and Isabel (not that Levi really believes in such things as an afterlife) in the way Petra respects his cleaning standards like Farlan did but shares Isabel’s positivity.
But as the universe has proven time and time again, that it is a cruel place, misfortune has followed Petra around and now she is either still in danger or she’s dead. The person messaging him cannot be her because life is simply not that kind to him.
Whether that person is really so stupid that they would come to HQ, he doesn’t know but the pacing helps to chase away some of the restless energy that has built up inside him. People can say what they wanted about him; how he made the wrong choice in Shiganshina, how he is going “out of his way” for “just” one subordinate’s disappearance, and how “Humanity’s Strongest” might be finally cracking up. It isn’t something he worries about. Being popular was more Erwin’s style than his and even then that was for the Scouts’ benefit.
The gates to HQ are manned by an officer in an attached miniature watch tower. Levi has sent him off on break for a couple of hours. The cold air of night is a balm against the captain’s boiling blood. His instincts are on edge. He’s sure that something is coming, that one way or another, the answer to the mystery is close.
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Petra’s legs, weary from the unexpected doses of exertion today, carry her in a swaying zig-zag motion. She must look drunk, she thinks but is past caring.
Her goal is almost achieved. The gates of Trost HQ come into view now as she rounds the corner. Seeing home standing before her, Petra lets out something between an exhale and a sob. Her feet stumble forward, as if they sense the presence of chairs and beds and showers and pillows.
Just one more dash, Petra used to tell herself with every race. Just one more and it’s over. So she powers on, pushing forward with all that she has.
Closer and closer she moves, almost but not quite sprinting now. Beyond the bars of the gates, she sees the courtyard. Someone is moving there, back and forth. Her heart begins to pound. Her legs are moving faster, sending her flying towards home. Come on, come on. Nearly there.
“Hello!?” she yells.
Her call is met with the harsh clanging of the gate as her body collides with it. She winces as her knees buckle and ribs throb from the impact. Her hands grip the bars to hold herself up. It takes a dozen seconds or so for the ringing in her ears to ease up.
When it does, she’s able to focus on the figure walking through the patches of lamplight before her. Her heart skips a few beats as her eyes recognizes them. Amber eyes meet slate-blue ones, framed by strands of dark hair falling considerably out of place. Small thin lips part upon seeing her. He’s breathing louder than usual. Not exceptionally so but Petra can tell. He sounds just as breathless as her.
“You survived,” he manages to say.
“Captain…” Petra whispers at the same time, tears finally beginning their slide down her cheeks.
It snaps him into action. There’s a blur of movement, the sudden scrape of iron bolts and the gate holding Petra up is yanked away from her. She tumbles forward into tan leather instead. Strong arms cradle her against Levi’s chest and Petra lifts her eyes to his again. Relief overrides the aches and pains of her fall. There is only Levi; the feel of him against her, the light scent of soap, the way his damp hair tickles her temple as he leans down to touch his forehead to hers.
“Petra,” he breathes, lifting her so she’s standing up but leaning against him. Her hands, which grabbed his sides, grasp at his jacket.
“I made it,” she murmurs, her knees shaking. His arm moves around her waist to secure her as she sags even more against him. The world around loses all noise. Only the racing thumps of her own heart fill Petra’s eardrums for atmosphere.
“Yeah,” Levi mutters as his lips crash into hers, stealing her remaining breath.
Something unlocks within Petra. Shock gives way to instinct. One of her hands slides up into his undercut. The other tightens its grip on his jacket. Her mouth moves against his, encouraging the kiss slowly. Levi’s other hand moves into her hair, pressing her further into the kiss. The feeling is far more than she could ever dare to dream off. Her body trembles as the weight of those wondering thoughts and what ifs abandons her, leaving nothing but ecstasy, lifting her above her pain for now. He wants her. He’s kissing her. Her fingers curl into his longer strands, knuckles brushing his undercut again.
When they stop to breathe, Petra barely gives herself time to inhale before the words spill out of her. “I love you, Captain. I love you. I love you. I love you.” She can’t stop herself and her mouth just goes onto repeat until Levi’s mouth meets hers again, drawing a sigh from her. This time his lips press harder on hers.
Petra loses track of how long they spend in that embrace, locked in kisses, noses rubbing gently and breathy pants, eyes fixed on each other. She’s never felt safer, more alive than she does right now. This high is amazing but she knows how easily it could break. Doubt begins to penetrate her mind. You showed your hand too soon, she chides herself.
“I love you too,” Levi’s answer comes so much quieter than her own but the intensity in his eyes chases away the doubt in an instant. “I fucking love you.”
Petra beams and her arms slide around him with a last surge of energy. He loved me after all, she muses. The thought brings a floating bliss with it and Petra basks in it as she holds onto the man she loves, who loves her back.
His hands rub her back slowly, prolonging the feeling. I’m here, he seems to be saying. I’ve got you now.
“Thank you,” she murmurs into his neck.
“What for?” he scoffs against her ear.
“Loving me.”
“Tch. Don’t be an idiot,” he grumbles.
Petra laughs weakly. She hears the creak of the gate being fastened behind her. Levi’s other arm holding her against him.
“Too late,” she murmurs, remembering the way she’d been acting prior to her kidnap. Her cheeks, already warm from the kissing, begin to heat up even more. “The way I behaved… acting like a scalded child, sulking like that. It was unprofessional and then going out drinking. I was so irresponsible. I’m so sorry, Captain.”
His hand on the gate returns to her. “Forget it.” He says quietly, fingers stroking her hair. “None of that matters now. You’re safe at long fucking last.”
She sinks her face into the shoulder of his jacket as her body slumps fully against him. “Yeah.”
“Did they hurt you?”
Just like that the mood alters. Petra would have expected it had they not both been sidetracked. She nods against him. “Yeah.”
She feels him tense and her grip on him tightens. “Can we not… out here? I’m so tired.”
She feels his tension ease but only a smidgeon. His arms shift at once. One hooks under her knees, lifting her into a bridal hold while his other supports her back. Her head rolls sideways to lean on him as she exhales, glad for the absence of her own weight on her legs.
“Let’s get you checked over. By the way, you’re filthy.”
Petra giggles a little. “I’m surprised it took you this long to comment.”
“In case you hadn’t noticed, I was otherwise occupied.”
“Otherwise occupied. That’s a great way to describe it.”
“Would you rather me complain about your lack of hygiene?”
“Hey! Sorry that my kidnapping did not include bathing privileges,” Petra grumbled. Anxiety crept up on her. “I don’t- I don’t smell that bad do I?”
Levi’s lips press against her forehead. “It’s bearable.”
“Are you lying?”
“Possibly.”
Petra hasn’t got the energy to scowl so she just closes her eyes, enjoying being in his arms and the brief tranquility that will last about as long as their journey to the infirmary. Her thoughts happily linger back to the kisses and the words she never dreamed Captain Levi would ever say to her in real life.
“Do you want to know why you’re an idiot?”
On second thoughts, Petra decided that she did have the energy to scowl and so she did. “Why would I want to know that?! Your manners are atrocious, sir.”
He chuckled briefly. “You’re an idiot…” he began and the humour left his voice, “because I should be the one thanking you.”
“Huh?”
“For loving me.”
“Oh. But that’s the easiest thing in the world…”
#my fics#fic: better things#attack on titan#attack on titan fanfiction#shingeki no kyojin#shingeki no kyojin fanfiction#levi ackerman#levi ackerman fanfiction#petra ral#petra ral fanfiction#levi ackerman x petra ral#levi ackerman x petra ral fanfiction#levi x petra#levi x petra fanfiction#rivetra#rivetra fanfiction#levi squad#text fic
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@harusoraa + San (Ateez) - MIX of Couple Readings
NOTE: This reading is an exception. I agreed to try to mix questions from different spreads but I'm not very convinced about it to be functional. Please, if you want couple reading, pick one spread at a time. The questions are concipated to work with certain logic, there is a reason why I have those spreads. Thank you very much for understanding.
Hello and welcome!
I’m Kleo and I’m here to present some k-pop related tarot readings to you.
Disclaimer:
I would like to state that all these readings have a purely entertainment nature and their purpose is to bring some fun into my and hopefully yours lives. I have never ever met any of the idols / actors / celebrities in my readings, I don’t know them personally. Tarot reading isn’t an exact science and I can never guarantee any of it. Most of it is my intuition mixed with fantasy. Don’t take these readings seriously and don’t base any important decisions on tarot readings only, use your common sense.
If you wish to request a tarot reading, please read the pinned post on my profile first to see the instructions on how to request. I only do readings for idols / actors / celebrities of 18 years of age or older. Requests for readings including younger people will be automatically dismissed. If you feel uncomfortable with these tarot readings, do not engage in reading my posts. Thank you for understanding.
Reading Info:
Rating: 18+
Reading Type: Single - Couple
Requested: Yes - No
Requester: @harusoraa
Deck: Poe
Spread: MIX
Questions:
Overall chemistry of the relationship?
What irritates them about you?
What would your fights look like?
What would your peace-making look like?
The Punishment (Making Out)
The Death (Sexual Chemistry)
Hunger of the Dragon (Their desire you would feed)
Lips like petals of a rose… (What makes him kiss you)
Love is a form of insanity… (What makes him fall in love with you)
Full Name: Choi San
Stage Name: San
Group: Ateez
Masterpost: Ateez
@harusoraa + San (Ateez)
Choi San
Deck: E. A. Poe
Spread: MIX
Overall chemistry of the relationship? [6] - X The Wheel of Fortune
In your relationship with San you have your ups and downs. There are moments when you get on each other's nerves and moments you adore each other with whole heart.
What irritates them about you? [3] - 5 of Wands
San might feel irritated when you pick up on fights. He’s a non-conflict person and he doesn’t like it when you nag and provoke him. He doesn’t like to fight but you like to stand your points fearlessly.
What would your fights look like? [12] - 2 of Swords
It’s likely for San to just distance from you and let you rage. He’s likely to stay quiet, keeping his thoughts to himself, while you on the other hand are likely to speak your mind and leave no doubts about what’s your point.
What would your peace-making look like? [13] - XVI The Tower
It might be difficult for you two to make peace. The arguments are likely to shake the very bases of your relationship and you have to start building trust among you from the scratch.
The Punishment (Making Out) [8] - XVII The Star
San is a gentle and emotional type of man, he likes to take his time when making out, feel it and indulge in kissing mostly. He’s not likely to make you feel hot and bothered, he knows when to stop to avoid discomfort.
The Death (Sexual Chemistry) [20] - VI The Lovers
On a physical level you two click well but you might lack a real emotional bond. Your approach towards intimacy differs so you might suffer from common misunderstandings.
Hunger of the Dragon (Their desire you would feed) [16] - 3 of Swords
San might feel lonely and your company helps him to cheer up. He might have been heart broken in the past and he’s lacking trust in people.
Lips like petals of a rose… (What makes him kiss you) [26] - 2 of Wands
Curiosity. San is likely to wonder what it would feel like to kiss you and he’s likely to try at one point. It’s sudden, quick, more like a peck on your lips. It’s not a proper kiss but it holds a promise of more coming in future.
Love is a form of insanity… (What makes him fall in love with you) [30] - XVIII The Moon
This is a mystery. The cards seem to be unsure here. Maybe he won’t truly fall in love with you. We have mentioned that the two of you lack a real emotional bond and San actually needs that to fall in love.
Thank you for reading!
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#ateez#san smut#choi san smut#ateez kpop#ateez smut#ateez imagines#kpop#kpop smut#kpop imagine#kpop tarot#ateez tarot#ateez choi san#ateez choi san scenarios#ateez choi san smut#ateez san#ateez san imagines#ateez san scenarios#ateez san smut#oracle kleo#choi san imagines#choi san scenarios#san scenarios#san imagines#kpop scenarios
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Whumptober Day 21: Famous last words
"Take me instead."
1850 Words
TW for kidnapping
AO3 ver
Dion comes into awareness slowly, his head heavy and his mind foggy.
His shoulders ache. His mouth is filled with a sour taste. He’s sitting in a metal chair, and there is a cloying scent surrounding him, sickly sweet and overpowering. His back aches.
What the hell? Where am I?
He tries to move his arms, only to find them pulled behind the back of the chair, cool metal cuffs holding his wrists together.
Well. That explains the ache in my shoulders. Dion thinks. The chair is digging uncomfortably into his back. He groans, and tries to squirm into a more comfortable position.
A hand grabs at something around his head—a bag—and pulls it off. Dion blinks, squinting into bright light. His eyes adjust slowly, allowing him to make out the details of the room he’s in.
There’s not much he can see—the light is focused largely on him and the chair he’s sitting in, the rest of the room bathed in shadow. Dion squints into the darkness for clues, for any indication of what the fuck is happening.
“Ah, good.” A man stands before Dion, at the very edge of the light. Dion stares blearily at him, at the glinting of metals and jewels decorating the man’s robes and hands. “You’re awake.”
Dion kind of wishes he wasn’t awake right now, actually. Can this all just be a weird dream? Can he wake up back in his tent at camp? Please?
The man either doesn’t see or doesn’t care about Dion’s discomfort, because he continues speaking. “When We heard that Maligula was alive, We could hardly believe it!” The man crows, his voice rich and grating. He looks at Dion, something reverent in his smile.
Dion tenses. Anything involving Mali—his Nona’s war crimes tends not to end well, in his experience. Anything involving the people who worship his Nona’s war crimes ends even worse.
But that doesn’t explain why Dion is here, cuffed on a chair and growing more and more uncomfortable.
“Ah, but Maligula is old news.” The man harkens, “A beacon of destruction and death, unfit for the Wave.” The man shakes his head as if in disappointment. “A witch like that has no place in a prosperous world.”
Indignant anger lances through Dion’s chest. Yeah, Maligula killed a lot of people, but that’s still his Nona. He’s not going to let some backwater cultist just insult her like that. He opens his mouth, sharp comment locked and loaded—
The man continues. “But Maligula was powerful,” He laments, cutting Dion off before he can even speak. “She had so much… potential.”
Dion’s not sure he likes all this talk about Maligula. Lucrecia is more than her past—don’t these people get that?
Glancing at the two people behind the man, eyes hidden under veils and simple smiles on their faces, Dion realizes that no, these people probably don’t understand that.
The man is still speaking, waxing poetic about the true potential of a powerful hydrokinetic. Or something. Dion’s lost track staring at the embroidery on the man’s robes, at the swirling wave motif covering the fabric.
Dion’s brought back to reality when the man gently hooks a finger under his chin, urging him to look the man in the eyes. The touch is uncomfortably intimate, Dion’s chest twisting as he wrenches his head away.
“To hear that Maligula has resurfaced is a great omen.” The man’s voice is grave. “But to hear that she has descendants…”
Dion does not like the look in the man’s eyes; does not like what it says about why Dion is here.
“When We heard that Maligula’s great-nephew had surfaced as a powerful psychic, We could hardly believe it!” The man holds his hands out to his sides, his eyes focused on Dion.
But… Dion’s not psychic. Raz is, Frazie is, and Queepie is, but Dion’s not psychic, let alone a powerful one.
He’s just Dion.
“And yet, here you are!” The man gestures to Dion, excitement thick in his voice.
Oh.
Oh.
Incredulous anger replaces any remaining confusion.
Ohhh, Pooter is so going to get it when he sees him again. Dion is going to throttle the little shit. The guy keeps talking, blathering on about “restoration of the glorious Wave” and “washing away all who stand in Our Way” and Dion doesn’t care. He’s ready to go home, now, to get away from these nutjobs and get back to complaining about acrobatics practice and chores.
The man keeps talking. Dion scuffs his shoes against the floor, tries to get enough leverage in his shoulders to try and bring his cuffed wrists in front of him.
The man keeps talking, his voice carrying the cadence of a trained public speaker. The words float in one ear and out the other. Dion busies himself by counting the rings on the man’s hands. Who the hell needs so much metal on their fingers?
“And truly,” the man’s voice has a patronizing cadence that’s grinding on Dion’s last nerve, “Who better to reestablish the glory of the Wave than the hydrokinetic great-nephew of Maligula herself?”
“Yeah, well, you’ve got the wrong guy.” Dion spits.
The man in front of him chuckles darkly, putting a jeweled hand on Dion’s shoulder. “I wonder,” he muses, as Dion glares at the offending hand with enough vitriol to flay it, “Are you playing dumb for your own pride, or do you just not know?”
Dion double-takes. “What.”
The man tsks, removing his hand from Dion’s shoulder. “Perhaps the Young Master feels some sense of shame, being compared to Maligula?” He steps away, turning to the duo behind him. “Perhaps the Young Master has spent years being compared to a war criminal.” He muses. “For surely, what other comparison might someone make between family members?” He turns back to Dion, his words like a cheese grater against Dion’s brain. “Worry not, Young Master. Though your powers are inherited from the Great Water Witch, the greatness you shall achieve will be nothing like hers.”
“What.” Dion has to take a moment to process the man’s words.
“Your powers will be embraced here.” The man assures, as Dion makes a face. “You will not feel as though you need to hide them.”
“Yeah, yeah, that sounds great and all,” Dion manages, despite the way his head is spinning from the sheer stupid dripping off of the man’s words, “But I’m not psychic. You’ve got the wrong guy.”
The man frowns. “Your trauma runs deep.” He observes.
Yeah, no, Dion is done. He has no idea what’s going on. Maybe he’d understand why the man is so deluded if he could read the man’s mind, but newsflash! He’s not psychic!
“We know what you are, Young Master.” The man’s voice is gentle, as though he’s giving Dion a troubling revelation. “We tracked down Lucrecia Mux and her family. We found the Aquatos.” He stares Dion down. “We found you.”
Dion opens his mouth, another scathing claim of mistaken identity ready to burn out past his lips. These idiots and their single-minded fixation with their delusions is starting to wear on his last nerve. What will it take to make them realize—
Realization hits him like a hammer directly to the chest.
They know about Mali—about Nona. They don’t know all of it, but they know. They know her name and they know the Aquatos are related to her.
Even if Dion could convince them that he isn’t who they’re after, they aren’t going to just give up. Really, the only thing that might be stopping them from hounding Nona now is their own deluded belief that they can indoctrinate her descendants.
Dion pales. If they’d gotten it right—
The old man smirks at Dion’s expression. “I take it you understand how futile your denial is?” His voice is condescendingly gentle. Dion fights the reflex to snap out a snide remark.
Whatever the man sees in Dion’s expression must be encouraging, because he continues, voice taking on an eagerness that makes Dion’s spine wiggle. “Worry not, Young Master. You will come into your full potential here.”
The man continues to talk, vague prose and flowery language taking the place of an actual explanation. Dion stares at the floor in quiet horror.
If they’d gotten it right, it’d be Raz in his place. His little brother, who’s almost eleven and probably better equipped to deal with this shit than Dion is—but he’s gone through enough bullshit over their family history. He’s gone through enough bullshit, period.
Or, Dion realizes, heart stuttering, if they’d gotten which nephews were psychic right but still got which one was hydrokinetic wrong—
Queepie is four. Queepie is four and even though he’s leagues smarter than Dion was at that age he’s still a child.
Oh god.
Both of Dion’s brothers would probably be better equipped to handle this, Dion thinks. Queepie’s clever and skeptical of people he doesn’t know or trust, and Raz has a… decent enough head on his shoulders and experience dealing with tough situations. Dion’s the eldest, which gives him experience and authority over them—
But he’s not equipped for this. He’s not equipped for being kidnapped by a bunch of wackos convinced he’s psychic. He’s not clever or powerful or good at getting out of trouble. He’s not psychic.
He’s just Dion.
The two people behind the man are introduced as the Teachers. They come over and uncuff Dion’s wrists, each of them grabbing one of his arms and lifting him from the chair.
Dion stumbles once before getting his feet under him. He tries to wrench his arms free, but the Teachers’ grips are resolute.
“Struggle not, Young Master.” The man cautions. “We are only bringing you to your room.”
“Yeah, like that’s not ominous.” Dion mutters. His comment goes ignored.
He’s not psychic. He’s not what these people think he is.
But he’s here, instead of Raz or Queepie, and the part of Dion that has spent more than ten years fussing over all of his little siblings views that as a victory. He’s the eldest, it’s his job to look after and protect his siblings.
He’s not psychic. But these people think he is.
They stop at a metal door with a keypad. The man punches in a code, and the door opens.
The Teachers herd Dion into the room. Or maybe cell is a better word for it—bare stone walls, a cot in the corner, a small table with two chairs, a sink with no mirror.
Dion turns back towards the door as the Teachers leave, walking side-by-side down the hall and out of sight.
The man inclines his head. “My apologies for the lackluster furnishings.” He stands in the doorway. “But it is all a part of the process.”
What process?!
The door closes. Dion stands alone in his cell.
He’s the eldest. It’s his job to protect and look after his siblings. And if that means taking the fall for them—
Dion’s not psychic. They think he is—but he’s not.
He’s not going to try and convince them otherwise again.
#whumptober2022#no.21#take me instead#psychonauts#zaz writes#kidnapping#cults#dion aquato#ludo doesn't have a proper tag yet#oop!!! i took the post and turned it into a full scene!!#feeling very cool and powerful rn bc i had so much fun writing this 💅💅💅#dion's reactions to everything were very fun
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An Unfinished Sanders Sides Prequel (Part 3) [because it only allows 1000 blocks of text on Tumblr for some reason]
Warning for: Remus's uncomfortable speech, homophobia, some dark themes I can barely remember right now, basically imprisonment of what's technically children but also are just figments of a child's imagination by another figment of that child's imagination, arguing, plans for discomforting revenge, the effects of that imaginary-imprisonment... not sure if that's all, it probably isn't. Religious/Catholic trauma, repression.
Bad Fun pouts at the doors
Wonders
Why the solid ones aren’t all next to each other
I want to be room neighbors!
But no Doors
Are neighbors
Paranoia stares at the one door
With a motif at the top
In a silvery scroll
A small
Thundering cloud
I think this one is mine
Huh?
Paranoia glances to Bad Fun
The Room. I think it’s mine
Why’s that, Annie?
...I don’t know. It… feels right
Bad Fun looks back to the door in front of him
A shield
Emblazoned with a sword
And many
Many
Tentacles
Like
A Kraken
No, I get what you mean
Denial runs a finger along the symbol on his Door
It’s a two headed snake
Silver
Just like the others
He hums in agreement
Should we… see what’s in them?
For a long moment
No one answers
Probably
Bad Fun is the first to push on his Door
Still none of them have handles
Oh…
Denial
Breathes
Pushes
Oh
It’s
Just
A room
He stares around it
It’s
Normal
And
He breathes
Slightly
Less dark
Than the Hallway
Holy shit…
He steps inside
It’s small
But
He can breathe
Easier
He doesn’t know why
There’s a bed in the corner
Large
A lot of blankets
Big
Big
Pillows
A heater
A doorway with no door
To a bathroom
A small desk
A window
A Window
He stares into the Window
It’s muted
But
He watches as Thomas trips over his own shoes
And spills his ice cream on his pants
It’s a Screen
In his Room
He hums
To himself
Unsure
Dee, this is so cool, come look!
He steps back
Again
Aga—
Wait
Wait
Wait
Wait
Wait
Wait
No
No
No
No
No
No
He steps back into the doorway
Out
In
Out
In
Out
The whispers stop when he’s in the Hallway
He
Can’t
Breathe
Of course
Of course his Room would be the one with the Whispers
Of course
Of course
Of course
He heaves in
A shuddering breath
And walks to Bad Fun’s Room
This is so cool!
The Room is
Not like his own
It’s huge
Very
Open
Bad Fun is in the middle
There’s
A pit?
Two doors on the far side of the room
One open
To
A
Dungeon?
An empty
Darker
Room
The other door
Has
A handle
Look, I can create animals in here!
A bird screams as it escapes from Bad Fun’s hands
He cackles, snatching it out of the air
Crunch
The bird stops screaming
And! And, guess what? I can make people too! Well, fake people, kind of like the Shadow snakes! Shadow People! Shades! I like that last one, let’s use that!
He watches as Bad Fun shakes his hands
A sort of
Pattern
He could never hope to learn
And
Shimmering
A shade
It solidifies
Sort of
Gains some color
Bad Fun bites down on their throat
It bleeds
For about
Twenty seconds
Before the body dissolves
Into darkness
That was like fifteen second longer than the last one! Oh fuck, what if I can make bodies last longer? Oh fuck, I need to practice! This is gonna be so good!
He finds himself
Smiling
Despite
His lungs
Protesting
When he
Steps into the Room
He can see
The edges of his vision
Shiver
It’s…
Like the Whispers
But
Different
Not lies but
… thoughts
Like the things Bad Fun says
Albeit
Quieter
Barely there
Paranoia shuffles into view
Uh…
An! An, my Room makes me stronger! What does yours do, An?
… it makes me more paranoid…
He
Breathes
Ah, damn! That means you can be super strong too! Dee, oh my gosh, we need to go to yours too!
He hisses
Involuntarily
Bad Fun freezes
On his toes
Dee?
He clentches his teeth
Shakes his head
I-t li-ies. Th-e Whi-isp-ers
Oh shit, that’s fucked
Well, we don’t have to sleep in the Rooms anyways! There’s always the bed in the Main Room! And, if you need me to, I can come and sleep with you too! To talk over the Whispers! You too, An, we can all sleep somewhere nice together!
Paranoia smirks
He
Smiles
Small
Broken
Yeah
He’d like that
Most nights
They all sleep in the big bed
In the Main Room
It’s strange
Being in the Main Room and not
Hearing the Whispers
But
They find out
Quickly
If they don’t enter their Rooms
Often enough
It hurts
Physically
It’s
So
Painful
A hard truth to take in
When Denial is literally clawing at his skin
Six arms
Claws
Fangs
Scales
Screaming
Blood
Everywhere
And it doesn’t stop
Until he
Literally
Cannot move
And he doesn’t get better
Not until
Bad Fun
Panics
Brings him to his Room
He sleeps for three days
When he wakes up
There are scars
But it only aches now
In the cold
They make a schedule
They sleep
In the Main Room
MOST days
But every few days
They slept in their own Rooms
Sometimes
Bad Fun would skip his Room
And come to Denial’s
Or Paranoia’s
And sleep with them
Comforting
A warm body
In the freezing cold
Of the Cage
The Main Room can’t be warmed up
Bad Fun had screamed and fought and battled with the Mind enough to know that
But
The Rooms are different
A year after they had first slept in their Rooms
Bad Fun comes careening into Denial’s Room
Caterwhalling
DEE! I made it warmer! In my room, I made it warmer!
He’s on his feet before he can think, hardly able to breathe
Pleading
Internally
And the second
The second
He enters Bad Fun’s Room
He melts
It’s not quite warm
But
It’s not cold
He doesn’t realize he’s fallen to the ground
Until Bad Fun is laying beside him
Curled around him
Humming
Grinning
The floor
Normally a velvet rug
Is hot
Hot
Hot
Hot
Stone
He melts into it
Ah, fuck, it’s so hot
He laughs, something soft and gleeful
Bubbly
Happy
Bad Fun chucks off his clothes
He’s sweating
Clothes suck anyways
He can tell
That the heat
Must be practically
Unbearable
To Bad Fun
To Paranoia, if he were there
But to him
He can
Feel
His
Limbs
All six
They had splayed out
For the first time
Not in panic
But in
Calm
Relaxation
Heat
He’s practically purring
The clothes feel cold
Itchy
Gross
He shuffles
Until Bad Fun waves his hand
And he’s in something
Much thinner
Softer
Warmer
He nearly moans at the feeling of the hot stone under his shoulder blades
It
Is
So
Good
He spends a lot of time in Bad Fun’s Room
Mostly basking in the heat of the burning hot stones
Paranoia can’t even step into the Room
It’s so hot
Bad Fun can feel the heat
But in a muted sort of way
Denial isn’t sure if it’s because
He had been down there the longest
Or maybe
The creatures
That their bodies
Had taken from
He chooses to believe it’s because of his snake-like part
Reptilian
Although
The purring isn’t very snake
Nor the six arms
He shrugs it off
Basks
In the heat
There’s a handle
On the Exit
.
He doesn’t know how to feel about that
He is the first one awake
Although
Normally he would sleep in Bad Fun’s Room
That night had been
A Main Room night
He stares
At the handle
Doesn’t move
Paranoia hums
Beside him
Sleeping
He runs a hand
Through his hair
It burns his skin
So
Bad
He ignores it
He doesn’t know what to do about the handle
It
Makes his head
Hurt
NO-O!
He can’t breathe
Paranoia stares at him
Hand still outstretched
He’s
Nearly
Crying
Bad Fun stares at them
From the bed
Tensed
Frozen
Huh?
Is all Paranoia can say
In response
He gulps
Tries to breathe
Around the knot in his throat
The panic
The fear
The anger
The terror
Yo-ou ca-an’t
Paranoia stares at him
Eyebrows furrowed
His hand
Lowers
Okay
But he doesn’t look him in the eye
For a day
He doesn’t know how to feel about that
I was thinking about making an actual TV. You know, to play movies and stuff? Twenty years of television to catch up on!
He hums
Me-emories, mo-ore like-ely
Well, duh, every movie we see is just a memory. Thomas has a pretty good attention span, though, so there should be at least a few with some reasonable commentary
Oh, I know that the Lion King has tons of shit in it, don’t put that on
Paranoia doesn’t say it
But Denial knows
Thomas hadn’t watched
The Lion King
Until
After
He and Bad Fun
Were in the Cage
The one
Who was the commentary
On the memory
Would likely
Not
Be
Good
Bad Fun doesn't even hesitate
Nah, I was thinking more like… Nightmare on Elm Street!
Thomas hates horror, do you honestly think he would have even been looking at any of the good scenes?
Nah, but we’ll hear all his stupid squeals of terror! And the stupid people all die!
Paranoia laughs
Yeah, all right, you do that. We can make it a movie night or something when you’re all set up
And
A few hours later
Bad Fun is cackling
And Creating a couch
Two soft chairs
And a table
In front of the Created TV
The Screen is off to the side
Muffled
They watch Nightmare on Elm Street
And
Every week after that
They have a movie night
Just the three of them
Curled together
Body heat
Warmth
Fifty blankets
Muttering stupid things
Shit talking each other
And falling asleep on top of each other
Well
Mostly it was Denial who fell asleep
He would deny it every time he’s asked
He
Likes
This
Thomas is
Almost twenty one
When a kitchen manifests
An offshoot of the Main Room
On the left side
There’s a chair now
In the corner of the room
Where you can see every exit
Without having
To move
Sometimes
Paranoia sits in it
After a bad panic attack
Or a particularly nasty nightmare
But other times
It’s Denial
Who sits in the chair
Curled up
Knees to his chest
Tears in his eyes
The heaviest blanket over his shoulders
In the middle of the night
Unable to sleep
As he watches the Exit
Terrified
He was the only one awake when the Kitchen melts into existence
The wall
Gone
The big bed
Shifted
Off to the side
To make room
He doesn’t move
Until the Screen lights up with a buzz
As Thomas wakes
And soon
Bad Fun and Paranoia come shuffling through the Hallway entrance
Exhausted
But
Rested
Bad Fun is the one to excitedly rush into the Kitchen
There’s a freezer! I can put my spare organs in here!
Oh, gross, don’t put your organs in the food freezer
Excuse you, I happen to enjoy eating the organs I Create! I skin the bodies and everything, I’ll have you know! I have every right to stock my own freezer with organs!
Yeah, yeah, whatever, this fridge is like… woah, it just changed… hold up, why the hell is there horse radish? Who the fuck likes horse radish?
OOH! YES, I’VE BEEN LOOKING FOR THAT!
… that isn’t horse radish, is it?
Why the fuck would I put horse radish in my bodily fluids jars?
Ew
He rubs at his eyes
Still
Doesn’t move
Dee, there’s an oven! I can make omelets!
He jumps up
No-o, do-on’t, y-ou’ll burn e-ever-ything!
The Kitchen
Is
Nice
Cold
But nice
He doesn’t let Bad Fun cook
Because
He has exploded
Five things
In the past
Two days
With no prompting
In the afternoon
He makes
Dinner
He doesn’t remember learning how to cook
But
He knows he’s good at it
Or
At least
He believes so
And so
The Mind
Makes the food
Good
And at dinner
He makes a meal
And in the morning
He makes breakfast
They take turns washing the dishes
And
It
Is
Nice
It’s
Early
So early
He can’t sleep
Bad Fun is
Having a great time
Keeping Thomas awake
He
Had slept in the Main Room
Mostly
To get away
From the shades
That weren’t shades
Nameless
Wandering
Through the newly solidified Doors
Bad Fun had tried to open them
Over and over
Until
One had opened on its own
And the Half-Form
Had stepped out
The words it said
Weren’t really words
But
They left them feeling
Empty
Cold
The Half-Forms don’t leave the Hallway
So he avoids it
Hey Dee, Thomas is making a YouTube channel
He groans
Curls the blankets tighter
Seriously? Isn’t he still working at, uhh… Gainesville? Isn’t acting enough?
Nah, I think Stupid wanted to do more
That’s… stupid. I really doubt Thomas can keep up with more than just, you know, acting AND school
I know! But I was thinking, this makes it easier! He’ll be more stressed, and we all are more strong when he’s stressed!
Wrong
That’s
Not completely true
But not
Necessarily
A lie
True. Eh, whatever. He’ll probably stop pretty quickly anyways, might as well work while we have the chance
YES! Oh, do you think I can make him get naked on camera?
Pfft, probably not, the losers would never let him
BET!
Three days, no shades, no shadow snakes, no cursing
DEAL! Hah, I’ll have him naked on the internet in less than a week!
He snorts
Not likely
(And, a week later, Bad Fun is pouting because he isn’t allowed to eat any shadows for three days)
It’s late this time
When
Bad Fun
Starts to scream
But
Paranoia is still awake
Just
Humming
To a song
Denial rushes over
OH FUCK, DEE!
He hisses, worried, and grips Bad Fun by the arm
Six arms of his own
He ignores that
For now
What’s wro-ong?
HOLY SHIT, AN, YOU DIDN’T LIE, THAT HURT LIKE FUCK
Paranoia hovers
Unsure
Huh?
HOLY FUCK, OH, THAT WAS A NASTY FEELING
Paranoia
Frowns
It
Clicks
You’re purp-ose?
Bad Fun grins
Out of breathe
Eyes still watery
Hardly able to breathe
Yeah! I got a Purpose! Dee, I got a Purpose!
He
Breathes
Grins
Happy for him
Wow, that was… way worse than my reaction
It hurt like being fucked in my nipples with a rusty sword!
Gross. Well? What is it?
Bad Fun
Grins
Mad
Cackling
Intrusive Thoughts!
He
Smiles
Happy
Intrusive Thougths
It
Doesn’t completely
Fit
Well, it was a bit weird, but that was basically it! I’m also, sort of, Dark Creativity, but, yeugh, I mean, that doesn’t really fit, and, well, I don’t really like it that much, uh—
He’s
Rambling
Upset
It’sss okay
Intrusive Thoughts
Hesitates
Fun’s name changed too. He’s… he’s Creativity now…
Ah
He
Understands now
He leans in
Embraces
Holds tight
It will be oka-ay
Intrusive Thoughts hold him tight
Paranoia holds them both
Tighter
It
Will be
Okay
Thomas is
About
Twenty one
When Denial
Is no longer
Denial
He
Hates
It
So
Much
It burns
Horrible
Tearing
Ripping
Screaming
Painful
A reminder
A shadow
A phantom
Real
Phsyical
Horrible
Of when he was Split
Torn away from Heart
Morality, as he is called now
He doubts their Purpose changing had been painful at all
He can barely move
Hiss
Talk
Cry
Scream
Until
Until he’s
Shivering
Gagging
Choking
It
It was
So much worse
Than Paranoia’s
Than Intrusive Thought’s
It was like
He assumed
Like dying
Or
Worse
He can feel it
Days afterwards
When he’s stumbling
Around the Cage
Barely able to understand what the others are saying
Because his head is filled with
Buzzing
Loud
Furious
Angry
Rattling his skull
Shaking
He can barely stand straight
It’s four days after it started
That he can finally hear himself think
Six before he can start to try and hiss
Two weeks before his words begin to work again
He can walk
It’s staggered
Intrusive Thoughts creates a cane
Curled at the top
Black
Shining
But
Soft
Warm
But
But
But
But
But
But
But
Wrong
Wrong
Wrong
Wrong
Wrong
Wrong
Wrong
He
Listens to himself
Try to say
He still
Hurts
It
Doesn’t
Work
I’m fi-ine he says
He hisses
Furious
And tries again
I-I a-am fi-ine
He screams
It
Doesn’t
Come out
Right
All
Lies
Wrong
Wrong
Wrong
Wrong
Wrong
Intrusive Thoughts knows
Understands
It is wrong
… try saying what you want to say, but just… add a negative?
He hisses, furiously, for far too long
He tries
Again.
Am. Not. Fine
He nearly sobs
Relief
It had taken
So
Much
Energy
To not say the wrong thing
Even that
Simple
One word
Lie
Had left him
Hardly able to talk
He
Hates
It
His Pupose
Is
Deceit
Stop itching it
He freezes
Pulls his hand away
The claws are
Tipped in red
Not sssorry
Intrusive Thoughts stares at him
Too long
I think your skin is peeling
He pauses
Hisses unintentionally
Touches his face again
The warmth is partially blood
But
He tugs
Scratches
Skin
Digs
Oh, wow, it’s like an actual snake! Aw, shit, don’t snakes need, like, heat and water to shed?
He hums
Runs his hand
Up
Down
Up
Down
The scales are
Leathery
Cold
Hard
Uncomfortable
Itchy
Bad
Bad
Bad
Bad
Bad
Bad
Bad
Wrong
Wrong
Wrong
Wrong
Wrong
Wrong
Hold up, I can make a bath! OH! And put some lava stones in it! Can the water be blood? I’m pretty sure I can only make blood, not water
He hisses
Stops himself
From scratching
Let’s Intrusive Thoughts
Run
An hour later
Intrusive Thoughts
Is scrubbing dead skin
Off him
In a tub
Boiling
Hot
Bloody water
Halfway through
He can barely see
Out of his left eye
Intrusive Thougths
Carefully
Gently
Slowly
Rubs
Until
The cap comes off
He had seen
A glimpse
In the night
Tired
Aching
Hungry
He had tiptoed to the Kitchen
To grab a snack
Only
At the entrance to the Main Room
He had stopped
The Exit
Is
Open
Just a smidge
A tiny sliver
He
Stares
Too long
It creaks
He shoves himself back
Hiding
His heart screams
When he
Looks back
Paranoia
Wrong
Wrong
Wrong
Wrong
Wrong
Wrong
Wrong
He’s
Smiling
He
Feels tears
Down his
Cheek
He shoves a hand over his mouth
Sprints
Quiet as he can
Back
To
His
Room
Nobody can hear him crying over the Whispers in his Room
He doesn’t mention it
He doesn’t know how
Or
Why
Maybe
Maybe Paranoia had just
Glanced
Looked into the White
Out of the Cage
Just to see
Maybe
He hadn’t met any of the
Bad
Bad
Bad
Bad
Bad
Ones
No
Clearly not
If he had
He wouldn’t have been
Smiling
No
No
No
No
No
Obviously not
He shrugs it off
Ignores it
Doesn’t mention it
Smiles to Paranoia
As he makes breakfast
And doesn’t
Mention
It
That night
He tiptoes
To the Main Room
The Exit
Is
Open
#sanders sides#sanders sides prequel#prequel sanders sides au#roman sanders#logan sanders#thomas sanders#patton sanders#janus sanders#remus sanders#virgil sanders
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Reassessing transition: Do I want to go on Testosterone?
I’ve been thinking on this a lot and feel kind of strange about it because while I do have dysphoria, I don’t have an overwhelming sense of dread for my appearance. However, I am a nonbinary boy who wishes to look androgynous in a way akin to androgynous men (think vampires and elves, or for more human examples, androgynous male models or celebs and emo boys). I often feel limited in how I’m able to look because I can’t be androgynous in the way I wish for being a petite AFAB person and it holds me back a lot on feeling comfortable embracing my masculinity because I feel like no matter what I do, I look to some extent like a girl.
Section 1: Dysphoria as a feeling
I would describe my dysphoria as more being saddened at times by the way I look being overly feminine to a female appearing degree when I want to be androgynous masc leaning in appearance. I get upset when I’m dressed very typically masculine and still don’t look how I want, knowing it’s because I’m limited in how to achieve that because of my petite body and young feminine appearance. I get jealous of people who can be both masculine and feminine and not look like women, and as much as I tell myself “clothes don’t have a gender” or “androgyny shouldn’t be based on AGAB,” I still can’t shake the dissatisfaction of how I look compared to others. Sometimes it can mean almost crying staring at myself or being in a space where I’m aware of others perceiving me and look around being surrounded by androgynous male leaning appearing people who I wish I looked more like. Other times I get dressed fem anyways and then feel really uncomfortable about my body being so apparent and feminine and don’t want that attention on me, feeling like I look even smaller than I already am and that my curves are overly visible in a way that’s too female appearing that it’s not androgynous anymore, so I change into something else or just bare with the minor annoyance of dysphoria because I don’t want to sacrifice style for comfort when I probably don’t pass no matter what anyways. It’s upsetting if I think too hard on it but I’m sort of numb to how prevalent this feeling is because I’ve always had it and dealt with it by just looking cool enough that it didn’t matter that much as the alternative of hyper-fixating on how I should look sometimes makes it worse. That was how I coped with it growing up with a poor view of myself that I could never look right as a girl or as a boy. Because of this, when I acknowledge how I actually want to look or the parts of my body that bother me, although it’s obviously dysphoria, it doesn’t make me feel much of anything, just minor annoyance, discomfort, sadness, and a feeling of wishing I could look the way I always wished to be.
Section 2: My dysphoria
So I’ve explained how my dysphoria feels and vaguely what it is, but how about specifics? What feels wrong? Well, for starters, I have always loathed my tiny skinny arms hands and shoulders, wishing desperately that they could be bigger, partially because it’s an inconvenience stylistically (for example, I have really skinny fingers and wrists that make jewelry shopping difficult), but also because I just don’t want to be so small and feel dysphoric seeing my tiny arms. My height is another thing that I absolutely hated growing up, being triggered by how behind I was from everyone else and how overall young I look being petite and only 5’ tall, also worrying this is a big deterrent from me ever appearing masculine (so much so I repressed that I felt trans for most my life even though I’d have thoughts along the lines of being trans through most of it). I worked on this a bit in Highschool when I realized it would never change, and that even if I were a girl I’d still be bothered by this because it’s annoying for anyone, but it’s still difficult at times. Another thing is my feet. I hate how my feet look and how skinny and small they are, same with my toes. I try to keep socks on and not wear sandals to help this, and when I was young I always got uncomfortable comments about how tiny my feet were and would purposefully sit in a way that would hide them even though it was uncomfortable. It’s also annoying because my tiny feet and ankles and calfs make it hard to buy cool shoes. And I have huge thighs that sometimes bother me, and then below the knee is skinny when I wish at least that my legs were pencil shaped. My small waist is something I feel mixed emotions about. On one hand it’s kind of cool to have a unique feature on my body, and it can be hidden underneath shirts anyways, but then it also makes me really uncomfortable having it exposed. I feel similar about my hips. It’s cool my hips even out my body features a little but I don’t want them super visible, though I’m grateful to have them at the small size I do because they’re not so noticeable but they also make my big thighs appear slightly slimmer. My torso in general is really thin when I want it to be more square shaped. My voice sometimes bothers me too, more than I think even realize. Like, I don’t like hearing my voice back in recordings, and I don’t like repeating sentences because it makes me aware of how I sound. I feel annoyed that hard of hearing people can’t hear feminine voices as well as masculine ones because I hate shouting and hearing the sound of my voice so loudly, and I also internally think of my voice as androgynous so it’s frustrating realizing it’s not. I also hate when I subconsciously raise the pitch of my voice to seem more approachable to other people because it’s not how I want to sound. I also have mixed feelings about my face because I like the shape of it and my bone structure and big nose, but I wish it didn’t have such feminine fat and stretch to the skin, and I wish my jaw were more prominent and in general that my features were less round and more angular. And then there’s an area of my body I try to not ever think about that I hate, I have bottom dysphoria. I hate the function of that area, and how it genders me as belonging to women’s space. It always felt icky to me and I feel major dysphoria if being asked by a doctor about my fertility/sex life or about my period. I have an irregular period but when I get cramps and bloated and bleed, I feel so miserable and too embarrassed to tell anyone, and I hate thinking about how people in the house probably can see someone is on their cycle and know it’s me. My chest normally doesn’t bother me that much because I’m small but I wish I could have a flat chest and sometimes feel like my chest is just another obvious indicator of my assigned sex at birth that I don’t want to be referred by or seen as.
Section 3: Transition goals
Transition is complicated because I want to look like an androgynous boy, but not male. I want the effects of a deep voice, but still in the androgynous range. I want to get taller, which I doubt would happen but I’d be really happy if it did. I would be a lot happier with my skinny small body if it were more angular and masculine, with a wider torso and broader shoulders. I want my feet and hands to get bigger. I want my face to mature in a more masculine way. I want an atoms apple. I want bottom growth. I want my periods to stop, and to be infertile. I want fat redistribution to move fat away from my thighs, chest, and butt and distribute it in a more muscular male appearance. I want the curvature of a masculine frame that’s more stoic and angular, and to not be so overwhelmingly circle, pear, and curve shaped like women are. I want to wear makeup and pretty clothes and feel like I look like a pretty boy in it, not having to feel dysphoric for a way of expressing my style that I enjoy. I want to be non-normative in my appearance, feminine and glam or soft and masculine, but underneath all the styling have a boy base for my body that I much rather have than the feminine base that makes me uncomfortable in feminine clothing because I want to look like I boy in it.
Section 4: Doubts
I’ve explored what I want and how I feel dysphoric, even linking back to feelings that have been with me since childhood, and I understand how I feel limited in these goals without transitioning, but there’s still some things I haven’t quite figured out if I’d be okay with about transition. Since I want to be androgynous and T is geared towards masculinizing people to a male appearance, I worry some of the effects may not come across as androgynous as I hope for. I am very small and petite, and my features reflect that through the delicateness of my skin and bones and lack of muscle, and my hope is that T would masculinize this in an androgynous way that I’d be really happy with, where I look between male and female, masculine yet androgynous. I’ve felt this way since before I even fully came out to myself as trans or even was questioning my gender fully, and often envied how T effected people who were petite like me pre T. So I’m not nervous about the body and face changes, in fact I feel like those are what I want most out of T and am confident I’ve been really bothered by these things without it my whole life, wishing to be more androgynous. And I know I want the bottom growth because that was the first obvious dysphoria I had since I was a kid, and however strange it might be I feel like it will feel more right, as I always wished I had something different than I’ve been given. Any amount of doubt I sometimes have about this is more societally based, like concerns over if pants will be harder to find or if people will find my body strange or if I’ll still feel uncomfortable with my naked body. I also worry about if the hair increases will look strange on me, or if I’ll feel weird growing facial hair because “fems aren’t supposed to have hair.” I feel like on my own, I don’t think it’s weird to be hairy and have facial hair, even with me being small and androgynous, but the idea of other people seeing it makes me nervous. The voice change makes me nervous too because I don’t want my voice to get too deep and I love singing and don’t want to lose the ability to sing. I also feel like I’m supposed to want everything and feel terrible in my body because that’s what I see so many people say but I don’t want every effect and feel invalid for that. I feel like I’m supposed to know 100% that I’ll love every change of transition, and I don’t think I can know that to be honest. Though my body gives me dysphoria, the idea of changing it however fascinating it may be also is scary to me, and it’s a big decision that I’d like to feel more strong feelings about before deciding on it, as well as more good about the secondary sex characteristic changes I’ll get. I think it’s okay to not want so much of the hair changes, I can just be a guy who shaves, and I don’t mind so much being hairy on my body even if I would prefer not to be, it doesn’t feel like I’d feel wrong about having that change, it’s mostly just I don’t know how I’d feel with the facial hair, and I don’t want to feel ugly or not like myself. I think there’s just a lot of work I need to do to understand myself better, because I know I’ve felt immense jealousy over guys deep voices, flat chests, facial hair, and hell, even body hair sometimes, yet these are all the aspects of transition I’m least sure about.
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Untitled Shit from 28 Feb, ‘23; 1:12pm
Why is it so hard for us to show up with compassion and grace for ourselves?
Is the difficulty we feel in showing up as such a reflection as to why we struggle to show up the same way for others?
What about those who so effortlessly show up with love and grace for others but struggle when it comes to themselves?
What is even the point I’m trying to make? Who knows. I don’t.
Who decided 31 is ‘too old’ to be finding and/or pursuing my calling? And if noone decided it, how did it get to my head? Ok fuck that last question because I can at any given time list atleast 20 ways that programming got into my subconscious.
But however it happened, it happened.
And so here I am at 31: clueless and despondent on most days recently. Trying to figure out what the fuck to do with the law degree I have, how to build from the ground up in a brand new country with my husband, how to keep helping my parents grow the family business, while wondering why the fuck I didn’t fight hard enough to pursue what my heart wanted to since I learnt how to speak the heart’s language.
And most importantly, even now being in the position of knowing better and thus able to do better, where does this hesitation to speak MY truth and MY mind come from/continue?
Why does my voice shake and my inner child get scared shitless sometimes?
What’s stopping me from telling ANYONE and EVERYONE who tries to push the notion of ‘law should be your only concern’ to BACK OFF and LEAVE ME ALONE?
What’s stopping me from making obligatory calls and visits to certain individuals, out of a sense of ‘Nusrat the good girl is expected to do so and so she must?’
What holds me back from typing the exact words I want and causes me to edit and sugar coat so as not to hurt feelings?
Why do I find myself so often wishing I’d made my discomfort clear and didn’t stand by ALLOWING someone to make me feel like shit, by violating my boundaries and MY truth?
Why do I refrain from wearing certain clothes when in Dhaka?
Why do I stay in uncomfortable situations even when my body and soul and mind is screaming at me to get the fuck out?
WHAT THE FUCK is keeping me from taking Nusrattalks on facebook? What are the fears driving that indecision?
The answer is so clear: people pleasing tendencies.
It’s something I had as a kid. And then growing up, it showed up as co-dependency in the relationships I had.
Something I worked so hard to get rid of, especially after the end of my last relationship before my husband.
And somehow, I fell back into it. Right after I got married.
The meshing of two worlds, the introduction to new relations and dynamics mirrored to me where I needed to put in more work to ensure my self-love was the strong foundation my life kept building on.
But I slipped. And that’s what happens when we throw discipline and routines and rituals out the window.
Suddenly, the priority was making sure the new boat I found myself on doesn’t rock. It seemed harmless. What’s missing a few days of routine that ensured I cultivated a practice of staying true to my authentic self?
Throw in the toxic, patriarchal AF south-asian culture we live in, where everyone is very well conditioned to help women forget their identities.
And just like that, I was back on not being on my own priority list.
Fuck anyone who downplays the need for discipline and routine in our daily lives. Seriously. Tell them to fuck off.
Building a strong foundation of self- love, self-confidence, and self- respect doesn’t just birth or sustain itself; especially when so many of us are conditioned to believing since birth that self-love is selfish and people-pleasing is selfless.
It requires strong discipline and routine. On the daily.
Otherwise, you might find yourself sitting at a cafe, at 1pm on weekday, writing about where the fuck you lost the plot.
Good news? As a conscious creator, I KNOW everyone and everything is simply mirroring me back.
It’s all showing me where I need to put in work.
I don’t know for sure but maybe all the shit show I have been rambling on about is an indication to prioritise myself now above everyone and everything else; to start rebuilding my foundations of self-love with discipline and integrity; to say NO when I want to say NO and YES when I want to say YES.
There is so much resentment inside me. Followed by guilt and shame for having resentment. Followed by more fucking guilt for the guilt. And it goes on and on.
To the point where I hardly am opening up space for love and joy and peace and happiness.
Like, picture a room full of the most unnecessary clutter but its the only room you have to sleep in and you need a fucking bed and you have the money for the fucking bed but you’re driving yourself NUTS about how to get the bed in when the answer is simple: get the clutter out.
But you’re not taking the steps to get the clutter out. Because as far as you’re concerned, you don’t see any way of getting the bed in.
Does that make sense? I don’t care if it doesn’t. Just saying.
I watch my husband and sisters and friends earn such great money and have the luxury of spoiling their loved ones. I look at them and wonder if I’ll ever get there. If i’ll ever get to say ‘hey i’m taking you all on an all expenses paid trip, my treat!’ to those i love.
Actually, I know theres every chance I’ll get there. But right now, this is a pity party, from me, to me, for me.
I don’t even know if someone will ever read this.
But if you do, firstly, thank you for making it to this far.
Secondly, I’m sure there’s light at the end of the tunnel. Just not right now. And that’s ok I guess.
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This has been the worst weekend I have had in a few months, a friend of mine completely broke my trust and fucked me over in a very irreversible way after I had been nothing but nice and understanding towards them, I got threatened with homelessness in a country where I am not a citizen and completely alone, and I am literally shaking with anger, idk what to do
I’m formatting this like a Reddit post lol but this is just my way of gathering my thoughts so I don’t feel so erratic, angry and panic-y anymore. I’m not sure if anyone reads my posts but any comments or support will help very much.
Context:
I (24F) met my friend C (23NB) this July at a pride march where I went with my other friend S (26F). I have been living in this city for like 1.5 years but I hadn’t made a lot of queer friends yet because most of my time went into doing course work and then hanging out with my econ masters cohort, who are all straight (but still very lovely and amazing people). Anyways S and I met C at pride and we hung out all evening, and also met up for drinks a week later, and kept hanging out regularly after that. I was just really excited to finally have a queer friend group.
I am not a very open person and I need a LOT of time to get comfortable with people, but at the same time I have issues with setting boundaries because I don’t want to hurt people. I know it’s a problem and I’m trying to work on it, but not being straightforward with boundaries hasn’t caused me a lot of problems in the past since people usually don’t cross boundaries with me very often, and if they do I just (very subtly) signal my discomfort through body language and remarks. I’m actually pretty good at that after a lifetime of practice, and it gets the point across pretty well for most people. For example, if I don’t want someone in my house anymore because I need alone time, I ask them if they’ve checked the bus times yet because I wouldn’t want them to lose the last bus. Or if it’s still early, I tell them that I have to work so they usually leave.
Anyways, C is autistic (this is actually the first thing I learnt about them) and doesn’t catch subtlety very well. They also have a tendency to over-familiarise themselves with people really fast and they don’t understand personal boundaries very well either. I learnt about this part of their personality over the next few weeks when I realised that even though we only knew each other for a few weeks, they had no problem sleeping over at my place every time we hung out, without really asking me if they could, even though busses were still running and they could’ve easily gone home. I even did the entire “don’t miss the last bus” thing one time, which is the only time when they asked me if they could stay over because they were having a small anxiety attack and didn’t want to be alone. We had only known each other for less than two weeks then. How do you say no to that?
The spontaneous sleepovers were ok when I was living in a student accommodation and didn’t really have the actual risk of getting kicked out, but now since I’m not a student anymore and am living in a rented apartment with someone whose cousin owns the apartment, I have to be a LOT more careful. Another time S and I planned a movie night and ended up meeting up with C for dinner after they spontaneously texted us, after which they invited themselves to the movie night and ended up (as usual) sleeping over, even though my bed can’t fit three people, and once again, they didn’t ask me if they could. This was also after I moved to my new place (I had to ask my roommate if it’s ok if a friend stays over before planning the movie night with S) so them staying over without asking was a lot more risky for me now. Naturally my roommate complained about the noise because extra people means extra noise. And C is generally a loud person without realising.
On top of that they also like being sexually explicit (I straight up told them that it makes me uncomfortable, which was kinda hard for me to do) but they kept doing it, especially when they got slightly tipsy, and especially since they misread my discomfort as me being flustered. After some time I just kinda tuned it out because I didn’t want to hurt their feelings, and I was trying not to be too uptight. This has nothing to do with the actual situation, but it’s just an example of how they don’t understand boundaries. In hindsight I should’ve been a lot more straightforward with all of my boundaries but I guess it’s too late to change things now.
The situation:
S, C and I planned to go to a queer event together this Friday. C showed up to my apartment unannounced, even though I thought that we were directly meeting at the event. It’s almost 10 at this point and my roommate has a strict no noise after 10 policy, because neither me nor my roommate are from this country, so naturally we don’t want to get in trouble with the neighbors or the police. Both of us also have really good internships at good international organizations (honestly a dream come true for both of us) which we would very much like to keep. So naturally I’m a bit confused and worried when C shows up, but I chalk it up to miscommunication between us and ask them to wait in the living room while I get ready. They’re being a bit loud so I’m trying to get ready as fast as possible so we can get out of the apartment building.
Once we’re out C realizes that they left their phone at my place, and decides to come back and get it after the party, implying that they’re staying over again. At this point I’m like whatever, let’s go have fun. Once we reach the event, which is walking distance from my house, C proceeds to get fucked up and have a breakdown on the sidewalk. S and I are really worried since they did not seem mentally well at that point. Then they start talking about people always abandoning them, and then having ptsd because of it, and I’m thinking “well shit I guess they are staying over” because at that point there was no way they could go back to their place alone. And as their friend (I considered them my friend despite everything because they hadn’t done anything directly offensive yet) I straight up did not want to leave them alone in that state, even though I knew the risk of letting them stay over at my place in their drunk state. They also went on about how S and I were like their family which made me a little emotionally soft because, despite all of their issues with boundaries and social cues, they were a good person with good intentions. I trusted them enough in that moment to let them into my house despite the risks, even though my instincts had been telling me not to for months.
So S and I practically carry them back to my place as they throw up and cry some more, and we all pass out in my bed. My roommate hears us coming in at 1am even though I ask everyone to be quiet, because C is naturally a loud person and drunk C was even louder. I ask everyone once again to be quiet right before I pass out in my bed, because my roommate already complained the last time C came over (during the movie night they invited themselves to). The next morning, I don’t see C in the bed anymore, so I assumed they left. But then S tells me that she saw C sleeping on the couch when she went to get us a glass of water. I’m a bit confused about this because they didn’t ask me if they could sleep on the couch, but it’s too early to think so I let it go. S leaves before C because she had some work and I try to come up with a game plan to get C to leave too because I knew they weren’t going to until I directly asked them to (which, once again, is awkward for me). But then my roommate texts me that we need to talk and proceeds to tell me what happened at night.
While S and I were sleeping, C apparently woke up, used the toilet I share with my roommate, left the toilet in a horrible state (peed all over the toilet seat, forgot to flush, and left their sock in the bowl which almost blocked our pipes). They then proceeded to undress in the toilet, leave their pee-stained clothes on the pee-stained toilet floor (making everything smell like pee) and pass out, in their underwear, on the couch I share with my roommate. My roommate woke up before me and found the state of the toilet and C on the couch, and was naturally livid. He had to fish out C’s sock from the bowl which was still full of C’s pee, to be able to use the toilet, at 7 in the morning on a Saturday, so I get why he was angry. I would be too. As a result, he told me that we need to talk and proceeded to ask me to find a new place. He said that he already drafted the exit contract with his cousin. C saw all of this happening because they were still on the couch while my roommate screamed at me and I practically begged him to give me another chance because I can’t be homeless right now in this country in the middle of my dream internship that I worked so hard for. C stayed on the couch and watched me, with a half asleep expression, as I apologized profusely for their actions, which I wasn’t even aware of until my roommate told me about them. My roommate said we should talk more after C leaves because C kept looking at us without saying anything.
I am fucking pissed at that point because after taking care of C the entire night and letting them into my house, this is how they decide to pay me back. So I ask them if they left a sock in the toilet bowl, they said “no???”, picked up their clothes from the toilet floor, realised that their sock was wet, continued with “oh I guess I did, sorry” and left without even a proper apology or explanation. I talk to my roommate again, apologize profusely again and ask him to reconsider, he says he’ll think about it until Monday and leaves. I then text C to let them know that they left their meds at my place (they reply 12 hours later, finally apologising, and blaming their ptsd and autism for their actions), and I proceed to have a 6 hour long panic attack. I almost text them back “my landlord isn’t going to kick me out less because you have ptsd” but I realise that’s a shitty thing to say so I stop myself.
Other things I wanted to text them include “not everyone is a white European from here and can get on a 30min train ride to their parents house the second they get homeless” (since C was being way too cavalier as I was getting threatened with homelessness in the morning), “I don’t think you understand that I don’t have the luxury of getting fired and doing nothing because authorities will kick me out of the country” (since not having a house will probably get me fired because I won’t have an address to give to the immigration office anymore, and C took a break from studies and has literally been doing nothing with almost no consequences for a year now), and “you can fix this by giving me your house and moving back with your parents, because your European ass doesn’t actually have to stay in the city to be able to keep your resident status and get jobs in the future, but I do”. I haven’t texted them any of this yet but I’m on the edge of doing it I swear to god.
Anyways I’m really fucking pissed and anxious. Sorry for the long post.
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TODAY ONE OF MY SENIORS SAID THAT SHE LIKED THE ENDING OF LIFE OF PI BECAUSE IT MADE HER THINK AND I SAID “THINK WHAT” AKSLKSKSKSKSJSJS
#teaching tag#@ Maria#after our convo about this book I couldn’t not say that#BUT I SAID IT KINDLY#I WASN’T TRYING TO BE MEAN#I just wanted to push her out of that default thinking that’s like ‘this thing is mildly intriguing for 2 seconds therefore it has merit’#if you’re gonna love the ending of life of pi you’ve got to love it like Chelsea loves it#emotionally#(and tbh I am still convinced the movie frames it better anyway and makes the choice WORK)#you can’t sell me on the ending by saying YOU WERE MILDLY INTRIGUED#FOR TWO SECONDS#anyway of course my sensitive people pleasing self can’t help but feel guilty on some level THAT I challenged her#and challenged the class#I know it’s right that I did#but it doesn’t shake my discomfort when I make people uncomfortable#and again. this is a senior specific problem#8th and 10th graders aren’t at the level of even being able to grapple with a story in a way that’s real#or—they are but mostly they need to be taught#seniors need to challenged! but I can tell they don’t like it#it makes them feel insecure and they want me to validate them#and I TOO want to validate them but !#I can’t 100%#I have to push them#anyway as Fran would say. my need to challenge them vs my need to be liked. FIGHT.#lots of words guys sorry
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hi bae!!! deku, shoto, denki with an s/o who's like affectionate with all her friends and they get insecure and kinda jealous :( ?? tysm in advance <33
s/o that’s affectionate to friends
character(s) : midoriya izuku, todoroki shouto, kaminari denki (bnha)
legend : [Y/N = your name, L/N = last name] they/them pronouns used, quirk not specific
headcanon type : fluff, kinda angsty but there’s reassurance (x reader)
note(s) : another one i kinda held off doing because of it getting buried in the inbox sndjwkd i’m sorry for the delay! i didn’t like how denki’s turned out im so sorry
➽───────────────❥
midoriya izuku
man already knows that you’re very touchy with your friends, that’s just who you are
heck, i think before you guys started dating, you were touchy to him too! (but even more because,, you like him)
so he shouldn’t be shocked when you link onto kirishima’s arm, or when you jump to give mina a back hug
and most especially, when you poke at bakugou’s cheeks— and he just LETS YOU for some reason
he’s glad that you feel comfortable around people, considering that it’s why you’re even touchy in the first place.
but he can’t help but wonder,, is he doing enough to you? i mean, you basically do the same to him, but added the cheek, lip kisses
and the wonderful words you get to shower him in daily.
not only that, but he does tend to flush up when you try to initiate some sort of physical affection. maybe,, he’s supposed to let you be?
let you do all of that, since it makes you happy? i mean,, he supposes that he’s willing to do that.
izuku’s not a restrictive person when it comes to things like that, so he supposes that he’ll just have to ignore the weighted feeling on his shoulders despite not carrying a thing at that very moment
on the other hand, you couldn’t help but notice a change in izuku. not anything too concerning, of course
but he’d turn a blind eye— whenever you’d initiate physical affection to your other friends. he’d go silent, until it was over
eventually, you overhear a rather heartbreaking conversation between the dekusquad, and izuku himself
“deku! if you’re so down about it, then maybe you should tell Y/N about it! i don’t think they mean any harm.” you could hear uraraka console him
“correct. L/N-kun does not look like the type to be unfaithful. and even if they were, that would’ve been unacceptable behavior!”
and through out the discussion on how izuku could confront you, his s/o— he speaks abruptly
“i mean.. if Y/N is happy with being physically affectionate with their friends then,, i can’t stop them.” he says sadly, but it breaks your heart knowing that you’ve caused him to sound like this
“plus, i’m sure they have a reason to be acting that way, right?” you didn’t think how your affectionate attitude would have its effects on him
so, the next time you saw your boyfriend, you had a talk with him
“hey, honey!” he’d greet you with the usual demeanor, as if he didn’t just talk about his feelings “how are you? sorry that i was a little late, i was talking with the others!”
you smile, accepting the reason (since it’s true) “izuku, can you be honest with me?”
and this statement shocks him for a bit, “oh uhm,, yeah i can! did i do something wrong?” he scoots next to you, waiting for your reply
“does me being physically affectionate towards my friends make you,, uncomfortable?” you inquire, as straightforward as you could
he’s silent for a bit, which makes you speak again “you can be honest, it’s okay. you’re not in any trouble, zuku.” you ruffle his hair softly for comfort
then, he finally answers. “uhm,, uncomfortable isn’t the word. it’s not that i don’t trust you but,,”
“yeah?”
“i don’t trust,, me.”
this statement takes you by surprise, “oh, why?”
“i don’t trust myself that i could make you happy,” he continues “with physical affection, i mean. i understand if you weren’t, i just feel like i’m not giving you enough.”
“i understand though!” izuku continues, “whenever you initiate physical affection, i can’t help but get all staggery and nervous,” he rambles
he sounds normal, sure— but he’s not looking at you, his emerald eyes set in a downcast state
you make him face you, gently grabbing a hold of his shoulders “i’m sorry, zuku.” you press a kiss on his temples
“in truth, yes. i didn’t want to make you uncomfortable with my physical affection.” you confess, “i’d see that you’d go red whenever i’d initiate something,” you tease, which gives you the exact reaction you’ve wanted
“but then,, i also didn’t think about how you felt about it. i didn’t consider the possibility of you being uncomfortable with it, so i want to apologize for that.” you lean against him, taking his hand and pressing a kiss on his palm
“if you want, i could stop it. there are other ways i could show affection to my friends anyway!” you suggest, but he shakes his head, smiling
“i appreciate it, but you don’t have to.” he reassures, “if it makes you happy then i’ll be happy.”
“is there anything else?”
“just maybe uhm,,” he trails off for a second, before continuing “give me what you give them, but multiply it by 200!” he suggests, his regular self coming back to you
you laugh, leaning forward to kiss him softly, “i love you, izuku. only you. people may receive my affection, yes— but you’re the only one that deserves all of it.”
and with that, the weight on his shoulders is lifted, and he didn’t actually have anything to worry about.
todoroki shouto
despite shouto being sometimes socially ignorant, he is a very observant person when it comes to the person he likes
so the first thing he noticed was your touchy behavior, specifically towards your friends
sure, he’s had some of that physical affection— but it was like you knew him too well. so, he received it less that the others
it doesn’t mean that todoroki disliked your physical affection. during those few times, he did tend to,, not mind it at all, when he’d usually pull them off
and it doesn’t automatically mean that you didn’t like being around todoroki, it was given that he wasn’t very big on being physical
he didn’t care, again— as long as you were happy, but then there would be this tight feeling in his chest whenever you’d run off to do it to bakugou, hugging him leisurely
or even midoriya, sometimes
so, when you guys finally confess to each other— it doesn’t appear that your physical affection towards your peers came to an end
it remained the same, and while he’s the one that received your delightful words, fully devoted love, and time— he can’t help but frown whenever he sees you latch onto kaminari
or when you sit beside midoriya and count all the freckles on his cheeks— the blush on his face being hard to ignore, in your boyfriend’s eyes.
i don’t think shouto’s a jealous person— protective is one thing, and possessive? maybe that one time, he was. but jealous? maybe not.
well, it’s not like he doesn’t trust you to stay loyal and faithful, that’s a different thing. but it’s more like,, he wants for the affection you’re giving to them
needy, that’s the word
early on, (and maybe even before you got together with shouto) it’s been established that shouto wasn’t a biggest fan of physical affection, besides hand holding, and cheek kisses for now
it makes sense to you, especially hearing about his childhood, and his father’s true colors— that are far from anything heroic.
and you definitely respect what he wants— if he wants space, you’ll comply! and if he wanted more, you’ll also be willing to comply!
that’s why you’ve been keeping things just at that— the last thing you want is making shouto uncomfortable, the concept terrifies you
but,, shouto doesn’t exactly know how to tell you that he wants more, more and more— he wants all of your affection
so, what does he do? he tells you in one exact way— he tells you what’s on his mind
and quite bluntly for that matter
the both of you have been sitting in silence for a bit, no words were exchanged. however, glances were sent towards your way
his stare has a different edge to it, as if he had something in particular he wanted to say— mouth gaping open as if he were to speak, but no words come out
“shou,” you call out to him softly, “it looks like you have something to say,” you smile at him, wanting to know what was in that head of his “you can talk to me.”
a minute flies by, and he’s still silent, and you’re about to drop the topic for good— until he finally speaks up “i don’t know what i’m feeling.”
this quirks your interest, “oh, what,, are you feeling?” what he said worries you, since it kinda sounds like he was about to deliver some bad news
“i’m,, not sure myself.” he stares down at his hands “i feel weird, whenever i see you be.. touchy around the others.”
weird, huh? “what kind of weird? could you try to explain? maybe i could pinpoint what you’re feeling.”
“i feel weird, since i haven’t experienced this before,” he breathes in, before he goes on “i feel like i want more, selfishly more. i thought i would’ve been fine with receiving minimal physical affection,”
he turns to you, heterochromatic eyes staring deep into yours “but i’m not fine with it! i want more, like what you give to the others. so that’s why,, it’s weird.”
and it suddenly dawns onto you on what he’s talking about, he’s talking about you being physically affectionate towards your friends and classmates
and how he doesn’t like it.
you frown, scooting next to him “i’m sorry you feel that way, shou.” you fix a stray piece of hair that has been misplaced, hanging near his brow
“i’m glad that you were being honest, and told me,” you cautiously hold his hand, looking at him to detect any discomfort
there’s none
“yes, i’ve been careful. i don’t wish to make you feel weird— in the bad way, and most especially uncomfortable!” he nods in understanding, he adjusts the hold on your hand, choosing to place his hand on top of yours
“and i didn’t.. think about how you would’ve felt about it. i should’ve asked you about it first.” you look at him with meaning, “‘m sorry.”
his gaze softens, and he leans closer— ever than before “it’s alright, love, no need to apologize,”
“that’s just who you are, if you show gratitude and affection with being physical, then that’s okay. i just,, want more— if that’s okay with you.” you nod, laughing softly
“i’ll give you more, if that’s what you wish. i’ll give you everything you want, whatever makes you happy.” shouto presses a kiss on your temple
“so,, does that mean you’re going to.. stop?” he asks— just because he wanted to know
“oh, if you want to, then i will.”
“you don’t have to but.. maybe tone it down?” he suggests, because although the idea of your physical affection towards your friends coming to a halt, is nice he wouldn’t admit that outloud
he doesn’t want you to stop, if that’s how you show gratitude to your friends. so, toning it down’s the best option
“i will,” you smile, “only high fives, pats on the back, and quick hugs, from now on!”
the statement makes him smile, a genuine one— he’s just glad that his concerns have a resolve now. man was just really touch starved, couldn’t blame him
kaminari denki
it took a while for him to actually start being concerned
i mean— dude’s practically the same as you. have you seen him play with ojirou’s tail? he always finds himself touching someone
whether it’d be him poking bakugou’s spiky head of hair (until he’d scream at him) or him resting his elbows on kirishima— he’s always touching someone
so, he understands if you’re going to be touchy feely with others. he actually finds it quite cute when you show your endearing side to your friends with touch (without crossing boundaries of course)
so, it was okay keyword : was
until you slowly started kissing your friends on the cheek— and it erupted,, something from within
it was so casual, that he had to process what just happened— following it up with a smile, to play it off.
he feels bad for feeling iffy about it, honest! he doesn’t have a reason to distrust you, so this feels all,, wrong for him
the gesture was definitely a gradual process. it wasn’t like you just randomly started to kiss people on the cheek— and it wasn’t like you were depriving him
so this made him think harder than he has ever thought before. maybe you were getting tired of being affectionate to him only, so you moved away from that?
or maybe you were tired of HIS affection?
maybe you were giving people affection, because they deserved it, and he didn’t? if this was the case, denki can’t complain.
denki knows he’s not smart like iida, or serious like bakugou.
but even to denki, all of that is a stretch. he’s just laying out all of the possible reasons— rational or not
and before he realized it, you knew that there was something up
denki; utterly afraid of losing you, switches from super affectionate to being isolated in his room— every single day
this is his way of experimenting with your reactions
even the bakusquad didn’t know what was up so,, yeah. there must be something bothering him.
you’re given a few ideas as to why kaminari might be acting this way, and the exact idea popped into your mind
you made him insecure
and you instantly felt bad— yes, you give all of your friends cheek kisses, and you give them to your boyfriend too!
but you didn’t realize that you would’ve potentially harmed him in the process. so, you sought out to talk to him
“hey babe,” it was just in time, your boyfriend enters through your door, “i was looking everywhere for you, you won’t believe it! i would’ve evaporated if i had to endure bakugou’s screaming one more time!”
“i was looking for you too,” you smile, ushering him to sit on your bed, “listen, i want to talk to you.”
“oh,”
“don’t worry, denki. you’re not in any trouble,” you reassure, “i just want to apologize”
it’s his turn to be confused “what? why?”
“let me ask you one thing, how do you feel about me giving people affection?”
he swallows harshly, but answers truthfully “i like it a lot, babe! i do find it cute.” he smiles, but you’re not fully convinced that his statement made it’s end
“i feel like there’s more i should know.”
“i,, yeah.” he admits, and not very gracefully “it’s— ugh! i’m sorry. i know this is really out of character for me, and i’m sorry that you have to see me feeling like,,”
“you can be honest.” you remind him briefly
“—weird. look, it’s not like your love language is weird to me. i think it’s just me being a needy idiot! and it’s not like i think you’re cheating on me!” he holds his hands up in defense
“but in a way,, i didn’t expect you to do that— you’ve only started doing it recently.”
“so it made you uncomfortable?” you’re preparing for the expected answer, ready for what’s about to be said
“,, if the shoe fits.”
seeing denki in this sort of manner gave you the biggest reality check. yes, you knew that you had something to do with his recent personality change
but you didn’t realize how much it made him question himself.
“i’m sorry, once again” you apologize, “it was wrong of me to assume you were fine with it, i just thought you’d be fine with it since well,,”
“hey, it’s okay,” denki smiles, his mood slightly better “i’m touchy too, i mean,, we both show affection physically! i’m not very surprised that you thought i was fine with it.” he brushes his thumb on your cheekbone
“i mean it, denki. i didn’t realize how much it would’ve affected you. you might not realize it, but i do.”
“it’s fineeee,” he whines playfully when you’re still upset, “Y/N, you’re affectionate, which is a trait i absolutely love. if you’re physically affectionate, that fine.”
“just uhm,,” he trails off, almost awkwardly. “maybe,, don’t bless them with your,, cheek kisses? ugh! omg there was definitely a better way to say that.”
to any other person, that would’ve been awkward— like,, really. but you understood, that’s how much you know about him
“got it, they will be exclusively for you.” you kiss him on the cheek, “thanks for being honest, denki.”
at that moment, denki’s shoulders felt lighter, and he suddenly forgot about why he even felt this way. yes, you still gave people physical affection BUT
denki kaminari still wins 😎 your kisses and ultimate tokens of affection are strictly for him
likes and reblogs are appreciated, thanks for reading!
i do not own bnha/mha and it’s characters. boku no hero academia/my hero academia belongs to horikoshi kohei, i only own the writing and i do not profit off of my hobby
do not plagiarize, reupload, translate, or use my works for audio readings without permission :))
#bnha imagines#bnha x reader#mha x reader#mha imagines#bnha x y/n#bnha fluff#todoroki shouto x reader#todoroki x reader#todoroki imagines#todoroki headcanons#todoroki x y/n#izuku midoriya x gn reader#midoriya x y/n#midoriya izuku x reader#midoriya x reader#midoriya imagines#kaminari imagines#kaminari x reader#kaminari x y/n#kaminari denki x reader#todoroki fluff#kaminari fluff#midoriya fluff#bnha headcanons#mha headcanons
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Meet the Family
pairing: Pietro Peter Maximoff x fem!reader
warnings: angst, manipulation, reader is a Westview hostage controlled by Wanda, etc., 2.5k in length
notes: writing a piece that takes place in the WandaVision universe was such a challenging and fun experience, and I really tried to capture the same dark undertones of the show so I hope you enjoy!
summary: An innocent family dinner with Pietro’s new girlfriend reveals that life in Westview is not what it seems. Uncle Pietro introduces y/n to the family!
Y/n almost feels like she’s being watched as the warm hand of her boyfriend— since when do I have a boyfriend?— carefully guides her trembling figure up the front steps of his sister’s house and rings the doorbell. Her grip on the glass dish of brownies in her hands is so impossibly tight she fears she might just break it, and when the silver haired man swoops down to steal a kiss from her cherry gloss stained lips she can’t help but to feel nauseated. The sickness morphs into guilt immediately, and when he looks down upon her with a gaze so tender and fond she forces herself to bat her eyes and smile at him. What kind of girlfriend is horrible enough to be disgusted by a kiss from her own boyfriend? Something isn’t right here...
“Don’t even sweat it, babe, my little sis is going to love you!” Pietro comforts with an easygoing grin plastered on his features.
“I hope so,” y/n murmurs quietly, nervously chewing at her bottom lip. This is the audition, her one shot at impressing the boss, and if even one tiny minuscule detail is thrown out of place then there goes her new house and fancy wardrobe and y/n is written out of the show. Permanently.
“My girlfriend is such a worrywart,” he laughs fondly with a gentle pinch of her cheek. It’s as if a switch is flipped inside of her, and this time when she smiles at him it is genuine and full of unadulterated love.
“I just want everything to be perfect, I know how much this means to you,” she replies earnestly, too dazed to notice the soft aww that drifts through the air from the audience. Pietro smiles.
“Man, did I luck out on finding the most perfect girl in the world or what?”
“Well us being together certainly isn’t a coincidence,” she notes with a small smile. The uneasiness begins to wash over her again, but y/n isn’t given a chance to dwell on the feeling as the front door swings open and a vibrant looking young woman stands in the doorway, almost beaming at the two with pure glee.
“Thank goodness you made it!” She exclaims, hand delicately resting on her chest to showcase her relief before she pulls the stranger her brother into a hug.
“Like we’d really miss Sunday dinner,” Pietro jokes before pressing a chaste kiss to his sister’s cheek. His hand returns to the small of y/n’s back and the fond smile pulls at his lips again. “Wanda, I’d like to introduce you to a very special little lady, my girlfriend y/n.”
“Oh, she’s very special indeed,” Wanda notes with an overzealous wink, ignoring the way in which the brownie dish begins to tremble in the poor girl’s hands. Just a little stage fright, that’s all. “It’s very nice to meet you, y/n. I’m Wanda.”
“It’s an honor to meet you,” the girl replies earnestly, “Pietro has told me so much about you.”
“Well aren’t you sweet! Please, come in,” Wanda grins, ushering the two inside before shutting the door. “Boys, Uncle Pietro is here!”
“What a lovely place you have,” y/n compliments. Her eyes scan the perfectly decorated home in wonder, awe, and a third thing she can’t quite place for if she dwells on it for too long her head begins to ache and her surroundings begin to grow fuzzy.
“Oh, please, it’s just a little something I threw together,” she jokes, canned laughter echoing distantly in the background of y/n’s mind.
“Uncle Pietro!” Two voices exclaim, and y/n watches curiously as her boyfriend lets out an ecstatic laugh before rushing forward to scoop the twin boys in his arms.
“If it isn’t my favorite little trouble makers!” He grins, making sure to ruffle both heads of hair. “Billy, Tommy, say hi to your aunt y/n.”
“Hi, aunt y/n,” Billy greets politely. Tommy is at her side in an instant, movements so quick y/n can’t help but to let out a startled yelp as he lunges for the dish in her hands.
“Are those brownies?!”
“Tommy, where are your manners?” Wanda chides gently, shaking her head with a laugh and reaching for the pastries. “Boys will be boys. I’ll take these off your hands.”
“Oh, uh, yes, thank you...” y/n murmurs softly, brows stitched together in discomfort.
“You’ll have to excuse my husband’s absence, another late night at the office. You know how it is, don’t you?”
“I can’t say I do.”
“Hmm... Well, make yourself comfortable. Dinner will be ready soon, I’ll just go put these in the kitchen.”
“Oh, do you need any h-“
“No,” Wanda blurts out abruptly, startling everyone in the room. She plasters on a smile, “No thank you. How can I be a good hostess if my guest is doing all the work for me?”
“You’re right, I’m so sorry,” y/n flounders, panic clear amongst her features. “I-I didn’t mean to impose at all.”
“No apologies,” the woman murmurs quietly, a small smile on her lips and an admonitory glimmer in her eyes, “we’re going to have a nice family dinner, and everything is going to be just perfect.”
The tension in the air is suffocating, wrapping itself in a slow growing hold around y/n’s neck. Her eyes begin to water, bottom lip quivering in fear as she looks around the room that suddenly feels too big and too bright. She doesn’t belong here with these people, something is wrong, the man she came here with is not hers, and as Wanda’s figure retreats behind the kitchen door y/n makes a mad dash towards the nearest exit.
“Whoa!” Pietro exclaims with an uneasy laugh, and in a blue flash she suddenly finds herself being scooped up off her feet and tossed back down on the couch in between the apprehensive twins faster than her fried brain can even comprehend. “Not so fast there, missy. Just where do you think you’re going?”
“I... I don’t feel right,” the young woman murmurs, wincing at the uncomfortable dryness of her throat as she swallows. “I want to go home and lie down.”
“Don’t be like that, babe,” he chides with a disappointed frown, “this is my family.”
“But what about my family?” Y/n whispers, tears welling in her eyes as she realizes that whenever she attempts to picture the life she once lived not a single thing comes to mind. “I don’t have a family.”
“This is your family now. We talked about this, remember? We came to Westview to make Wanda happy, and you don’t want to upset her, do you?”
“No,” she replies meekly, shuddering when the calloused pad of his thumb swipes across her warm cheek to remove any evidence of tears. No, I don’t want to make her unhappy, because if I do then I’m written off the show and I don’t know what will happen to me if I am. “I want to spend time with my new family.”
“Atta girl,” Pietro grins as he cups her face with both hands and brings her in for a kiss.
“Yuck!” Tommy exclaims in disgust from beside the couple, and this time y/n can’t help the bubbly laughter that escapes her at the young boy’s antics. Any memory of her previous meltdown is quickly wiped from her mind, and all she can think of now is how utterly grateful she is to be loved by such a wonderful man and be taken in by his wonderful family.
She pulls Pietro in for another kiss and giggles uncontrollably when he responds by tickling her sides, all while Wanda watches carefully from behind the scenes.
~~~
“Dream of better lives, the kind which never hate. Trapped in a state of imaginary grace.”
Her voice is quiet and serene as she hums along to the Modern English song playing on the radio, a content smile on her face as she washes the dishes leftover from dinner. It was the least she could do after the lovely evening Wanda had hosted; her sister-in-law had been called upon by the neighbor Agnes for a task that hadn’t quite been specified, so y/n was happy to tidy up while her boyfriend spent quality time with the boys. She couldn’t remember the last time she had felt as happy and content as she did now— she couldn’t remember anything, really— and y/n knew then and there that moving to Westview with Pietro had been the right decision for the family, for his sister and themselves, and for the children, too. Yes, everything was just peachy keen.
The kitchen door swings open and in walks a man y/n has never seen before. He looks just as surprised as she is when their eyes meet, an awkward smile on his red face and the morning paper in his hands, and y/n slowly drops the dish she had been washing back into the sink.
“Hello,” the man greets curtly, “I don’t think we’ve had the pleasure of meeting before.”
“I’m afraid not,” y/n agrees with a bashful smile, quickly removing her rubber gloves so that she may extend her hand towards him for a shake, “I’m y/n, Pietro’s girlfriend.”
“Ah, yes...” he murmurs lowly, cautiously shaking her hand and sizing the woman up and down until she shrinks under his gaze. He means her no harm, but he isn’t sure whether or not she’s part of this cooky little play or just another victim cast under Wanda’s spell. He smiles suddenly, the gesture startling the girl. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, I’m Vision.”
“Oh, yes! Of course. It’s so nice to finally meet you.”
“May I ask where my wife is?” Vision asks.
“She went off to the neighbor’s,” y/n explains before promptly returning to her dish washing. The radio sounds distant and warbled now, the song she had been singing along to now nothing but static and jumbled up syllables, but to Vision’s dismay she doesn’t seem to notice in the slightest.
“How are you enjoying Westview?”
“I’m having the best time. Pietro and I have been talking and we might just have to hunker down in our own little place,” she says with a giggle. “It would be nice to be closer to you all.”
“I must say, having you and Pietro here was quite the surprise.”
“Not a bad one I hope,” she frowns. Vision guiltily refuses to meet her gaze.
“No, not at all. But, might I ask how you two came to be?” Vision asks apprehensively, adding on so that she doesn’t feel cornered, “I’m sure it must be a lovely story.”
“Oh, yes! I remember it like it was yesterday,” y/n swoons dreamily, a fond smile plastered on her face and her gaze casted out towards the living room where Pietro sits playing video games with the boys. She blinks once, twice, eyes never once leaving the silver haired stranger in the couch. A pregnant pause hovers over the two, the porcelain plate trembles in her hands, and Vision watches in silent horror as her eyes begin to well with tears.
“Y/n?” He calls gently, fingertips carefully brushing against her elbow in an attempt to bring her focus back to him. He removes the plate from her iron grip and sets it back carefully in the sink before turning the girl by the shoulders to face him; she still wears that same adoring smile despite the tears that silently fall down her cheeks.
“Forgive me,” she murmurs quietly, “I can’t seem to gather my thoughts properly.”
“Who did this to you? Was it Wanda? Pietro?” Vision press urgently. Y/n sways slightly when he shakes her by the shoulders in a desperate attempt to break her from her trance but still her smile remains.
“Pietro? Oh, he loves me, and I love him.”
“My dear, I don’t think you do,” the man utters sympathetically.
“Of course I do, silly. We were made for each other.”
“Perhaps you were, but not in the way you think. Y/n-“
“Please let go,” she interrupts in a soft, steady voice, looking up at him like a scorned child, “you’re scaring me.”
“If you would just let me,” Vision begins to say, fingertips reaching for her temple in preparation to break her from the spell only to be interrupted by another presence in the room.
“Whoa, what’s going on in here?” Pietro asks with a raised brow and uneasy laugh. “Hey toaster oven, you mind maybe letting go of my girlfriend?”
“Of course, my apologies,” Vision murmurs, stepping away from the girl and allowing her to run into the arms of her boyfriend.
“You okay, babe?” He asks with a raised brow. She isn’t, not in the slightest, but she has a job to do and a role to play, so she merely bats her eyes at him before leaning up and pressing a kiss to his cheek.
“Never been better. Hey, how does dessert sound?”
“I think that sounds lovely,” Wanda chimes, her sudden appearance in the kitchen doorway startling the already present trio. Vision looks like a deer caught in headlights when Wanda saunters over and gifts him with an innocent kiss to the cheek. “Why don’t you and Pietro get the boys settled down while y/n and I prepare the dessert?”
“What a lovely idea, darling,” Vision chimes with an easy smile— y/n isn’t the only one with a role to play. “Come now, dear brother-in-law.”
“Take good care of my girl, little sis,” Pietro calls on his way out. Wanda smiles, her eyes never once leaving y/n’s trembling frame.
“But of course. What is family for? Y/n, be a dear and grab the plates, won’t you?”
“Yes, Wanda,” the girl chimes obediently. She smiles.
“I noticed you seemed a little shaken up just now, is everything alright?” Wanda asks, feigning obliviousness.
“Oh, you know, just some friendly questioning from my new brother-in-law. I’m sure he just wanted to make sure Pietro had found the right match,” she explains with a passive wave of her hand. Wanda hums softly.
“Well we don’t need to worry about that,” she notes. “You’re here for a reason, y/n. Do you know that?”
“For Pietro, and for you,” she replies earnestly, smiling when Wanda takes her hands in her own and gives them a gentle squeeze. “You’ve always wanted a big family, a real family, one that would never turn its back on you or leave you behind ever again. You want a sister and nieces and nephews and love, and I’m here because I can do all of that and more for you.”
“Exactly right. Family is forever, y/n. Are you ready for the commitment that comes with being a Maximoff?”
“I’ve never been more ready,” y/n responds eagerly. Wanda smiles.
“I’m so relieved you said that,” she utters gently, pulling y/n in for a hug so that she may not see the way in which her eyes begin to glow red and waves of energy begin to emit from her fingertips as she carefully settles herself fully into the girl’s mind. She fills her head with thoughts of Pietro and family, with memories she’s never lived and feelings she’s never had, she fills her with love, and y/n is none the wiser.
“Congratulations, y/n,” Wanda utters quietly, comfortingly stroking the girl’s hair, “you’re a Maximoff now.”
#wandavision spoilers#wandavision#peter maximoff#pietro maximoff#peter maximoff x reader#pietro maximoff x reader#peter maximoff imagine#pietro maximoff imagine#quicksilver#quicksilver x reader#quicksilver imagine#wanda maximoff#vision#wanda maximoff x reader#vision x reader#marvel#mcu#mcu x reader#mcu imagine
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