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frombookstoretobookstore · 3 months ago

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Request if you have time!!! Could u do an Abbott surgical tech reader ( surgical techs assist during surgery abs um going to school for it!!) where the comfort eachother have the pit fest accident maybe a lil spice!

Alright so I really tried my best to nail the surgical tech but but what do I know? I work with plants for a living! I hope you enjoy this and I'm so sorry it took me so long!

TW: Mention of mass casualty event, blood, medical inaccuracies, hint of spice at the end.

Masterlist

The Offer

Today has been hell. No, Y/n was positive not even hell was this bad.

Y/n had spent the first few minutes before the onslaught of the shooting victims running around and gathering supplies, doing her best to anticipate what they’d need downstairs. Her and her colleagues had started throwing everything they could into disaster bins.

She’d been pulled down to the ED floor shortly after, running around with supplies, responding to calls for chest tubes and intubation trays, and trying not to slip in the blood that continued to pool on the floor.

“Can someone stabilize for a flip?” She isn’t even sure who calls for it, just that she’s there to stabilize a neck as a doctor rolls the patient to check the exit wound of a bullet. She’s handing him an IO and a unit of O Neg before they can even ask.

“Always four steps ahead.” Abbot breathes, working quickly to get an IO in. “If needed, bone marrow transfusion is just as good as an IV.”

“Need a hand?” She hears Robby ask as she’s passing over a laryngoscope before Abbot can even hold his hand out.

“I’ve got two hands.” Abbot says a small smile forms on Y/n’s face as she’s passing over an endotracheal tube. She nods at him before taking off again to help someone calling for more tools.

A few minutes later, after having to catch herself on the nurses’ station as she slides, she hears Abbot calling that the patient she’d just assisted on, hadn’t made it.

She doesn’t even have time to think of the loss before she’s off running again, answering a call for another set of hands. She can feel the stress and exhaustion sitting in the base of her skull, her shift having ended hours ago, but she pushes it aside as she’s dodging and weaving around patients, doctors, and nurses.

This goes on for hours, something that feels like a lifetime. She’s running around, anticipating needs, and helping where she can.

Y/n can still feel the adrenaline pumping through her veins, a harsh counterpoint to the utter exhaustion in her bones. Her reflection in the mirror stares back at her, pale and drawn, her eyes shadowed by the ghosts of what she can’t unsee.

She’s fully determined to pull herself together, to not let the tragedies follow her home and into her dreams. She wanted the reprieve of being able to leave everything at the doors of the hospital, to not go through every moment that had happened today, every choice she’d made.

However, she isn’t so lucky today. After helping clear the ED of the remnants of the mass casualty, she’s sitting up on the roof, breathing in the fresh air like a lifeline.

She’s so in her head, she jumps slightly when Abbot sits down next to her, a juice box offered to her as he opens his own.

“Never in a million years did I think I’d see Dr. Jack Abbot drinking a juice box while sitting on the roof. Standing near the edge sure, but sitting here? Never.” He chuckles softly as she all but chugs the juice, the sugar helping her with her adrenaline come down.

“I’d have brought you a sandwich, but Whitaker snatched the last one.” He’s looking out at the skyline, the silence between the comfortable. He knocks his knee against her when he notices her hands are still shaky.

“I know it’s literally the point of your job to be one step ahead of all of us, but down there, you were incredible. I’ve never seen someone so focused.” She nods slightly, a flat lipped smile on her face. He places his hand in hers, squeezing it slightly.

She inhales deeply, willing the night air to fix her, to calm her, to let her leave all of this behind when she leaves.

“I’ll be washing my hands every ten minutes for the next week.” She laughs slightly, squeezing Abbot’s hand back.

“These things,” he says as he sighs, “stick with you longer than we feel it should. But down there, that isn’t normal.”

“A brief reprieve to witness the worst of humanity.” She says, a dark chuckle erupts from her chest.

“Yeah, something like that.” He laughs, understanding her need to be sarcastic after what they’d both witnessed.

“After something like this, what do you do? Not the processing part, but the decompressing after the initial event.” She’s letting her head fall on his shoulder as they keep looking out.

“A shower, a nice bottle of whiskey, listen to a few records.” She laughs at his nonchalance. He places a small kiss to the top of her head, their fingers intertwined. Neither thinks too hard about the intimacy, both are too busy relishing in the contact.

“Care to join?”

“What?!” She sputters, coughing slightly on her juice as she removes herself from Abbot to look at him, his eyes shining as he laughs.

Abbot’s laughter fades as he leans back to look at her. “I was serious though. Sometimes, when the night gets too heavy, you need something to snap you out of it. Music works for me—helps me tune out the noise.”

She couldn’t help but smile faintly, “Never pictured you as the vinyl type,” she murmurs, teasing him.

He shrugs, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “There’s a lot about me you don’t know, yet.”

“Yet?” She asks, raising an eyebrow while still letting herself relax, their hands still faintly brushing.

He chuckles, turning to face her fully. “Well, if you ever decide to take me up on that offer; whiskey, records, and maybe even a decent meal.”

“Does that offer extend to tonight? Wasn’t it supposed to be you day off? I don’t want to crash it.”

“I would love nothing more for you to crash my day off, or what’s left of it.” He laughs, their hands intertwining again.

She turns to look at him; his eyes appear sunken and fatigued, and his hair is disheveled, likely due to repeatedly running his hands through it. He smiles softly at her, and she finds comfort in his gaze, returning his smile.

She stands and offers her hand down to him. He smirks as he takes her hand and allows her to lead them inside to the elevator.

“I take it that’s a yes to my offer?” He asks, an eyebrow raised, and his arms crossed as they descend.

“Nah, figured I’d continue my existential crisis at home by myself.” She laughs, earning a soft chuckle from Abbot, his gaze still trained on her. “I’d do just about anything for a decent meal.”

He chuckles softly, letting his head rest against the elevator wall, his gaze still on her, on her lips.

“Anything?” He asks.

“Just about anything. Who knows. After a shower and a meal, I could be down.” She’s stepping towards him, a sultry smirk on her face. He inhales slightly as she enters his space.

“Depends on how good the meal is.” She winks, breezing past him to gather her things from the surgical floor. She turns to him before the elevator doors close. “That, and how willing you’d be to get on your knees and show me a good time.”

He closes his eyes with a groan, her laughter filtering in through the doors as they close. He smirks to himself when he exits the elevator, intent on showing her just how good of a time he can be.

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

A/N: Requests are still open so feel free to send some in! As usual let me know what y'all think!

#jack abbot x reader #dr abbot x reader #jack abbot fanfic #jack abbot x female reader #shawn hatosy #jack abbot imagine #the pitt 2025 #the pitt fanfiction #the pitt hbo #jack abbot x you

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tillsfan · 7 months ago

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this new vivinos sketch got me thinking.

what if till was way more infatuated with ivan than we thought? what if the whole time, till was actually focused on the both of them, yet due to ivan’s low self worth and unreliable storytelling, we had a complete different perception of him. maybe he was more transparent about his feelings to the both of them.

it would be genuinely insane if when we finally get till’s pov of his life, we get so much more of ivan and much less of mizi than expected. like an even distribution.. main reason i’m thinking this is because of his comic, where he’s seen so much. more chill? around her

he seems a lot more different than what we’d expect based off ivan’s perception of him. this is one of the only instances where his story has been told from someone outside of ivan. it’s very interesting to me.. they’re both pretty prevalent in his comic. they both were in his head. even though it was told by io, i think it’s still worth noting.

i fully believe till acted different and distant around ivan because of his guilt after the meteor scene, as he was likely ashamed of himself. convincing ivan that he wasn’t ever in till’s mind. maybe till felt he didn’t deserve ivan after the fact? i’m sure he was convinced that ivan hated him for it as well. till was probably DWELLING over what happened. it likely weighed him down a lot. in r6, he could’ve been so broken both because of mizi and because he was also going up against one of his loves, someone who tried to help him escape, but he went back on it. in r7, we also saw the meteor scene colors in his ivan flashback. the meteor scene is so heavily associated with ivan specifically, but we’ve seen till so affected by it in multiple instances. mostly in merch. but still.

maybe a lot of his actions were based off of ivan as well, and not just mizi. he’s been shown to be flustered around ivan on multiple occasions..

this is just a “what-if” scenario ramble. i just think it’d be very interesting if it was significantly more different than expected… very very curious for till pov of things. i wonder how much different it would be. we could see how ivan really ruined things for himself, seeing him inhabit till’s mind So Much more than we would’ve ever believed. not saying this is 100% what would happen at all! just ideas.. with how much they’re gatekeeping his pov, i wouldn’t be surprised if his pov completely changed our perception of his relationship with ivan, and till’s character as a whole.

anyways till bisexuality is so real We are so back.

a few more sketches where till is shown to be flustered around ivan. they mean so much to me. ivan you are so clueless

#alnst #alien stage #alnst till #alnst ivan #ivantill #alnst analysis #alnst theory

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iwritenarrativesandstuff · 1 month ago

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"The True Face" - Mizi's Love for Another Woman

**This analysis is mainly themed around a pretty frank discussion of heteronormativity and misogyny. Please be mindful of that before reading this!**

Oh boy. What a doozy of a comic. What a radical shift to the way I had been reading this story up until now.

It didn't really change the way I saw Mizi as a character, to be honest. What it changed was my perception of the environment these characters grew up in, lending new context to Mizi's actions and motivations.

To summarize: Mizi being queer is a much bigger deal than I'd thought.

[Long post is long, as usual. Full analysis under the cut.]

The hints were there from the beginning that Mizi wasn't entirely oblivious to the cruel nature of their world.

I'm not going to say that she knew the true deadly end awaiting the losers on Alien Stage, because I really don't think that was the case at all. She didn't know Sua was going to be killed. At the same time, I think it was something of a case of "well, what did I think was going to happen?" after the fact. Mizi simply didn't consider it as a possibility, because she didn't want to see it.

I'll come back to this.

While watching Alien Stage, I always did have a certain thought in my head that intrigued me. Love is one of the central themes of the show, namely, the way the cast try their best to love in the only ways they know how. However, due to the structure of their world, the control they're placed under and how the only way they are allowed to shine is on stage as part of a packaged performance, their only metric for what "love" looks like is idolatry.

It didn't seem like it really mattered that much of our cast was queer. I just shrugged and assumed the aliens didn't really care what their pets got up to, so long as they performed well on stage.

This comic turned that on its head.

The scene with the unnamed Anakt Garden boy establishes something very important.

It does matter, actually, that the love is queer.

Over time, the creators have done a careful job of slowly showing us bit by bit of all the different things they are taught at Anakt - we see the music lessons first (checks out; they're being trained to sing, after all), and their mandatory play for "mental health". They have phys ed type competitions. While there is a disturbing element of all of them being essentially brought up as lambs to the slaughter, compared to the stage and to the horrors some of them faced from their guardians, the garden appears a relative paradise.

But the garden is not free of the aliens' control, far from it. Everything is fashioned to train the pet humans and serve some sort of purpose to satisfy the aliens.

We see experimentation and augmentation. We see a form of religion that emphasizes the great pride one should have in fulfilling the aliens' intended purposes for them. We see cloning.

There is another purpose to training "pets" and selecting ones that have particular desirable traits. After all, if you like a particular breed of dog for their hunting abilities, or a particular beautiful coat pattern, you can breed more like it. Io, Till's mother and a "provider", seems pretty clearly kept for that purpose.

I'm not saying that Anakt was for breeding. It's pretty clearly for the stage itself. But that doesn't change the mindset the aliens have taken to the relative "purposes" of biological females and males, and the way that trickles down into the mentality of the kids we see there.

We've seen a recent comic of the Anakt kids at school together, learning things about biology. I had originally assumed that it was focused on vocal training and anatomy pertaining to singing. Now, I suspect, from this unnamed guy saying "You know what they say", that there's a heavy focus on reproduction as well.

So, now love is corrupted two-fold. "Love" is only acceptable in terms of idolatry, or as a biological imperative to mate.

The Anakt kids are familiar with the concept of crushes. A lot of them were revealed to have crushes and have liked each other, as seen in the notes they left each other after graduation. Some of the names are difficult to discern, gender-wise. But I suspect most of these are male-female.

Till's crush on Mizi is "obvious". But Ivan's crush on Till is never noticed, and people continue to confess to Mizi and Sua despite the two always being together and Mizi directly stating that Sua is her favourite person. The boy in the most recent comic does not think anything of Mizi and Sua hanging out and instead fixates on her and Till. I don't even know if Till fully understands. Mizi tells him her favourite person is Sua, but does it occur to Till that her favouritism is born out of a romantic love for her? Does Till even recognize the possibility that Ivan's "weird" behaviour could be because he has feelings for him? I'm honestly unsure. It's very possible he doesn't know.

Another thing that intrigued me from the start: Mizi and Sua are canonically in love. But, just watching the show without knowledge that the creator, Vivinos, is queer, or without some of the comics' background information, a lot of people watching for the first time mistake them for best friends and nothing more. Even in official in-universe interviews, we see this:

They are best friends, of course! That's not in doubt and that's important too. But it's really interesting that even though the aliens were moved by their connection made obvious in the My Clematis performance, it is not called love.

By contrast, while in-universe the obliviousness is much the same, real-life audiences have no issue picking up on Ivan's feelings for Till. Part of this is gender bias (women are expected to be more affectionate with each other), but part of this is presentation. For awhile, I felt a little uncertain about the canon MiziSua relationship being so... understated compared to IvanTill, who get a full yearning song and an onstage kiss to make it completely unambiguous. It's even strange, because Mizi does nothing but talk about how much she loves Sua. But now, I think that's the point.

The thing is, Mizi has been loud about her love for Sua. It's just that no one understands.

What this comic establishes is that Mizi has near constant feelings of being misunderstood and objectified. She is a pretty woman, who is friendly, with a genuine desire to see people happy. Unfortunately, due to the aliens' emphasis on what a woman's role should be with regards to men, with regards to what is expected of her, her desire for friendship is treated as "leading people on", the way many women are accused of being "temptresses" when in reality it is others who read into her platonic expressions of behaviour. No one bothers to actually get to know her as a person, because hardly anyone cares about her beyond a pretty face. Without other female role models to help her understand that this is not her fault, Mizi internalizes this sudden anger at her as somehow her doing, even though she really doesn't get what she did "wrong".

Unlike Ivan, who at least fashioned his own personality to fit in, Mizi was forced to fill in the cracks on a smiley, cheerful, pretty mask that everyone else had decided on for her - because they could get mad at her if she doesn't.

Even though Mizi is naive in many regards, she actually notices something here that none of the rest of them seem to. Sua and Ivan "steal" these precious moments, resigned to never being able to have or keep them. Till is content to find inspiration from afar. These three have been fighting to physically survive in their awful circumstances, so that they really don't question the existing power structures much at all.

But Mizi, misunderstood and hurt by social factors more than by physical ones at this point, has just enough awareness and just enough innocence to question. She's so close to performing as a woman in the way others expect her to. And yet, there's something about her that is just "wrong" enough in the way that gets people (men) mad at her. And she doesn't get it.

She doesn't return his feelings but she does want to be friends. Why is that not enough?

She's already said she loves Sua. Why is that not enough?

She runs away here, still with a smile on her face to try and appease and placate this boy who got violent with her for a reason she cannot understand, even as she cries, clearly scared. This is a fawn response. And it's this that gets warped into Mizi somehow believing that she has made everyone love her or somehow manipulated them. Yes, it is intended for self-preservation. But not from the aliens.

Mizi runs to Sua, seeking comfort and reassurance. Surely, Sua will understand. And personally, I think Sua probably does to some degree. But in this situation, she had just spent a long time with her alien mother preparing for the stage. What's more, she doesn't trust or like many of the other people at Anakt. Mizi says that the boy wasn't a bad person, while Sua says there was "something off about him".

They had also just come off the tail end of an argument. Mizi is content to just make herself be happy now that Sua is here. But Sua cannot "just be happy", and from her perspective, Mizi's apparent ability to just shrug things off and be carefree is hurtful after the experience she has likely just had. Both girls wanted comfort from each other here and did not find it, but Sua makes the really insensitive move of accidentally echoing the boy's words back at Mizi. I don't think Sua meant this to be mean, really. Her collar is green - if anything, I think Sua is sincere about being glad Mizi doesn't get dragged around the way she does. But all the same, a level of resentment does show through, and it doesn't change the fact that this is the last thing Mizi needed to hear in that moment.

It's not really Sua Mizi wanted to hurt. She's definitely angry with her. But that's the thing: Mizi feels safe enough to get mad at and hit Sua. She did not feel safe enough to do that with the boy.

It makes sense now that Mizi was comfortable enough with Ivan to fall asleep on top of him. He was likely the one boy there she wasn't scared of, with full knowledge that he would never be interested in her that way.

And that's what I think Mizi was truly aware of that she pretended to be ignorant of. Not the full horrors of Alien Stage itself, but the emotions and mindsets of the people around her. She's much more understanding of the way people think and feel than she let on, which allowed her to tailor her reactions so that people hopefully wouldn't get so mad at her. If she's just a ditz, then they can't get too mad, right? People would feel bad for getting mad at someone so oblivious, right? She could keep finding comfort and safety and protection in Sua, right? Right?

She's innocent to many things, but when it comes to human beings, Mizi is almost hyper-aware of the way her perceived womanhood puts her in danger, not just from the aliens but from her peers, and the way her love for Sua is not accepted and would not be understood. And by not understanding that, by not seeing the love that was one of the few things she chose to pursue and cultivate for herself, does anyone really know her at all?

The religion they pray to tells them to be honoured to be selected for Alien Stage, and to carry out the purpose they were created for.

Mizi, armed with knowledge of humanity's god before the aliens, but with a naive and innocent hope in her heart due to being shielded from the horror of physical death, defies this assigned deity and chooses a new god in Sua. Her love for Sua is what she sees as the truest part of her - no matter what anyone tells her about what her's and Sua's "purpose" is, that cannot possibly be wrong. Something that brings them happiness and security like this cannot be wrong. She devotes herself to it because it is the one thing that she refuses to appease others over. She thinks this entitlement to her heart and body is "gross". She states it bluntly, many times. Her favorite person is Sua. Her best friend in the world is Sua. Her god, her universe, is Sua, and she chose her.

This changes the My Clematis performance.

We know that Mizi, unlike the rest, was not forced to participate in Alien Stage; instead, it was a choice she made because she wanted to perform with Sua. What initially seemed like a naive desire to share a special moment with her soulmate becomes something much more motivated by Mizi's own desires to have people see her love for Sua in a way that cannot be denied. She wants people to see them together.

Mizi is oblivious to the Stage's true nature, but she is not oblivious to the emotions of her friends. She knows something is wrong with the way Sua is acting about it. She knows the stage carries tension they can all feel. On some level, she knows the two of them are destined to be torn apart.

But she doesn't want to see it, because much like Sua needed her bubble of innocence to survive, Mizi needed her hope that their love could be enough some day. That they won't be torn apart and forced to fulfill some coldly practical or biological prerogative. It's the first duet in Alien Stage history; a brilliant, almost rebellious demonstration that Mizi has just about deluded herself into thinking might actually work to spare them from their fate she sticks her head in the sand about and refuses to acknowledge.

They are going to wear their most beautiful dresses. They are going to sing the most beautiful song for them, a testament to their love and connection. Look, see, aren't we beautiful?

Mizi: "Still, I want to sing and perform with SUA for as long as possible, so I want to win with her, together! I heard that there’s never been a tie in all of ALIEN STAGE’s history… But if we get that tie, then I bet everyone will call us the most fantastic duo to exist in history, right?!"

After this comic, all I can read in this is: acknowledge us.

But then Sua is shot dead in front of her.

Her blood splashes that same cheek where the boy slapped her. Mizi's final hopes are shattered. Worse yet, because she still can't understand why this happened and why everyone keeps getting violent, because her desire to display their love openly got Sua killed, Mizi internalizes the idea that she is the one with something horribly wrong with her - blaming herself for being too frightened to face reality when the rest of her friends had, and feeling like her desperate attempts to people please and hold onto an ignorant hope forced people into dying to protect her. In actuality though, Mizi is not responsible for the way people try to force her to fit an image, and she did not manipulate people into liking her - she's just friendly, and many of the guys read into it, feeling entitled to her because they're boys and she's a girl, and in the face of that, Mizi's established love for another girl is inconsequential.

This adds another layer to Mizi's violent breakdown in round 5. The boy from this comic bears quite the resemblance to Luka. This comic recontextualizes Luka's interactions with Mizi and Hyuna in a really intriguing way.

Luka is a victim. I want to make that clear off the bat. He's heavily implied to be a clone with the least amount of understanding on love and human connection. Off the stage, he is micromanaged to the point of complete and utter obedience - the perfect idol. But on stage, the performance is his to control, and he does so by asserting dominance over his performing partner and emotionally destabilizing them.

Fascinatingly, while everyone else appears somewhat oblivious to the queer love of many of our main characters, Luka appears stunningly aware of it, and is able to weaponize it. Round 5 looks like a wedding. He grabs Mizi and forces her to participate in a distorted version of a partner dance. It was really the perfect way to break her.

In addition to mocking her over Sua's death, in addition to her anger that Sua lied to her and enabled her ignorance, Mizi looks up at Luka and sees what she always feared: a man replacing her beloved Sua and forcing her into a kind of relationship she doesn't want, because "that is the way things are meant to be".

She no longer has anything to lose, nor fear for her own life, so she finally lets all her anger out on him.

Again, Luka is obedient. He's internalized many things: win at all costs being one of them. Do what you were designed to do. It's not really a surprise that he probably internalized these biological notions of what is "natural" too. Whatever his audience wants to see.

This also lends context to this scene. Hyuna is in distress. We know and she knows that Luka's feelings are genuine, but for as long as he acts out the aliens' methods of control, his "love" will only be a prison for Hyuna. He forces himself on her here, likely because... "it's only natural". That entitlement tainting what were genuine feelings between them would be unbearable for Hyuna, who values her freedom more than anything (and this is before even getting into what happened to Hyunwoo).

For Hyuna to rescue Mizi immediately after she lashed out, and for Mizi to temporarily see a woman who embodies freedom in how and who she loves, who is unabashedly loud and courageous while no less damaged, is a huge deal coming on the tail end of Round 5. It's really such a shame the time they had together was so short.

I, for one, am really hoping that Mizi can find her strength in love again, much like Hyuna did, instead of continuing to punish herself through Sua's memory.

#storyrambles #i could definitely talk more about sua and hyuna through this lens but this is already long enough. and we're talking about mizi so.#anyways i really hope this was clear? it's a bit heavy to write and read... i hope i didn't overlook anything important #alien stage #alnst #alnst mizi #alnst meta #call me ace detective the way i am ace. and also a detective #mizisua

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sheep-from-rad · 7 months ago

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Imagines: Batfam x Social Media Handler! Reader pt. II

Note: This is a random idea. I also had coffee and I’m now allowed to have coffee because it makes me throw up sometimes. Well, i’ll get on that later but right now let me publish is mini idea Original: Batfam x Social Media handler! reader Masterlist

After coming back from a good two months of annual Wayne paid vacation, you were immediately greeted by a salary raise, a few more tasks added on your weekly routine, an access to the liquor cabinets and a private therapy.

One of the new tasks added to your weekly routine is playing fan made games. No, not those games made by big companies but those fanmade itch io dating games. It was Stephanie’s idea, she said that it’s a good idea to keep track of fan’s headcanons and see if a thing is too close to their real identity. The rest of the family shrugged at the idea but now you have a throwaway account for all those games in case you need to sign in and a smaller bank account for paid DLCs.

Unfortunately, from one to two games a week, you now have to review double the amount because Nightwing accidentally quoted a word for word line from one of the dating games during his patrol. Their idols playing their fan made game= happy fans. Happy fans= more games made. More games made=more stuff for you to review. You now record the gameplay as well and you send it to them during their downtimes to share whatever cringe you come across with.

Reading fanfics also got added to your weekly routine. The Batfam usually just ignore fanfics most of the time until that one Damian Wayne x reader fanfic got viral in the media. The plot is good really, it’s a fake dating turned real dating AU where Damian blends in the society with fellow vigilante reader by masquerading as lovers at day. It was good but it almost blew his cover as Robin when hardcore readers started following Damian during school time and then following his other persona during patrols. Damian had to exchange patrol schedules with Tim for a week because of the thing. The fanfic reading is a rare task though because Jason already reads most of it during his breaks.

The pay raise wasn’t just because of the new tasks added to your job, it was also a compensation for every horror you have witnessed and will be witnessing while handling DMs. Handling creepy/flirty DMs is normal given that you’re the first person that will always read them but you forgot the fact that handling DMs means also opening the private and public accounts at 4 a.m. in the morning and suddenly being greeted by nudes. Kate made a good suggestion for Alfred to give you an access to the liquor cabinet because sometimes coffee is really not strong enough.

Speaking of handling public account DMs, handling Bruce’s public account is like reading the gossip page of the newspaper every morning. His DMs can be sorted to three things: Business related messages (which you redirects to Lucius Fox), party and social gathering invitations, and of course, nudes and ex-flings claiming that Bruce is their kid’s father (and occasional threats that they will ruin Bruce’s reputation if they don’t pay child support or take them back as a romantic partner). Most of the Friday reports are just you making appointments for paternity testings. Of course, how can you forget? You can’t handle Bruce’s DMs around the Batkids. The last time it happened, Jason took control of the account, and posted embarrassing pictures on the business page.

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erodasfishtacos · 10 days ago

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Honest Lies ||FWB||

prompt: yn tries to avoid, Harry won't let her

word count: 3.7k

warnings: angsts, cheating, bad relationships

an:

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Harry had slipped out before the footsteps on the stairs reached the bathroom door.

No moment to acknowledge what they’d just done.

Just the echo of the door clicking shut behind him and the silence that felt deafening.

YN stood alone in the bathroom now, fingers gripping the edges of the sink like it might somehow ground her, like it might give her answers.

Her gaze flicked up to the mirror, but she could barely look at herself.

Her reflection didn’t look different—if anything she had a post-orgasm glow, her lips swollen, and her eyes wet.

She should be gutted, disgusted with herself.

She waits for it, actually—for the guilt to tear through her, to reduce her to nothing but regret and horror and that sick, hollow ache in her stomach that comes from knowing you can’t undo something awful.

But it doesn’t come, at least not in the way she expects.

Instead, what comes is the memory.

It replays in her mind like a favorite movie scene she’s watched too many times—his mouth on hers, the way he touched her like he couldn’t get close enough, like he’d been starving and she was the first taste of heaven.

The sound of his voice when he spoke to her, praised her, called her honey.

The way her body had arched into his without hesitation liked they'd done it many times before.

The way she’d wanted it.

And that was the most damning part of it all.

Because YN doesn’t wish she could undo it.

She would do it again.

She wants to do it again.

She isn’t sorry for the act—she’s sorry for the implications.

She used to think cheating was a hard line.

A clear boundary.

A dealbreaker to any relationship.

And now here she was, standing in the aftermath of her own choices, wondering how she’d ever believed in that kind of moral.

She can’t go back out there.

She can’t sit next to Ben like nothing happened, like the last twenty minutes hasn't rattled her entire being.

She can’t make eye contact with Lauren either—especially not Lauren.

So instead, she locks the bathroom door and gets into the shower.

The smell of Harry—his cologne, his skin, his mouth clings to her like the campfire smoke, and she scrubs and scrubs until the scent is gone and the grief sinks in.

Because it is grief, in some strange way.

The awareness that she can’t unknow what it feels like to be wanted like that.

Cherished like that.

Touched like that.

She turns off the water but doesn’t get out immediately. .

Her nipples are tender from where his mouth had claimed them, a dull throb where he’d nipped too hard, too eager.

And then she sees it—a faint bruise just beneath the curve of her breast, dangerously close to her nipple, something she hadn’t even registered in the heat of the moment.

She presses a thumb to it, and it aches, and somehow that small, physical confirmation—proof that it really happened undoes her more than anything else.

She sleeps better than she expects.

There’s no tossing and turning, no dramatic spiral.

Instead, her dreams blur into the feeling of his hands on her waist, his voice in her ear.

The next morning is a new challenge.

YN doesn’t know how to act around him.

Her body stiffens when he walks into the room, embarrassingly enough, even in the morning she gets this gut punch of arousal from merely seeing him.

She isn’t overtly avoiding him—she tells herself that again and again but she’s curbing everything.

Her gaze, tone, presence because she knows.

No one else knows but it feels like they could.

Any second now, someone will say something or see something—some flash in her eyes, some tension in the way she shifts when Harry enters a room.

It feels like she’s wearing it.

And when she looks at Ben, really looks at him—she feels nothing.

It’s like she’s looking at a man who spent years tearing her down slowly, carefully, without ever raising his voice.

A man who made her feel like her body was an inconvenience, something to be tolerated or criticized but never worshipped.

The memory of Harry’s hands, the admiration in his touch, feels like a slap in the face when she compares it to the way Ben used to sigh before touching her, like he was doing her a favor.

She can’t look at him the same way.

But it’s not Ben that’s aching in her chest.

It’s Harry.

Harry, who’s sitting across the room while Lauren loops her arm through his and laughs at something he says.

Harry, who doesn’t pull away from her touch but doesn’t exactly lean into it either.

Harry, who’s pretending like nothing happened, who keeps trying to catch YN’s gaze like when his fingertips were pressed into her backside to guide her cunt to his mouth.

And YN hates how it affects her.

How something green and ugly coils in her stomach every time Lauren brushes her hand over his thigh or leans her head against his shoulder.

She has no right to feel possessive.

She knows that.

But she does.

She wishes she could say it didn’t matter, that she wasn’t keeping score, but when Harry sits beside her on the couch and she immediately stands to go get something from the kitchen, she feels his eyes track her the entire way.

When she comes back and settles cross-legged on the floor instead of beside him, his eyes narrow ever so slightly.

She tells herself it’s about privacy, about timing, about not having this conversation in front of a house full of people.

But deep down, she knows that’s only part of it.

The rest is fear.

Harry doesn’t seem as concerned about timing.

She can feel it—the way he keeps drifting closer, like he’s just waiting for the moment she can’t dodge him anymore.

And she was right.

He’s strategic, calculated, in that quiet way of his—subtle, but deliberate.

She has to give him credit for that, even if it makes her want to scream.

He waits until everyone’s seated around the living room coffee table, shuffling cards, casual as ever.

It’s some complicated game that YN doesn’t know how to play—one with too many rules and not enough explanation and no one’s really offering to teach her, either.

Harry, suddenly, claims the same ignorance.

“I don’t remember how to play either,” He says with a shrug, grabbing his coffee from the side table and sipping it like he hadn’t just lied.

Niall frowns, confused, “Didn’t we play this last summer at your place? You got way too competitive and lost a bet to Trist—”

Harry cuts him off with a low chuckle and a casual wave of his hand, brushing the memory away like it’s irrelevant, “Doesn’t ring a bell.”

It’s a lie.

A lazy one.

YN knows it immediately, the same way she knows how Harry’s hands felt on her thighs just hours ago.

Niall accepts it with a laugh, already distracted, but YN's stomach twists tight.

She recognizes exactly what Harry’s doing.

He’s making out space or more accurately, he’s isolating them.

Creating the moment.

And then he says it, “Will you help me start bringing supplies down to the boat?”

He doesn’t look at her when he asks—not fully.

His tone is neutral enough to pass as casual to anyone not paying attention, but the weight behind the words leaves no room for misinterpretation.

It’s not a suggestion.

And something in his eyes flickers—annoyance?

Frustration?

He’s never looked at her like that before.

“Sure, Harry,” She says, pasting on a smile on her face.

She catches it—that tiny shift in his expression- relief, surprise, maybe even a bit of softness that slips through before he masks it again.

He didn’t think she’d go quietly.

But she does.

Fuck.

----

No one blinks when they leave.

It’s natural enough to be brushed off.

Then they’re gone—out of the house, down the back path, through the screen of trees that shelters the dock from the house windows.

Out of sight.

Harry doesn’t speak at first.

Just moves methodically, stacking folded towels in his arms, grabbing a few lifejackets, nodding at her to follow as if this is all normal like they’re just doing chores together.

Her legs feel like lead, heavy and awkward, and she hates how badly she wants to reach for him, pull him down to sit beside her on the dock, press her mouth to his and pretend that nothing else exists.

Instead, she scolds herself for even thinking about it.

She shames herself for wanting.

And when Harry finally speaks, it’s not what she expects.

“Are you angry with me?” He asks, voice measured and cautious as he kneels to shove the lifejackets under the storage bench.

His shoulders are so broad in his T-shirt, and the veins in his arms flex as he pushes the last one into place.

He crosses his arms as he stands, looking at her fully now, and the air around them feels dense, charged, thick.

She blinks.

“What? No,” She answers quickly, a bit too quickly, her voice almost defensive with how startled she is.

And really, how could she be surprised?

She’s been acting like he’s got the plague by avoiding eye contact, dodging proximity, stepping around him like her own guilt.

Harry’s mouth twists.

His brow furrows just slightly, and there’s something vulnerable flickering there beneath the frustration.

“Then why are you avoiding me? You’ve done it twice now,” He says, and it’s not just irritation—there’s hurt threaded through it, too, “You’re making it really fucking hard to not feel like you regret all of it.”

She lets out a breathless laugh, dry and brittle, “I don’t know, Harry. Maybe because what we did was fucked? What did you expect? That we’d skip out and hold hands ?”

His jaw clenches.

He doesn’t rise to the sarcasm, but he doesn’t shrink from it either, “I don’t understand, YN.”

Because he thinks this is about attraction, about chemistry about lust igniting but for her, it’s always been so much more.

The way he looks at her.

The way he listens.

The way he makes her feel seen, not judged.

She’s spent years pretending it was nothing.

She can’t pretend anymore—but she’s also nowhere near ready to say any of it aloud.

“We’re both in relationships, Harry,” She says stiffly, redirecting, deflecting, desperate to drag the conversation back to safer, more reasonable ground, “That’s the issue, isn't it obvious?”

Harry rolls his eyes.

And it’s not playful—it’s exasperated, disbelieving.

“Come the fuck on.”

Her mouth drops open, “Excuse me? What does that mean? I think it’s a pretty big fucking issue.”

“I’m not saying it’s not,” Harry replies, biting down on his inner cheek to control his tone, “But let’s not pretend like those relationships are solid. You and I both know they’re not, clearly not after last night.”

“I didn’t say that,” YN snaps, defensive without even thinking—because she hates the idea of him painting her so spot on.

Harry scoffs out a humorless laugh.

“Right. Okay,” He steps a bit closer, his voice lower, tighter, “You want to pretend like everything’s fine in your relationship? Go ahead. But I’ve known for a while that Lauren and I should break up. At least I can admit I’m not happy.”

“Well, that’s your relationship. You don’t know anything about mine.”

He stares at her for a moment, then shakes his head, lips curling into a bitter, knowing smirk, “I know enough to make some educated guesses.”

She can’t think of a retort.

She wants to scream, wants to cry, wants to kiss him.

Instead, she huffs out a sharp breath, “Okay, Harry.”

But he doesn’t let it go.

“I know your relationship is bad enough that you let someone else touch you. That you let me touch you,” He says, and now the heat in his voice is unmistakable, blistering, “Bad enough that you came on my tongue without a second thought.”

The words slam into her, vulgar and raw and true.

“It was a mistake,” She spits, even though it’s the biggest lie she’s ever told.

Harry recoils slightly, like she’s slapped him.

It’s subtle—but she sees it.

The flicker of pain.

The shift in his jaw.

The blow lands, and for a second, it feels like she might throw up.

“You regret it?” He asks quietly, and it’s not just hurt—it’s devastation laced with disbelief.

Her heart stutters.

Of course not.

Not even a little.

It was the first time in so long that she’d felt alive.

But none of that makes it out of her mouth.

“Of course, I do,” She lies again, her voice barely above a whisper,“You should too.”

And even to her own ears, the words sound like bullshit.

Harry’s eyes search her face, like he’s looking for the truth behind the performance.

YN and Harry had never argued like this before.

Not even close.

Their connection had always been unspoken and easy.

They never needed to raise their voices, never needed to defend themselves—until now.

And this?

This didn’t feel like a disagreement.

It felt like the beginning of a wedge.

Harry’s face had shifted fully into something she wasn’t used to seeing from him—emotionless, cold, his jaw locked, and his gaze hard in that way that made her feel suddenly very small.

He spoke with calculated calm, each word weighted and clipped, like he wanted her to feel them down to her bones.

“I know the choices I made last night,” He said, voice low and deliberate, “And no matter what you think, I stand by them. Because I know my relationship. I know the hurt and I don’t feel enough for her to care anymore. The only reason I’d even begin to regret what happened is because of how you’re acting right now.”

Her stomach dropped.

The words landed like heavy bricks on her chest.

She wasn’t validating him.

She was pushing him away.

And worse—she was lying through her teeth to keep herself afloat, to not drown in the weight of her own fear.

But still, something in her ached at the thought that he could reject her over this.

That she could drive him to indifference.

That she might ruin something that meant so much more than she could bear to admit.

It wasn’t fair—none of this was fair.

But she didn’t stop.

Because what terrified her more than losing him… was wanting him this much.

She couldn’t even admit that she was falling, that she had already fallen—and that the idea of him not being on the same page would gut her beyond repair.

So instead, she twisted the blade deeper.

“It was just sex,” She said flatly, the words hitting the air like poison.

It wasn’t even a good lie.

It cracked in her tone before it fully left her lips.

Harry’s brow lifted slightly, his arms crossed over his chest, and she hated how defined his biceps looked, even now.

He tilted his head, voice low, incredulous.

“Really?” He asked, with a slow, sharp edge, “You’re telling me that’s all it was?”

She knew that if she opened her mouth, her voice would shake so she just nodded instead, eyes dropping to the dock between them.

Harry wasn’t buying it.

“You didn’t feel anything?” He pushed, clearly trying to drag the truth out of her, desperate or angry—she couldn’t quite tell.

She didn’t know what answer he was even looking for—because she couldn’t tell the difference anymore between physical want and the deeper, dangerous longing that had been rooted in her for so long, growing quietly in the heart of her miserable relationship.

Her throat was tight.

The back of her neck prickled with the warning of tears, and she swallowed hard to push them down.

She couldn’t cry so she shrugged.

Harry scoffed, a sound that was both offended and exhausted, as he shook his head.

His voice was rough when he replied, “Whatever. I know what I felt.”

“And what was that?” She asked, voice barely recognizable as her own, hollow and hoarse.

“No,” he said sharply, pointing a finger at her, “You don’t get to do that.”

“Do what?” She shot back, confused and defensive and unraveling.

“You don’t get to shut down on me and then ask me for vulnerability like it’s owed,” Harry growled, “You don’t get to lie to my face and then demand honesty from me.”

His anger was simmering, not exploding—but controlled.

YN’s cheeks flamed, stung by the truth because he was right.

She was asking him to lay it all out while she built walls and hid behind them.

She felt like she was being scolded, called out on the kind of behavior she usually hated in other people.

“Did you feel anything?” Harry asked again, stepping closer now, voice quieter, but still intense.

The question felt too big, too overwhelming.

What did it even mean?

Anything?

“Don’t ask me that,” YN pleaded, shaking her head, her voice shaking too, “I’m… I’m in a relationship.”

Harry’s lip curled with frustration, his voice getting sharper again, “Not a good enough one that you wanted to be faithful.”

“You don’t—”

“He’s a fucking prick, YN,” Harry interrupted, not letting her finish, “No one will say it to you, but I will. We all hate him. No one understands what you’re doing with him. And last night just proved it even more—when you flinched about your own goddamn body, when you told me the shit he says to you.”

Harry was fired up now, his voice louder but not threatening.

Just emotionally charged.

“It’s fucked up, YN,” He seethed, stepping forward again, “That he talks to you like that, that he’s made you feel like that. And if you ask me, no—I don’t feel a fucking ounce of regret over last night. Not even a little. The only thing that’s goddamn disappointing is that you are acting this way.”

Her heart was pounding so loudly she could hear it in her ears, and for a moment, she didn’t know what her body was going to do.

Collapse? Vomit? Hyperventilate?

But in the end, it was tears.

The tears broke first.

They spilled over faster than she could stop them, as her mouth trembled and her shoulders sagged.

Her hands lifted in a weak attempt to hide it, to save face, but Harry saw.

And the shift in him was immediate.

His anger faded in an instant, his body moving without hesitation toward her, hand reaching out—gentle now.

“Honey—” He said softly, voice breaking on the nickname, his expression unraveling into concern, into guilt.

But then—

“Everything good?” A voice cut through them.

Niall.

His voice was awkward, his body half-turned as if he was unsure whether to approach or retreat.

“I, uh… just came to tell you we switched to Monopoly,” He said, glancing between them with a raised brow, clearly trying to figure out what he’d walked into but smart enough to know not to ask.

YN’s face burned, and she wiped at her cheeks quickly, shoving all the pieces of herself back into place.

“Yeah,” She said, voice too chipper, too fake, “All good. I’ll play.”

She moved before Harry could stop her, before he could say anything else.

“YN—” He called, ignoring Niall entirely, voice rough with urgency.

But she turned to him, her gaze hard, final.

“You can set up the rest, right?” She asked, and though her words were polite, the look in her eyes was not.

It was a warning.

Harry’s jaw clenched.

His eyes flashed something like irritation and desperation but he didn’t push.

“Yeah,” He said quietly, gaze locked to hers, “I’m good. Go have fun.”

And she left him there—alone on the dock, in the sun, surrounded by supplies they were supposed to carry together.

Ignoring the tension that transferred onto Niall.

I have so much planned for these two! I'm going to try to do smutty angsts which I haven't done a lot of!! If ever really!

#harry styles writing #harry styles #harry styles fluff #update #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles fic rec #harry styles masterlist #harry styles x y/n #harry styles smut #harry styles glastonbury #harry styles one shot #fanpic harry #louis tomlinson #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fiction #writing updates #writing

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rafeplay · 29 days ago

Text

ADA ADORE !

ft. di!leon s. kennedy x gn!reader x ada wong

tags. toxic relationship, divorce sorry idk how to tag this, smut mentions, age gap mention, character study..? oral happens a little, dub-con

note. HAIIII IO HAPPY EARLY BDAY! @girlfridged this is a year and many months overdue it’s been in my drafts for so long I wanted to write it so bad for ages but I couldnt n I thought I’d finally do it before I get busy w exams ILYSMMMMM I HOPE THIS IS WHAT U NEED ilysm and I just want u to have fun and be happy and I hope ada brings that to u 💔🤍 unedited + clunky n disjointed per usual .. io I accidentally made this more ab aeon I’m so sorry I will make it up to u LMFAKDKFK feedback n rbs always appreciated

It’s not working out.

It hasn’t been working out since they tied the knot.

There’s no honeymoon phase when you marry a woman like Ada Wong. In fact, there is no phase at all. There were no rings and no ceremony and when they went to bed that night Leon realised they both ran cold—Two cold bodies in a bed is just a shared grave.

They both work a lot so they’re married on vacation days, but Leon’s not around on Christmas, and Ada’s busy on New Years so they settle for birthdays. Easter is out of the question - Ada doesn’t have time to believe in trivial things like god and Leon still ducks like the devil anytime he sees a cross.

They remember they’ve chosen each other between global collapse and political demise and the occasional personal trauma—AKA Leon’s birthday. Not hers. Never hers.

It’s the one day in the whole entire year they pretend the world doesn’t need saving.

(In Ada’s case, ruining.)

She gives him a pretty little present, fucks him like it’s a threat, and sometimes, only sometimes, Leon gets to fall asleep in the same timezone as her.

Leon thought about getting a dog. Something warm, loyal, friendly, something to come home to. When he told her she teased him. And he let her—Of course he did, he would let her push him flat on his back in an active minefield.

“You want me to be a dog, Leon?” She got on her knees and crawled towards him and it was really sexy, but he took his meds before they got in bed and any chance of a boner had been deemed impossible.

“I just want you to come home,” he had let out by mistake, and then Ada dried up because she doesn’t really feel anything that isn’t lust or some cruel type of need to have him squashed under her thumb and him getting needy outside of the bedroom is her number one turn-off.

As of how they’re doing right now?

Ada’s current location is unknown. He sent a message three days ago. He wasn’t even sure if it was the correct number.

Leon: Alive?

She left him on read. Whatever. Pretty generous for Ada. Means she’s not causing any trouble. Maybe she’s just taking time away from him. He understands. Leon often needs space from himself. And somehow from her considering how little she is home. One day with Ada stretches on for an eternity, it wrings him out, hangs him up to dry. It’s like the whole entire world is put on pause because she said so. He can’t get away from himself and not from Ada either—he sees her in the mirror everyday because they have the same goddamn haircut.

He goes to work. Sits on his chair purposely hard. Stares at the ceiling like he’s waiting for god to send a memo.

To: [email protected]

Subject: Leave her. Fix your marriage. Get a dog.

Attachment: Miracle.

Leon wishes he knew how to talk to her. Like, actually like, talk—Like not in his head, but with his mouth and from his heart. Open up about all those big, big feelings he keeps having. But he’s not stupid, he knows Ada would probably smile at him, and in that smile he would see the exact moment she would decide not to want him. Because she doesn’t do feelings or emotions or therapy or any of the sissy bullshit Leon has really gotten into in these past few years.

“Good morning, Leon.” Hunnigan rarely says it first, only when he’s brooding.

Leon sighs deeply. He pretends he doesn’t see Helena roll her eyes in his peripheral. “Yeah…” He nods slowly—forlornly. “Good morning.”

“What’s wrong with you today?” She asks flatly. “Will you let me know by lunch so I can file the appropriate forms?”

Helena snorts. Leon sighs again. Deeper. Sadder. Like, please fawn over me, at least offer to make me a coffee I won’t drink and let me rest my head on your bosom while you do all this complicated big boy paperwork for me.

“I’m having girl trouble, put that on my file if you want.” Leon sniffs, crossing his arms and wondering if his marriage would benefit from whatever him and Hunnigan have going on; they have been work-wife and work-husband for eleven years now. It could be the back and forth. Sarcasm. But no. His therapist says sarcasm is hiding, which to be completely honest is true, he is hiding. Always has been.

They don’t know about Ada—Not really. They know of her. That she goes up like smoke. That he keeps her compact in his drawer. That she is probably still wanted for treason by the country he lives and dies for. That she killed Helena’s sister and all. First by proxy and then by hand. They certainly don’t know her and Leon are quote-unquote married.

“Maybe she’s seeing someone else,” Helena offers unhelpfully.

“Why the hell would you say that?” He shakes his head, pointing a finger at her. “You don’t even know who she is.”

“I’m statistically speaking - based on all of your dates,” she adds, also unhelpfully.

“Mm,” Hunnigan hums in agreement, “how old is this one?”

“Older than me,” Leon says proudly, like it’s some sort of accomplishment—but it is, for a moment he really did forget about himself, all his morals, he fucked a twenty-one year old and everything. A mid-life crisis, but he’s all better now.

“How old?” Helena sits up, interested. “Your age kind of old?“

“I’m not even forty, Helena.” Leon doesn’t look up from the floor, pouting at the scuff marks on his shoes.

“Fifty?”

“God, I wish, but no.”

“Sixty?” Hunnigan chimes in without looking away from her monitor.

“No.”

“Is she as old as that lunch lady you flirt with?” Helena scoots her chair closer.

“Hey! First of all, her name is Hazel, and she is not just the lunch lady, she’s the head and she rotates the menu by season, runs the whole thing…” He trails off.

Silence.

“…But no, not that old, Jesus.” Ada is a cougar not a fucking sabretooth. “She’s got a couple years on me, like forty-something I guess.” He doesn’t even know her fucking birthday. Some husband he is.

“Is it serious?”

Leon looks at Helena like she’s stupid. Like anything could ever be fully serious with Ada. Everything is a sick joke to her, but it’s not. It’s not a joke—this is his fucking life. His stupid, sad life. ”Kind of, yeah, I guess—For me it is.”

“But not for her, huh?” Helena clicks her tongue, giving him a sympathetic look.

An hour or so later when they’re all in a meeting, Leon is too busy wondering how they fit such a big table through such a small door, why he is destined for so much fucking pain, whether or not Helena and Hunnigan are playing footsie right under his nose. Maybe if Ada was a man-eater with teeth the size of his head he wouldn’t like her so much. Maybe if his dick was bigger she wouldn’t be so inclined to leave. Maybe if it was nicer—No…No. it couldn't be that. His dick is nice. Nicer than most. Neatly trimmed pubes, nice shape, nice length, tasteful curvature, he’s got some lovely gradient going on. Jesus Christ, this table is huge. Did they build the room around it? Is that a thing people can do? It couldn’t come in parts it’s literally fucking solid oak. Does it fold? Everything folds eventually. Helena shifts beside him—Is she making eyes at Hunnigan? Is she seriously…Can Hunnigan even see all the way over on the opposite side of this huge-ass table?

“Agent Kennedy?”

Leon’s eyes shoot up, going from bigwig to bigwig until he finds the speaker. A senator of some kind with a tarmac grey suit. “Yes… Yes, sir?”

“Some input on the current strategy?” It’s not unkind, more wanting of guidance from someone who’s been in the game as long as Leon has.

“My dick is fine,” Leon says on autopilot.

Everyone is looking at him. That pretty intern he got a coffee for stifles a laugh into her hand, Hunnigan is staring him down, Helena is trying not to smile.

“Sorry, thought I was on mute.”

“You’re…You’re not on call, Agent Kennedy.”

“Right.” Leon nods. “Obviously.

He looks back down at the table.

It’s still too big for the room.

Leon comes home late. Which is usual. So he guesses he’s coming home on time. He isn’t over how big the table is, he isn't over talking about his dick in front of presidential advisors, and he isn’t over Ada like he would really like to be.

He aims to throw his jacket on the wooden coat she bought. Gothic. Curling arms, and a mahogany base. He misses and his jacket slumps to the ground like a wounded animal.

She’s cheating on me. Helena is right. She’s with someone else. She left me on read so that means she’s not even doing fieldwork, she’s just ignoring me on purpose.

Leon blinks at his reflection in the oval mirror Ada placed in the entrance hall.

But she can’t be. Look at him. Look at him. Look at those eyes. Look at that nose. Don’t look at the chin. She’s not cheating. She’s just Ada. Sexy, career-driven, free, independent—Oh god. But what if she is? What if she is cheating on him? With some hunk like Chris. Not because Leon thinks Chris is hot, but maybe Ada thinks he is.

And then he sees them.

Her heels kicked off in the corner. The ones she wears on date nights. The one she wears to see other men probably. Leon crouches down to study them, running a finger over the patent leather, flipping them upside down to see the weathered red bottoms. He has kissed these a thousand times.

“Are you talking to my shoes, Leon?”

Leon’s heart thumps out of his chest.��

“You're home,” he breathes out, waiting for someone to step out from behind her, freshly showered, using his towel. Taller, stronger, bigger—

“I wanted to see you.” She’s not wearing any makeup and she looks her age and it’s so fucking sexy.

“Are you cheating on me?” Leon blurts out.

Ada smiles at him like What if I am? What will you do about it? You’d stay with me anyway, wouldn’t you? You pathetic excuse of a man. “What makes you think that?”

“You left me on read.”

“You asked me if I was alive, Leon.”

“Yeah—Yeah, and you never said yes.”

“I read it.”

“Still—“

Ada cuts in, “Why don’t you come to bed, babe, I was so lonely waiting up for you.” She leaves no room for argument so he follows her into the bedroom, he lets her take off his clothes and wash his face and kiss him on the head as she tucks him in.

“Why did you call me babe?” Leon mumbles as he tucks his face into her neck, breathing her in.

“What’s wrong with babe?” Ada asks him, falsely tender, antiseptic affection.

“I dunno…It’s, like, it reminds me of the pig.”

She laughs. He wants to hear her do that again. Make a fool out of himself to make her smile or snort. “Fine, you’re my baby.”

He settles down after that as Ada traces shapes into his skin with the points of her manicured nails. It would be nice if she wasn’t pressing so hard. “Too hard,” Leon complains, twisting in discomfort.

“Lingchi, pressure massage,” Ada explains, “ancient technique.”

He rolls over while she lingchis his back to Google it.

Lingchi

Lingchi, usually translated "slow slicing" or "death by a thousand cuts", was a form of torture and execution used in China from roughly 900 until it was banned in 1905. It was also used in Vietnam and Korea.

Source: Wikipedia

Leon is still rubbing sleep out of his eyes when Ada says it. Buttering her toast casually. Red dress. Red lips. Red heels. “By the way, I’m sleeping with someone.”

Just like that. There’s no ‘we need to talk’ or ‘I’m leaving you’. Nope. Not at all.

“I’m sorry?” He blinks.

She doesn’t look up from her toast. Dipping the knife into a pot of strawberry jam he didn’t even know they had. “It’s just sex, Leon.”

“I thought you…I love you, Ada.” He blinks again. Maybe thrice.

“I know you do, baby.” She smiles. “You're still my husband.”

“How could you—I don’t…I don’t understand, Ada.”

She places the toast on the counter in front of him. “I have to go now, I don’t have time to talk about it today, baby.” She kisses his cheek. Grabs her bag. “I’m very busy, why don’t you tell your journal all about it?”

“I don’t have a—“

“Drive safe, baby!” Her heels click-clack as she leaves.

Leon sits in traffic that morning thinking about it.

By the way, I’m sleeping with someone.

It’s just sex, Leon.

You’re still my husband.

It’s not raining, but the wipers are going off, and he flips off a man in the car next to him without thinking.

How could she? How could she just say that? Who fucking does that? Ada would. Ada can. Ada does.

He thinks about crashing his car into the lobby of the DSO.

He zones out during a meeting. For the second time. Hunnigan gives him a look that says If you’re thinking about killing yourself, please do it after this meeting.

He eats lunch alone in the break room. He opens his phone six times in five minutes and there’s nothing.

What does this guy even look like? What does he do—What could he do to get her attention? Ada’s attention. To get her to want him, fuck him, leave Leon on read for three days to be with him. What is it about him? Taller? Blonder? Younger? Sweeter? Stupider? No…There’s no one stupider than Leon. No one is more pathetic than Leon. It can’t be.

He drives home, clammy, hands slipping off the wheel thinking about this man. Thinking about finding out who the fuck he is, finding his address, sizing him up and ultimately leaving when he realises Ada has found herself someone that isn’t shorter than her when she puts on heels. And Ada is always wearing heels.

He steps inside, holding his breathing, for once he is hoping she isn’t home so he has time to pace, drink, contemplate and repeat.

But her shoes are kicked off in the same spot, and there’s an open bottle of wine on the countertop. The balcony door is open, Ada is leaning against the railing watching the city beneath them, the ballet of life, cars passing by, people rushing home from work, young girls going out for the night.

She doesn’t even look at him when she speaks, fixing the fallen shoulder of her silk robe. “I want you to meet someone.” Then she turns, bare-faced, beautiful, gazing at him over the rim of her wine glass.

“What..?”

“Oh, Leon, don’t pout.” Ada sighs, placing her glass down beside the unused ashtray.

“I’m not—“

“Come here, baby, come give me a kiss.” She points at her heart-shaped mouth and he stumbles closer like a zombie, pawing at her robe as she cups his cheeks to press a gentle kiss to his lips. “Good boy.” Ada smiles at him. That same smile she always has. “Tomorrow at seven, okay? Clear your schedule.”

And Leon does. He always does. He leaves work at four to get cucked at seven.

Ada gives an address to the driver who keeps making eye contact with Leon in the rear view mirror. She keeps her hand on Leon’s thigh the entire time. She tells him how handsome he looks in that suit - his only suit - he rushed to dry clean this very morning. He looks the part of her husband. A very well-kept man on a very short leash. They don’t need rings because Leon is already wrapped around her finger.

They pull up in front of this great, sprawling building, stone steps, bustling crowds, a sign that says something about an exhibition—Ada is walking too fast for him to read it properly, and she’s in fucking heels too. He catches up with her in the cool hush of the gallery lobby, thank god there’s air conditioning, he’s about to sweat right through this jacket.

She looks effortless like always, he’s seen her naked and he still finds it hard to believe she even exists. Women are just something else. Ada has sexy legs, and painted toes, and she even has sexy fucking ankles—

“Come on, baby.” She leads him like a duckling, and it raises the question—

“What are we doing here?” Leon asks, clearing his throat, trying not to look at her ass in that high-necked, jewel-toned dress. Jesus. What if her boyfriend is an art dealer? What if he’s fucking loaded? What if this is all a trick? A ploy. A fucking joke. She’s trying to rope him into something bad.

“I told you, I want you to meet someone, Leon,” she answers simply. “Oh, look at that piece.” She waves her hand in the direction of a blank canvas.

“Brilliant, really, I could never pull that off,” he mumbles, a deep pout settling on his face as he follows her past paint splattered canvases, statuettes, and a man who she humours for exactly fifty-nine seconds before she says:

“Leon, why don’t you tell this nice man how many times you came this morning?”

Leon doesn’t even fucking trip on a single word. “Four,” he says, loud and proud, but he’s more just loud than proud. This is really quite fucking humiliating and he’s thinking of throwing himself down that gorgeous spiral staircase as some act of artistic vengeance, become part of the exhibition, y’know?

“There you are!” Ada smiles, and it’s the same sort of smile she gives Leon, but different. Like. Sweeter. Luring. Pure fucking Evil. Like I want to fatten you up and eat you.

He scans the room for the suspect. Which fucking bastard is fucking his fucking wife? There’s a curator on one side, but he’s much too old for Ada. The few in the turtlenecks—Never. Velvet suit? Moustache? Oh, it’s got to be that one. Baby blues, wheatish hair, hands in his pockets like he doesn’t quite fit in. That’s him. Pft. Leon could take him easy—Oh, they’re not even walking in his direction—

“Ada!”

What the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck. Oh no. No. This is so much worse. He can’t beat up a little kid. You’re like shorter than both of them, she leans down to kiss both your cheeks, and you're smiling at her like she has the key to your heart—She probably does, she has the key to his cock cage.

(Not that he actually has one. Leon hasn’t gone that far yet, he likes to believe he has standards.)

“Leon,” she beckons him closer with a finger, introduces the two of you.

You put out your hand for him to shake, clearly a little nervous as you tell him, “I’ve heard so much about you.”

“Wish I could say the same,” he mutters, loosely taking your hand, making sure to wipe it on his trousers when you let go of him. He can’t beat you up, but he sure as hell can be petty.

“Leon.” Ada laughs like a mother does when she’s trying to play down her child’s petulance. “Be nice, baby.”

She’s insane. She has got to be crazy if she thinks Leon is going to put up with this. She’s talking to you all nice like We have dinner soon, but I just had to come and see your art. I’m so proud of you, sweetheart. I really am. You’re so much more accomplished than my loser husband. My snooty little angel, look at your beautifully useless art, my tactically skilled, special agent husband could never be as talented as you. Oh no, he could never. And she thinks he’s going to stay? Yeah right. Never.

Leon has standards. He does. He’s going to leave right now, he’s going to block her number, put her minimal shit in a bag, and toss it over the balcony. He’s going to hand her over to the President on a silver platter. He’s going to leave a bad review on your art. Is there a website for that? There’s gotta be. There’s a website for everything now. Ugh—Ugh. You’re not even anything special. Not the kind of beauty that offends women or intimidates men, but to Leon it does both.

“The reservation is soon, we should head over,” Ada says, looping her arm with yours and waiting for Leon to follow.

He does follow. Glaring at your back. A threesome has been on his bucket list for years, sure, but not like this. It was meant to be sexy. Not cheating.

Leon fumes silently all the way over to the restaurant, while the waiter leads the three of you to the cushioned booth at the back, when Ada slips into the booth beside you, when your foot knocks his under the table, when the waiter hands over the menus.

The two of you are talking, it sounds like noise to him, like he’s underwater. You keep looking at him with these great, big eyes. Like you're waiting for him to say something. Or maybe you’re testing him. Maybe you want him to leave. He wants you to leave.

Ada is too sneaky. She’s like a cat, they're nifty little things—Ada is twice as sly. She’s cunning. Like a fox. Yeah. That sounds right. A fox. A beautiful, red fairytale fox that talks its way out of dirty work. Leon is some stupid, hysterical damsel that needs a kiss to snap out of it. And you’re a wretched little toad and you’re going to get what’s coming for you, for being a part of this, for being her side piece, for making her smile like that.

“So,” Leon finally cuts into the conversation you’ve been having without him for a good twenty minutes, “when were going to tell me you had a partner, Ada.”

She scoffs at him lightly, a smile playing on her red lips. “I don’t do boyfriends or girlfriends, Leon, I’m forty.”

“What does that even—“

“It’s just sex, Leon, I told you that before, I wish you would listen.”

It’s always just sex with Ada. All he gets is sex. All you get is sex. Maybe the two of you aren't so different. Maybe you’re both little mice and Ada is going to eat you both up.

“Leon is so sentimental,” Ada sighs, shaking her head like he’s such a hassle.

You smile at him awkwardly. He just stares. Ada takes her fork, holding it up so the tines bar his face like she’s putting him in public timeout, in jail. “He’s just so emotional, I mean, really, you know how men get.”

You shift in your seat, unsticking your thighs from the leather booth. “Uh, yeah, I guess so.” You smile at him again, nervous, fraying, like he isn’t what you expected—It’s Ada. It’s all Ada she probably marketed this as some fucking chic ménage á trois.

Leon just sits there like he’s just been hit by a train and is trying to be casual about it. Of course she did. Of course she did and that’s why he goes on a second date with you and her. That’s why he drives the two of you home a week later. His wife and the person she’s fucking.

This week has been tense. Dinner was tense. This drive is tense. You clear your throat in the back seat. “Um…Honestly, you could drop me a couple blocks away from home, it’s actually right down there—“

“No, no, sweetheart,” Ada gasps, like a really fake gasp, “we couldn’t do that to you, it’s so dark out.”

“It’s fine,” you insist, he watches you through the rear view mirror, how your hands twitch in your lap, the way you lick your dry lips, “I just don’t want to be intruding on anything.”

“You’re not intruding, sweetheart.”

Yes you are.

“It’s just that…Mommy and daddy are fighting, honey.” Ada sighs a long-suffering sigh.

Impressively, Leon doesn’t swerve off the road, but the car does jerk and sputter. You look like you’re about to cry, or jump out of the moving vehicle, or like you’ve been told Santa isn’t real, or that he’s in jail for indecent exposure.

“Ada…” Leon mumbles, shaking his head at her, “don’t.”

“Why, Leon?” She huffs like this is it not some psychosexual hostage situation. “Children should know when their mommies and daddies aren't doing well, communication is very healthy.” It’s all a game to her. She’s so callous and insincere and awful and frighteningly beautiful.

“Stop it, Ada.” He white-knuckles the steering wheel, does a red light, thinks about taking both of you down with him.

“Oh my god,” you mumble from the back, sinking into your seat like you want to disappear. Poor kid. You don’t even know what you’ve gotten yourself into.

“Just take us home now, Leon,” Ada says, sniffing dramatically as she gazes out of the window.

So he drives. Pedal to the metal. Reverse parks in record time. Kills the engine. Ada’s already out the door, leaving behind a cloud of perfume, heels clicking on the concrete, you’re following like a ghost, footsteps barely audible.

“Shoes off,” Ada hums as she floats into the apartment she has never once called home.

You won’t meet his eye. Not even Ada’s. Just standing there all small. Breakable. Looking at the ground—It’s not like there’s much to take in. Underfurnished. Empty glasses litter every flat surface. Leon’s leather jacket is draped over the sofa.

“You two are the same,” she laughs, it echoes down the hall as she leaves a trail of clothes leading to the bedroom, and look at you two. So easily led. Hansel and fucking Gretel over here. “So dramatic, so sentimental, so hysterical—I mean at least you’re quiet about it, sweetheart, Leon throws a tantrum,” she muses as she edges her panties off her ankles. “God, don’t just stand there, help each other out.”

Leon makes the first move. He feels bad. Doesn’t know if he wants this, if he wants you, but he does it ‘cause she said so. You’re nervous, heart like a hummingbird in your chest, he feels it when he rather unfeelingly unbuttons your shirt. He nudges you onto the bed gently, you have nice hips, nice legs, nothing about you is wrong—It’s just him that’s wrong. What he’s gotten himself into.

“You need help down there, Leon?” Ada tilts her head to the side as he spreads your thighs, leant on her elbow, busy mouthing at your neck, kissing your jaw, tweaking your nipple every few seconds like it’s a fidget toy.

“I know my way around, thanks” he mumbles, and if there’s one thing he can focus on it’s eating pussy. He likes the way it tastes, the way it smells, how soft it is on his tongue. Pussy would never hurt him.

You arch when he kisses your clit, you whine when he pushes a second finger in, when his lips close around your clit and he sucks. You don’t scroll through your phone waiting to be impressed like Ada would.

He wipes his mouth when you cum, sitting up, breathless. “You happy now?”

“Oh, Leon, why don’t you come here, handsome?” Ada pats the space between you and her. He doesn’t move. Not this time. She purses her lips. “Leon has such a dangerous job,” she starts.

You blink the fog from your mind, turning to face her, spine straightening like every hair on your body stands to attention when she speaks. Even if you don’t want it to you—She’s magnetic.

“He’s a hero, really, he does so much to keep everyone safe—He’s not allowed to talk about it, but he does so much for all of us.” Ada trails a hand down the front of his jeans, cupping his dick. “I’m just so glad this is all in one piece.”

“Are you really, Ada?” He asks, staring at her.

“Yes, Leon, I am.” She smiles, practiced.

“I think we should take a break, Ada,” he says, dick still rock fucking hard.

“I really…I really think I should go,” you murmur, rubbing your eyes—He respects it. You got to cum, and now you’re leaving. “I really appreciate the invite—“

“Well, Leon.” Ada dusts herself off, still smiling. “If that’s what you think is right.”

“Yeah, I do.”

“Hm.” She nods, then she looks to you, patting your head, smiling, cooing so you can’t get out of her fucking trap. “I get to keep you, and daddy gets to keep the office and the printer.”

You scratch the back of your neck. “…I mean okay—I didn’t really, I mean…Okay.”

“Then I guess I’ll print the fucking papers,” Leon confirms, and it’s over like that. He sees his grief over to the door. Doesn’t kiss her goodnight. Just passes her onto you.

#leon kennedy fluff #leon kennedy angst #leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy smut #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy x you #resident evil x you #resident evil fluff #resident evil angst #resident evil x reader #resident evil smut #ada wong x reader

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lazycats-stuff · 1 year ago

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What about Batfam x male reader where the reader was actually the first child Bruce adopted and he was the practice child. He hated growing io because Bruce had really no idea what to do and then the other kids came along and now Bruce kinda understood what to do. He hates family time because he never felt like family, he was just some doll the others could practice on so later they wouldn't make mistakes. And i imagine at some point they snap. I feel like what if Damian brought over Jon for dinner and Jon was like "oh I thought Dick's the oldest, you never told me about (reader)" and reader just slams down their fist and goes to their room. At this point the rest of the family try to comfort them but the reader only screams about how they never were a son or bother, they were only a practice doll for them to use and then throw away

This has angst written all over it... Ah. Angst train it seems... Also, I think I changed the end a bit, but that's fine...

Summary: (Y/N) was nothing but a test child for Bruce. He finally lets them have it

Warnings: angst, resentment, author sucks at angst, but hey, I tried, yelling, mentions of anxiety, the fam is trying, (Y/N) is mad beyond belief, implications of child neglect... If you can call it child neglect.

(Y/N) (L/N) was the oldest member of the Wayne family and the first child that Bruce had adopted. (Y/N) didn't have a good life at all before he met Bruce. (Y/N) could also argue that Bruce didn't treat him well as well, since being emotionally unavailable is not a good trait to have when you have children.

As the years went by, he hated growing up in the manor and with Bruce. He had food, a roof over his head and some sort of education. But that wasn't enough. The feeling of resentment that (Y/N) had has only grown as the years went by.

The feeling of being a test to Bruce, to see what he need to improve made his blood boil. He was a test pancake for Bruce and some sort of feedback to Bruce. It made (Y/N) mad beyond. Bruce could have gotten his shit straight when he started to have him as his legal child.

(Y/N) wished that he could forget everything about Bruce. About the family too. Even before Dick came, resentment building up in him nearly exploded. Looking back, he should have exploded on Bruce and Dick... Maybe even punch them. Maybe he should have done it.

When Dick came, (Y/N) saw signs that Bruce was improving, but he didn't show that to (Y/N). Years went by and Damian came. To say that Damian pretended that (Y/N) didn't exist is an understatement. (Y/N) tried to get closer to Damian, but Damian always pushed him away. (Y/N) took the signs and gave up, sadness and anger boiling inside of him. But he did observe Damian and Dick. In matter of a few days, they were close.

Dick did it without even trying.

So, (Y/N) has decided to alienate himself from the family, at least until he gets enough money to leave. Thankfully, the resentment towards Bruce and the rest of the family made him even put everything he had in school, even though no one cared about it. He had straight As and he was on his way to go to college that was far away from here. He knows that he can do it.

Even as Tim and Jason came, (Y/N) tried to be close to them, but none of them cared. None. (Y/N)'s solace became his own room and would avoid the family at all costs until it was time to eat where he had to step out. That only solidified the fact that he was going to leave as soon as possible.

Either way, he just had to alienate himself and move out. Then, everyone in the house would be happy.

However, everything would turn on its head when Damian would bring his boyfriend Jon over to meet the family and by default (Y/N). If only (Y/N) knew what would happen.

Dinner rolled around and came down to eat. He didn't expect to see Jon, but was nice to introduce himself to Jon, trying to be nice and just get this stupid dinner over with. He put some food on his plate and just ate in silence while everyone else talked.

He listened to bits and pieces and just stayed silent. He finished his plate quickly and pushed it away and sipped at his water, just being polite and getting ready to leave back at his room.

" Damian, you didn't tell me anything about (Y/N)... I thought that Dick was oldest of the brothers. " Jon said and (Y/N) froze.

Damian didn't tell Jon about him...

(Y/N)'s anger boiled over and he slammed his fist into the table before standing up quickly, knocking the chair over. Everyone got startled at the actions and watched in silence as (Y/N) left the dining room.

After a few seconds they all jumped into action, trying to stop (Y/N) to comfort him. (Y/N) slammed the door of his room shut, locking to make sure no one could enter, before he broke down on his bed. He hugged his pillow and sobbed into it.

It shouldn't hurt like this. He should have been stronger than this. Not cry over them.

" (Y/N), please open the door. " Bruce said through the door.

" Please, we just want to talk. " Dick added and (Y/N) snapped at that, anger boiling over once again.

" Talk?! TALK?! Stop acting like you care! " (Y/N) yelled at the top of his lungs.

" We do care. " Jason started.

" You don't give a single flying damn about me! I was never a son or a brother to anyone! I was only a test toy to Bruce so he could see what he could fucking improve! I was never a fucking brother either! Damian fucking proved it! " (Y/N) yelled at the top of his lungs, tears streaming down his face.

Everyone stayed silent and (Y/N) sobbed his heart out. Damian swallowed hardly, realizing what he did and how that hurt (Y/N) deeply. Maybe he shouldn't have...

Everyone glanced at each other. They stayed silent as they listened to (Y/N)'s sobs. Just how much pain did they brought up onto him?

" (Y/N), look- " Bruce started and (Y/N) screamed again.

" Don't you dare care right now! I'm moving out in a few days anyway and I don't need your pity or apology! " (Y/N) yelled, trying to wipe the never ending stream of tears.

" Moving out?! " Bruce yelled, eyes wide in shock. He know he has no right to tell (Y/N) what to do, but something flared up in Bruce. " No, you're not moving out! You are going to stay put because we have to solve this problem! "

" Are you shitting me Bruce?! Work things out?! "

" I'm not shitting you! I have to make things right with you! You are my son too! " Bruce yelled through the door.

" I don't give a single damn about any of you! "

Bruce took a deep breath, trying not to explode. He knows he has no right to be angry, but (Y/N) was still his son. " (Y/N), I am your dad and we will solve this problem. "

" We won't solves shit Bruce! "

" (Y/N), please, " Tim started, but (Y/N) cut him off. " Shut up Tim! "

Tim bit the inside of his cheek and stepped back.

" (Y/N), " Jason started, " You need to calm down, you'll give yourself a heart attack. "

(Y/N) wanted to scream even more, but he felt like he was going to die from this situation.

" Shut up, all of you! "

Now Dick started. " (Y/N), we may have been bad brothers- "

" May have?! You were- No, you are the worst brothers! " (Y/N) yelled and clenched his fists as he started facing around the room.

Dick sighed and stepped back. At the moment, everyone knew that (Y/N) talking to them without yelling at them and more importantly, he needed to calm down first.

But with how much anger and resentment there is, it is going to take a while.

" Lets leave (Y/N) alone for a while. He needs to be alone for now. " Bruce said and gently moved everyone away from (Y/N)'s doors, who was inside, trying to breathe more normally. He felt like he was going to jump out of his skin in the next few moments. He calmed down after a while, but he was still anxious beyond belief.

Unfortunately, the threat of moving out is just a threat and not a promise. (Y/N) sighed as he sat down on his bed. It was a stupid move to say that while he didn't have everything secure yet. Stupid.

(Y/N) went to the bathroom and washed his face and drank some water, to soothe his soon to be sore throat. It won't be nice to talk in a few hours.

Either way, it's better than leaving this room in order to face his siblings and dad. No, they are just roommates here, until (Y/N) can move out and just finally cut them out of his life.

#dc comics #dc x male reader #x male reader #batfamily #bruce wayne x male reader #batman x male reader #jason todd x male reader #red hood x male reader #dick grayson x male reader #nightwing x male reader #tim drake x male reader #red robin x male reader #damian wayne x male reader #robin x male reader

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another-random-fanfic-blog · 2 months ago

Text

My 8 Hybrids Ch. 2

Chapter 2

Previous Chapter

Next Chapter

Masterlist

Warnings: Blood, violence, abuse, Not edited, will be later

As you sped down the road, you began calculating the how long it would take for you to get to your house versus your clinic. The clinic is the obvious choice to go to, but your house is closer and you wouldn’t have to deal with traffic. Making the decision you used the voice dial on your car to call your friend Will.

“Did you get caught in the rain?” Will asks, forgoing a greeting.

“I need you to get to my house immediately, I’m 15 minutes away,” you respond, ignoring what he said, “This is an emergency.”

“I’ll be there in 10.”

With that you hung up the phone and continued down the road, glancing over at the unconscious rabbit sitting next to you, rage filling you every time as you imagine what you’d like to do with the person who put them there. You call the next person on your list, before you lose yourself in your work and forget to do what you need.

“What trouble did you cause this time?” Kiara asks.

“Trouble? Me? Unlikely,” you retort, giving a small smile.

“Y/N, I’m serious, if you punched another person for hurting a hybrid, despite them deserving it, I will start charging you extra,” Kiara sighs.

“No, not this time, I found two hybrids chained to trees, beaten, bloody, unconscious, a rabbit and some type of big cat I’m assuming. The rabbit may live, but I don’t have hope for the cat,” you explain calmly, “I took video and pictures before getting them down. I will send them to you but I want you to start the process for a lawsuit, just in case something happens.”

“And the hybrids?”

“They will need round the clock care for a while.”

“That’s not what I’m asking and you know it,” Kiara grumbles, “You helped get the laws changed greatly, but unless they have a home lined up, because they are abuse cases, you have to hand them over to hybrid services, where they will probably die from inadequate care.”

“We don’t have to tell them,” you state.

“It’s the law.”

“I don’t care,” you reply shrugging to no one in particular.

“Y/n…”

“Put me down as their owner for now, I will adopt them until we can all decide on something else,” you sigh, not wanting to let the hybrids be taken away.

“I will start the paperwork,” Kiara chirps cheerfully, you know that she wanted you to adopt a hybrid at some point to give you some company. “You wouldn’t happen to know their names would you?”

“According to the rabbit, the cat is named San, I don’t know the rabbits name yet,” you respond, pulling into your driveway and seeing Will sitting in his car, “I’ve got to go, talk later.”

You hang up and come skidding to a halt, throwing your car in park and pushing the door open as you turn off the engine.

“One in the front, one in the back, get the gurney from downstairs, two of them,” you yell out to Will as he nods and runs down the basement stairs.

You open the passenger door and feel the rabbits pulse before moving back to do the same with San. Will comes up in an elevator with two gurneys at his side. Carefully, you help him move San onto one gurney and take him down, while you get the rabbit.

Once the two of you were downstairs, you try to find a spot to hook the rabbit up for an IV, but with such severe dehydration, you have no choice but to do an IO on him. Quickly grabbing a drill, you bore into his bone a little below the knee. Once the fluids were started, you move over to San.

“Mind telling me what happened?” Will asks as he wheels San back from x-rays and begins Sans IO.

“I was hiking, and found these two chained to trees, this one, San apparently, had his leg stuck in a bear claw type trap. I did what I could before bringing them here.” You respond, slowly peeling the makeshift bandage off of San’s leg.

“And here I thought you were paranoid building this place under your house. You wash up while I clean the wound, then we’ll switch.” Will said, not looking up from San’s leg.

“Ok, start him on broad spectrum antibiotics, there’s no telling what bacteria is in those wounds,” you call out from the sink as you change into scrubs and begin cleaning your hands and arms while Will preps San for surgery.

Once you finish and put on gloves, Will switches off, while you continue to debridement of the wound. Once the bleeding is under control and you look at the x-rays, seeing Sans leg is fractured, not broken, which is really the only luck this guy has. Methodically and carefully you and Will work on all of San’s wounds, back and front, in complete silence.

When you first built your home, you had experience finding sick and injured animals in the past, sometimes not being able to take them to get care overnight due to closed clinics. So you demanded a small hospital be built in part of your basement, a hermetically sealed room, filled with everything you’d find in an urgent care. Will said you were crazy for spending this amount on a place you’d never use, and you always thought better safe than sorry.

When work on San was complete, you let Will go look at the blood tests for both, while you worked on the rabbit. He had contusions, cuts, a fractured wrist, dehydration, and severe sunburn. Some of his cuts were infected so you started him on antibiotics as well.

Once you finished, Will came back to you with two bowls, towels, and sponges.

“The boys need cleaned, here’s everything for a sponge bath,” he says smiling and walking away, “I also gave you stuff to wash their hair. I’ll cook some food.”

With a sigh, you carefully start cleaning them, memorizing their features once they were clean and you were done, though you had trouble washing their hair. Both were thin, too thin, tall, from what you could tell by carrying them and them laying down. San had black hair, a sharp jaw, and cat like eyes. Meanwhile, the rabbit had white hair, round boba eyes, and high cheek bones. You moved their beds closer to each other so when they woke, they could see each other easily. You turned on the monitors so they could alert you anywhere in the house, if they woke up, had an issue, or needed an IV refill. Dimming the lights, you walked upstairs to find Will eating ramen and chicken.

“So,” he says getting you a plate as you flop down in your dining room chair, “tell me how you got in this mess with your two new hybrids.” You raise an eyebrow at that, as he places a bowl in front of you. “Kiara told me you adopted them.”

You pulled out your phone and handed it to him so he could go through the pictures and videos, not liking what he saw, while you uploaded your gopro footage to the computer, sending everything in an email to Kiara before you get sidetracked again.

“I’m not a therapist,” you say, “Can you schedule something with Jessica? They will need help, and get her caught up on…this mess.” You remark waving your hand around.

“Sure,” he replies putting his bowl in the sink. “You good, or do you need me to stick around?”

“You can go home before the storm gets worse.”

“Have a good night.” He says as he walks out the door, leaving you to eat in peace.

You finish your food, do the dishes, shower, then grab a cot and set it up in the room with the hybrids, getting ready to sleep after swapping out their IVs.

You slept a solid 10 hours for the first time in…ever before being awoken by muttering. Sitting up, you looked over and saw the rabbit hybrid sitting up and muttering while gripping San’s arm. Slowly standing you make your presence known as the rabbit stares at you frozen and not moving.

“Hi,” you say, approaching as slow as you can, “do you remember me? I found you, and helped you out of the woods.”

The rabbit just stares at you, nose slightly twitching as he plays with San’s fingers.

“San?” He finally asks.

“He has a fractured leg, infection, various wounds, and dehydration…but, barring any unforeseen complications, he should recover, quickly given your advanced healing abilities.” You tell him, as you get close, right next to his bed. “My name is Y/n, this is my home, the basement of my home, can you tell me your name?”

“��Seonghwa,” he says quietly.

“Seonghwa, it’s nice to meet you,” you state, “are you hungry?” He perks up at that and nods. “After I change your IV, I will go get you something to eat. It will be light for now, probably just broth and crackers, but once you keep something down for at least a day, I’d like 2, we will move to something else, ok?”

He nods again and you begin switching out his IV and then San’s, before heading upstairs to get the food. As you heat the broth you take a deep breath, not knowing what to say to Seonghwa as you’ve never been a good conversationalist. Carrying the food down, you stop seeing that San has moved, he was lower in the bed earlier, but now he’s almost sitting, Seonghwa’s pillow helping prop him up. You’re thankful that you decided to bring down two bowls of broth and not just one.

“Here’s your broth,” you say, setting it on a cart with a tray that can move over the bed, “I’ll get you another pillow.” You grab two and bring them back, helping Seonghwa sit up as you move the bed to a more comfortable position. “Hello San,” you say as you make your way over to him. “You have a fractured leg, we weren’t able to cast it because of the open wound, so don’t move it too much, ok?”

San looks at you with wide eyes, watching your every move as you pull up a chair.

“I think we should talk about some things.” You say looking at both of them as you move a sleeve of crackers and a bowl of broth in front of San. “My name is Y/n, I own a clinic that helps hybrids, and this is a mini clinic in my basement that you are recovering in. The law states that when cases of abuse, such as yours are reported, you have to either be immediately adopted or go to hybrid services.” You watch as both hybrids tense and grasp each other’s hands, tears forming in their eyes, knowing hybrid services is not a good option and tears bonded hybrids apart. “I have decided to adopt you until the case is closed and you decide what you’d like to do next.”

“What we’d like to do next?” Seonghwa asks between sips of broth.

“If you want to earn your independence, I will help with that, or I can help you find a different owne-“

“You don’t want us?” San questions, sniffling as he stares at his food. You swear you see a tear fall and immediately think something happened with these two, mostly likely involving being rejected.

“I would be happy if you stayed, but if you didn’t like it here, I don’t want to force you to stay with me.” You respond, patting his hand that was on the side of the bed. “Now, eat, there are small bags next to the bowls in case you need to throw up. Once you are done and the food settles, I will help you shower, then, if you want, we can head upstairs. However, the IV will have to stay in.”

With that, you head upstairs to find some clothes that will fit both the hybrids. Luckily, you have a habit of buying clothes for men and women, including underwear, just in case you have an unexpected guest or something happens to a guests clothes. While you dig through your closet you call the psychologist that works at your clinic and discuss getting the two therapy appointments as soon as you can get them in condition to start walking. She asks you a few questions and you reply, immediately mentioning the comment San made about you not wanting them. She explains that they are raised to believe being owned if the best thing for them and the fact that you suggested removing them would have brought up potential years of previous rejection, plus whatever trauma they may have from whoever left them in the woods. On top of that, one or both of them could have a co-dependency issue. You grab some clothes, soaps, lotions, deodorant, toothbrushes, and toothpaste and head down stairs, asking one final question.

“I go to a conference next week that I can’t get out of because I am a presenter. Can I leave them here alone or should I take them with me?”

“That is up to you and how you feel they will do alone.” Cassie responds before hanging up, leaving you unsatisfied with her answer.

When you walk in the recovery room, you see both hybrids talking to each other, their hands still holding each other. You walk everything into the bathroom downstairs then join the two.

“So, I have some clothes for you two,” you say, gesturing to the bathroom where you put everything, “how about we get you cleaned up? San, I will have to help you because of your leg, I swear I won’t look at anything and will be 100% professional, but I can’t have you moving it wrong.”

“Can you help me too?” Seonghwa asks quietly.

“Sure, do you want to go first?”

“Can…Can we go to-together? I…I-I…”

“Yes, if you both want to be within sight of each other, that is fine.”

You get a wheelchair to take San to the bathroom and help him undress and wrap a towel around his waist, while Seonghwa gets himself ready. Seonghwa sits himself in the tub and relishes the hot water pouring on him while he vigorously scrubs all the dirt off his skin, flinching at the force he was using. Despite you giving them a sponge bath, it still wasn’t enough to remove everything. You tell San to wait, and turn on the hot shower head to pour over him and watch how almost instantly his body begins to relax. He takes the scrubby and soap and more carefully than Seonghwa, begins to wash his upper body.

“You’re going to hurt yourself,” you say to Seonghwa as you sit behind him, taking the scrubby and begin to help, using just enough pressure to clean everything off. “So, what breeds are you?”

“I’m a Lionhead rabbit,” Seonghwa declares proudly and you have to stop yourself from groaning, knowing how playful and mischievous those breeds can be.

“In other words,” You begin, carefully washing Seonghwa’s hair as he fully leans into you, moaning at how good it feels to get his scalp scrubbed, “I’m going to have my hands full with you.”

You smile at Seonghwa when he opens his eyes and looks at you, first with concern, then with warmth.

“I’ll be good, I promise.” He says closing his eyes again, his foot thumping when you scrub his ears, working the matts out of them and his hair.

“I’m sure you will be.” You finish his hair, both shampoo and conditioner, before rinsing him off and letting him soak under the spray, then head to San, who watched you scrub Seonghwa’s hair with a look of longing. “And what breed of hybrid are you, San?” You ask as he gets a look of excitement on his face while you pour shampoo in your hand.

“I’m a maine coon cat, and I’m a good boy,” he says purring the second your hands make contact with his head. “I’m not mean or intimidating.”

You could hear the pleading in his voice when he said that, and it told you that, though he was skinny, he had muscles, and his face had a look that could go two ways, one sweet and kind, or two intimidating and mean. But just looking in his eyes, like truly looking in his eyes, you could tell he was the sweet and kind person, no matter how people may have tried to portray him.

“I could tell that by your eyes,” you tell him, smiling, causing San to blush and look down.

He closes his eyes as you scrub his hair, giving him a scalp massage before rinsing him off and moving to his tail, carefully trying to work the matts out and when you couldn’t, cutting them out. Once he was cleaned, you let him sit under the spray as well, carefully examining his leg only to see the wound has sealed shut and the stitches dissolved.

You’ll say one thing, hybrid healing is both a gift and a curse. When properly hydrated and medicated and treated, the skin can take only 12 – 24 hours to heal when assisted by stitches. Unfortunately, people think that means a hybrid is healed, this leads to them being pushed beyond their limits and can sometimes be fatal. If the skin closes too fast, it can trap infections inside, and hide other injuries, luckily, San was already treated.

“Your leg looks good, San.” You say, looking up at him, causing him to look down at you and also catching Seonghwa’s attention. “The wound is closed, but the bone won’t have healed yet, so you have to remember to be careful. Both of you,” you look at Seonghwa to make sure he understands as well, and he nods. “Now, you can either stay down here, or we can try moving you to a bedroom upstairs, once you’re done getting dressed?”

“Can…we go upstairs?” Seonghwa asks hesitantly.

“Of course, this is your house too, you can move about it freely, though very carefully until San’s leg is healed.” You say, helping both hybrids dry their hair, ears, and tails. “Can you get dressed yourselves?”

“Yes.”

“Then I’ll be outside.”

You walk outside of the bathroom and change into dry clothes, then grab a set of crutches for San to walk around on. You want to do one more x-ray on his leg before you take him upstairs, to see how fast the healing has progressed and whether you should cast it or boot it. Once they come out, you help San to the x-ray machine and take the images, Seonghwa glued to your side. Luckily, his leg looks much better, a week and a half and he should be completely healed. Carefully, you put a walking boot on his leg, all the way up to his knee and hand him the crutches, for him to use for the next two days.

Helping both of them upstairs, you show them the rooms, gym, library, living room, kitchen, and garage, before taking to the the top floor with the bedrooms.

“Ok, you both get to choose your own room,” you say smiling at them once they look at the first room. Both hybrids look at each other in slight panic before you continue. “You can visit and sleep in each other’s rooms, but I firmly believe in having your own space. So choose a room and we can look at decorations and clothes for you.”

It took a while, but both hybrids finally chose a room to call their own. You handed each a tablet to look at furniture and room design ideas, as well as shop for clothes, and you went to your own room. It was only 8pm but as soon as your head hit the pillow you were out cold.

___________________________________________________________

Your eyes begin to open as you hear rapid thumping coming from somewhere. Sleepily standing up, you walk out of your room only to hear it stop. Waiting a few minutes, you head back to your room and collapse on the bed again, snuggling under the covers. As you begin to drift off, you hear a loud crash of thunder, followed by very heavy, rapid thumps again. Listening closely you realize it is coming from under your bed.

Rolling off your bed, you grab your phone and turn on the light, seeing a cat and rabbit under there, the rabbit thumping his foot on the ground after another crash of thunder. Both hybrids trembling in fear.

“Hey guys, it’s ok, nothing to be afraid of,” you coo to them, reaching a hand out, causing both to approach you. “You are welcome to come cuddle on my bed with me if you want, in human form or animal, either is fine.”

With that you stand and lay on your bed, waiting to see what they would do. It doesn’t take long for you to feel the weight of them jumping on your bed, before they make their way up to where the blanket starts, scratching at it. You lift the covers and both dive inside, just as another thunder clap occurs. You turn on your side and snuggle back into your bed, slowly falling asleep, letting your two hybrids get comfortable.

A few hours later, you wake up, feeling a weight against your stomach. Lifting the blanket, you see two hybrids curled up against you, sound asleep. Carefully, so not to disturb them, you sneak out of bed and head to the showers, realizing the storm had past and it was a bright sunny day out. Once you showered, you checked back on the hybrids and then went downstairs to purchase some things the two of them would like in their animal forms.

“Good morning,” Seonghwa mumbled, walking into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes, a sleepy San following behind him and collapsing into the dining room chair.

“Good morning, Seonghwa, and San,” you reply smiling back at them, “are you hungry?”

“A little,” San whispered, still half asleep.

“I can make eggs, bacon, and hashbrowns, or oatmeal. I don’t really have any other options yet.” You respond standing up and walking to the kitchen.

“Can I help?” Seonghwa asks, following you and you nod, allowing him to get everything out of the fridge and freezer.

He wanted to do everything himself, so you stood by, directing him on how to cook. While San moved around on his crutches.

“What’s this?” San asks, looking at your laptop, open to your recent shopping receipts.

“Ah, I bought some things for the two of you in your animal forms. Cat trees, tall and short, shelves with railings so Seonghwa won’t fall off, and tunnels that can be mounted high and low, as well as some hiding nooks.” You reply ignoring the look of shock on both hybrids faces as you explain what you bought for them. “They will be here in 2 days and you can help set them up and where you want them. I’m sure I bought enough that they can connect almost every room in the house.” After you finished speaking, San’s face lit up and Seonghwa’s foot started thumping on the ground excitedly, both of them trying to hid their excitement, but failing to do so.

It continued like this for the next week, you slowly grew closer to the two hybrids learning that they are the type to trust easily, which breaks your heart. You had both help you set up the cat shelves, tunnels cat trees, and let them set up their hiding nooks by themselves. They were so excited to be involved in the process. You also had them buy their own bedroom decorations and furniture and took them shopping for clothes. San had a sporty look, while Seonghwa enjoyed something similar, but also really liked more delicate style clothing. You were ok with whatever they wanted, as long as they actually wore it. They were also excited to start going to the gym. Though San couldn’t use his leg below his knee, you helped him with arm and ab workouts and exercises made for people in a chair, slow leg lifts that wouldn’t bother his healing but still something he could do. Seonghwa jumped right into everything and you had to slow him down, explaining that going too fast could cause more damage than good. By Friday at the end of the week, you sat them down, to discuss you leaving for the next week.

“You’re leaving us?” San asks, sounding panicked, almost ready to have a panic attack.

“It will only be for a few days and I will call you every morning and every night, we can even do a video chat if you want.”

“We’ll be alone?” Seonghwa asks, playing with the air of the table, only glancing at you.

“I can have someone stop in, in fact he helped me care for you the first night.”

“No,” San interrupts, clearing his throat before beginning again, “We…would rather be alone.”

“Can’t we go with you?” Seonghwa questions.

“I’m afraid there are no hybrid friendly hotels in the area, at least not one that would be kind to either of you.” You shudder at the thought of what could happen to your two hybrids in the hotels while you were gone, before continuing. “I will be 8 hours away, if something happens I can rush home, but it will only be for three days. The fridge is filled with food and I have emergency numbers written on it.” You reach out and take both of their hands, “I promise, I will be back. I will not abandon you.”

With that, they stare into your eyes before nodding. The next few days those two were the cuddliest creatures you ever met, and when you left, San started crying while Seonghwa’s eyes filled with tears, but they did not fall while you could see him. You started to miss them before they disappeared from view as you made your way to the airport, deciding to fly so it was a faster trip there and back.

__________________________________________________________

“Inside now,” the man sneers at his hybrid, causing the hybrids breath to catch in his throat.

“B-but master, the cage is too small, the only way I’ll fit is if you break something,” the hybrid begins, being cut off by his master.

“So we’ll break something. Get in now, or I swear I WILL cut your legs off this time!” The man growls, gripping the hybrids neck.

The hybrid’s eyes go wide and he nods the best he could, quickly crawling into the cage that is far too small for his body. He had to contort himself into an uncomfortable position to fit so the door would close, however, his foot blocked the way of the door. His master didn’t care and slammed the door shut, jamming the hybrids knee into his nose, causing it to bleed, and causing a loud crack from his, foot filling the hybrids body with intense pain. However, that wasn’t all, with the angle of his body in such a small space, his legs put pressure on his chest that made it hard for the hybrid to breathe.

“Don’t make a sound.” The man sneers walking away, leaving the hybrid to suffer.

You felt like you had been walking for hours by the time you made it to the lounge, flopping yourself in the comfortable chair by the windows. This week stressed you out and all you want to do is go home and relax with your hybrids. You place your phone on the chair arm, but it fell onto the floor. When you reach down to grab it, you saw something under the table next to you that made you curious. Moving down to the floor, you see it is a large hybrid, crammed in a small cage, his body contorted in a grotesque position so he could fit, his nose bleeding, and his breathing shallow and labored, eyes closed tightly in an effort to calm himself.

“Nice hybrid isn’t he,” a man says from behind you.

You’re staring at the hybrids face, he opens his eyes and you see the silent plea for help before he closes them again, tears falling down his face.

“He is,” you reply, standing up, “you wouldn’t be interested in selling him would you?”

“You wanna buy him?”

“Yes, I quit like collecting hybrids when they catch my eyes,” you reply, sitting on the chair, staring at the man with a coy smile, trying to feign a calm detachment to the situation. “Right now, your hybrid caught my eye.”

“I’ve tried selling him before, but no one wants a hybrid his size.”

“Oh, what do you mean?”

“He’s 6”1 or 6”3, I don’t really know, and no one wants something so tall.”

“I do. How much?”

“10,000.”

You internally wince at the price, you have the money, but no matter what, $10,000 is a lot to spend. “9 he seems to have a broken nose, it ruins his pretty face.”

“95 and I throw in the cage.”

“9 and I don’t walk away from this. Like you said, no one else wants him.”

“Fine, $9,000. Would you like me to ship him to you o-”

“I will transfer the money to you now and we run across the street and get him legally transferred to me.”

“Deal. Sir,” the man turns to the concierge, “watch the hybrid, and don’t let anyone take him.”

After a half hour, you have a key to the cage and the owner is shipping it to the hotel you just ordered a room at. By the time you arrive, after ordering an uber, you enter your room, throwing your things on the floor as you approach your new hybrid.

“Hi,” you say, as you unlock the cage door, the hybrid watching you with scared eyes, “my name is Y/N, I guess I’m your new owner.”

You open the door and stand back, letting the hybrid untangle himself to get out, but then you notice he’s having trouble. Carefully, you reach in the cage and reposition his legs, slightly pulling them straighter, so he can unbend himself. Meanwhile, you go to the bathroom to get a warm wet cloth to clean his face.

“What’s your name?” You ask, walking back to the room and seeing him sitting on the floor. Slowly you lower yourself in front of him and begin cleaning the blood from his nose.

“Yunho,” he replies, sitting quietly as you examine his face.

“Good news is your nose isn’t actually broken, just a little swollen,” you look down and see his ankle sitting at an odd angle. “What happened to your foot?”

“I don’t know,” Yunho whispers looking away, clenching his fists as he stares at his leg.

“Ok, we’re taking you to a hybrid urgent care,” you state as you order another uber to the nearest hybrid treatment location. Getting a few things together, and calling to see if the front desk has a spare wheelchair to wheel Yunho to a car, you watch him carefully during that time. He doesn’t make a move at all. Soon your phone dings letting you know your uber is here, followed by a knock on the door. With the help of the bellman, you lift Yunho into the wheelchair, then head to the car. It’s not a long drive, and once Yunho is settled in at the doctor and wheeled away for x-rays, you call San and Seonghwa.

Previous Chapter

Next Chapter

Taglist: @sunnysidesins, @the-secret-thief

#ateez x reader #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #ateez fanfic #ateez fic #hongjoong x reader #seonghwa x reader smut #yunho x reader #yeosang x reader #san x reader #mingi x reader #wooyoung x reader #jongho x reader #ateez hybrid #hybrid ateez #hybrid!ateez #My 8 hybrids

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rivkae-winters · 1 year ago

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Edit: the app launched and Is down- I have the initial apology video in a post here and I’m working on getting a full archive of their TikTok up ASAP. I’m letting the rest of this post remain since I do still stand by most of it and also don’t like altering things already in circulation.

Warning for criticism and what I’d consider some harsh to outright mean words:

So I’ve just been made aware of the project known of as ‘lore.fm’ and I’m not a fan for multiple reasons. For one this ‘accessibility’ tool complicates the process of essentially just using a screen reader (something native to all I phones specifically because this is a proposed IOS app) in utterly needless and inaccessible ways. From what I have been seeing on Reddit they have been shielding themselves (or fans of the project have been defending them) with this claim of being an accessibility tool as well to which is infuriating for so many reasons.

I plan to make a longer post explaining why this is a terrible idea later but I’ll keep it short for tonight with my main three criticisms and a few extras:

1. Your service requires people to copy a url for a fic then open your app then paste it into your app and click a button then wait for your audio to be prepared to use. This is needlessly complicating a process that exists on IOS already and can be done IN BROWSER using an overlay that you can fully control the placement of.

2. This is potentially killing your own fandom if it catches on with the proposed target market of xreader smut enjoyers because of only needing the link as mentioned above. You don’t have to open a fic to get a link this the author may potentially not even get any hits much less any other feedback. At least when you download a pdf you leave a hit: the download button is on the page with the fic for a reason. Fandom is a self sustaining eco system and many authors get discouraged and post less/even stop writing all together if they get low interaction.

3. Maybe we shouldn’t put something marketed as turning smut fanfic into audio books on the IOS App Store right now. Maybe with KOSA that’s a bad idea? Just maybe? Sarcasm aside we could see fan fiction be under even more legal threat if minors use this to listen to the content we know they all consume via sites like ao3 (even if we ask them not to) and are caught with it. Auditory content has historically been considered much more obscene/inappropriate than written content: this is a recipe for a disaster and more internet regulations we are trying to avoid.

I also have many issues with the fact that this is obviously redistributing fanfiction (thus violating the copyright we hold over our words and our plots) and removing control the author should have over their content and digital footprint. Then there is the fact that even though the creator on TikTok SAYS you can email to have your fic ‘excluded’ based on the way the demo works (pasting a link) I’m gonna assume that’s just to cover her ass/is utter bullshit. I know that’s harsh but if it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck it’s probably a duck.

I am all for women in stem- I’ve BEEN a woman in Stem- but this is not a cool girl boss moment. This is someone naive enough to think this will go over well at best or many other things (security risks especially) at worst.

In conclusion for tonight: I hope this person is a troll but there is enough hype and enough paid for web domains that I don’t think that’s the case. There are a litany of reasons every fanfic reader and writer should be against something like this existing and I’ll outline them all in several other posts later.

Do not email their opt out email address there is no saying what is actually happening with that data and it is simply not worth the risks it could bring up. I hate treating seemingly well meaning people like potential cyber criminals but I’ve seen enough shit by now that it’s better to be safe than sorry. You’re much safer just locking all your fics to account only. I haven’t yet but I may in the future if that is the only option.

If anyone wants a screen reader tutorial and a walk through of my free favorites as well as the native IOS screen reader I can post that later as well. Sorry for the heavy content I know it’s not my normal fare.

#it’s especially insulting the way this is marketed as solving a problem when the solution already exists #ableism #lore.fm #terrible app ideas that shouldn’t happen #serious #accessibility #screen readers #lore.fm should not launch #accessibility tools that are inherently ableist in design #I wish I was making this up

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sgiandubh · 3 months ago

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Looking for balance

People have been asking for years that she would name McGill in the same sentence as 'husband'. This happened, after almost six years of marital bliss #shitshow, which is (how can I properly put it?) at least peculiar. And yes, I am still perfectly unfazed - because you see, promo also means being as consensual as possible. In this regard, it would seem the lessons of that costly, (in)famous Vanity Fair interview have been learned. But also that her fresh, organic image the veterans of this fandom so much enjoyed is probably gone.

Among all the interviews she so liberally (and rather proportionally with the big budget of The Amateur) offered, the most interesting one was for Io Donna the woman weekly supplement of the big Italian newspaper Corriere della Sera. It was posted across the street and they were unable to read, let alone understand it. They imagine we were as parochial and dumb as they are, so I said 'hold my beer' and translated it for you.

[Source: https://www.iodonna.it/personaggi/star-internazionali/2025/04/08/caitriona-balfe-protagonista-con-rami-malek-in-operazione-vendetta/ - 8 April 2025]

This time, we are talking about a widespread, very prestigious European media outlet. Not a Swiss news portal, bearing also in mind that Switzerland is a market seven times less important, in terms of audience, than Italy.

Anyways, there goes - my own translation, thank you:

Caitriona Balfe, star of 'The Amateur': 'I'm Frustrated by Injustice in the World' A former model and aspiring director, she is best known for her role as Claire Fraser in the television series Outlander. by Michaela K. Bellisario

"They made Rami run around a lot. We shot the escape scene so many times that we ended up joking about it." Caitriona Balfe, 45, actress and supermodel, is one of the two female leads (the other is Rachel Brosnahan) in The Amateur with Rami Malek, an American spy action thriller directed by James Hawes, based on the 1981 novel of the same name by Robert Littell, in theaters starting April 10.

Malek is a CIA code breaker who works in the basement of the Langley headquarters in the United States. His life is turned upside down when his wife is killed in a terrorist attack in London. When his supervisors refuse to act, he embarks on a dangerous journey around the world to track down the real perpetrators of the attack and avenge his wife. Caitriona Balfe is the widow of another agent and helps Malek using her computer skills.

Caitriona Balfe in The Amateur : "I accepted the movie because we were going to shoot in Marseille and Istanbul"

For Caitriona Balfe, originally from Dublin, this is a new role . The actress is best known for her role as Claire Fraser in the TV series Outlander, for which she won a BAFTA Scotland, two People's Choice Awards and two Saturn Awards, and received four consecutive Golden Globe nominations for Best Actress in a Drama Series. In 2021, alongside Jamie Dornan, she starred in the film Belfast, written and directed by Kenneth Branagh.

Caitriona Balfe, what made you take this role? I liked the idea of measuring up to a character so different from the others played to date. And then I was attracted by the possibility of working with Rami Malek and the director James Hawes, who I admire for the series Slow Horses. Last but not least, I confess, the fact that it was shot in Istanbul and Marseille. After all those years in Scotland ...

In fact, you basically worked and lived in Scotland for the TV series Outlander. Yes, that's eleven years in total. Intense and beautiful years. But, of course, every now and then changing location doesn't hurt, especially if I think of my colleagues who, instead, shoot for example, I don't know, in exotic locations (laughs).

Caitriona Balfe: "Rami Malek Gave Me So Much Advice" You have long scenes with Rami Malek, the “avenger”, especially those where you run to escape from the “enemies”, can you tell us a behind-the-scenes anecdote? If you mean the escape scene, we repeated it five times, it must have been three in the morning on a cold January night in Marseille. An adventure… Malek is a very generous professional and gave me a lot of advice. I arrived on the set when the shooting was already underway, it always takes a few moments of orientation to fit in and Rami supported me at every moment.

What is the message of this action thriller: revenge or peace? The film seems to be focused on revenge, Rami tries in every possible way to avenge his wife's assassination by occult terrorist forces. But during his long escape around the world, a bit like in a hero's journey, he understands that after all revenge is only the starting point of what he is doing. He understands the only thing that makes sense is to discover the truth and he wants justice to be served.

Food for thought in such a troubled moment of global politics… Exactly. In our world, these two levels, revenge and aspiration towards justice, are often confused. Yours is an interesting question we should all ask ourselves at this moment in time. I liked my character because she chose truth instead of revenge. And she has a positive influence on the character played by Rami Malek.

Caitriona Balfe: "I'm frustrated by injustice"

What makes you call for revenge? Everything! I am a Libra and I am looking for harmony in everything. I am frustrated by the lack of empathy between people, yet we are all interconnected, equal, we should treat each other with love and compassion. The same goes for animals and the environment. Everything would be easier, right? Instead, it seems to be the most difficult thing in the world. I was talking about it with a friend just today. You reach a certain point in life where you understand that the only important thing is love for all sentient beings.

Let's take a step back in time: you were a supermodel in the 90s and then you made your debut in The Devil Wears Prada… As I always say… I didn’t actually act in the film. I was an extra, one of the many girls who sashay in and out of the editorial office. But at least I had the chance to meet Meryl Streep. Even becoming a model was the result of chance. I was eighteen and studying acting in Dublin when I was noticed. I was able to live in Japan, France, Germany… ten years of discoveries.

"I'm interested in nourishing the soul"

You have tried directing on Outlander's set. Yes, I would love to end up behind the camera again, I am interested in exploring storytelling and narratives. Ultimately, thousands of years ago, when we were all cavemen, we told stories around the fire. For an actor, that is perhaps the most interesting side of it, because we are limited in the roles we play. Directing will make me able to tell stories in a much broader way.

How do you balance your private life with your professional life? Since I had a son, everything has become much more complicated. But it's not a problem, he is my priority. For the first three years of his life I worked a lot, now I've decided to take some time for us to be together, also because he will start school and we will have to find a new balance.

What do you do in your free time? I explore my creative side. I try to practice yoga. Nourishing the soul is definitely the most important task we have.'

***

I took the liberty to put in italics the answers I considered way more interesting, and perhaps even honest, than the rest. Her Stans should definitely take a deep look at what she said about empathy (or rather lack thereof), equality and her ultimately feeling that people are interconnected - all things I have particularly found Mordor wanting, especially considering their uncanny brutality and love of insults.

Corriere della Sera is a far more liberal media outlet than FOX, so the message of her points of talk was tailored to align with its values: yoga, compassion, empathy, environment and animal rights, tolerance and connection, injustice of the actual global context (subtly so, always as far as she is concerned). Again, no surprise and a clearly more serious, better adjusted image for the (perhaps more sophisticated) given audience. All you need is love, insomma: there's nothing more consensual than that, there's nothing less encouraging to probe further the real C behind the mask, Oriana Fallaci style.

I was not surprised, then, to see no mention of McGill, whatsoever. This is, at any rate, rarely done in European media of this level and importance, unless the story is compelling. She seems now entirely focused on Blonde Bambino, who (in her own words) has become 'her priority' (but, but...oooh, LOL) . That was the golden opportunity to mention McGill in a very positive, indisputable context, yet she did not take it - I really wonder why. Oh, and in case you wonder, the 'us' in 'I decided to take some time for us' refers, in my humble opinion, exclusively to her and Blonde Bambino. This being reinforced by her mentioning she worked a lot on Outlander and her will to spend more one on one time with him before he'd start school.

The contrast is clear. Different messages for different markets: she is a human being, not a batch of Skyr. However, it is with deep nostalgia (and also a wide grin) that I noticed the website also linked to a July 2016 interview of hers to the same newspaper, for the people who had time to kill and were willing to know more about her story. Lo and behold, here is what I found:

[Source: https://www.iodonna.it/personaggi/interviste-gallery/2016/07/15/caitriona-balfe-sono-uneroina-romantica-ma-non-ho-tempo-per-lamore/]

My translation: 'Caitriona Balfe: I am a romantic heroine, but I don't have time for love. On the TV screen, I have two husbands, but in my own life I've got none', jokes the actress, star of the cult series Outlander. She is talking to us about 'real sensuality', passion and feeling embarrassed. And she tells us why she'll never go to Paris with any fiancé'.

My translation: 'From the Scottish Highlands to the 1750's Paris: how much does the script weigh on the acting?

The Scottish Highlands are wild lands, the intensity of the landscape and the events of that time are encouraging Claire and Jamie's passion. Then, Paris does create strong tensions. I don't know if you have already went to the French capital while being in love: it's such a pressure to love each other, that it always ends in fighting' (laughs).

Of course, the rest is paying lip service to the narrative, but what about the trolls across the street for whom McGill was already the chosen one, by then (as if, heh... as if...)?

Stop lying. You're not doing her any good.

#fandom #shitshow #The Amateur Promo April 2025

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