#and i'm allowed to stop taking it if i want but if i have to choose rn between the two evils
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ohhiimjazzed · 3 days ago
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NSFW Phainon Headcanons for his season
3.4 SPOILERS AHEAD I REPEAT 3.4 SPOILERS AHEAD
Also this is SMUT so Minors DNI
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Character: Phainon Reader Pronouns: they/them or gender neutral tags: smut, a little angsty, mentions of pregnancy, overstimulation, praise, body worship, kinda wholesome ngl
Phainon doesn't know what to do when it comes to sex in the beginning. He holds back from it out of fear of hurting you. He's pretty big. He keeps the voice in the back of his mind telling him to ruin you quiet. You have to reassure him that you'll be okay if he wants to be a little rough. You trust this man with your life. That's the problem. So, you have a safe word and some lube.
Once Phainon gets going though, he's going. Like, you ain't stopping until Amphoreus welcomes a new dawn. Okay. That's an exaggeration, but you get it. You're getting dicked down by this man real good. He can go for a while, but when you're truly done. He's also done.
That doesn't mean Phainon won't overstimulate you, though. He'll make you cum as many times as he wants you to before even thinking about his own pleasure. "One more time, love. I'm not done with you yet," he'll say while eating you out/sucking you off. He hasn't even properly fucked you yet.
Speaking of oral, Phainon is a giver when it comes to oral. Seeing your legs tremble while your voice escapes in whimpers and moans is one of his favorite sights. He'll claim that he doesn't need you to suck him off. But, he'd be a liar if he said he didn't love it. So please do it. Let him relax, good god does Phainon need it.
Phainon will take you from behind whenever he feels particularly frustrated that day. It allows him to be a little rougher, pulling on your hair, groping your ass, etc. He'll press your face into the mattress firmly, but not enough to suffocate you.
Phainon will take you from the front the rest of the time, however. He likes being able to see your face. There's an intimacy behind that. He's not just fucking you. He's making love to you. He cups your face lovingly while your legs hang over his shoulders. The tenderness contrasts with how much he's pounding into you.
Praise kink? Yeah, Phainon has a huge praise kink. He'll tell you how well your taking him, how beautiful you look with your face all fucked out and drooling. It goes both ways too. Tell him how good he feels, how perfect he is and he'll start fucking you harder.
He's also into body worship. Phainon could spend hours just feeling up your naked body, admiring it. It's like Mnestia sculpted you from their divine hands. He'll blush if you do it to him too. Touch the sun mark on his neck/shoulder. It's sensitive and you'll get the best whimper from him.
Phainon would prefer to cum inside you if you'll let him. He'll stuff you full of his seed until you physically can't take anymore of him. He likes fingering it back into you when it drips out. It lets the voice in the back of his mind hope that one day, you'd have his child. Once these endless cycles are over and he can stop killing his friends and injecting his memories into a new him over and over, he'd be free to spend a peaceful life with you. But that's only a dream.
Phainon practically begged you to say his name in bed, not 'Phainon.' He wanted his true name to fall from your lips. 'Khaslana.' His name felt like poetry coming from you.
Near the cycle's end, Khaslana touches you with desperation. It leaves you confused. It's not like you're going to die the next day. You are. Just like the rest of them.
Khaslana's aftercare is ever so gentle. He holds you like you're a delicate piece of glass and cleans you like the most precious treasure in the cosmos. He kisses the bite marks and bruises on your body, whispering apologies all the while. You have to reassure him that he did nothing wrong and that you loved it.
Khaslana then holds you close, praying that one day, he won't he holding your dead body in his arms.
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happyk44 · 16 hours ago
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[Text ID: 1. Why's it so hard for you to believe someone would want to take care of you?
I don't even want to care of me. Why would anyone else?
2. You killed NEED because you could. WANT only grew bigger.
So, you lied and lied and lied until everyone believed, most of all you.
You don't even realise how much you've been lying to yourself.
3. I'm still ashamed of needing anything all.
Don't even get me started on wanting.
[highlight] I've never considered myself worthy of care. [end highlight]
It would take extraordinary circumstances - I make them up. I dream of them, and wake full of shame. Whatever I make up quickly stops being enough.
The price has only grown in my mind.
4. Easier to act like I don't want at all than admit how much I do.
Like looking at the sun, I think.
5. For one night only, the truth.
I want to be held so tightly that I forget what it's like not to be held.
6. Won't someone hold my face in their hands and tell me it's going to be okay?
Won't someone come and be kind to me because I don't know how.
7. Just once I wanted someone to save me.
Just once I wanted to feel worthy of saving, to be capable of taking it.
8. I want to stop saying things now.
I want you to hold my head underwater.
You don't have to drown me, you choose, your hand on my neck, soothing or violent.
9. Okay, how about this.
I fiddle with the cutlery.
Here, stick this knife inside of me,
you can, if you hold me tight as you,
what I mean is,
you can hold me tight
if you stick this knife inside of me
someplace it won't do too much damage,
nothing lethal, just to feel it.
10. I can't trust a meal without a little poison in it,
I really don't want it to kill me,
I just want to taste something familiar.
11. it's not that I can't do this on my own,
but I know you want to help,
and one day, I'll find a way to let you.
12. We all need a little taking care of. To be held. We all need to take care of others; we need to hold. I don't speak of moral imperatives; just to feed your soul, love leaves the way it comes - it stays.
The greatest of these remains. Let it circulate now; feel the flow from your arteries to your veins, the trembling extasy of opening what too long has been closed. [highlight] You're allowed to be held. [end highlight] Let the tears fall, let yourself be consoled, giving not only your soul but theirs what sustains. Let love flow through you. /end ID]
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you're allowed to be held.
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unintentionalseductress · 7 hours ago
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First of all, you just gained a new follower bb, love your stuff 😍. Secondly, I have a request..(if you don't mind and it's no rush at all), but today is Father's day and I'm a firm believer that Zayne IS a family man. So could you write a small fiction of y/n taking hc zayne out on a date and at the end of it..telling him that she's pregnant (he's the father ofc and they're already married)? Tysm if you decide to do this, and again..it's no rush. (You can add smutt if you want 😉)
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Hello there! Thank you for the follow and I'm sorry this is late, I usually don't answer asks unless I know what I'm writing for them. Zayne is absolutely a family man and he'd be an amazing dad. Here's a ficlet based on your ask (oneshots are on hiatus atm). I hope you like it! Warnings: none needed I think, pure fluff, mention of pregnancy
There's a flutter in your heart as you take your seat at the little table in your usual cafe. Trying to calm your nerves, you look out the window at the balmy June evening, trying not to fidget in your chair.
"Is everything all right?"
You nearly jump out of your chair as Zayne takes his spot opposite you, a tray bearing assorted pastries and 2 cups of hot chocolate laden on it. You smile reassuringly and nod, accepting the cake slice Zayne offers and poke at the creamy frosting with a fork.
Zayne knows you're dying to tell him something. Your cheeks are colored and you keep trying not to smile, although you're failing spectacularly at it, the corners of your lips curving and uncurving every few seconds. It was endearing to watch, and his curiosity is piqued, but he waits politely for you to share.
He picks up his cup of hot chocolate and blows on the warm liquid and sips, his wedding band glinting under the lights. For a moment, you allow yourself to simply bask in the perfectness; of how wonderful Zayne is, and what a beautiful life you've built with him. You reach a hand across the table, palm up and look at him expectantly.
Without missing a beat, Zayne takes your hand in his, setting down the cup with a soft clink as his fingers intertwine with yours. The warmth of his palm against yours is the final thing you needed to stop pretending you were smiling, lips quirking into a happy expression as you fix your eyes on your husband.
"What is it?" Zayne is amused, albeit a little vexed. You fight down the urge to burst out your news.
"I was just thinking if our house has enough room for a guest."
"A guest?" Zayne nibbles on a macaroon. "We have an extra bedroom. How long are they staying?"
"Hmm 18 years. Maybe longer. Who knows?"
"18 years? Who are we inviting?"
You look directly at him, eyes bright and face glowing, then giggle as you see comprehension dawning on his face. There's disbelief which melts away into joy.
"Are you sure?" At your nod, his gaze softens, and he brings your hands to his lips, kissing them devotedly.
"We'll figure out a nursery theme when we get back." He pushes the other cake slice towards you.
"Eat."
© unintentionalseductress original work | no copying, plagiarizing or translating
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fixated-cookies · 14 hours ago
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Hear me out- PV and SMC with a reader who’s small like very small and petite oop good luck y/n
Oh my gosh I typed this all on my phone because I'm out of state for fourth of July so this may shorter and also may have some spelling errors and weird formatting hahah
Despite being opposites, Pure Vanilla Cookie and Shadow Milk Cookie share one common weakness—you. So small. So soft. So perfectly ruinable.
Pure Vanilla Cookie treats your size like it’s a divine vulnerability. He’ll lift you like you weigh nothing, cradling you in his arms as if the wind might snatch you away. He speaks to you in that gentle, honeyed tone—praising you for being so good, so strong, even when you’re trembling in his robes. He’ll kneel to your level so you don’t feel overwhelmed, kiss your fingers like sacred relics, and hold you in his lap while healing you from dangers he allowed no one else to face but himself. But make no mistake—he likes that you’re small. His touches may be holy, but his mind drifts. Especially when your thighs barely fill his palms, when you shiver under the weight of his body, when your breath hitches from just a single kiss to your neck. He may blush... but he doesn’t stop.
Shadow Milk Cookie, meanwhile, is your tormentor wrapped in velvet. He loves how your body folds beneath him. He’ll trap you in his shadow just to see your tiny silhouette wriggle against his chest, stringing words like, “Poor little thing. Is that all the space I left you?” He picks you up one-handed, wraps his strings around your limbs just to tug your body into positions he wants—whining, squirming, gasping. When Pure Vanilla chastises him, he only snickers: “I’m just helping stretch her out, priest. You don’t want her to tear on your holy rod, do you?”
Together? They’re a nightmare. Pure Vanilla kisses your tears away as Shadow Milk causes them. Shadow Milk makes you whimper, Pure Vanilla makes you come undone. You try to crawl away? Vanilla pulls you into his arms. You beg for space? Shadow Milk slinks closer, whispering promises of how tight you’ll feel when they finally—finally—fill you together. Not just spiritually. Physically.
With you being so small, Pure Vanilla becomes ten times more delicate, as if you were carved from spun sugar and moonlight.
He holds you like prayer—cupping your cheek with a reverent palm, kissing your forehead like it’s holy ground. Every touch is measured, gentle, and laced with meaning. Even if you’re being intimate, his eyes are half-lidded with reverence, voice low and trembling:
“You are… so beautiful like this. Every part of you, soft and warm, and mine to cherish.”
He’ll never rush. He’ll spend hours worshipping your body—trailing kisses from your collarbone to your knees, murmuring soft thanks like you’re a blessing he’s not sure he deserves. The size difference doesn’t intimidate him,it just makes him more protective, more eager to please.
“Are you alright? Can I move? Just a little more, my love…”
He’ll adjust his pace constantly, wrapping his arms around your waist so you don’t shift too much. If your thighs tremble or you squeak too loudly? He’ll stop and kiss you better before continuing.
You are not a lust object to him—you’re a divine being in his arms, and every time he enters you, it feels like a vow renewed.
On the flip side… Shadow Milk Cookie is a menace. An obsessed, feral, smirking menace who gets off on how small you are. He loves that you struggle to take him fully. He makes it a struggle.
“Oh? Are you trembling already? But I’ve barely done anything~”
He’ll start slow. Playful. But it never stays soft for long. He’ll whisper the nastiest things against your ear, holding your wrists with one hand, keeping your hips up with the other.
“So tiny. So easy to fold up. Do you feel how deep I am right now? Hah… bet you’re too shy to say it, but I know you like it.”
And if you cry a little from the stretch or stimulation? He purrs in your ear and calls it a blessing. “C’mon, little teatoy. You’re not gonna break… well, not unless you want to.”
He’s obsessed with marking you—bites on your inner thighs, hickeys down your neck, finger bruises on your hips. He’ll press a hand against your lower belly, just to feel how deep he is. He might even tease Pure Vanilla about how tight you get for him.
“Your little guardian thinks he knows you? Hah… he’s never seen you drool from just one finger.”
Even when he’s being “nice,” he’s awful about it. Whispering praises just to fluster you. Laughing low when you try to hide your face. He thinks your embarrassment is adorable.
And despite it all, he adores you. He just shows it through obsession, teasing, and physical devotion that borders on overwhelming.
---
that moment when I'm at my family reunion for the fourth of July, once I get back I promise I'll do longer drabble post ahhhh
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dxmurewrites · 2 days ago
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So Sweet
fluffy lil one shot
pairing: Paddy Mayne x Nurse!Reader
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summary: Having found out it was Paddy's birthday, you took it upon yourself to get him a gift.
unedited
warnings: language, mentions of war, blood, medical language, mutual name calling, mutual attraction, fluffiness, kissing and mentions of alcohol.
let me know what you think!
_______
"What have ye got there?"
"A sweet," you answer with a mouthful, holding up a small packet in your hand as you lay on your trundle, the other hand behind your head. "Want one?"
Paddy stands with his hands on his hips, looking down at you with an eyebrow raised. The past couple of days had been quiet, the only injuries needing assessed being various sand sores and blistered skin.
"A sweet," he repeats, continue to stare with an amused expression. Paddy steps closer, smacking your foot gently, urging you to move over so he could sit down.
You do so, letting the man sit by your feet. He picks up your sock covered feet, resting them against his thighs as one of his hands rest on your calf. "And where did ye get those?"
"From the market," You grin, watching as Paddy's eyebrows furrow. He was almost always your escort when walking in the city, and he didn't remember waiting for you in any stalls. "That little shop that had the dog outside."
Paddy tries thinking back to your last trip in town, still not remembering any stops for sweets.
Upon seeing your grin, his smile closes, eyes narrowing as he begins massaging your leg. "I remember ye asking to stop there, but we didn't have time," He huffs out, hand sliding up and down your leg under your baggy pants in a gentle caress. "Ye went back?"
"Mm hm," your smile doesn't leave, seeing the Irishman confused. "When you and the boys were dealing with those American lads, I stepped out."
"By yourself." There it is.
"No, I had Withers," You quip back, chuckling loudly as Paddy gives you a pointed look. The two of you then look down, seeing the dog sleeping by your desk. "Best guard dog there is."
Paddy says your name lowly, almost in a warning. He still had a playful tone to him, and you knew he wasn't completely mad.
Truthfully you hadn't been completely far away, but he still didn't like the idea of you not being within arms reach.
You shrug, holding out the packet of sweets. "I'll let you have one if you don't get mad at me," you shake the packet for extra effect. "You can have the orange ones though, the pink and purple ones are mine."
He takes the packet from you, keeping eye contact as he takes a purple one anyway. Paddy grins, plopping the sweet into his mouth, going as far as to make little noises as he does so.
"Bastard." You nudge him with your foot, and he chuckles, reaching for another. He holds a pink one between his finger, looking it over before holding it out to you.
He holds the treat near your lips, and you reach out, taking it in your mouth gently. It was a sweet, almost intimate gesture, and the two of you smile at each other.
"You being all sweet on me because you're heading out tomorrow?" You ask, chewing on the lollie, deciding you may as well bring up the inevitable conversation.
Paddy and a few more of his men were leaving in the morning for a mission, somewhere you weren't allowed to follow. He would be back, he always came back, but that didn't stop you from worrying about the Irishman and your boys.
"I'm always sweet on ye," He reminds you, turning his head to look down at where you lay comfortably. His eyes follow every little move you make, memorising ever detail. "Just making sure ye don't forget it." You scoff playfully, nudging him again with your leg. "I'd never."
The two of you sit in a comfortable silence, sharing your packet of sweets. It was rare that you were given moments like this, and it pained you knowing it was only because the others were busy preparing for tomorrows mission.
"You'll be alright 'ere," Paddy mutters, just loud enough for you to hear. He sighs to himself, almost as if convincing himself that this camp was the safest place for you to be (as much as he'd prefer you be home, completely out of the country). "Only problem you'll have is missing me."
"Oh you are just so sure of yourself Robert Mayne," You scoff again, giggling as Paddy's nose scrunches upon hearing his real name on your lips. "'Course I'll miss you, got no one else here to annoy when you're gone."
"You?" He points at you with his ring finger before scratching at his chin. "Not sure if annoying is the right word, irritatin' maybe." Your mouth opens in mock shock, a fake gasp leaving your lips as Paddy grins from ear to ear.
God, you loved him.
And with the way he beamed at you, massaging at your legs as you lay on your cot, you knew he loved you too.
Even if the two of you had unconventional ways of showing it.
"Wait," You immediately sit up in your bed, pulling your legs off of Paddy's thighs. "Will you be back by next Friday?"
He shakes his head, a small frown at the question. "Following Tuesday they gather, why you thinkin' of Friday?"
"Your birthday," a grin graces your cheeks once again at the groan that leaves Paddy's mouth. "You think I'd forget?" "I want to know which bastard told ye," Truthfully, all you had done was read Paddy's medical file, as you did for everyone who graced your makeshift infirmary.
It passed the time, giving you little background information on the various soldiers who sort your help. "Ye don't have to worry 'bout that."
"Pfft, it's your birthday love," Paddy watches as you get up from your cot, brushing off any powdered sugar from your uniform from your shared sweets. "Gives me something to look forward too."
Your lieutenant continues watching you, eyes filled with humour and light as your bounce from box to box in the tent. He smiled as he saw your tongue poke out, clearly in deep thought as you look for something.
Withers watches from his little makeshift bed, the small dog sighing as he rolls over, continuing to snooze away the day.
"What're y-" "Shh, patience Paddy," you quip, bending down to open another box hiding under your work bench. "I knew I put it somewhere in here, ah! Here, thank god."
You turn around, seeing Paddy sprawled out on your cot, legs comfortably apart as he holds your pillow in his hands, resting against his stomach. "What ye got there?"
"Close your eyes."
"Ye gonna shoot me?" He asks quickly, but closes his eyes regardless.
Your eyes widen at his jest. "Jesus Christ Paddy," shaking your head, you continue walking forward, once again climbing onto the cot. Rather than sitting at the front like before, you take a spot on Paddy's lap, thighs pressed onto the side of his. "Keep 'em closed."
His hands immediately reach out, holding onto your waist to keep you from falling. The position was far from raunchy, seeing as one wrong move would send you both flying on the wire cot.
He huffs as you shimmy closer, one hand on his shoulder for leverage and the other in front of him, holding a small box. "Alright, you can open."
His eyes open slowly, blue eyes narrowing slightly at the playful expression on your face before they land on the box in your grasp.
His hands press further against your uniformed waist, adjusting the way you were sitting on thighs before he grabs the small wrapped item in your hand. "What's this?"
"Open it and you'll find out," you chuckle before quickly groaning as Paddy rattles the box, hearing something jostling around inside. "Too bad if it was glass, you idiot."
Paddy doesn't immediately open your gift, looking down at the box softly before looking back at the giddy expression on your face. He leans forward, pressing a kiss to your lips before you can even tell him off for not opening your present.
Your eyes close at the action, returning the kiss as Paddy reaches up, gently holding onto your cheek as his lips mould against yours before he pulls away slowly. "Ye didn't have to get me anything," He murmurs, inches from your lips. "Gone out of your way 'n all."
You shrugged, pecking his lips again as you pull away further, urging him once more to open your gift. "Didn't really go out of my way," You match his tone, soft and airy. "Got it the same time I got the sweets, only way I could shop without you breathing down my neck."
He chuckles at your quip. "Thought ye loved me breathing down your neck sugar pie'," You didn't miss his innuendo, pushing at his shoulder playfully. "But seriously, you spent money on me?" "Would you rather I stole it?"
Paddy's lips open again, to which you shook your head, already guessing his answer. "Just open it Paddy."
Seeing that you wouldn't budge, he accepts defeat, carefully manoeuvring his hands so you could sit comfortably without his help.
With a hand wrapped around his shoulder, the other in your lap, Paddy carefully opens the gift, peeling back the shifty layer of paper you had found to wrap it.
Opening the lid, Paddy's eyes widen, seeing the silver pocket watch that rest in the middle. He looks at you through his lashes, eyebrow raised as you sheepishly smile.
"If you don't like it, we could take it back maybe and g-"
He cuts you off, tutting as he grabs the back of your head gently, pressing another kiss to your cheek. "No, no, shut it, it's nice," He shakes his head, looking you in disbelief. "I just, how did ye know I needed one?" "I noticed you had one a couple weeks ago that was all smashed, figured you'd want a new one," You shrug, suddenly feeling worried about your choice of gift. "It ah, it has something on the back too if you press the top."
Upon hearing your words, Paddy pulls the watch from it's box, flipping it around and seeing a bare back. He eyes you again, and you roll your eyes, reaching out to hold his hands in yours as you press the button on the top of the pocket watch.
The back opens up, revealing a black and white picture of the two of you. Your arms were wrapped around his neck, your cheeks pressed against each others as you both grinned, both parties not staring at the camera at all.
"Ye look beautiful," Paddy immediately says as he gazes at the picture, smiling down at the memory that had been taken months prior. "I look drunk."
"You were," You chuckle, resting your forehead against his as you both peer down at the photo in his new watch. "Think we both were actually, didn't even see John pull the camera out,"
You watch as Paddy continues looking at the picture, his thumb reaching out to stroke over where your face beams back at him.
"It was either that photo or the one where I threw a middle finger, didn't think you'd want that looking back at you when you're out there fighting for us." He laughs loudly, shrugging his shoulders as he thinks it over. "Wouldn't be mad, would still be you lookin' back at me."
"Sap." Paddy laughs a little harder at your insult, pulling the watch further out of the box as he closes the back. He holds it out to your lips, to which you give him a confused look.
"Good luck kiss," He shrugs again, as if it was the most obvious answer. "Since I'm bein' such a sap."
You do as he says, pressing your lips against the metal gently as he smiles, immediately pressing his own lips over where yours had touched the watch, before putting his new gift in his front pocket.
"You read that in some poetry book?" You whisper, eyes closing in content as Paddy's calloused hands reach out to rest against your waist once again, pulling you forward and running his nose along yours.
"Don't need a book for that," He answers, tilting his head to seek out your lips. He kisses you with a tender rhythm, Paddy's own little way of saying thank you without using the words.
He groans softly as your hands wound their way into his hair, tugging gently at the strands as your own head tilts, smiling against his own grin.
As you pull away, Paddy reaches up, patting his front pocket. "I'll take it everywhere," He reassures, nodding along as you hold your hand over where it lay near his heart. He holds his hand over yours, keeping it there. "You'll be everywhere I go."
"I believe you," You turn your hand where it lays over the fabric of his uniform, just enough for Paddy to entwine your fingers with his. "I've got a photo of your pretty mug here too to keep me company."
Paddy scoffs, squeezing your hand. "Ye love me."
"Wholeheartedly," once again, you lean forward, letting go of Paddy's hand to wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him in for an embrace. His arms engulf you, pulling you impossibly closer to him as he tucks his head into your neck, inhaling your scent as he closes his eyes. "Happy birthday Paddy."
"Thank you darlin'."
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downtroddendeity · 2 days ago
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I have no idea why I'm thinking about this post again, but I am, so even without penicillin, some thoughts about how a modern person could be the past's greatest doctor* with minimal effort:
Sanitation: besides knowing about washing your hands, you know to boil water or filter it through several layers of cloth to make it safer to drink. My previous reblog said how to invent soap, and distilled alcohol is also pretty easy to invent- you heat an alcoholic liquid like wine in a container that's sealed other than a pipe/tube in the lid, which is attached to another container that isn't heated, allowing the steam to condense. The first little bit that comes out will be methanol and some other horrible poisons, but after that you'll get mostly ethanol, because alcohol evaporates much more easily than water.
Cholera and dysentery: what actually kills people with these is dehydration, which means even cholera is very treatable even without antibiotics. The most important thing is making sure the sick person drinks as much clean, boiled water as they can keep down and gets some electrolytes and calories in there too, such as by drinking broth, thin soup, or water some sort of grain has been boiled in.
Scurvy: you know this one. Cooking destroys a lot of Vitamin C, and copper stops it from being absorbed. Besides the kind of fruits and vegetables you might think of, rose hips have a crazy amount of Vitamin C, tea brewed from pine needles is pretty good for it, and while there isn't very much of it in meat, some Arctic expeditions managed to recover from scurvy by eating nearly-raw seal.
Rickets: Vitamin D deficiency, and maybe sometimes calcium. You can literally cure the first one with sunlight.
Goiter: often iodine deficiency. Seaweed and eggs are the foods of choice here.
Malaria: quinine is extracted from the bark of a tree native to Peru, which Europeans were smart enough to immediately bring over to Spain when they found out about it. Enough cloth to make mosquito nets would probably be way too expensive to be practical for normal people in most of the world until the Industrial Revolution, but at least you know.
Smallpox: STAY THE HELL AWAY FROM SMALLPOX, SMALLPOX IS TERRIFYING, IF YOU WANTED TO MAKE A DISEASE TO KILL AS MANY HUMANS ON THE PLANET AS POSSIBLE IT WOULD BASICALLY JUST BE SMALLPOX. It's insanely contagious and frequently fatal, and you probably aren't vaccinated. However, you can become inoculated, and developing a true smallpox vaccine is way easier than discovering penicillin. People in China were practicing variolation for centuries before it became a thing in Europe- it consists of taking a scab from someone with smallpox, keeping it in a bottle for a week or two to make sure most of the virus is dead, and then having someone inhale the dust or using a needle to prick their arm and get a little of it into the wound. This generally gives them a mild case, which still isn't a good time, but will make them resistant to getting the real thing afterward. Vaccination is the same procedure, but using the much less deadly relative cowpox, which is why the word "vaccine" is from the Latin vacca, "cow." The vaccine that was in use when smallpox was declared extinct in the wild was developed by deliberately passing cowpox between test animals to get it to mutate and selecting for the mildest strains.
Syphilis: the only good treatment for syphilis is antibiotics. However, syphilis is such a bastard that there are a couple of bad treatments that are, somehow, not the worst thing you can do. Insanely enough, this is the one time that mercury actually sometimes helps- like with chemotherapy for cancer today, if you catch it early and poison the bejeezus out of it, sometimes the disease will die before the person does (it's useless once the syphilis goes systemic, though). The other most effective treatment for syphilis before the discovery of penicillin was- I shit you not- giving the person malaria by injecting them with blood from a sick person. Malaria causes extremely high fevers, which kill off a lot of the syphilis bacteria. The drawbacks to this one are, uh, pretty self-evident.
As a bonus, since you probably know how a lot of these diseases are spread, you know when it's worth bothering with the full plague doctor getup! No need to bother when it's cholera or syphilis! But don't skip the mask if there's actual plague though, it's not just the fleas, plague can spread through the air and it can literally kill you in under 24 hours, don't fuck around with the plague-
*Besides time period, how much you would have it made as Superdoctor would also depend heavily on where you land. The Islamic world and China, for instance, were both working off fundamentally incorrect models of health and disease but were still generally a lot more competent than European medicine until the last century or two, while there are Inca skulls with marks from healed brain surgeries from 400 years before European doctors started to consider whether they should maybe consider washing their hands before sticking them in open wounds.
I can understand how "modern person thrown into the past gets by pretending to be a healer/doctor" is as surprisingly common of a trope as it is. I mean I'm fluent enough at bullshitting to be pretty sure I could pull it off to impersonate a doctor in any time pre-1800s. If I have no idea what something is or how to treat it, I could just get the opinion of the other whatever-passes-as-medical-professionals around, but if their suggestions sound like bullshit I'm not doing it. And I'll beat the shit out of anyone suggesting bloodletting or mercury. With my healing stick. I've tied little bells on it, that jingle comically with every smack.
The awesome curative powers of my healing stick come from two separate sources: Placebo, and me using it to beat anyone trying to give my patients mercury.
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marixrose · 3 days ago
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Hiiii! Idk how many times I read your answer to my request last time because I just love it so much. I have a request again if you don't mind. I'm just gonna leave it here.
OM characters seeing MC head leaning on the wall (or anything) while eating a bread while half-asleep because they couldn't get enough sleep because of the exam😗🎶
This happened to me when I was studying for finals, and I was eating the same slice of bread for an hour until my mom saw me😭
Thank you so much! Have a great day💕
Obey Me! characters (brothers + undateables) walking in on MC half-asleep, head leaning against the wall or a desk, still trying to eat a piece of bread because they stayed up all night studying for exams.
Lucifer
Lucifer walks into the room and stops in his tracks. You’re half-asleep, chewing slowly, head leaning against the wall like your life depends on it.
“MC… really?”
He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, but he’s already walking over and taking the half-eaten bread from your hands.
“This is pathetic. You need rest more than you need food right now.”
He scoops you up with ease—bridal style, of course—and carries you to bed despite your sleepy protests.
“You’ll thank me after you sleep. And next time? You ask for help. Understood?”
Mammon
Mammon freezes when he sees you like that, mouth full of bread, head dangerously close to slipping off the chair.
“H-Hey! Are ya okay?! Are ya CHOKIN’?!”
He panics, drops his bag, and rushes over. You groggily blink up at him with crumbs on your cheek, and he nearly melts.
“You’re killin’ me here… eatin’ and sleepin’ at the same time?! That’s not multitaskin’, that’s self-destruction!!”
He carefully props your head on his shoulder and feeds you the rest of the bread himself.
“Just lean on me, okay? I gotcha. Stupid exams…”
Leviathan
Levi finds you at your desk like a tired NPC—bread in hand, cheek squished against the bookshelf. You’re snoring softly between bites.
“U-Uh… MC…? Are you glitching…?”
He flushes red and immediately starts thinking of anime characters who push themselves too hard and end up collapsing.
“This is exactly what happens in Episode 23 of Demon School Dropout Diaries—they overwork, then their love interest nurses them back to health…”
He gets flustered but gently puts a blanket over you and whispers:
“Y-You’re not allowed to collapse, okay? You’re the main character. Main characters take care of themselves…”
Satan
He walks in expecting to study with you but instead sees your head tilted against a shelf, mouth half-open, chewing sluggishly.
“…You’ve become one of the sleep-deprived zombies I read about.”
He sighs, but there’s a warm smile on his lips. He carefully takes the bread from you, replaces it with a warm drink, and brushes your hair out of your face.
“You can’t absorb knowledge if your brain is in sleep mode, MC. Close your eyes. Just for ten minutes.”
You do. And when you wake up, he’s still sitting next to you, reading silently, guarding your nap.
Asmodeus
Asmo gasps when he sees you with one cheek smushed against the counter, the other puffed out like a chipmunk from bread.
“MC!! What are you doing to your face?! You’ll get wrinkles!!”
He rushes over, gently shakes you awake, and starts fixing your bedhead and wiping crumbs from your lips like a panicked mother hen.
“Sweetie, no. Absolutely not. You are not sacrificing beauty for a test.”
He literally tucks you into bed and says:
“If anyone asks, I forced you to rest. I’ll glamor your notes so you can study in your dreams. Priorities, darling!”
Beelzebub
Beel sees you half-asleep, nibbling at a slice of toast with all the strength of a wilting daisy.
He’s immediately next to you, kneeling down.
“Are you okay? Are you hungry? You look like you’re gonna fall over.”
He takes out his own bag of pastries and hands you something warmer and softer.
“Eat this instead. Then lie down. You can lean on me while you sleep if you want.”
You end up curled next to him on the couch, both slowly eating, your head on his shoulder. He lets you nap while he watches over you quietly.
Belphegor
Belphie walks in, sees your head flopped against the wall, drooling slightly while chewing like a malfunctioning cow.
“Seriously? You’re out-sleep-depriving me? That’s illegal.”
He’s 50% impressed and 50% offended.
He lies down next to you, steals the bread from your hand, and eats the rest of it himself.
“Move over. You’re not napping alone if I have anything to say about it.”
Next thing you know, you’re both out cold in the middle of the floor. Satan finds you. He is not pleased.
Solomon
Solomon walks in, sees your forehead resting against the fridge while you chew lifelessly, and just starts chuckling.
“Wow. This is what rock bottom looks like, huh?”
He conjures a pillow and gently floats it behind your head so you don’t slump over. Then he waves a little magical energy into the bread so at least it’s nutritious.
“As your mentor, I feel obligated to tell you this is very irresponsible.”
He then makes you promise not to summon a sleep demon just to cram for your finals.
Simeon
Simeon finds you slumped against the breakfast bar, crust of toast still between your lips. He rushes to your side.
“MC, are you alright? You look… so tired.”
He gently brushes crumbs off your face and guides you into a chair, coaxing you to drink some tea he brews instantly.
“You shouldn’t push yourself like this. Rest is sacred. Even angels sleep.”
He offers to quiz you later—but only after you’ve taken a nap under the blanket he tucks around you.
Diavolo
Diavolo catches you leaning on a wall in the hallway, nodding off, still chewing mechanically.
“MC?! Are you okay?!”
He thinks you’re sick at first. Once he finds out it’s just exams, he’s both relieved and completely bewildered.
“Humans really put themselves through this for grades? I thought demons were intense!”
He offers to postpone all RAD exams just for your sake. Barbatos quickly vetoes that.
“Fine! Then I’m taking the test for you—wait, no, that’s cheating… I’ll just carry you back to bed!”
He does.
Barbatos
Barbatos walks in, finds you dozing on your feet while chewing, and blinks.
“I believe you have reached the height of self-neglect.”
He tuts, sighs, and whisks the bread away with a flick of his wrist. Before you can protest, there’s a small breakfast tray and tea ready.
“Sit. Eat. Then sleep. I’ll rearrange your day.”
He leaves no room for negotiation. And you’re too tired to argue anyway.
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emeraldserenade · 1 day ago
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Hi! I’m new to your page so maybe you already have a fic like this, but maybe one where the reader gets hurt on a mission and Joaquin finally confesses that he loves her? I’m still going through your first Joaquin master list and they’re all so good!!
Hurt Confessions ~ Joaquín Torres
synopsis: Joaquín finally reveals why he cares so much
tw: fem!reader, reader gets hurt on mission, slight angst?, barely edited.
fic, ficlet, drabble, request
Hi!! I'm so sorry for how long this took me to get to!! I'm glad you liked my writing enough to go through my masterlists!!
➽──────────────❥
Getting hurt on a mission wasn't new, you were always coming back with bruises at the very least. Joaquín and Sam came back the same way each time, none of you were too concerned. Or at least, not outwardly. If Joaquín's heart stopped for a moment every time you got hit in the field, that was for him to know. If it was hard to breathe until he knew you got nothing more than a bruise, that was just for his mind.
But you did notice, you saw the way Joaquín would watch you move during missions. How he would hover after missions before knowing you were ok. It got on your nerves, it felt like he didn't trust you on the field. You brushed it off, not wanting to cause a scene just in case it was wrong. You wouldn't even allow yourself to ask the question if he liked you just as much as you liked him.
But then you got sliced, just a knife catching your leg in a fight. But you had to get stitches and Joaquín was next to you the entire time. He was hovering and you hated it but you pushed it off until you had your stitches. "Why are you hovering?" You asked, annoyance tinging your voice.
"You got hurt, I just wanted to make sure you're ok," Joaquín said, not picking up on your annoyance.
"Are you sure? Because you always do this, you act like you don't trust me. You hover after missions and you watch me during fights, do you just not believe that I deserve to be here?"
"No, that's not it," Joaquín said.
"Then what is it? Because I can take care of myself, Joaquín!"
"I know, ok? I know you can take care of yourself and that you're capable, but I love you! I love you so much that my heart stops every time you get hit. I can't breathe after missions until I know you're ok!" Joaquín admitted, his eyes blazing. Not in anger, but in something else.
"What? You love me?"
"Yeah, I do," Joaquín seemed to calm down a little. He was making eye contact and you saw the shift behind his eyes. The fear and confusion morphing into something softer, deeper.
"Oh," you didn't know what to say.
"Yeah, oh," Joaquín laughed, moving to walk to you. "Will you let me take care of you now?"
"Yeah, but you're watching shitty romcoms with me tonight," you told him, letting him help you into the wheelchair.
"I can't wait, mi vida," Joaquín landed a kiss to your forehead before pushing you out of the hospital room and down the hall. You two heading into the future, one where you two are together.
➽──────────────❥
Masterlist | Requests If you want to be added to the tag list, follow the directions on my masterlist
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sailingintothenight · 2 days ago
Text
"Heart to heart." Bob Reynolds Imagine.
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Summary: You two are good, best friends, but you're also two hearts yearning to be something more. And between the small fears and the big ones inside Bob, there's a confession of love on his part, in an attempt not to lose you—not angry, not frustrated, just scared.
A/N: Hi. Thanks again for the love you've shown my other images; it means a lot! Sorry if this is not very good (about 4.5k words) I can't write constantly, and even though I feel like I'm not making progress, I like writing these stories for myself and for whoever wants to read them. English isn't my first language, so I'll correct any mistakes I find in the morning, as it's almost 5 a.m. in Peru. Thank you! Warnings: fluff with a little bit of angst. The word "addiction," "death" and "weapons," though I don't specify which ones I think(?) Sorry if I'm missing something!
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[The heart monitor drew a flat line on the screen.
Everyone left, and no one bothered to turn it off when the annoying sound announcing a death filled the void.
A lifeless body remained on the stretcher in the middle of a laboratory, just an empty shell protecting a heart that didn't beat anymore, skin getting cold as some time went by. And on the other side, there was no white welcoming light, no angels singing, no more but an infinite nothing.
Until you woke up with a sharp beep whistling in your ears.]  
For some reason, the elevator's ding makes you shudder with memories of yesterday that threaten to cloud your mind, like a high fever, but the suffocating sensation only lasts a second and is gone the next when the doors open in front of you. You take a deep breath for all the time you stopped breathing that night, your heart racing for all the time it stopped beating and that it's free now, a little wild even with all the new feelings it keeps building up inside, taking them all in with cowardly bravery, especially those you're experiencing for the first time next to Bob.
"Why does a love confession have to be dramatic? The rain is almost drowning them but they are focused on their hate–love moment."
You laugh, but the small sound is lost as you step out of the elevator and a female voice announces through the supermarket's loudspeakers that cheeses are half their price today. People come and go in the corridors, the air conditioning blows chilly, and the shopping cart you push out of that steel cage is half–full, with kitchen utensils and some ingredients for different meals for different people and their daily struggle for a healthy coexistence, sometimes with weapons on the table next to the meat or threats to make explode their heads before the occasional dessert.
Behind you, like a colorful shadow with the clothes Bob wears, (navy blue and mustard) his youthful, present–day image contrasts with the hardcover of your "Pride & Prejudice" book in his two hands—vintage green, delicate and elegant, with a peacock on the cover spreading its tail in a boastful yet majestic manner.
But deeply, like a connection or an experience already lived, his hand reaches forward and yours back, fingers recognizing each other once more before intertwining, his warmth enveloping yours in a single heartbeat. As if you were the compass of his life, Bob allows himself to be guided completely blindly, keeping you close and just a step away, always just a step away but never able to close that gap.
So short, and yet sometimes it seems infinite.
“They’re not about to drown, Bob.”
He shrugs.
“Though I must admit, the marriage proposal in the book is more intense than the one in the movie. But, I mean... would it be okay for me to confess my love for you when I’m angry?”
My love for you. For you.
"I think they are frustrated with each other. Maybe just scared?" You try to be calm, but like an imperceptible electric shock that is born from your bodies and is lost in the center where your hand and his remain joined, or perhaps it is born from that nucleus and expands through every fiber of your being and Bob's, it forces you to squeeze his, with him doing the same at the same time. You glance over your shoulder, but his face is still hidden behind the book, deeply immersed in it. “And by the way, you're ruining my hopes of ever experiencing something like that with that question. It doesn't always have to make perfect sense, you know?”
His slowing heartbeat loses control again, and Bob swallows as he takes a look at you over the book.
“Would you really want to experience something like this?”
“Nah. In novels, you get the love of your life under the rain. In real life, you just get the flu.” You chuckle. “But for someone who doesn't understand the passion of a romance from that era, you seem pretty absorbed in your novel.”
Bob shrugs again, even though you're not looking at him, and in an act of bravery, he dares to slide his fingers through yours in a gentle caress before stilling them again.
“You love this novel, and I just want to know more about the things you love.”
Bob was good, too good and nice and kind, because he cared about the team (even when his head told him no one cared about him). You could see the kindness in his eyes when he really got to know the others—after he stopped to frown in confusion every time someone on the team complimented him. Then, Bob really understood that he was important to the rest—In that moment, you knew Bob would go to war without a weapon for them, his body like a human shield, even if it cost him his own life. Because behind his fears and insecurities lay his undeniable and indelible desire to protect people, his people.
You among them.
With the violence of a hurricane, his affection and the way he tried to take care of you also slipped through his fingers like sand, impossible to stop from becoming something more, something bigger and meaningful.
You tried to convince yourself that you were nothing more than a piece of calm for him when his world became harrowing, but there was something in his gaze that screamed into the silence, not only in the sad moments, but when everything was fine, too. Like a magnetic force, useless to resist, Bob leaned toward you, and you mimicked his action. You were the one he sought out first during meals, two hours during movies.
Just to see you, just to steal glances from you when you weren't looking at him.
Like two parallel lines, you and Bob never seemed to meet in a deep way until you did for the first time, just getting to know each other, and you filled the empty space with an invitation. Do you want to do something? Read, play board games, learn how to make those 5–minute recipes from the internet that didn't always turn out well. Not pretty to look at, but edible. You showed him kindness, a certain sweetness that always surrounded you like an aura, painted in some cheerful color that he began to reflect even in the clothes he wore.
You were kind, or at least you always tried to be. And living together only deepened that affection, transforming it into something stronger, more lasting, but just as silent.
Now, the book is put down when you stop, Bob a step away, side by side this time.
"What are we doing in the stuffed animal section?"
"Remember I told you I was going to give you a gift?"
His shrewd gaze shifts from you to the huge pile of smiling, colorful stuffed octopuses, then back to you.
“I don’t like where this is going.”
“Don't worry, I’m just going to buy one of these for you.” You pick one up at random, a blue octopus with a round head and short tentacles. “They’re reversible plushies, see? There are only happy slash angry ones, but we can make them work with the me–so–sad Bob that comes around sometimes. How about that? Don’t you think they’re adorable?”
Bob keeps his lips together, a flat gaze in his incandescent attempt not to be defeated by you.
"I don't like you."
The problem was that that feeling had already settled in his chest already and found every empty corner to fill it with your laughter and the happiness in your eyes. But Bob didn’t feel like falling in love with you, but rather like feeling high, in a good way, finally, with an overwhelming nerves and also with the calm you made him feel, the butterflies and the electricity on his skin.
A new kind of addiction.
He continued crossing a bumpy road in his path to heal, and although no one knew how to look at the stars for the exact moment of his fall, Bob knew now that, by your side, everything would be just a stumble, a small slip before keep going.
"What do you say, love?"
Silence again, a little longer as his body, which had been inert, shudders with that word he had forgotten, the one he had banished from his life when he declared he would never experience anything like that.
You gently push the stuffed animal across his face, the fabric tickling his nose.
“I’m not saying yes.” Bob laughs, a little as he pulls away, and the sound is light like the joy he continues to experience every day, and somewhat deep like his voice. “But will they have one in purple?”
And you laugh, openly, the sound filling his ears and his entire body.
Love, something Bob had lacked for so long that he couldn’t even remember what it felt like, and suddenly, so quickly that it destabilized his poor attempt at keeping his world on balance, you had come to fill those blanks, every empty space inside him with that word and that wonderful feeling.
“Let’s get one for Yelena, Ava, and the others. Let’s bet on who destroys theirs first.”
Bob laughs with you before heading to the register to pay, and with a bag in each of his hands when everything is done, you receive a text from Yelena.
Could you please bring your butts back here? 🙄 I'm tired of hearing Dad ramble on about the 'importance' of having the talk with his kids, especially since the only ones in this house eating each other with your eyes are you and Bob.
“Who's eating what?”
You press the phone to your chest, your heart cruelly skipping a few beats in fright.
“Nothing. Let's go.”
Bob frowns, blinking in confusion, but he piles the bags in one hand to open the front door for you, mingling with the people coming and going on the street.
Everyone knows it, everyone could see the love in Bob's and your nervous gazes, and how that nervousness would transform into absolute calm when you lock eyes with the other, like the wild waves of the sea when they finally reached the shore and they became a gentle caress. You two were like a tangible confirmation that love really existed (that perhaps the wait in the shadows had been worth it because after a lifetime of painful experiences, it had all culminated in knowing each other), with a scorching heat in his golden cheeks as a result, which you usually soothed with a clumsy agility before the others noticed.
"So... about the love confession in the rain..." Bob clears his throat, voice threatening to crack with an emotion that, somehow, without ever having experienced it before, sets his soul alight as well.
“Well, I think sometimes we associate rain with an emotional release where you're able to let out everything you feel, you know? Like in the book, Mr. Darcy can't hold his feelings for Elizabeth anymore, and those feelings kept building up over time until he had to pour them out because they couldn't fit in his chest anymore, although that didn't turn out so well for him…” You chuckle, staring straight ahead as your mind projects the words from the book and the scene from the movie, moments you remember well because you keep reliving them through reading and on your phone screen. But so immersed in yourself, you miss the way Bob looks at you, eyes fixed on you as he can clearly see, even in the gray weather, a glimmer of happiness on your face. “The rain makes it dramatic, passionate, I guess. But it's just a scene, Bob, it's not that big a deal.”
With that same magnetic force that draws his eyes to you, Bob follows your every move, the furrow of your brows, the twist of your lips, and everything in between before you look back at him. In an instant, he looks away so as not to drown in his own feelings, which also threaten to spill over the edge of his heart.
"Do you think that... maybe a broken person can also love without hurting?"
A sad expression tries to spread across your face, but you fight bravely to maintain an encouraging one.
Life had been a nightmare for Bob, so unfair that it was hard to believe such things had happened to a child (like something out of fiction, from the most twisted mind), but they were real and they happened, and all the experiences he had lived through forged him and broke him at the same time. Bob was wounded, both physically and emotionally, so battered that now he was still terrified of feeling good, big things.
Bob is summer, and he is winter too, different versions of every season, all at the same time sometimes. He could be like a storm of nature that threatened to devastate everything in its path, but amidst that cold, destructive force, there always lay some kind of warmth and a fervent desire to stop everything before he hurts, just to be good, kind, a true gentleman amidst his occasional clumsiness and his sass to laugh at you and others.
“We're all a little broken, or so I think. Of course, some much more than others, unfortunately, but maybe, over time, some people just learned to smooth the sharp edges inside them so they don't cut themselves or those they love, you know what I mean? So they can love without fear of hurting.”
Bob glances at you, eyes narrowed thoughtfully, but there's a genuine smile plastered across his face. He felt it deep in his broken soul (sometimes sharp as glass) a deep love for you. He felt it in the way his wounded heart still beat for a chance, and in the way his whole body vibrated when he was by your side, and though he didn't dare call it by its true name out loud, Bob knew what it was.
It came with adrenaline, yes, with some anxiety even, but instead of crushing his heart, that love caressed his soul so gentle that he wanted more and more of it every day.
"Why are you so smart?"
"I have my moments of immense wisdom." You chuckle, making him laugh with you.
But the second either of you looks away from the other, why do you threaten to lose yourself in his eyes and all the beauty you can see in them? He always looks at you with adoration, always has since he met you, as if you were a part of him, as if you were the most important thing in his life. Everything that actually matters for him.
Bob opens the building's door for you, walking beside you through the luxurious, polished tile lobby.
"Do you want to watch your favorite movie again? It's my turn to choose anyway."
You laugh, somewhat mischievously.
"You're going to make the others leave the room."
Bob smiles to himself, a nervous feeling tugging at the corners of his lips.
"Doesn't sound bad at all."
However, his timid response is overwhelmed beneath the confidence of Patrick, one of Val's associates, who calls your name while walking from the lobby’s sofa and toward you.
“(Y/N), hi.” He smiles. Blonde, with green eyes like the cat you had as a child, and dressed in a shiny, satin–like gray suit that looks too expensive and slippery. He’s handsome, his flirting too direct, and during the few times you spoke to him, it was like dodging a slap that would eventually hit you hard. His self–confidence was endearing at times, but sometimes it was overpowering and not at all subtle. Behind you, Bob tenses, his shoulders so stiff it hurts. “Hi, Bobby.”
“Just Bob.” You and he say at the same time, your voices mingling with a hint of bitterness, but Patrick nimbly ignores your protest.
For a moment, you hear him ramble on as well.
Between words fired at the speed of bullets, you manage to hear about his promotion, well–deserved, though it’s only an attempt at boasting, and it flashes before your eyes and splatters a little in Bob’s direction. Seconds pass quickly, but the sound of his voice becomes impossible to understand when, for an instant, it is abruptly cut off when something breaks in the evening sky with an intense emotion and the rain starts falling, so resounding and raw that it scares you.
Maybe that emotional release was true after all.
You say goodbye to Patrick after a while, stepping into the elevator Bob holds open for you.
“Can we pretend that never happened?” You ask when the doors close, but he lets out a laugh, a hollow sound.
“What never happened exactly?”
But you can feel it, that chasm that used to separate you by a step, now yawning wide in the floor.
Bob has to swallow the lump in his dry throat as he feels a stabbing pain settle in the center of his body, a sensation so violent it brought him to the brink of nausea, like the memory of another needle sinking into his skin and injecting a kind of serum that promised to make him invincible.
The possibilities of losing you always came down to one thing: a person who would take you away from him, someone better, someone steady, normal, not just another shadow projected on the ground. Bob rises higher and higher in the elevator, but sinking into that world of pain that was always cold and wild, dark and terrifying, and that threatens to drown him in waves of hatred and self–loathing for never being enough, nor to have the courage to fight for you. But remaining in the void—there was something addictive about it, too, simpler than trying and fail, because sometimes, lingering in the same place was easier than starting over again on that too–steep hill to reach even a glimmer of a mirage, a mockery of the life Bob could have next to you, before pushing him back to the bottom to start over.
His spirit falters, because the enemy in his mind still speaks in whispers that could sometimes be deafening.
The elevator opens, but the abyss has already split the earth in two by the time he leaves that steel box first.
“I’m going to… wash my hands.”
Bob drops the bags on the dining room table, small under the confused stares of the others as he walks away.
“What the hell happened to him?” Walker frowns, Bob so painfully small that everyone can see it clearly.
Yelena mimics John’s action, her gaze settling on you, but the unflattering expressions on the faces of the group scattered around the dining room are a new kind of pang in your heart the moment you stop there, and it’s like a needle going straight in, so violently you feel your skin breaking.
“He’s not coming back, is he?”
You shake your head, not because you’re saying yes to Yelena's question, but because your exhaustion and frustration are about to spill over and you try to keep them inside.
“Give us a minute.”
You follow him.
Life sometimes, happens in a single second. And for Bob and you, falling in love, too.
It blossomed suddenly with the first blink, in a warm first look, with a special glow, finding a kind of magic that you had never seen before. Falling in love was as beautiful as not knowing that you are actually doing it, like navigating through unknown waters, walking through a world never before explored by anyone, an emotion that caught you two, that grew until it no longer fit in the other's body, which grew to fill the void of your worlds.
But that didn't mean you two were going to be together.
You turn down the hallway and the wall on your right turns to glass, the building so tall it makes you think you can fly, but not when it's raining so heavily from the other side that you can't see the path beyond.
Love, is not always just a game for two, sometimes, it comes with wild waves, blizzards and storms, perhaps to test our fighting spirit, our feelings and our courage. How badly do you want to be with him? How badly does he want to be with you? The tests of love make you wonder if it is worth fighting for, or if it all comes down to nipping it in the bud for your peace of mind, and his.
“Bob, hey…”
The heat of your hand on his arm, covered by a navy–blue fabric, seems to burn until it leaves a searing mark, but Bob turns anyway, first on the battlefield, without a weapon to protect him from what's imminent.
For a second, his blue eyes are like an ocean too dangerous to swim in as they stare at you relentlessly for only a heartbeat, a clear warning to stay away, like crystal–clear waters but fill with sharks on the prowl. Only for a second, though, until his eyes focus on you, his mind sending out the command that the person in front of him is really you, and in that instant, the wall of protection falls and his gaze softens, it becomes kind, and somewhat bright—not because he's happy—but because of his constant fight against tears.
"I'm sorry. Can we just... forget this ever happened and go back to who we are?"
Panic hits you in a different way, with the impact of a bullet from a gun someone fired at you that night after you technically died and came back, emitting a sound like an explosion, and then all you hear is a ringing that echoes in your ears, again, an old sound from a past life you didn't want to relive.
"Okay. But what are we, Bob? Give it a name, and I promise you we'll be that again."
But Bob shakes his head, because that word is a cruel lie, and the locks of his hair fall rebelliously on his forehead. He falls into a blue ocean of terror as he feels his own fears running behind him, next to his own guilt and the seconds that try to catch him, sinking him deeply, a too overwhelming feeling for his little heart.
“I can’t. If I say this, I know I’ll really lose you.”
You swallow, but there’s no hope in your eyes as you sink into the imminent separation to come, too.
“It’s okay, Bob, really… I just think I’m tired of all this. Of the back–and–forth glances and the way we hold hands. Maybe being friends won’t work for us either. Not when it hurts you this much and wears me down this badly.” And right there, Bob senses you’re about to cut the subject short as if it never happened, and a light chuckle escapes from between your closed lips, a tired sound, as if you’re so exhausted from just existing. A humorless laugh, just to soothe the pain that mingles with how ironic and selfish life can be. “I’ll be here, Bob, I promise I won’t leave you, but I will be just at the other end, okay? because you are the one who can’t meet me halfway in this and I’m tired.”
Bob knows that a life without you would be lonely, for real this time, whether he's surrounded by a sea of ​​people or just a few others. And in a split second, he comes to the conclusion that everything else is optional: choosing to live in the void or fight even harder to break out of it and finally be free. The fate of his whole life, and what remained of it, was all a matter of choice.
But losing you was not an option, because after you, there is nothing.
“No, no, no, hey, please don’t leave.” His hands cup your face, firm but gentle, and though your first instinct is to pull away as your hands clutch at his arms, it’s Bob who moves closer, not to hold you like a prisoner, but to let you see a plea in his eyes, so heartbreaking it makes your heart race even faster. “I want to be with you, okay? I want you to be okay, and I want you to be okay with me. I want you to be happy, and I want you to be happy with me. I'm selfish, I know, and I love you. And I’m scared, too, because I never had anything, honey, and now I have you and you’re the only real and meaningful thing I’ve ever had my whole life. And I’m scared of hurting you in some way, but I’m more scared of you never let me looking into your eyes again or hearing your laugh. You’re the only one who can pull me out of this void, but I promise I’ll fight harder to get out of there on my own, okay? Just don’t leave me. Please, don’t go.”
You gulp the knot in your throat, unable to breath correctly, and the time it takes you to decide seems for Bob like a lifetime away from you.
Questions and doubts pile up in your mind, so jumbled you can't understand them all, but you've always believed that the serum in your veins wouldn't let you go that night for a reason, just because perhaps that second chance at living life to the fullest was always in Bob's soul, waiting for you during the years you were apart, making you fight a little harder all this time together. Until it all comes down to this moment.
So you nod slowly, and it takes Bob a second to know that what he has before his eyes isn't an illusion induced by a drug or a serum, that, finally, everything is real.
It's tenderly awkward, the way he gets closer to you to taste the love on your lips with a brush of his against yours, closed eyes full of hope, eager to enjoy this new freedom, because at this very moment, a door that will guide you to a new world has opened and both hearts are excited to discover more, a new stage when you two can hold hands freely, kissing every time you two feel like it, kissing each other a little deeper right now.
At one point, in a new slow but meaningful rhythm, Bob's hands move away from your face to snake his arms around your waist, your hands on his cheeks now, with him pulling you toward him as he presses against you.
There's no space between you now, finally face to face, chest to chest, heart to heart.
The way his lips moves on yours is intense after a few seconds later, a somewhat desperate attempt to recover all the time and opportunities lost because of fear, but earning a low sound from the back of his throat, that sound containing a hint of anger that he finally let’s go as well, next to his frustration at having kept his feelings quiet for so long, maybe even a touch of lust too.
Time stops, but the rain and you two don't. At least until Alexei's voice, far from the dining room, interrupts the moment.
"Who bought therapeutic stuffed animals?! Kids, bring your best weapons, it's time for a family contest!"
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kineticpenguin · 2 days ago
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Every time I see this argument, I'm perplexed. What exactly do you think treating Republicans as having agency looks like? Do you just want us to sit around agreeing that Republicans are bad?
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The Democratic Party was unable to block the House from passing the BBB because three of them died in office. Roe v Wade was struck down because RBG didn't have the sense to retire during the Obama administration despite being an octogenarian repeat cancer survivor. The inability to let go of power and retire allows Republicans to do what they want.
"Treat them like a natural disaster"? They are the enemy! I expect them to do stupid, horrible things because those stupid, horrible things are their stated goals! They are fascists, their entire raison d'etre is making everything worse. You know what the GOP response to Mitch McConnell blocking Merrick Garland and then ramming through Gorsuch? "Too bad, suck my balls." These are not people you can have a dialog or compromise with. They need to be opposed vigorously and effectively, and the Democratic Party has spent decades being ineffective at best, derelict more often than not, and outright treasonous at worst.
Biden doesn't get any brownie points for stepping down, because he ran promising to be a single-term president! He should not have sought reelection and the Dems should've had a primary instead. He didn't, and when it was clear to everyone with eyeballs that his brains were leaking out of his ears, he demanded that Harris have "zero daylight" between her platform and his, effectively torpedoing all the momentum she gained from taking the nomination.
How the hell is tolerating this rampant egotism and cowardice in the face of the enemy going to do jack shit to stop fascism?
Who knew the downfall of the United States would've been caused by a handful of geriatric liberals clinging to power until death, opening the door for the dumbest motherfuckers on the planet to defund everything to pay for the Turbo Gestapo
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ducksido · 21 hours ago
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Hiii (i'm js gonna make requests that i'll later forget cause i have the memory span of a goldfish).
Idk if you've done this alreadi but the Twist cast with a Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the 3rd (How to Train your Dragon). Just that.
Heartslabyul
Riddle: He’s so stressed. You're rule-defying, spontaneous, and treat dangerous magical creatures like puppies. You tamed a Rampaging Blast-Back Chimera like it was a housecat and now it follows you around. Riddle has had three nosebleeds and nearly a stroke. Still, he secretly admires your creative intellect and brave pacifism. He just… wishes you’d stop encouraging Ace to fly on the back of a literal fire-breathing animal during class.
Trey: Takes on a “parent trying to keep the kid from blowing up the kitchen” role. He's the only one you allow into your scrap workshop because he doesn't judge the fire hazards. Lowkey impressed at how many prosthetic blueprints and wing-gliders you’ve made.
Cater: Totally posts your “dragon” friend on Magicam with sparkly filters. Thinks you’re quirky-cool, but doesn’t want to be involved when one of your inventions inevitably explodes. “Wait, did that creature just SPIT ACID???”
Ace & Deuce: They follow you like ducklings—Deuce out of admiration for your guts and Ace because he wants a ride on the monster. The chaos you three cause is astronomical. You nearly teach them to fly using a roof launchpad. Deuce breaks his arm. Worth it.
Savanaclaw
Leona: Thinks you're a string bean with a death wish…until he sees you calm a mutant magic lizard with a single gesture. Grudgingly intrigued. Thinks your inventions are dumb until he realizes one of them neutralized Blot particles. “…Tch. You really are trouble.”
Ruggie: Shocked you haven’t died yet. You don't eat, sleep, or rest—just tinker. You accidentally build him a device that picks berries ten times faster. Ruggie’s now your biggest fan. Will protect your honor like it’s a paycheck.
Jack: Admires your ethics and conviction. You saved a wounded shadowbeast instead of killing it. That resonated. Still, he lectures you when you forget to wear gloves in a lava experiment.
Octavinelle
Azul: You're a walking business risk. Creatures and tools break contracts. He wants to wring your neck—until he sees you design a new aquatic breather prototype. Suddenly he’s offering you lab space and “suggesting” partnership deals. Don’t fall for it. You terrify him because you’re morally incorruptible.
Jade: Absolutely fascinated. You’re unpredictable and clever and completely unfazed by danger. He's seen you try to ride a venomous sky eel like a broom. Jade respects that. Possibly wants to study—or tame—you.
Floyd: “You remind me of a flappy fish that can’t stop moving!” He's obsessed. Tries to ride your dragon-lizard friend, names it something dumb, and laughs hysterically every time you yell at him. You’re his new toy. Run.
Scarabia
Kalim: You introduced him to aerial gliding and now he’s begging to join your test flights. He loves your creature friends and probably feeds them fruit pebbles. Unfazed by the danger—your energy is his energy.
Jamil: You are his personal nightmare. You bring wild beasts into the dorm, skip meals, and nearly set the common room on fire with your lava lamp-powered flamethrower. But even he has to admit your genius is frighteningly real. Still, he’s got migraine tea ready every time you visit.
Pomefiore
Vil: You are dirt-streaked, soot-covered, and constantly singed. Vil is offended. But then he learns your prosthetic arm design saved a child’s life. Conflicted. Calls you "a mess of metal and miracles."
Rook: Utterly captivated. You are art in chaos—passion, invention, heart. He writes poems about your courage and stealth-wrestles your dragon-friend in the moonlight for fun.
Epel: You’re the coolest freak he’s ever met. He begs to help you build things. He calls you “Blacksmith Boss” and rides on your glider like it’s a rodeo event. You are his new idol.
Ignihyde
Idia: First reaction: “OH GREAT it’s a walking protagonist!” Second reaction: *“Wait—they’re building all this tech by hand?? In real life??” He stalks your blueprints online and ends up in a six-hour voice call with you debating gear ratios and armor plating. He develops a niche crush and names your pet “Toothless.exe” in secret.
Ortho: Thinks you're the best thing ever. Constantly bouncing ideas with you. You make Ortho laugh more than he’s ever laughed before. You probably help him upgrade his parts and teach him how to glide using your experimental wings.
Diasomnia
Malleus: He saw you tame a beast that even he hesitated to approach. You are curious, brave, gentle. You don’t fear him either. He is in awe of your spirit. He watches you work with quiet wonder and may or may not gift you eldritch dragon bones to tinker with.
Lilia: He LOVES your chaos. Your wild inventions remind him of ancient war machines he used to build for fun. He offers to help test them—whether you like it or not.
Sebek: Initially calls you reckless and disgraceful—until Malleus praises you. Now he begrudgingly helps carry your things and yells at you to eat. Will defend you fiercely…while still insisting your gadgets are dumb.
Silver: Sleepily watches you work and sometimes falls asleep on your dragon-beast-thing. You once built him a dreamcatcher that glows in the dark. He treasures it.
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mirrorball-leclerc · 1 day ago
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bonus track - someone puts a hit on james vowels (allegedly)
alternatively: oscar’s accused of witchcraft and charles thinks he could make it in jail (he can’t)
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series masterlist
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liked by kellypiquet, kimi.antonelli. aussiegrit and others
ines_alonso australia, i love you
tagged: francesca.cgomes, hattiepiastri, lilymhe, logansargeant, danielricciardo, oscarpiastri
user01 tagging the boys as the kangaroos and daniel as the quokka was diabolical. do it again!
user02 help i didn’t even notice until you pointed it out
olliebearman so quick question is which country is home, monaco or spain?
ines_alonso do you want a cheesy answer or a non-cheesy one? olliebearman i’ll take the cheesy one!! i love cheese! ines_alonso home is where my boys are maxverstappen1 yuck, too much cheese olliebearman yo kellypiquet is this your man?? kellypiquet no comment 🤦🏻‍♀️
danielricciardo baby alonso, are you insulting me with that tag??
ines_alonso why would never ever insult you mr. ricciardo yukitsunoda0511 she told me to call you a ‘fucking giraffe’ because you were ‘freakishly tall’ ines_alonso YUKI! THAT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A SECRET! danielricciardo wow baby alonso, i see how it is. i give up my red bull seat for you and this is how you repay me? yukitsunoda0511 wow inés, i can’t believe you would treat an old red bull driver this way. where’s your solidarity? danielricciardo OLD?! WHO ARE YOU CALLING OLD? HOW COULD YOU YUKI? I TRUSTED YOU! yukitsunoda0511 uh-oh grandpa’s crashing out
user03 one look at these comments and i just know the grid is going so freaking chaotic next year
user04 gen z is going to outnumber the older generations at this rate.
hattiepiastri day 739 of me asking you to dump my brother for me
ines_alonso hattie, babe, we’ve been over this, your brother would never allow it. hattiepiastri please, one chance oscarpiastri go away! get a job! hattiepiastri i have a job, it's called annoying you
archerkent can you smuggle a quokka home for me?
charles_leclerc there’s a quokka across the hall from your apartment? archerkent what the fuck are you talking about? charles_leclerc i’m sorry, is your neighbor not daniel? archerkent he’s never home so i wouldn’t know
arthur_leclerc please tell me you face planted in the sand
ines_alonso i’m telling lorenzo! arthur_leclerc you did, didn’t didn’t you? francesca.cgomes she actually didn’t, which was a surprise considering she can’t do a cartwheel to save her life ines_alonso et tu, brute? francesca.cgomes i'm sorry bebe but you know it's true pierregasly this joke stopped being funny 2 years ago 🤦🏻‍♂️
gabrielbortoleto_ what is this 'family dinner' ollie keeps speaking of?
kimi.antonelli you're not invited so don't bother asking ines_alonso that's your uncle, kimi be nice! olliebearman i told you gabriel, family dinner at the piastri's pull up oscarpiastri SINCE WHEN? olliebearman since your mom said so (this isn't a joke btw, she actually said that)
user05 at what point has the bit gone too far??
user06 bestie, this isn't a bit, they're actually family now. user07 haven't you heard, charles gave birth to ollie and kimi. fernando stole 3 children (archer, gabriel, and max) they are family user08 THIS WAS A BIT?
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MARCH 22, 2024
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MARCH 23, 2024
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MARCH 24, 2024
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liked by archerkent, sabrinacarpenter, charles_leclerc and others
ines_alonso australia, you were sorta good to us this year, until next time
tagged: charles_leclerc, oscar piastri, archerkent, lewishamilton, danielricciardo
user09 my favorite thing about the australian gp is definitely the tram with the drivers faces on it
user10 the only thing better might be the ferris wheel with the drivers faces on it user11 i love when countries do silly things like this.
sabrinacarpenter what the hell is archer doing in that picture?
archerkent sabrina, my love! don’t worry, i lived to tell the tale! ines_alonso to be fair, i don’t know what he was doing. he just wanted to win because ‘it’s a matter of fucking honor inés!’ oscarpiastri aka he’s a sore loser archerkent INÉS WAS CHEATING AND YOU WERE HELPING HER! sabrinacarpenter i regret ever asking
user12 diabolical of you to post a picture of charles on the podium while very noticeably cropping out the other drivers
ines_alonso i don’t know what you’re talking about, there’s no one else in the picture user12 dramatic just like her father i see
oscarpiastri what the hell is that picture of me? where did you get from?
louieee i took it 😁 and sent it to her. it was a blast being in your garage with your mom, i think i just got adopted. oscarpiastri i refuse to be related to you. they’ve already forced archer to be family. louieee well that’s just too damn bad piastri
danielricciardo you’re welcome for blessing your page with my beautiful face
lewishamilton shut up, clearly i’m the beautiful face in her feed olliebearman clearly the beautiful face is my father, but we can ask seb? lewishamilton go away bearman, you can’t terrorize us when you’re not on the grid yet olliebearman next year it’s a free for all then
user13 i don't think the world or the grid is ready for the combined chaos of archer, inés and lou
user14 inés isn't even on the grid yet and she's already terrorizing them to hell and back ines_alonso it's my job to terrorize them. somebody has to keep these guys humble
francesca.cgomes nothing captures your essence like this post does. girlhood with a mix of chaos and simping
ines_alonso i fear i have never been more accurately described in my life sabrinacarpenter girl, you're never beating the allegations of biggest simp louieee you should've seen her before they were together. ines_alonso you keep your damn mouth shut lou! oscarpiastri no, please do continue
hattiepiastri please please please stay in australia forever, they could never love you like i do.
ines_alonso oh believe me i’m considering it after last night charles_leclerc for the record, since we’re in australia, everything is oscar’s fault oscarpiastri YOU’RE THE ONE WHO BROKE THE BED LAST NIGHT BY JUMPING ON THE BED! scuderiaferrari that explains the bill we got this morning… hattiepiastri i could treat you so much better bby ines_alonso would you take me with my 2 cats, a dog, and 2 human children? hattiepiastri never mind stay in monaco.
olliebearman i guess it means it’s time for you to buy a house in australia
kimiantonelli AND IT BETTER HAVE ROOM FOR ME AND OLLIE! charles_leclerc we’re not buying a house in australia, we already have the house in spain and the apartment in monaco. oscarpiastri oh, we’re getting that house in australia, trust me. olliebearman MAKE IT A FARM SO WE CAN GET A COW! user15 i fear this bit has gone too far ines_alonso there is no bit, those are my children! (i may also be adopting any and all rookies next year)
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¡taglist!
@minmira95 // @lesliiieeeee // @vroomvroommuppett // @prongsvault // @justtprachisblog // @scuderiadevils // @cataf // @chezmardybum // @formulaal // @lilsiz // @norstappenvibes // @ironspdy // @nikfigueiredo @hinamesgigantica // @niniluvsainz // @matchaverse // @fakeikeastore // @theseus-jpg // @six-call // @81folklore // @emppusofi // @luvsforme // @nichmeddar // @loloekie // @luvpedro // @donttouchthegnote // @nothaqks // @inferiusreggie // @mochimommy2002 // @clove08 // @clove0 // @lillysbigwilly // @jenxjar // @blupblupfish // @thereadinggremlin05 // @meowiarty // @magical-spit // @camdensreg // @laneyspaulding19 // @ocyeanicc // @yelenasloverrrrr // @percervall // @blushmimi // @spilled-coffee-cup // @greantii // @ietss // @yeanoskrrt // @brakingboundaries // @evie-119
¡not taggable!
@ashlovestoread1411 // @books-thingys-andstuff // @ale-522 // @aandreea_2005 // @Katness1 // @mgmoore // @Scott-McCall-could-lift-mjolnir // @xxx-betty // @ririyulife // @landonorizzz // @moldyshorts1997 // @itstimeforutogo // @yar16 // @em-andemm // @killjoycra // @◇Heart- Trees◇ // @michelleyw81 // @mgmoore // @rach3164 // @sarcasm-isn’t-onlydefense // @imdyinghelpplease // @ari-220707 // @airisnot
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¡mirrorball-leclerc speaks!
𝜗𝜚 in the time that it took me to finally put this out both bobby nash and joel miller died and sabrina carpenter announced a new album so yeah, this has been sitting in my drafts for a while
¡disclaimer! 𝜗𝜚 this is in no way making assumptions about the people involved in this story, this is all fake. it is a fanfiction please don't take any of what is said seriously. this is all for entertainment purposes and as a creative outlet for me. enjoy!
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katswritingthings · 2 days ago
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real sweet, but i wish you were sober
asisstant!reader x councillor!sevika
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synopsis: you attend an event with sevika, but things take a turn when you get a moment alone with her...
warnings: intentionally lowercase, swearing, alcohol (reader and sevika drinking), age gap if you squint, reader wears makeup, heels, and a dress & has long-ish hair, allusions to smut but nothing graphically written other than kissing
wc: 5k
author's note: this is my first fic so it's not the best but i thought i'd post anyway for shits n gigs. i sprinkled in some song lyrics from wish you were sober so you can listen to the song while reading this if you want. or don't, i can't tell you what to do. you have free will, baby. also out of pure convenience, mobile phones are a thing in this fic, and i'm aware they probably don't exist in the arcane universe, but they do now because i said so. i mean, c'mon, they made a giant world-destroying hammer out of hextech, i'm sure they'll figure out ipads n shit eventually. enjoy!
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you had been sevika's assistant since the day she became a councillor, and she'd been her usual stoic self in the beginning, but you'd ever so slowly cracked her hard shell. you always remained professional with her - well, unless you were sneaking glances at her when she wasn't looking - but you'd let your sassy and witty personality shine through every so often. you bonded over the fact that you were both from zaun, though you had been in piltover most of your life in the academy in your early days but ended up working for the council after your late twenties. you'd seen many councillors come and go and worked as an assistant for a few of them, but sevika had been your favourite so far. you helped her understand the council and their ways, taught her the way they acted, strategies to get them to listen when she wanted to add some input. most of them were so stuck-up that they'd try to disregard any aid to zaun, but with your help, she was making great progress.
unfortunately for her, that meant attending piltover gatherings, especially where the council was concerned. sevika had never liked the idea of spending her evening surrounded by prissy pilties, but it would look bad if she were the only councillor to not show up, so you always went with her almost as emotional support, though the alcohol there was always an added bonus, too.
she adjusted the lapels of her jacket, observing herself in the mirror. she never had a reason to wear anything fancy like a black suit down in zaun, but here in piltover, everything was different. she'd ditched the tie, partially because she didn't know how to tie it and partly because she felt like it was doing too much. she felt like she was playing dress up in all these formal clothes, so trying to maintain even just a hint of her usual ruggedness made her feel slightly more comfortable.
she let out a long sigh through her nose before heading out of her apartment to go to her office where you'd told her to meet you so you could walk to the academy hall together. all the councillors were to give a speech tonight, so it was bound to be packed there.
~this is definitely not my crowd~
sevika paused outside her office door for a moment when she heard you inside, speaking on the phone to someone. it sounded like something work related, as it always was, due to your cool, professional tone as you spoke. not wanting to distract you, she quietly pushed the door open and-
shit.
with your back turned and slightly bent over as you shuffled through some files in a drawer, she had the perfect view of the shape of your ass under your dress. she swallowed thickly, her mouth suddenly going dry. she knew she needed to stop looking at you in that way, but she couldn't help herself, not when you looked so fucking hot.
despite the many times you'd attended professional speeches or gatherings with her, she never got used to seeing you with your hair down to allow it to cascade over your shoulders - she had grown accustomed to you having it always tied up in a ponytail secured with a claw clip - nor was she used to seeing you in formal party wear instead of your normal casual clothes.
not that she was complaining, though.
she stood in the doorway for a long moment just to watch you, the sound of your voice fading into the background as she heard her heartbeat pick up. she never quite understood why she had that reaction around you, but it was becoming bothersome in an oddly pleasant way.
her gaze travelled over your figure, eyes landing on the small slit in your black dress low on your thigh. you always had a way of wearing a mostly modest outfit and yet always looked sexy as ever with it on. you idly flicked some hair away from your face with your free hand, revealing your bare shoulders with long sleeves that gave the dress a sleek look.
eventually, she forced herself to tear her eyes away, even though she didn't want to. standing almost hidden behind the door just to observe you felt like it was bordering on creepy behaviour, so she stepped inside and cleared her throat to politely indicate her arrival.
not that her thoughts were anything remotely polite just two seconds ago.
she leant against the wall, casually crossing her arms as she waited for you to finish speaking on the phone. the faint blue glow of her mechanical arm hummed underneath her jacket sleeve. her old mechanic arm had used shimmer to work, which obviously wasn't allowed in the council, so she'd gone without it and continued on with just using her good arm while covering the missing one with a cloak. but she'd struggled, always complaining about mundane things being more difficult than necessary. sure, she could live with just one arm, but she'd been used to having an artificial one to allow her to live easier, so you'd gotten her a hextech one commissioned for her birthday recently. you'd been all sheepish giving it to her, hoping it hadn't crossed a line or anything, but she found the gesture extremely endearing.
needless to say, it had helped her a lot, and you didn't have to hear her grumbling while trying to open envelopes with just one hand anymore. win-win.
when you became aware of her presence in the office, you looked up at her from the files drawer you were rummaging through. you almost dropped the phone with the sight before you. she looked like she was modelling the suit that hung from her frame perfectly with the way she stood so casually like that. it reminded you of the first time you'd attended an important gathering with her a while back, when you shamelessly looked her up and down and told her she cleaned up nicely. it was the first time you'd seen her get a little flustered, her cheeks going a pretty shade of crimson. but, sevika being sevika, she brushed you off and muttered that you looked even better, that her suit was itchy and she'd be glad to take the damn thing off. you still slipped in compliments towards her whenever you could just to see that same reaction time and time again purely for your own amusement.
you had to remind yourself now wasn't the time to gawk at her, so you just smiled politely at her and asked the person on the end of the phone to repeat their question. because seriously, how could you focus when sevika was standing there looking that good?
once you found the file you needed, you finished up on the phone and hung up to gather your things.
"sorry about that, just had to get some final things sorted before we head off," you say as you conveniently avoid looking at her in case you start drooling while you pack away your phone into your purse and start heading towards the door.
"s'fine," she replies with a nonchalant shrug. "ready to get going?"
you nod, following her out the office. as you walk beside her, you start going on a spiel about what she'll say during her speech. ever the workaholic, you never rest. even though you've been over the speech you helped her plan numerous times now, it helped her to have it reinforced in her head, even if she was having a hard time listening to what you were saying when all she could concentrate on was trying not to look over at you every two seconds.
once you both reached the large academy hall, you stepped inside to see it already crowded, bustling with overlapping conversions with decorated tables set up in rows on either side of the room. there were crystal chandeliers illuminating the room with the sounds of heels and boots clacking against the hard, tiled floors.
you chuckled as you heard sevika let out an irritated grumble before making a beeline to the buffet table for some alcohol. you had to admit, you shared her insistence on needing something in your hands before you went off greeting people, so you followed her and chinked your champagne glass to hers before setting off to engage in the usual small talk filled with polite smiles to keep up appearances. you understood why she hated these things, they were always the same old boring back-and-forth with prim piltovians, but it was sometimes a nice change from sitting in an office hunched over paperwork all day.
eventually, though, the sound of cutlery incessantly clinking against glass cut through the hustling chatter to catch the room's attention. one of the councillors was already standing on the stage, ready for giving his speech. his assistant obediently scampered off to go and sit down as everyone else migrated to the tables. you sat down with sevika as she snatched another flute of champagne from a server's tray on her way, the lights dimming a little for ambience.
"showtime," you say in a hushed voice with a teasing grin, waggling your eyebrows at her. she rolls her eyes, but you catch the hint of a smirk on her face as she turns in her seat to face the councillor currently on the stage. he gives his over-the-top speech about his love for piltover, making sevika glance at you multiple times during it to give you an 'is this guy serious?' look. you just stifle a snort and shake your head at her in amusement, finding the bored look on her face far more entertaining than the rant the guy is harping on about.
you find yourself looking at her more often than you should, trying to sneak glances at her when you think she isn't looking. you weren't quite sure when or how you started doing that so often, but it became harder and harder to stop the more you did it. she distracted you and she didn't even have to try.
after nearly falling asleep during a few councillor's speeches, it was sevika's turn. she looks to you for a moment, not nervously, but almost as if she was seeking some encouragement, so you give her a subtle thumbs up.
"you got this," you whisper to her, throwing in a wink for good measure. she takes a deep breath and stands to head to the stage.
you may be biased because you helped her write what she was going to say, but her speech was far more interesting than the rest. she talked about zaun and how crucial it was to ensure kids weren't always forced to be alone in the streets down there anymore, how it was vital they keep making progress in improving the undercity. while the other councillors had talked about the progress of piltover, sevika's words held actual importance.
it would still take some people to come around to accepting the fact that they couldn't be ignorant to zaun's poverty anymore, but with a quick glance around the room, it was nice to see the majority of them were actually listening. your heart swelled a little with pride when the applause for sevika was just as loud as it had been for the others, though you were certain you clapped the loudest, even more so when she glanced over to you and you gave her a huge grin before she exits the stage.
the lights increase again as some people stayed at their tables to eat while others got up to graze at the buffet tables. you and sevika settle for standing around the food and alcohol.
"well, miss sevika," you say proudly as you pour both of you a glass each of wine, already having lost count how many drinks you'd both had tonight. "i'd say that went extremely well."
she hummed and nodded her head in appreciation when she took the offered glass. "couldn't have done it without you, though."
the sincerity in her tone made your cheeks flush, but you just blamed it on the red wine as you took a long sip.
"but seriously," she says as she leans nearer to you, making your heart pound in your ears as her smoky cedar cologne reaches your nose at the close proximity. "you've gotta stop with the 'miss' and 'councillor' bullshit. how many times do i have to tell you to just call me my name?"
you smirk and huff out a laugh. she'd chastised you multiple times about this, but you'd never listened. deep down, you knew if you broke the professional barrier, you weren't quite sure you could let yourself stop. you both already joked around often during slow days in her office, and if you kept up getting closer to her... well, let's just say you had to remind yourself you were just her assistant and that was all you could ever be to her.
"now, now, councillor," you started, as if playfully scolding a child. "cursing in a place like this wouldn't look very good now, would it?"
she dramatically rolled her eyes and sighed, muttering under her breath something along the lines of 'i'll fucking curse if i fucking want to', but you didn't catch the rest, too busy laughing into your wine glass.
"y'don't suppose we could just sneak outta here without saying goodbye, do you?" she asked, munching on some of the fancy appetizers laid out even though she looked like she was doing it mostly out of boredom rather than actually enjoying the food. piltover cuisine was vastly different to zaun's, and there was a silent understanding between the both of you that you sometimes missed the taste of home rather than all the rich, lavish foods around here.
"probably not, no," you answer, but you had to admit, you were also becoming a little tired of it all now, too. oddly enough, you found yourself wishing you could retreat back to her office with her to just spend the evening alone with her instead of hanging around all these people.
~this party's shit, wish we could dip
go anywhere but here~
the next few hours of the evening dragged on yet also passed by in a blur of fake smiles and small talk. sevika usually let you do all the chatting, claiming you were better at it and she already had a hard time enough as it is resisting the urge to groan in annoyance every 5 seconds, but she was being quieter than usual. you almost hadn't really noticed, not when the two of you were going through the booze like there was no tomorrow, but you were so hyperaware of her presence in particular that you constantly felt her gaze burning into you. you tried your hardest to ignore it, but it was difficult when she wouldn't stop touching you.
she normally preferred to stay close to you, almost fearing you'd get lost in the crowd at these types of events and leave her to the disgusting task of actually speaking to people she couldn't give less of a fuck about (her words, not yours), but you could literally feel her right beside you tonight.
it started off innocent enough, just gently moving you aside to avoid anyone bumping into you or brushing her fingers against yours whenever you passed her another glass of wine (okay, maybe that was an accident at first, but you were sure it was on purpose after it happened the second and third time) but now she kept her hand permanently fixed on the small of your back or her arm around your bare shoulders. she even gently moved some of your hair away from your face at one point when you were speaking and it took every ounce of willpower you had left not to stumble over your words.
it was torture because you wanted nothing but to lean into her touch, to let her scent wrap around you, but the shred of rationality you had left kept you from doing something stupid in front of everyone. most people were too tipsy by now as well to notice how improper sevika was being, and it seemed to make her go from not-so-subtle to outright aching to feel you.
"i'm just gonna go touch up my lipstick, i think it's all rubbed off onto the champagne glasses," you say eventually, trying to find an excuse to put some distance between the two of you just for a few minutes to compose yourself.
she nods. "i could use a freshen up, too, now that you mention it."
well, shit. that didn't work.
~take me where the music ain't too loud~
she gestures for you to lead the way, keeping one hand on your back. you weaved through the crowd and towards the toilets, and she holds the door open for you before following you inside. the cubicles are all empty, so you find yourself alone with her. you almost hoped no one else would come in here, but maybe it'd be a good idea if they did, if only to prevent you from begging her to bend you over the counter and-
you didn't let yourself finish that thought, grateful for the fact that she was too busy hunched over the sink splashing some cold water on her face to notice the way your cheeks flushed.
you stand next to her at the sinks in the counter and dig out your lipstick from your purse before looking into the mirror to reapply it. neither you or sevika spoke, but you could see her watching you from the corner of your eye when she stood upright again.
you risk a quick glance at her side of the mirror, but found yourself unable to look away when you saw the way the water droplets dripped down her face.
fuck. why did she have to make that look so erotic?
after a moment of staring at her in the mirrors the same way she was with you, you look back at yourself to see that you'd managed to smudge your lipstick on the corner of your lips. you'd been so distracted looking at her that you hadn't been paying attention.
you cursed under your breath and shoved the applicator back in your purse before you went to fix the mess you made, but before you could, sevika reached out to cup your jaw and turn your head to face her. she was already staring straight at your lips, licking her own in a way that made you feel dizzy as you watched the rivulets trickle down her skin. her thumb came up to brush away the smudged makeup on your face, her hand still holding your jaw.
you wanted to say something, anything, but your mind drew a blank with the way her thumb was oh-so-gently caressing your mouth. you couldn't keep your eyes off her, couldn't do anything but allow her to clean it off.
you were sure you were both inching closer to each other when she was finished, and yet, her hand never left your face. you were sure you were about to let her get as close as she wished, but just then, the door creaked open, and you jerked away as a lady stepped inside. she merely just glanced at you before heading into one of the cubicles, but when you looked back at sevika, her hand dropped, and she almost seemed... disappointed? at what, the way you'd moved away to stop some random woman watch you have a strangely intimate moment? surely not.
right?
either way, the tension bubbling in the air between you had abruptly popped, so you snatch up your purse from the counter, muttering "thanks," as you pass sevika with your head down, and walked swiftly out into the hallway, not bothering to check if she was coming or not.
"wait." you barely get three steps away from the bathroom door before the command in her voice stops you in your tracks. it takes her two strides to catch up with you, and once again, you're alone with her. you can hardly hear the muffled sounds of the music and chatter in the other room over the sound of blood rushing to your ears. she's so close that you can see some of the water still stuck to a few strands of her hair, and you have to resist the urge to rake your nails through it.
"we should get back to the hall," you somehow manage to get out after a long, awkward silence, still uselessly trying to maintain professionalism.
"fuck what we should do," sevika retorts, a slight growl in her tone. she steps closer until your back hits the wall. "there's something else i'd rather be doing."
you gulp, clutching your purse a little tighter so your fingers don't unintentionally reach out to touch her. you should've seen something like this coming with how she'd been acting tonight in particular, and you'd be lying to yourself if you said you didn't want it. with the alcohol to reduce your inhibitions, you were tempted to let it happen.
"and that is?" you play dumb, listening to your heartbeat increase its tempo.
"you." her voice is so low, so quiet you nearly miss it. her lips twitch ever so slightly in a minute grin at your attempt to cover up a choke. you hadn't thought she'd be so forward, not verbally, at least. but, then again, this was sevika you were talking about, so it wasn't exactly out of character for her.
"we can't," you pointlessly protest. "i'm your assistant."
"so assist me." she says it so flippantly, but you hear the undertone of something completely opposite in her voice.
"with what?" 
satiating these burning feelings you've inflicted inside me. is what she thinks.
"showing me what your lips feel like." is what she says.
you swallow thickly again, exhaling a shaky breath. you weren't quite sure when you gravitated towards her until your faces were mere inches apart, but seeing her this near only made you want to give in, to trace the faint blue shimmer scars on her jaw just to see what they feel like.
you don't even get a second to overthink it or consider stopping it from happening before her lips are crashing against yours. it takes a second for your mind to catch up, but when it does, you're grasping at her, desperately needing to feel her against you. you drop your purse to the ground at some point, and you're pretty sure the lady from the bathroom comes out to see you two hungrily making out against the corridor wall, but neither of you care. she says nothing and briskly walks away back to the main hall. if your were in your right mind, you'd be paranoid about the possibility of that woman telling everyone and having that gossip follow you around like a whispering phantom clung to your side, but it's too distracting to be rational when your hot boss is pulling you against her like she's worried you'll run away at any moment.
you should. it would be the smart thing to do. the responsible thing.
but you don't.
instead, you tangle one hand in her hair, your other clinging to her jacket while her hands are busy holding you by the back of your neck and around your waist.
"sevika..." you gasp her name into her mouth when she nips on your lower lip, your hot breaths mingling together with the close proximity.
"oh, now you drop the formalities?" you can hear the smirk in her voice even if you can't see it because she hasn't actually pulled away from you. "all it took was having my hands and mouth all over you, hm?"
you don't know what to say to that, but you don't have to think of a response because she's already tilting her head a little to deepen the kiss, sliding the tip of her tongue over your lip as if to tease you.
it only leaves you wanting more, but when she starts peppering sloppy kisses down your neck with her hands trailing to more... intimate places, it's only then that she pauses to look at you, noticing you tense a little.
it's at the sight of her - dishevelled hair and debauched with your lipstick - that the reality of where you are and what just happened washes over you like a bucket of cold water.
you just kissed your boss.
well... kiss is a bit of an understatement. acting like horny teenagers in some random hallway at a prestigious event of all places is more appt.
fuck.
~real sweet, but i wish you were sober~
"are you alright?" she asks, genuine concern slipping into her tone, but she doesn't let go of you.
"i, um..." your voice cracks, because of course it does. you clear your throat and try again. "i should get going."
you reach down to pick up your dropped purse, faintly hearing her suck in a breath above you. you stand, casting her one last look before rushing down the corridor. you hear her call your name, but you don't turn back.
~kinda hope you're following me out~
leaving her with nothing but heat between her legs and your lipstick smeared on her skin, she stands in the hall and watches you go.
you're unsure whether it's a good or bad thing that she doesn't catch up to you this time.
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sevika had played the kiss over in her head a million times. she felt like she was going insane. she couldn't focus on her work when the ghost of your lips were still on hers and the sight of you against the wall was burned into her memory.
she tuts when she looks down at the paper on her desk, realising she'd signed it three times without noticing because she'd been so busy daydreaming. it made her feel like a high school girl with a crush, which for a woman at her age now, she found utterly ridiculous.
she checked the clock again. 8:34am. you were usually here at bang on 8, if not even earlier. this was technically her office, but you were always here first to greet her with a coffee and a pretty smile. the mental image of that made her rub her temples. damn, she could really do with a coffee, actually. it'd help with her hangover, or at least soothe her ego a little with how you ran off last night.
just when she thought you were going to avoid her all day, the door clicked open and you stepped inside, closing it behind you and approaching her desk cautiously. she said nothing, watching you like a hawk.
you placed her morning coffee down, but she didn't touch it despite how much she had wanted it moments prior. she wanted you even more.
you clear your throat, shifting on your feet awkwardly.
"miss sevika," you start, trying to keep your voice even and cool as usual, though professionalism seemed a little futile now. "i deeply apologise for my actions last night. i was intoxicated, and that's no excuse for what occurred. it won't happen again."
sevika could've rolled her eyes. you sounded like you were reading off a mental script. and, knowing you, you'd probably spent all morning planning it out while getting ready and reciting it all the way to the office.
she didn't say anything for a long moment, keeping her eyes on you as she leant back in her chair and linked her fingers together.
"what if i want it to happen again?"
your eyes widened a little at that. it was slightly infuriating that she could speak like she was talking about the weather whilst saying something completely scandalous.
"your position would suffer greatly," you respond almost meekly, internally cursing yourself for the pathetic excuse. whilst it was true, you both knew she couldn't care less about that.
you stay still as stone as you watch her rise out of her chair and step around her desk to position herself in front of you. even in your classy work heels, she still towers over you. you refuse to step back, but the sound of her voice when she speaks again - low and husky - makes your knees feel weak beneath you.
"i would give up my position if it meant kissing you again."
as if to accentuate her point, her gaze drop to your lips as her tongue darts out to wet her own. her lust-filled grey eyes eventually trail back up your face at a leisurely pace as if she has all the time in the world to just admire you.
she wants another taste. and you'd be dammed if you didn't want it, too.
"you shouldn't," you reply, voice quiet. "there'd be dire consequences."
she laughs, rich and hearty. the sound goes straight to your core.
"fuck the consequences," she says. "didn't i already tell you i don't care about what we should do?"
she did have a point there. maybe you were the only one worried about what would happen if people found out. you'd tried so hard to resist selfish desires.
but if she wanted you as badly as you wanted her, maybe it wasn't so bad.
"councillor-" you begin to protest, but she merely just commands, "stop."
she steps closer, and instead of tensing or pulling away, you melt into her touch when she cups your cheek and strokes your jaw with her thumb.
"please," she whispers, and that does it for you.
yeah, fuck the consequences.
soon enough, your mouth is on hers once again, and it feels like coming home, especially when her hands find purchase on your hips or in your hair.
it was like she was trying to imprint herself into your memory, and without the alcohol to cloud your judgement, she was doing a damn well good job at it.
she shudders when you let out a small moan, gently backing you against her desk and sliding her thigh between yours.
neither of you were going to get any work done today, it seems...
let's hope you locked the door.
;)
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tuttle-did-it · 2 days ago
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Great additions. They met through working at SNL, they're both funny people who have gotten where they are literally by being the funniest person in the room. That's their language. He's used to performing. He didn't do anything horrific in that scene-- the problem was the unwanted attention and audience. The place and people he did that around.
And kudos to him for immediately learning the dark side of 'I'm famous and can kind of say what I want in a big group and everyone will listen.' Because the audience there was the threat, not him. Not everyone would have learned from that moment.
People need to understand that, like there are still sundown towns for People of Colour who are going to be in danger because the people in that town will instantly become a threat the moment they can, trans people are often visibly targeted on sight and there are just some places we cannot go.
And, thanks to the increasing anti-trans laws in various countries- the US and UK in particular-- people need to understand that queer people in general-- and trans/intersex/enby people in particular-- are in danger by just existing in the "wrong" space-- a space other people have decided we are not allowed in-- yeah, a well-meaning oblivious friend who makes a joke and gets the attention of the arseholes-- yeah, that could kill us.
And there's a very big difference between putting yourself in potential harm/conspicious eyeline and having someone else do it. Taking the risk because it's something YOU are willing to do. And yeah, sometimes your friend does something really loud that makes everyone look right over at your table and the whole place just STOPS.
Harper walking into a blue collar bar and chatting with anyone-- in the wrong neighbourhood, that still could have been very dangerous. But she decided on that risk.
But. yeah. Being trans is complicated. Being out is complicated. Being visibly different in a place where people are Not Okay With You is complicated. And cis people-- even when they're well meaning and NOT ashamed to be with us-- can sometimes say or do something that suddnely means we are in danger. Cis people need to understand this more than anyone.
Will Ferrell: ‘If the Trans Community Is a Threat to You, Then It Stems From Not Being Confident or Safe With Yourself’
“There is hatred out there,” Ferrell told The Independent. “It’s very real and it’s very unsafe for trans people in certain situations. … But I don’t know why trans people are meant to be threatening to me as a cis male. I don’t know why Harper is threatening to me.” 
“It’s so strange to me, because Harper is finally… her,” he added. “She’s finally who she was always meant to be. Whether or not you can ultimately wrap your head around that, why would you care if somebody’s happy? Why is that threatening to you? If the trans community is a threat to you, I think it stems from not being confident or safe with yourself.”
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frogtemple · 2 days ago
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☆ Night Sky ☆
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summary: Growing up with two older brothers that aren't so open with their emotions, it's difficult to feel like sharing when you're having a hard time.
Sam & Dean Winchester x sister!reader
word count: 2.4k
"See, I just don't get how that's supposed to work." Dean threw his hands up.
"Do you need me to explain it again?" Sam huffed.
"....No." Dean's eyes avoided his brothers.
You came out of the corridor, casually walking past your brothers who were sat at the war room table. They saw you but were too wrapped up in their almost argument of a conversation. It was about a hunt they were working on, what else was new?
"Look, all I'm saying is if we ambush them that way, it could catch them off guard and-" Sam tried to continue.
"Yeah, key word 'could' Sam... real convincing." Dean struck with extra snark on that last part.
Sam sighed and looked past Dean, finally noticing you fidgeting with your shoes in the distant room. "Hey kiddo." He breathed out. Dean did a double take, glancing back at you.
"Hey." You barely acknowledged, as you finished tying your sneakers.
"There's a close hunt we're gonna go check out, did you wanna tag along" Sam asked in a hopeful tone.
"To sit in the backseat the whole time? No thanks." You turned back.
You were 15 years old, but weren't allowed to hunt. Your brothers had only taught you how to use a gun and some self defense skills, that was about it. Being that it was so difficult to fit into your normal side of life (school) you tried to pry for the longest time to go hunting, in hopes that was where you could fit in. Sam and Dean would not budge, it was always the same answer- 'when we feel your ready' which seemed like a bunch of bullshit at this point. You weren't sure you'd ever actually get to hunt, unless you snuck behind their back which you knew would get you into trouble. You hated it, but you knew you didn't have experience.
Lately, your life felt like such a colossal mess, and the thought of hunting began to feel less and less interesting in your mind. So, you stopped asking, realizing it probably won't ever happen.
"You sure? You don't want-"
"It's alright, I'm going for a run." You didn't let Sam finish, passing by the both of them and retreating out of the bunker.
"Be safe!" Sam yelled out right before the door slammed shut."
A short silence fell briefly among the room. "Kinda weird how she hasn't asked- begged practically to come on hunts lately." Sam stated.
"Beats her buggin' us about it." Dean was short, going right back to packing a duffel with supplies.
Sam dropped it and resumed reciting his plan.
~
A couple weeks went by, just the usual agenda for the Winchester brothers. Hunt after hunt, seeking leads, heavy on research, making a go for it, and repeat. That's always been the job, that's how you watched your brothers growing up, even when John was still around.
For you it was school, terrible as always, coming home and pressing Sam and Dean to be apart of whatever it was they were working on. And not research, that was the only thing they'd let you do but you would still try and beg to do anything else.
Not these days, instead it was school, come home, and... well, you didn't really know what else to do. You just started to avoid them both a little bit, self isolate and attempt to pre-occupy yourself with whatever you could.
You were reluctantly working on homework in the library when Sam and Dean flooded into the room, each with a stack of files in their grip.
"If there's not something in here, we're gonna have to go to plan b." Dean set down his pile of file folders on the table across from you.
"Yeah, and what's that." Sam asked a bit annoyed.
"I'm gonna have to figure that out, info on this is already pretty slim." Dean ran a hand through his hair, relieving some stress before pulling out a chair.
You closed your book and started packing up your stuff. "Y/n, you don't have to leave." Dean looked at you, slightly confused.
"It's okay, I gotta focus, I'll just go to my room." You retreated but were stopped by Dean, grasping for your arm.
"Hey... what's goin' on with you?"
"Nothing. Okay." You avoided, turning around but Dean wouldn't let up.
"Seriously, what's with all the moping... What did we do this time?" He scorned ever so quickly as he gripped your shoulder, trying to turn you around again.
"Nothing, Dean. Can you just stop! I need to finish this." You pulled back harder, rushing out of the room before they could say anything else.
"What in the world..." Sam whispered. "What's up with her?" He spoke up once you were far enough.
"I don't know, teenage stuff?" Dean shrugged his shoulders, cringing faintly.
Sam thought about leaving it alone but couldn't shake your weird behavior recently. "I'll go try." He said as he headed towards your room.
"Good luck with that." Dean pointed your direction.
Sam stepped with caution into your door frame, curling a fist to knock on it. "Can I come in?" He scrunched his face, anticipating an unpleasant reaction.
"Yeah, I guess." You rolled your eyes. Great, here comes Sam trying to figure out 'what's wrong with me' type of talk. He sat on the edge of your bed, across from where you were at your desk.
"Dean's just trying to help, make sure you're okay n' all." He spoke softly.
"I said I'm fine, Sam." You kept your focus on the paper in front of you.
"You have been kind of distant though, is there something we did to upset you?" He asked.
You dropped your pen and swiveled around on your chair. "Sam, you and Dean did nothing wrong. I am fine, can you just drop it... school is just annoying right now and I'm trying to get this done." You faked an excuse, itching for him to leave.
"Well, if it's anything I can help with-"
"Sam! I can handle it, I don't feel like doing this with you right now. Get out." You could feel your inner wall beginning to break.
"Y/n/n, relax, I just wa-"
"I don't care, get out!! Now!" You stood up, pushing Sam to do the same and inching him towards the door. You shut the door, not too hard though in slight fear that it would piss Dean off into coming over here.
Sam stood in front of the closed door, confused and a bit shocked. He went back to the library, shoulders slumped in defeat.
"That sounded good." sarcasm filled Dean's voice.
Sam's sated eyes met his. "I dunno, we'll figure it out. Anyways, let's get back to finding this..." His attention went to the files.
~
It was another late night of you waiting up for your brothers again. Even if you got word the hunt was successful, you couldn't ever fall asleep until you saw them come back. It was a long drive this time around, you became restless and decided to go sit outside and look at the sky.
You stared up at each of the individual twinkling dots, taking a deep breath and felt a little bit of release from all the tension you've been holding deep inside. It was not often you shared your thoughts and feelings to your brothers, despite you being an emotional teenage girl. That's just how you operated, like them. Neither of them are the type to talk about how they feel, and give advice or solutions to. It's never been that way, the men in your life you grew up with always took the 'suck it up' approach. You had to be tough, even though they'd remind you to come to them if you ever needed to. You just couldn't, you always mirrored their tough front and told yourself to appear strong. You couldn't afford to be weak in this life, even if it was a life you were barely apart of.
Stuck in your deep thoughts, you didn't hear the rumble of the impala on the other side of the brick building.
"Y/n! We're back." Dean announced, coming down the bunker stairs. You weren't at all very responsive these past weeks. Sam and Dean shared an affirming look. Dean walked away to your room, planning to pop in to say 'goodnight' and 'hunt went well' type of stuff.
Sam began unpacking their things on the war room table when he heard abrupt footsteps coming back his way.
"She's not in her room." He stood there questioning.
Sam proposed logic before introducing panic as an option "She could be somewhere else in the bunker... like the bathroom or something." He turned back to Dean's duffel as Dean left the room again, coming back minutes later with added distress.
"I can't find her." Dean patted his pockets for his cellphone. "Where is the damn thing." he stomped up to Sam, nudging him aside as he searched the bag. "Call her, now." He firmly ordered.
Sam felt his pockets, seeing his were empty as well. "My phone's in the car." He began walking with a swift pace. Sam exited the garage to the car which was parked in the gravel outside the door. He stopped when he almost crashed into you.
"Y/n? What the hell! You scared us."
"Sorry?" You backed up, confused at the sudden disturbance.
Sam released the breath he was holding in. "Where were you?"
"Sitting out here, just needed to get some air." Your eyes barely met his as you attempted to push past him. Sam stood in front of the door, forcing you to look up at him.
"What are you doing? I'd like to go to bed now..."
Silence followed, Sam studied your body language before speaking up. "What's wrong, y/n. Why haven't you been talking to us much?"
You stopped, circling around and letting your head fall back in frustration. You weren't getting out of this one. You walked a few steps over to the brick wall of the bunker and let your back thud against it. Sam followed you with those curious puppy eyes of his.
"That's just how we do things. We keep... feelings and stuff to ourselves. Nevermind bothering you guys about it." You shrugged.
"What do you mean? You can always come to either of us if-"
"Something's bothering me, yeah, I know." You finished his sentence.
"Okay, so why don't you?" Sam crossed his arms, matching your lean on the outside structure.
"Cause, I can't be weak I guess." You said quietly.
"Bug, feelings don't make you weak. You can't help that." Sam reassured.
"You guys never show yours though, you always say to 'suck it up'. I- I just... never mind."
"No, what? Tell me, sweetheart." It wasn't often Sam or Dean called you that, and somehow you knew that was your queue to spill it.
"I just feel like... I don't know if you guys would take me seriously, if I'm... spilling out my feelings? I don't know, it sounds stupid. It probably is stupid." Your gaze fell to your fidgeting hands.
Sam stifled a chuckle. "It's not stupid to tell us how you feel. I know we don't do it often, but it doesn't mean that you can't."
Just then, the door burst open with a stumbling Dean looking at the empty car, then aimlessly looking around for Sam when he spotted us.
"What the- what's going on?" He asked, catching his breath as he walked over.
"She was just outside the bunker." Sam gestured.
"You trying to scare us, kid?" Dean half joked.
"No..." You started.
"But, now seems like a good time to talk about what's been up with you. All the distant attitude n' what not." Sam raised his eyebrows at you.
"Wha- I can't!" You whined, beginning to pace in annoyance.
"Y/n, we're your brothers. You can tell us anything, floor's open." He motioned at you.
"Ugh.. I don't know how to put it." You stopped, shoving your hands in your back pockets, eager to put your mind at ease. "I have no plan."
Both brothers furrowed their brows in confusion. "Huh?" Dean questioned.
"I have no plan, no purpose. I don't know what I'm supposed to do with myself. My future is blank, literally." You stated, looking back at your confused brothers. "I don't really, fit in I guess you'd say. Not at school, not with people my own age. I don't even fit in to what our family does, mainly cause I'm not even allowed to do it! So, why am I here? To sit around and watch each day go by. I'm useless."
"Sweetheart, you are not useless." Dean reached out a hand, placing it on your shoulder."Yeah, then what am I?" You challenged, looking up at him.
"You're the most important person in our lives. Now, I don't care if the snot nosed kids at school don't think so, but you're the level headed, intuitive, pretty awesome glue that holds us all together." Dean explained.
"So I'm just glue?"
He looked at you blankly. "You know what I mean."
"He's right, y/n. Nothing would be the same without you. I understand school can make you feel that extra pressure. Aside from that, you're an important part of this family, whether you hunt or not." Sam gave you a small smile.
"I know, it doesn't feel the same though. I feel like I'm off to the side, existing for no reason." You caved on yourself. "Whatever, I told you it was stupid."
"It is not. You know why we can't risk you coming hunting with us right now. We also want you to have a chance at what we didn't have. And, that's a normal life." Sam explained.
"Either way, I'm not normal. I'm related to you two." You pointed out.
"Wow, thanks." Dean reacted fake insulted, making you smile a little.
"In the best ways, of course." You smiled genuinely.
"Nice save, kiddo." Dean smiled back, slowly coming over and pulling you into a side hug.
"Come on, we need you more than ever. Can't have you becoming a rogue teenager on us." Dean squeezed you into his size.
"Kay, okay, I get it." You pushed away playfully. "I won't be so closed off!"
"Please?" Sam checked.
"Yes, sorry." You let your arms fall to your side.
"No need to apologize. We just want to make sure you're okay, always. That's why we're here." Sam opened his arms, inviting you into a hug which you accepted.
The three of you walked back to the bunker. "Big tough hunters can show their emotions too y'know..." You hinted.
"Not a chance, I'm not falling into any chick flick moments." Dean said over his shoulder.
"Don't be so rigid, Dean!" You called out.
"Nope!" He confirmed. You and Sam both shook your heads.
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bimoonphases · 2 days ago
Text
@wolfstarmicrofic July 4 - prompt 4: Found Family [word count 583]
The chatter slowly stopped at Peter's clinking on his champagne glass.
"Dear guests," he smiled at the extent of tables in the beautifully decorated garden. "I would ask you not to clap too much lest he gets a big ego, but it's honestly way too late for that, so can I please get a round of applause for the best man, James Potter!"
"Thanks for that Pete," James rolled his eyes, getting up with his own glass in hand. "Everyone, before we toast the health and happiness of the grooms, please allow me to talk about family. And I'm doing that because the amazing person I have the privilege of being best man to today always had a problem with that word."
He smiled at the main table, where Sirius and Remus were holding hands, eyes on him.
"Sirius, when we first met we were eleven, and you hated that word. You hated it because of the way it had been taught to you, the way you felt trapped in its cage. But then you broke that cage, and started questioning that very word you hated. I remember when you came live with us it took you more than a year to call us your family. But you got there, slowly but surely when you started calling me your brother at the same time your brother Regulus came to live with us as well. You started calling my mother 'mum' and my father 'dad', two words you had never gotten to use as a child."
James pointed his glass to where Effie and Monty were sitting, already dabbing at their eyes with their handkerchiefs.
"And then suddenly something changed, and you got there way too fast," James marked a pause, then grinned wickedly. "When you accused me of incest because I had fallen in love with your brother and you kept at it to the point you put it in your best man's speech at our wedding!"
The guests laughed as Sirius and Regulus simultaneously flipped the other off, a grin on both their faces and now a gold band on both their ring fingers.
"You're never going to let this go, Prongs, are you?" Sirius rolled his eyes.
"You annoyed everyone whining about their relationship for a whole month!" Lily commented from the next table over, Mary's arms around the waist of her maid of honour dress.
"She's right, my love," Remus smiled, pecking Sirius on the cheek.
"Married for little more than an hour and already betrayed by my better half," Sirius sighed dramatically. "Go on Prongs, please."
"Today, Sirius, you took the next step in your relationship with Remus and with the word family, taking his last name," James went on. "Now, some people think this word should stay the same despite the different families existing, but I'm not sure I agree. Because that September 1st something wonderful happened: you found me and Pete in the train compartment you wanted to sit in, and soon after Remus found us all. We found eachother and we kept together all these years. You and Remus found eachother, to love and cherish forever. So I want to make a toast: to Sirius and Remus, may their love be something out of a legend," the guests got up from their seats. "And to found family, may it always be there for everyone who needs it."
"To Sirius and Remus!" the guests cheered. "To found family!"
Teary eyed, Sirius pulled his husband in a kiss.
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