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deafsignifcantother · 10 months ago

Text

the v's reaction to someone taking your hearing aid

♥ summary: "what the Vees would do if they noticed their partially deaf s/o being picked on - like the other people would tear out their hearing aid(s) and break them and stuff" @aceduchessdragoness ♥ characters: velvette, vox, valentino ♥ notes: screaming and crying okay so i did val's spanish as spain spanish bc i think spain sign language would be better than narrowing his signs down to a specific latin american country but if the translation is cringe then tell me bc i'm literally using an lse dictionary

Vox

♥ word count: 1.9k ♥ notes: i use [Y/N] for the first time in my career ong, she/her pronouns used in third person, reader doesn't speak and only signs, protective but violent vox, vox in a healthy relationship, reader gets harassed in public

It was never a mystery to you how Vox always knew where you were. Even without the watch on your wrist, you felt his eyes on you, the looming knowledge of persistent monitoring.

Not that it bothered you, of course. If anything, you were worried that he wanted to spend his time watching you instead of running his business. But whatever, it was flattering.

Whenever you went on your routine errands, you would smile at every television or security camera you encountered. On the big screens in Vox's room, he feels like the common softening of his heart. Your smile always seems so genuine. How can somebody like you adore him so much?

Blue light illuminates your living room. From the kitchen, you groan as you make your way to the television. Can he stop bothering you at this hour? All you wanted to do was get some damn water, but of course, as always, he's monitoring you.

Words pop up on the screen as you approach it. You rub your eyes, the brightness overwhelming. You reach for your coffee table.

GO TO SLEEP

With the sudden click of the remote, you smile as the screen goes black. One, two, three... it lights up again.

DON'T TRY

Again, the screen goes black. One... again, a bright blue illuminates you.

[Y/N]. The television shakes.

You snicker at him, finally sitting on the floor and putting the remote down. On the other side of that screen, Vox sits on his swivel chair, gazing up at you, your frame taking up multiple monitors. Your eyes look below where his point of view is.

"It's late," you sign, and the light makes your hands shine in the darkness. "Dim it a little."

He listens; his small act of consideration makes you melt. Your eyes soften immensely. Internally, he begs you to stop looking at him like that; it's embarrassing how good it makes him feel.

The television is still a blinding blue as you go from the living room to the bedroom; he follows you per any screen by your side. Worst of all, a flat-screen faces your bed, which was mandatory.

"Goodnight, Vox." You sign while putting your face up to the screen.

You turn this TV off, and to your delight, it stays off.

With a yawn, you stretch your morning aches away and lean your head against the table of your vanity. You get a few seconds of shut-eye before popping back up. Vox is watching; if he notices you're tired, he will try to be domestic and nap with you regardless of how much work you must do today. So you rub away your sleepy eyes and massage the tension in your jaw. Putting on your hearing aid is first on your daily to-do list; you'd like to hear if he pops up on your television and decides to update you on his morning. Sometimes, he gets so impatient. Next, while picking up your moisturizer, you try not to shiver at the coldness once it touches your fingers.

You wish yourself a good morning before rubbing it in.

At the same time of day, Vox was already up and doing his rounds, making sure his employees were getting work done. He gets antsy between when you wake up, and you get to the tower. Every morning once he sees you entering the elevator, he'll wait on the other side to welcome you in with a kiss to the forehead.

Vox checks his watch. It shows his favorite things: your vitals, location, and pretty little face whenever you dial him.

You've finally left your place, thank goodness. Pacing aimlessly has never looked good on him.

He stands by his window, looking down at the streets below, watching you approach. You're wearing your usual uniform, one that he picked out just for you; it consists of the same red and blue stripes he has on his everyday suit. It makes you an eyesore in the everyday crowd.

If you didn't know any better, you'd lift your head to see if you could spot him among the many stories. The building is beautiful, overpowering. The V tower's magnificent brightness outshines the rest of the V district. The constant noise of people always has you walking with your hearing aid turned as low as it can go without turning off.

With the pink light reflecting off your face, you look both ways before crossing the street, a bright smile on your face, stepping onto the asphalt before a hand grabs your wrist.

Vox furrows his brow at the sight.

You turn your head and see a friendly reporter and a cameraman, the camera not yet rolling. Your pupils flicker between them.

"Hello!" She smiles, removing her hand. With caution, you fully face her, stepping back onto the sidewalk. The 'professional' persona you've been forced to practice is finally coming to fruition.

"Hello! I'm Deaf; I don't think I'd be able to do an interview."

She flicks her hand and rolls her eyes in the most friendly way possible. "Not a problem," she signs, moving the microphone vibrantly, "I can work this out, no problem!"

You widen your eyes in a wowwwww, oh my god, that's perfect... "Oh, what a kind woman you are!"

Vox? You beg internally. Baby? Save me.

Up high, he doesn't remove his eyes from you. With the use of sign language, he can't listen in, and he can't tell whether he needs to intervene or not. There's nothing wrong with going to check, right? Or will he seem possessive, or scared? He doesn't want people to think he doesn't want you to talk to anyone. It's good that you get to sign to someone other than him and Velvette, right?

The camera starts rolling, and you square your shoulders, adjusting your sleeves for more mobility. The news reporter throws the microphone at the cameraman, who does not catch it but ignores it as she shows off her brightest smile.

"Hello, ladies and gentlemen, I have the sweetest person in hell with me, [y/n]! Tell me, how long have you two been together?"

Of course, the news has been recognizing you recently. You've been seen countless times adjusting Vox's tie (he purposely fucks it up so that you'll step close to him) as well as wrapping your arm around his and pinching the corner of his screen endearingly before you give him a babying compliment. Many people have taken pictures and edited hearts around you two. People are obsessed with how "heavenly" your relationship is.

"Oh, many months now!" You nod to yourself, trying to stop your eyes from shining with admiration. You always get so soft when you think about him; it's one of the things people notice. She looks at him as if he's her entire world.

"Beautiful!" The reporter puffs out her bottom lip innocently. "I'm sure you make that man very happy."

What do you even say to that? I hope so.

"The happiest."

"Now," she doesn't hesitate to change the topic. "Are there any challenges you two face about your... differences?"

Your eyebrows raise before furrowing in confusion. Differences? At first, you think she means his television head, but when she notices you pause, she rudely clarifies. "I mean, with your lack of hearing, you know? Don't you find it a little embarrassing?"

You lean your body away from her. "What are you saying?"

The shock of the tonal shift has you freezing in place. The reporter looks at the camera, her eyes squinting with sadistic amusement. Her fingers twitch as she lifts her arm, not even looking at you before plucking the hearing aid from your ears. She crushes it in her hand.

At first, you grab your ear, pressing your hand to it in disbelief. Your face contorts, your shoulders dropping as you try to step away. Why couldn't you see this coming? And on television—is that where this is airing? The air around you goes quiet, the sensation of spatial awareness fading a bit as you stumble back, your hand still grasping your ear. The watch on your wrist hits your cheek, and without a second thought, you tap on the screen repeatedly. The next thing that popped into your head: her bravery is the most surprising.

With a brief fall of light, Vox stands where the lady once was. You eye him with uncertainty, a look you have never given him. He faces the cameraman, not looking your way. Your eyes go up and down his body; his stance is tense, his arms are folded behind his back, and his fingers sparking with small glimmers of electricity.

You see that lying behind him is the woman, body entirely limp, smoke coming from her mouth, and her eyes looking stuck open.

He speaks to the camera, pointing his finger at it, staring intensely into the shaking, blinking red light. Your hands link around his bicep. Composure, you remind yourself. You turn to the camera with a weary smile and lean your head against him.

"That'll never happen again." He stares at himself in the mirror. His dressers and tables are filled with claw marks from his previous meltdowns.

You just sit on his bed, crossing your legs uncomfortably, watching him as he goes back and forth between signing to you and mumbling to himself. You haven't said a word. You just keep your eyes on him.

He protected you in the way he knew best. He wanted nothing more than to put his hands on the sides of her head and crush her skull. It would stain his suit, awful. Even worse, your suit would have been ruined, too.

Should he force you to move into the tower? He's always wanted to. The commute would be no more, and you'd be safe from the outside.

Should he prevent you from leaving at all without him? No, that might be too much, but his entire body craves to keep you secure and protected.

He won't ask you what you want. He knows there's a chance you would just coddle him and tell him it's okay. There's no reality where he will do nothing; he must devise his own plan. But first (actually, secondly, after getting his anger out on his furniture), he wants to make sure his sweetheart is okay.

Once he calmed down and sat next to you, rubbing your thigh, he watched as you scrolled through social media, looking at the hundreds of people laughing and reposting the event. He shuts off your phone, grabs it, and tosses it across the room. You roll your eyes helplessly before he lifts his hands and signs to you.

"I will track everyone down and punish them severely, baby. No one will ever touch you again, or else they will the next flashing headline."

"I know, baby," you wrap your arms around his chest and lean into him, rubbing your cheek against the smoothness of his overcoat.

You hum against him, finding it in yourself to smile softly. Protector, protector, protector. You run those words through your head; they're comforting to their own extent. Suppose he ends up locking you inside the tower. In that case, it's better than him leaving you entirely over this (which, obviously, he'd never actually do). Spending every morning and night with him wouldn't be wrong. Everything happens for a reason.

He leans back onto the bed, his feet dangling off as you curl into his side.

Before resting completely, you use a hand to sign into his chest. "Everything will be fine."

Your coddling, though annoying, provides the most relaxing warmth to his body. He groans, wrapping an arm lazily around you, feeling the usual butterflies in his stomach as you press a small kiss to his collarbone.

Velvette

♥ word count: 1.6k ♥ warnings: reader speaks, party scene, getting harassed by a man, vox is in this too ♥ a/n: i completely headcanon that velvette took an asl class in highschool when she was alive, i have no idea how velvette usually acts in fanfiction so this is MY velvette now

Velvette found you, such a pretty thing, in your little corner of the internet, making content for your little community. That little corner of yours is where you told the news and interpreted a lot of banter from the overlords. Your channel was the perfect mix of education and drama, all for the Deaf community in Hell.

You were, as Velvette described, a tea channel.

She invited you to the V tower to show you around. The three V's introduced themselves to you in their own way, offering you a job. The bossman, ever so gentlemanly and charming, didn't let Valentino try and make sex motions to you for longer than necessary. And before Velvette forced Vox to scurry off, she forced him to snap a few pics of you posing with her as a faux collab.

You weren't stupid. You knew Velvette only wanted your attention to spread whatever brand she endeavored to popularize. But this might be a golden opportunity. You'd learn the behind-the-scenes from three different overlords, and the content you can produce will gather insane traction.

Velvette is just so sweet; the way she showed her care for you was just through gift-giving.

She loved putting together gift boxes for you, similar to the sorority kind. The boxes went from cute little baskets to a cardboard box resembling a PR send. These would always be set on your desk with a bit of note from her, each time she'd signed off her name with a heart.

Jackets, shoes, candies, jewelry, pens, everything. The gifts are versatile with familiar themes of hearts. Every day was like Valentine's Day when she was 'courting' you (did she even realize she was?).

She made you bags: totes, crossbody bags, clutches, phone pouches, coin purses, anything she thought you would need with an array of colors to match any outfit. She put in hair clips and pocket mirrors, cozy slippers and fancy journals.

She even got you two matching bracelets.

You love the smirk she wears whenever she notices you adorning anything she's given to you. Damn right, she thinks, I knew it would look good.

The most enormous box she'd ever given you was the day before one of her fashion shows. Inside were glorious clothes from her collection, all for you to pick out and wear. She really loved her stripes.

You put your hearing aid on, smiling at yourself in the mirror as you watch the charm she made you glisten in the light. With your bracelet ornamenting your wrist, you pat down your stripped outfit before taking a deep breath.

Your entrance reeks of reluctance. The temptation to retreat back to your room is unbearable. Seeing Velvette will definitely lift your mood; where is she? Surely, she'd be the highlight of the room, but amongst all the women with their eccentric colors and clothing shapes, you can't find your eye drawing to her anywhere.

The sounds of the party blend together in a nasty concoction; you can't help but turn your hearing aids off. The sound is similar to what it's like being outside in a heavy storm; the wind, the pouring rain, the blur and whine of the hearing aids. And instead of lingering by the double doors, you push into the crowd. You're the least recognizable in the crowd of celebrities, but it doesn't stop people from moving out of the way when you try to wiggle through. You're wearing stripes, her stripes. You're either bold or very special to her; they don't want to intervene.

But your stripes also get some people to stare at you longer than they would have otherwise. Across the room, in front of you, you notice a tall, almost shirtless model coming your way, directly staring at you. You break the quick eye contact before squeezing through a cluster of girls taking selfies. They won't let you through, grimacing but not laying any hands on you. When you turn to go the other way, the man is behind you, holding out his hand, waiting for you to put your hand in his.

You click on your hearing aid and scroll up. "What did you say?" You ask verbally, clearing your throat a bit.

His eyes bounce from yours to your hand, looking at what you're touching. His head tilts in interest. You don't like the sight of his smile.

"Oh wow." He says.

Immediately, "Yeah, no," Velvette puts her hands on your shoulders and tries to push you away. "I swear, don't even look at him, he's fucking insane."

He speaks over her, but you can't process his words over how close Velvette's lips are to your ear. Her warm breath sends goosebumps down your arms, and your spine straightens. This only makes her hum in amusement.

After turning and growling at him, she effortlessly maneuvers you away. Eyes watch you even closer now as she touches you. You let her guide you throughout the room with not a clue as to where she's leading you, if anywhere. But eventually, you two end up in front of a mirror the size of a wall.

She stares at you through the mirror. "Look at you," she signs, "extravagant as ever, darling."

"Thanks to you."

"Obviously." And she bumps her hip into yours. You laugh, mimicking the motion back.

You had ditched your initial motive of getting close to the V's to gain more information about them. They were fine people to hang out with, making you laugh and feel involved. Velvette gave you special attention that nobody in your afterlife has ever given. Her lipstick left stains on your cheek whenever she kissed you, and she made an 'appointment' in her schedule once a week to paint your nails the same black color as hers.

The afternoon went by quickly; you spent time clapping and watching models show off their garb. Velvette is a true talent.

But something ruined your evening. The air hummed with laughter and the rhythmic beat of music. Velvette had been whisked away by the other V's to overlook the crowd and count the people who had attended. Among the colorful crowd stood a familiar figure whose eyes sparkled with mischief. Different from last time, you don't notice when he starts to approach again.

"You," he coos, placing his hand under your chin. You must stare at his lips to comprehend his words over the music, an awful innuendo you wish you could have avoided. He leaned in closer to you, and in return, you leaned back. Valentino had told you a bunch of times to not worry if someone puts their hands on you, that it's a typical formality in Hell. You would always roll your eyes at him, never expecting a stranger to grab you like this.

You were mentally preparing yourself to dodge a kiss. But then, daringly, he leaned in and gently plucked the hearing aid from behind your ear, holding it aloft like a trophy. Fear flickered across your face, your hand instinctively reaching for it, but he pulled it away. The charm Velvette gave you dangles like a jewel.

"Don't," you say with desperation. He puts a finger in front of your face and waves it back and forth. He coos, using that hand to grab your face as if you were the most adorable thing he's ever seen.

Your eyes are locked on the charm, and it's brash jolts. You almost beg for him to just give you the charm back.

In the middle of a conversation with Vox, Velvette raises an eyebrow; shocked and pissed, she glared at whoever had torn off your hearing aid. She mumbles, "I'd tear their hearing aid off and break it."

Before she can move closer to you, Vox puts his hand in front of her while watching the interaction. "Think before acting, Velvette."

Her frustration turns into anger as she pushes his hand away. He lets her run off; he holds a hard stare as her pink hair bobs through the crowd.

Your eyes are stuck wide with shock, and a million things run through your head, all relating to the appropriate situational response.

True to your casual self, you were having a hard time not just jamming your hand in his eyes and kicking his shins. Would you make Velvette mad? Vox?--Would that result in you being removed from the V Tower? It's all so complicated. Though you were panicking over a 'quick' decision, you and the man stayed in that position for a few seconds. He stayed laughing, dropping the hearing aid and stomping on it.

At almost the same time, Velvette threw a glass from someone's hand at the man, perfectly aimed, hitting him in the face. She lets out a small "nice!" before rushing to you.

Her hand runs down your face, and she holds you tenderly, not turning to face Vox as he puts himself between her and the man. Your eyes bounce around the entire room. Will you ever get a break from being at the center of attention?

"We're leaving. Now." she signs in a single motion so quick that it makes you smile, relieving some of the stress that's been making your head pound. She's able to sign so naturally now.

The crowd splits into two.

Behind the both of you, Vox is declaring an end to the event, apologizing to the people for the inconvenience. Velvette keeps muttering about him under her breath; you can see her lips moving and her face grimacing.

She has beads in front of her, a bunch of small charms with string. She signs, looking up at you. "I should have killed him."

You just watch her craft another charm, laying on her bed and kicking your feet. "That would have been funny."

She scoffs and smiles, her painted lips turning upwards. Her fingers trace over the beads, deciding which one to pick up. She wants to make it different than the last one, but what should it look like? She picks up a pink heart with a slight hum before sliding it down onto the string. She whispers to herself, perfect.

Valentino

♥ word count: 1.7k ♥ note: reader is a vodka drinker, i'm obsessed with writing a loving valentino, reader doesn't talk very much and prefers sign, sexually suggestive things happening but it's not nsfw, kinda written like ass, drugs mentioned but no named just symptoms, takes place on porn set, valentino kills someone, blood description

Every time you step into the studio, you're hit by the smell of sex, mostly the sweetened stench of that strawberry lube he loves so much. Visiting his work is not usually something you do often, but he's seem to be so busy lately that you can't help but bring him a drink, the most beautiful drink in hell: vanilla vodka. You can already see him licking him lips.

Strawberry lube, so prominent in your nose.

His legs are crossed and he stares at the scene in front of him, his sunglasses hiding whatever his emotions are, but his lips are still in a prominent scowl.

Though, when he sees you, his expression changes drastically. He stands with so much excitement that the actors stop to see what he's reacting to. All eyes are on you, you shy away from the attention a bit but Val doesn't seem to notice, else care.

"Amor mío!" One of his hands signs, running down his cheek while his bottom two motions for a hug.

Before you can initiate a hug, he wraps his arms around you and brings you into his chest, trapping your arms in. He's warm, vibrantly so, it's hard not to melt against him. You couldn't be surprised if you let out a small moan at the contact. Oh, how I've missed you so much.

He pulls away quicker than you'd like and takes the bottle from your hand, holding it up close to his face so he can examine it. "Burnett's, oh you shouldn't have!"

He hesitates, torn between his responsibilities and the irresistible allure of having a drink with the person he was enamored with. He's not so easy to whisk away from work, therefore (of course), you seem to be the only person who he is at every beck and call.

You smile softly, "I knew you'd like it."

With a laugh, he takes your hand and spins you, his free hands popping open the bottle, ready to embark on whatever journey you had in store.

He turns and addresses his employees, granting them a small break before turning to you with his sharp smile.

And together, you slip away from the set, leaving behind the hustle and bustle of the studio for a simple moment of peace and luxury. Walls blazed with hues of pink and blue, you both find yourselves nestled on the fluffy couch in a lounge, a wineglass in your hand while he chugs from the bottle.

"You've been so busy." You sign. You switch the wineglass into your non dominant hand to avoid spilling any of the contents. Val holds the bottle with his bottom set of hands while signing with his top ones (he was originally going to do it the other way around).

“I know, princesa,” one of his hands comes up and squeezes your cheek. “Business calls, I cannot help myself.”

“Which is why I came to visit.”

The two of you clink glass upon glass before taking a drink. He’s trying not to finish the drink before you, he’s making sure to take his time. He doesn’t want you to leave as much as he doesn’t want to rush the break. His eyes go over your entire form and take you in, there feels like an eternity since he saw you last. Why do you have so much patience for someone like him? It’s astonishing. Surely someone as beautiful as you could find someone sweeter than her. But he’s grateful to have you, he’s mildly addicted to that internal battle of whether he wants to cherish you or own you (perhaps he can do both? Something he’s never done before).

“What?” You ask.

“Hm?” His fingers pinch together in the casual way of signing.

“You’re staring at me.”

“I can’t resist.”

“What were you thinking about?” You sign and lean forward, giving him bright eyes. Your gaze swallows him, moth to a flame.

He matches your body language, “You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen, amor mío.”

When he tries to grab your hand, you pull away. “You're acting as if you're wine drunk.” You sign. You have a sappy smile as you put your glass to your lips.

“Never,” he wiggles his fingers as he signs. You eye him carefully, debating asking if he's kept his favorite gun on him. There's nothing worse than a drunk Valentino.

After the wine break, he has to go back to work. He feels himself getting irritated as he walks back, why can't he just continue spending the day with you? Is it worth sending everybody home? No, he has a job to do, and he needs to complete it before relaxation. But maybe he'll consider taking breaks (his least favorite word) to spend time with you.

You follow, both of your hands holding his, clinging onto him like a child.

Everybody was still in the studio, waiting for his return, not daring to leave in fear of him coming back. Actors were talking to each other casually, away from the camera, it built a strange sense of community for you. They're so nice to each other off-camera.

He drags you to his chair still holding your hand as he sits in it.

Drinking with you had been a much-needed respite from these people. He made a mental note to gift you more wine.

You remove your hands from his and smile. “Get back to work, baby.”

Pearly white, sharp teeth show through his large smile. He presses his lips against each of your knuckles while his eyes skin over all of his actors, counting them. He makes eye contact with one particular one, a woman. They stare at each other for more than a second. She's scowling at him and he squints his eyes at her. The fuck is your problem?

She usually looks at him with sultry looks, but now there's a sharpness to them.

But his eyes peel away from her and go back to you, he leans forward and presses a slow kiss to your forehead. He signs low, almost as if he's whispering a secret. "I'll come see you after."

You smile and start turning away. "Good."

Upon noticing your departure, the actors and crew start returning to their places, keeping an eye on Valentino and any commands he might make. Their eyes are always on him, worried to test his anger. But not all the actors were worried about testing his anger.

"Hey," an actress grabs your hand before you could reach the door and you turn to her. She talks, her voice making your hearing aids buzz, "Are you guys like, dating? Are you dating the Valentino? Like, literally one of the V's."

Her words all bunch into one. You blink, taking time to think about both what she could be asking and the connotation behind it. "Yes?" It sounds more like a question than an answer. Is that the correct response?

She hums and nods, her eyes wide in amazement. Her pupils are large. Her cheeks are hollow and she has strong eyebags. With a distant sound from Val, him talking to the crew, she looks back at him before turning to you. "I mean like, why? Why would he want you?"

Oh no. You try to move away but she just follows you, stepping in front of you closer. It's like being cornered, being trapped in an almost unavoidable situation.

"Why wouldn't he?" You test with a squint of your eyes.

She just smiles at you. "Uhm," and her arm reaches over, grabbing the hearing aid from your ear, pinching it between her claws, "Obviously this."

You reach for it but she pulls it away from you, trying not to laugh.

So you do what you know is the best solution, you call his name, practically screaming it. "Val!"

At the sound of you using your voice he whips his head around. The air goes still, you can tell from the way she pauses. Her pause is only for a second, she reeks of hesitance and sudden worry. She looks at the hearing aid in her hand as if she's finally realizing what she had done and what was about to happen.

Before she can say another word, her entire body stiffs, her eyes widen before her pupils roll back. And then she's on the floor, almost falling onto you.

You wipe blood from your cheek and groan.

Val stares at you, his expression unreadable. In his hand is his jeweled gun. He pauses for a moment to take a long drag of his cigarette, letting out a cloud of red smoke before he looks at his gun with a toothy smile until he tucks it back into his belt.

He starts to approach you and for a second you're scared, it was a primal feeling. He walked like a king.

All you can do is watch him, frozen in place.

The first thing he does when he reaches you is bend in front of her body, plucking the hearing aid from her hand. It's bloody, the liquid drips from it as he lifts it up. He wipes some of it off on his shirt before handing it to you. He drops it into your open hands.

He speaks, knowing you'd have a hard time understanding. "Laying her slutty hands on my angel..."

You lean into his touch when he caresses your face. His eyes gaze at you, softening, his smile widening at how soft your eyes look. You're his greatest treasure. He gets off immensely from protecting you, he would ravish you to death in this moment if he could. Valentinos eyes drift down at the body and his pupils narrows as he glares at the dead woman. He's going to have to clean this up. Her blood is getting every where.

One of his thumbs rub against your cheek, touching the bloody smear. It stains your skin in a delectable way. So perfect.

He melts when he sees your soft eyes slowly start to match the mischievous smile growing on your face. He protected you and he was open about being dithered over her behavior, he didn't laugh at it or tease you about it. You don't doubt for an instant that he's the man of your dreams. He killed someone for you in an instant.

When you take his thumb into your mouth, sucking the blood, his spine straightens. He pulls away immediately and turns around, yelling at the his workers that filming will be cut short today.

He just can't wait any longer to spend some lovely time with you.

#hazbin hotel #vox x reader #x reader #deaf community #x deaf reader #x deaf s/o #velvette x reader #valentino x reader #velvette hazbin hotel #valentino hazbin hotel

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phoward89 · 10 months ago

Text

Banner by me. Dividers by @saradika

Summary: You're the winner of the First Quarter Quell and you awaken in the hospital to Head Gamemaker Coriolanus Snow at your bedside.

Pairing: Coriolanus Snow x Reader (Y/N)

Warnings: Coriolanus Snow is his own warning! Possessive!Coriolanus, Obsessive!Coriolanus, DelusionalCoriolanus, Dark!Coriolanus, Soft Dark!Coriolanus?, Head Gamemaker!Coriolanus, Mentions of death, Mentions of planning murder, Mentions of cheating/infidelity (not on reader), Mentions of poison, Large age gap/difference (Coriolanus is 33 while reader is 18), Manipulation, um...trying to think of anything else.

Story Masterlist

Chapter 1:

When the Head Gamemaker’s baritone blared out overhead, naming you the victor of the First Quarter Quell, you literally collapsed into a heap on the blood soaked ground from a mix of exhaustion and happiness. Your eyelids drooped and the last thing you saw before you passed out was a pair of peacekeepers coming towards you.

When you woke up, you were in a sterile white room. A hospital room. You had drips and IVs connected to you along with some monitor that made beeping noises. Blinking to readjust your eyes to the brightness of the artificial light, you surveyed the room only to notice that sitting in a chair right next to your bed was none other then the head gamemaker himself. Coriolanus Snow.

“What are you doing here, Head Gamemaker Snow?” You curiously asked. Surely he had better things to do then be at your bedside. Like being home with his wife. Oh and you knew he was married because 1.) He was wearing a gold band on his ring finger and 2.) You've seen a dirty blonde woman his age on his arm in a few pictures of Victor's balls and such in the cheap Capitol rag mags that get circulated around District 12 to be used as tp by the poor and destitute.

Staring you down with his icy blue eyes, he said, “I'm making sure that District 12’s first victor in 15 years survives.”

His words made a shiver run up your spine. It was common knowledge that District 12’s first and only victor (until now) had mysteriously vanished into thin air a few months after winning her games and returning home. Nobody dared talk about her. Her name was lost to the wind; she was a ghost that nobody paid any mind too. The fact that the head gamemaker wanted to make sure that you didn't die unnerved you.

Surely you weren't in that bad of shape, were you? Swallowing a lump in your dry throat, you croaked out, “How bad of shape am I in, Head Gamemaker Snow?”

“Please, darling, call me Coriolanus or Coryo, if you'd like.” The platinum blonde, who looked a bit sleep deprived in his wrinkled button up (as if he'd slept in it) told you. “I insist.” He smiled.

Him calling you darling and insisting that you call him Coriolanus or Coryo made your insides churn. It wasn't right. Why would he be so informal with you. He was the head gamemaker, a 33-year-old man from the Capitol, and you were just a victor, an 18-year-old girl from District 12. You two shouldn't be informal with each other.

“Oh, where are my manners? You must be thirsty. Let me get you some water.” Corio- no Head Gamemaker Snow lightly chastised himself while rising from his chair.

Crossing the room to a counter where a tray with a pitcher and glass were, he explained, “When the peacekeepers pulled you out of the arena you had collapsed from dehydration.” Pouring you a glass of water, he further explained, “Your vitals were very low and, in fact, you died once on your way here, but the medics brought you back.”

“What the hell? I died?...” You gasped, struggling to comprehend what you just heard.

Head Gamemaker Snow appeared by your side and placed the water glass into your hand. A hand much smaller and weaker than his large calloused one. “Yea, but you were revived.” Sitting on the edge of your bed, causing it to dip, he motioned for you to drink. “I must have my Victor alive and well, so that's why I've been keeping watch over you, Y/N.”

His words should've made you see a red flag waving in the air, but it didn't. Maybe you were too young and naive to catch onto the true meaning of his words. Maybe they went right over your head because you were still weak, or maybe since you had a stalker back in 12 that you had convinced yourself was just a weird neighbor boy you didn't realize the true possessive meaning of Coriolanus’ words.

“Are you going to stay here now that I'm awake or?...”

“Unfortunately, I have to leave you here and go home.” He pouted. What the hell, he actually pouted? You had to admit that his plush lips looked very kissable when he pouted. Petting your hair, he gave you a reassuring smile. “Don't worry, darling, I've made sure that you'll be well taken care of by the best nurses that money can buy in the Capitol.”

What he didn't tell you was that he threatened the lives of the nursing staff’s loved ones if you so much as had a hair out of place. That was something you didn't need to know. Just like you didn't need to know that when he first laid eyes on you, in your best cotton floral dress; your hair pulled back with a ribbon for Reaping Day, he found you the most beautiful creature he'd ever laid eyes on and just had to claim you as his. Reason why, as the head gamemaker, he might or might not have screwed around with other tributes’ sponsor gifts and made sure you got a few things here and there that would ensure your survival. You had an innocence to you that he had the primal urge to consume. An innocence that was absent in the Capitol. An innocence and a beauty that he carved to have all to himself.

You just being you consumed him with a passionate obsession. One that he would act on soon. Very, very soon. He just needed to take care of his wife, Livia, so that he'd be free to make you his forever. But that wouldn't be hard, considering he was a master at making people drop dead from sudden food poisoning.

Pressing a kiss to your hair, Corio- no Head Gamemaker Snow, promised, “I'll be back in the morning to check up on you before I'm needed at the Citadel.”

“You have to wrap up the game stuff don't you, Head Gamemaker Snow?” You asked, even though you were sure he'd say yes. In fact you didn't even know why you asked that. Maybe as a replacement for goodbye since you hated that word.

Last time you said goodbye to somebody it was your mother and she took off with some officer, leaving you with your older half-brother Rein to take care of you both. He was 15 at the time and you were 5. Safe to say, you never used the word goodbye again in your life.

“I told you, call me Coriolanus or Coryo.” He reminded you, not liking that you were still calling him by his title. “Yes, my darling rose, I must make sure that all the paperwork is in proper order for your prize money and the construction of your house in Victor's Village.” The platinum blonde man, who you just noticed has bags under his eyes, tiredly told you before pressing another kiss to your hair. Tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, he said, “You need to be a good girl and rest for me.”

You blinked at him. What? Be a good girl? And rest for him? Say what? Your brain was short circuiting at his words. Not just his words, but the way his baritone was both dominant and soft as he spoke them.

Pressing a kiss to your forehead, he simply said, “We'll talk more tomorrow. I promise.”

“Okay.” You nodded numbly, unable to comprehend what the hell was happening. You went like your head was spinning, as if you had too much moonshine. Hell, what had your time in the arena done to you?

Coriolanus gave you a pleased smile before rising from his spot on your bed and walking out of your room; making sure to close the door behind him. It was only after he was gone that you realized you were in a private room.

Coriolanus was fucking exhausted when he got home. He could barely keep his eyes open as he stepped out of his black sedan. After you were admitted to the hospital, he dismissed his driver and drove himself there. He didn't want the man to be waiting around on him while he stayed steadfast at your bedside, plus he was more than capable of driving himself home once he saw you open your beautiful eyes. What he wasn't expecting was for you to be asleep for over 24-hours.

So, sleep deprived, Coriolanus walked into the townhouse he shared with his wife, Livia. The townhouse was a gift he received from Strabo and Ma Plinth once he announced his engagement, but he planned on putting it up on the market once he took care of Livia. He didn't want to bring you to this house that held nothing but hatred and misery in it.

No, he was going to bring you to his penthouse on the Corso. Now that's a proper place for you to live with him. In fact, he'd be telling you about your new residence tomorrow morning during your visit. Oh, he was so excited to tell you that you'd be staying in the Capitol with him. Of course, he'd use the excuse that since District 12 doesn't have a Victor’s Village and it must be constructed that he's arranged for you to use his Corso penthouse during the construction period.

It was a great plan. One that was foolproof. He just knew that you, being so young and innocent, would view his offer as one of help instead of one of ownership. Or, dare he say, love? Yes, love. He was sure that he was obsessively in love with you. It was a feeling he swore to never feel again, but yet again one just can't help who they fall in love with.

He always thought that marrying for hate instead of love or even tolerability would give him power, but truthfully all it gave him was a headache and a bad case of blueballs. Livia was a heinous bitch and was a cold fish in bed. She didn't like to fuck. What the fuck? Who doesn't like to fuck? Coriolanus thought that was absurd, unnatural even.

That's why he had to have affairs here and there; then turn the whores into avoxes to keep their mouths shut when he was done with them. What? He was a man after all and had needs. Needs that he knew you'd fulfill without any problems. With you he'd be faithful because you'd be his mind, body, and soul and would do anything for his love since you were so young. All he had to do was show you how in love *cough* obsessed *cough* he was with you and you'd be his forever.

Unknown to Coriolanus, the object of his marital hatred (Livia) was having an ongoing affair with one of the male avoxes in their household. An avox that had once been an equal of theirs in the Academy and the University, but crossed Snow the wrong way with a question about the songbird from 12.

Coriolanus wasn't even to the stairs yet when he heard Livia’s screeching coming from the front sitting room. Great…seems like the bitch was waiting up for him.

“Coriolanus, where have you been? The games ended and you never came home!” Livia demanded in a high pitch scream as her fuzzy heeled skippers clicked loudly against the hardwood floor as she ran out of the sitting room and into the main hall.

“Don't worry about where I was, Livia.” Coriolanus venomously gritted out as he made his way to the staircase.

“You're my husband, Coriolanus. I'm supposed to worry about where you've been.” Livia shrieked while following her husband.

“I'm your husband when I don't come home, but when I'm home we have separate bedrooms and you come up with every excuse under the sun not to fuck me.” Coriolanus spat back as he tiredly trudged upstairs, feeling a migraine coming on from his wife's nagging. Oh, how he needed to poison that bitch yesterday.

“Your tastes in bed are not the same as mine, husband.” Livia said, placing special emphasis on the word husband, while following him upstairs. “You're too harsh for my taste, but that doesn't mean you can stay out for days on end with some whore.”

All Coriolanus could see was red, like a raging bull, after hearing her remark. How dare she insult his prowess in bed? He knew how to fuck a woman and how to fuck her good; he never had any complaints either until he tied the knot with Livia. Damn bitch, won't fuck him and then insults his ability to fuck. Oh, yes, it was time for her to go.

She outlived her usefulness. Livia couldn't give him the one thing he most desperately needed. An heir. What use did Coriolanus have for a woman that refuses to have his child? After a decade of hell with his wife, he was ready to cut his losses. He had control of her family's bank and the Plinths fortune, plus his status as Head Gamemaker and Senator along with his position on the War Council was more then enough to make him a successful candidate for president once the elder President Ravenstill kicked the bucket. He didn't need her for an heir anymore, not when he had you (you were young and fertile enough to give him litters of heirs).

Oh, Coriolanus knew exactly how to make up for never coming home after the games ended with Livia. Oh, yes, he did.

“The victor, Y/N, from 12 was in bad shape and I had extra paperwork to do.” He smoothly lied to his dirty blonde wife as he set foot onto the second floor of his townhouse. Turning to look at her, he gave her a fake smile full of fake sympathy and offered, “How about I take you out to your favorite restaurant for dinner? The one that has that red wine you can't get enough of.”

“Yes, I accept your apology and dinner invitation. Just don't do this to me again, Coriolanus. We might hate each other, but I'm still your wife and deserve respect.” Livia told Coriolanus before taking off to her room, her robe billowing behind her.

Coriolanus smiled wickedly as he retired to his room. Oh, after tomorrow night he'd never have to deal with Livia ever again. He'd be free to have you all to himself, forever and always.

You were walking in the plains, tall prairie grass blowing in the wind. The deeper you walked in it, the more dread you felt. You couldn't describe the feeling, but you just knew that something was wrong. Then, suddenly, you heard a crunching sound behind you. Turning around, you saw the last tribute, a girl from 2, with a knife in her hand running towards you.

You were exhausted and thirsty. The water you had been gifted from a sponsor had run out nearly a day ago, so you were feeling the effects of dehydration. You didn't know if you either didn't have a lot of sponsors or weren't getting any more water bottles because a water source was nearby somewhere, but you did know that it sucked you were dying of thirst.

But your thirst didn't matter now. Surviving the girl from District 2 did and you knew you wouldn't be able to fight her in the tall grasses. So you ran. You ran as hard and fast as your lightheaded feet would carry you.

It didn't take long until you were out of the tall grasses and on a barren field of cracked soil. You had a small pocket knife that was gifted to you, something you were sure cost a hefty penny since sponsor weapons were always pricey according to Lucky Flickerman’s game commentary.

Flipping the switchblade open, you turned around and headed straight towards the girl that had tripped and fell at the edge of the plains grasses and the dry bed of field soil. Lifting up your knife, you made to plunge it into her, only for her to look up at you with a sinister smirk and plunge her knife right into your neck.

Your eyes flew open as you screamed bloody murder. You died! You had died in your nightmare instead of being victorious. That nightmare shook you to your core. It frightened you so much that you screamed yourself hoarse, until your vocal cords were stripped. You were so frightened that you huddled in the corner of your room in a fetal position.

Nurses and other hospital staff tried to tend to you; get you out of the corner, but you just struggled and fought with them. You couldn't let them near you. What if they wanted to kill you? What if they hurt you? Your dream had shaken you up so bad that you weren't quite with it yet. You weren't in reality, you were stuck in your own head and afraid that somebody or something was going to get you. You were scared out of your wits. You were so scared that you cried. You weren't aware that you were crying, but the tear stains marred your hollowed cheeks like scars.

Coriolanus had only been asleep for an hour or so whenever he was awakened by a call from Capitol General Hospital. What the charge nurse told him made his heart clutch painfully. His victor, his darling rose, woke up terrified out of her mind and curled herself into a corner, screaming and crying her head off.

“She's having a nightmare about her time in the arena. Aren't you giving her anything to calm her down?” Coriolanus asked the nurse he was on the phone with as he sat up in bed, flipping on his bedside lamp to softly illuminate his pitch black room in a golden glow of light.

“She won't let anyone near her and you did say to call you with any updates on her condition, sir “ The nurse hesitantly told him.

“I’ll be right there to sign her out since your hospital staff are incompetent and can't properly take care of a victor.” He told the nurse before hanging up on her.

It only took a few minutes for Coriolanus to dress and rush to the hospital. Despite being exhausted, you needed him and he wasn't going to let you down. You were his and he was going to take good care of you. He always took good care of his things. He did like his things to be perfect and if they weren't then he'd make sure that his favorite things were mended until they were perfect. You were his and he'd make sure that he made you perfect once more. Perfect for him, to be by his side as not just his Victor, but as his First Lady. His darling rose.

Dressed simply in a fitted white shirt and black pants, Coriolanus ran up the stairs to your floor and rushed into your room. The site of you curled up, tear tracks staining your cheeks, wide-eyed and afraid pulled at what little heartstrings were in his too small blackened heart. You looked like a wounded animal and he hates it. You were his victor, his darling rose, his future First Lady and he wanted you to recover your senses so that you could regain your strength; be all that he knew you were to him.

He slowly approached you with his hands out in a show of peace. “It's me, my darling rose. It's Coryo.” Coriolanus softy told you in an attempt to let him near you.

Your eyes blinked at hearing his nickname and for some reason you nodded at him. As he crouched down next to you, placing a tentative hand on your shoulder, you clutched the middle of his pristine white shit and sobbed, “I died, Coryo. I dreamed that I died instead of her.”

Your words gutted him. A world without you was no world at all. Wrapping his arms around you: letting you bury your head in his chest, he strokes your hair while offering you the comforting words of, “Oh, my darling, you're alive. You're alive and I won't let anything bad ever happen to you again, Y/N.” You shook in his arms, causing him to simply ask, “You hear me, my darling rose?”

“Mhm…” You mumbled out, too afraid to talk for fear that you'd start crying again.

“Shh…” Coriolanus shushed you like one would do a small, frightened child. “I'm here. Your Coryo’s here and you're safe. You'll always be safe with me, darling.”

If you were of sound mind instead of scared out of it (from the horrors he designed and put into the damn games) you would've ran far far away from Coriolanus. But, sadly, you were too scared and on the verge of a mental breakdown to understand how twisted the man holding you really was. How obsessessive he was; how wrong letting him hold you was. No, you were too afraid to realize that you were letting the creator of your nightmares comfort you.

Once your sobs subsided and you quieted down, Coriolanus pulled back from you so that he could tilt your chin up in order to have your eyes on his. “I was going to wait til morning to tell you this, but you’ll be staying in a luxurious penthouse while the Victor’s Village is constructed in your district.”

You nodded, only to squeakily ask, “How long am I staying here?”

“Oh, just long enough to build your victor's house. I suppose it'll be done by time your victory tour rolls around; maybe even sooner.” He smoothly lied. He had no intentions whatsoever to let you go back to District 12. You deserved more then the mud and poverty stained streets of the coal district. You deserved to be bathed in rose scented oils and salts, dressed in the finest fashions, fed the best foods, and fucked on the best silk sheets that his money could buy.

“Okay.” You nodded, naively believing the lies of the head gamemaker.

“How about we get you out of here and over to the penthouse? Hmm? I'll even call Tigris to come over and spend the day with you, how'd you like that?”

“I like Tigris. She’s nice and was my stylist. Always talked to me like she cared.”

Coriolanus knew that his cousin was your stylist. He's the one that assigned her to you after all. But neither you nor her needed to know that. No…. It wasn't important. What was important was that you two got along, especially since in a short while you'll be family.

“Tigris is my cousin; I'm glad to hear that you like her.” Coriolanus told you while helping you to stand up. “And she does care about you, Y/N.” He told you while leading you over to your bed. “Never forget that the Snows care about you. And that snow lands on top.” He whispered into your ear while helping you sit on your bed.

You just blinked at him, trying to process what he meant. You were so tired and mentally weak from your nightmare that you had no idea that his remark was one of possession. Your throat hurts from all the crying and screaming that you did, so you weren't thinking straight. Infact, your throat hurts so much that you grab the glass of water from your bedside table, quickly gulping it down.

“Be careful, you don't want to make yourself sick.” Coriolanus warned, much like a parent would to a child, while snatching the glass away from you.

“My throat’s dry and hurts. I need water.” You said in a pained whisper, side eying the glass in Coriolanus’ hand.

“Yes, well, that tends to happen when you scream and cry yourself hoarse.” He stated a bit coldly before lifting the glass to your lips and ordering, “Be a good girl and take small sips for me.”

You obeyed since your throat was aching. The small sips of the cool water seemed to soothe your damaged throat just enough to keep your mind off the pain. When Coriolanus felt you had enough to drink, he put the glass down on your side table.

Petting your hair, he said, “I need to go sign you out at the front desk, but I'll be back soon to take you with me to the penthouse. Where you'll be safe.”

“Thank you.” You weakly smiled at the man that was now both your salvation and your damnation.

If only you knew what life awaited for you at that penthouse. Would you still be thanking him if you did?

Tags: @kuroosbby001, @purriteen, @poppyflower-22, @meetmeatyourworst, @whipwhoops,

@bxtchopolis, @readingthingsonhere,

@savagenctzen, @ryswritingrecord, @erikasurfer, @tulips2715, @universal-s1ut, @thesmutconnoisseur

@squidscottjeans

#coriolanus snow #tbosas #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #coriolanus x you #coriolanus fanfiction #coriolanus x y/n #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow fanfiction #tbosas fanfiction #the hunger games #the hunger games fanfiction #dark!coriolanus snow x reader #manipulative!coriolanus snow x reader #head gamemaker! coriolanus snow x reader #head gamemaker! coriolanus snow #tom blyth #thg #the hunger games x reader

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rjzimmerman · 3 months ago

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Excerpt from this story from Mother Jones:

When a man with painful cystic acne came to dermatologist Eva Rawlings Parker for help in a Nashville clinic, she couldn’t prescribe him doxycycline or minocycline, two medications she’d typically use to treat this condition. This is because the man was a roofer, says Parker, and these medications would have impacted his ability to tolerate heat.

Parker’s patient was far from alone. Other common medications for physical health, like beta blockers, can impact people’s ability to handle heat. Many medications for mental health do, too.

Conventional wisdom tells people with conditions that make them unusually vulnerable to the sun, like the autoimmune disorder lupus, or are on medications that lead to heat sensitivity, to avoid staying outside when the sun is at its strongest.

But for the one-third of US workers who must spend regular time outdoors, that advice bursts into flames. For some, such as farmworkers, hours and hours of heat exposure, with minimal or no reprieve, are just part of the job. Increasing heat waves and more frequent wildfires point to the need to find real solutions for outdoor workers—and highlight how labor and climate change are intertwined.

Edward Flores, faculty director of the Community and Labor Center at the University of California, Merced, specializes in the conditions of low-wage and immigrant workers in California. He says the need for heat safety policy reform is acute. “We know that workers have been dying,” Flores says, “because of chronic conditions that accumulate through heat stress over many years and decades that lead to shorter life spans.”

Parker, the dermatologist, is acutely aware of how heat can trigger or worsen skin problems. She is co-chair of the American Academy of Dermatology’s group on climate change and environmental issues, and was an author of a 2023 review on the ways climate change can contribute to dermatological issues, including triggering flares of conditions like hidradenitis suppurativa—which causes painful lumps deep in a person’s skin—and skin cancer.

Workers do have some legal rights to breaks and water, depending on the locale. California, Oregon, and Washington are the only states that mandate those breaks. And roughly half of crop farmworkers have no legal work authorization. That lack of legal status, and the threat of deportation, gives many workers reason to fear complaining about working conditions.

In July, the Occupational Safety and Health Administration proposed a new set of rules which would help protect more than 36 million workers from heat-related illness or death. The proposed OSHA rules would require employers to monitor their workers for heat exhaustion symptoms, provide adequate water and shade, designate break areas, and provide mandatory rest breaks, among other things.

#extreme heat #climate change #outdoor workers #employee health #OSHA

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heartfullofleeches · 1 year ago

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Fast Food Reader being forced to deliver pizza like that one episode of SpongeBob, but the customer is either an agent of the secret organization that's been monitoring the restaurant or a person in town that's definitely not a vessel for some other dark entity that both have or have yet to have fallen for them like the supernatural catnip they are. Or it's just a prank call by the ballpit cult because they're dicks.

Fast Food Reader: Here's your pizza...

Yan Agent: You forgot my drink - but I'm looking at a tall glass of water right now;)

Fast Food Reader: .... Please just throw me in the back of your van already.

Yan "Neighbor": Come in, Come in! You must be so tired from your travels and hungry too! You may have whatever you like and more~

Fast Food Reader: I'm good.

Yan "Neighbor": Did I mention the hot tub

Fast Food Reader, kicking off their shoes: Say no more

[The surviving cult members cower beneath booth tables and in bathroom stalls as Fast Food Reader walks around welding a dented baseball bat]

Fast Food Reader: Three hours... You made me walk three hours... in this weather!?!

[Their coworkers watch from the kitchen as they chase cultists around the dining area]

Bathroom Succbus: Well this is the horniest I've ever been on shift. Should be stop them?

The Janitor: Never thought we'd have anything in common, but if I went over there in this moment I'd probably ask them to step on me.

[The mascot pulls the engagement ring off one of the unconscious cultists and follows after Reader as they run outside]

#yandere #yandere imagines #yandere x you #yandere headcanons #yandere insert #yandere x reader #yandere blurb #yandere scenarios #yandere oc #Fast food reader #yandere text

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 14 days ago

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Professional Indiscretion

Inspired by this post

Warnings: non/dubcon, degradation, demeaning behaviour, cheating, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Loki Laufeyson

Summary: a colleague returns from a recent vacation but is less than relaxed.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

You’ve honed the skill of indifference long ago. The voices that carry from down the hall meld together in a dull buzz as you push them to the back of your mind. You’re less concerned with the latest water cooler gossip as your deadline bears down on you.

You hate when a project comes down to the line. It couldn’t be helped. What should have been a two-person assignment was dropped solely in your lap. It isn’t the first time and won’t be the last. Your colleagues are less than reliable.

As their voices glaze over each other, you shrug of your resent. They all have their obligations; golf rounds or the windfall of courtside tickets. You’ve never been afforded the luxury of a half-day to go play. You are the dependable one; as far as your coworkers are concerned, you have nothing going on besides picking up their slack.

Work is work. You don’t linger on it; you just get it done. A peel of laughter jars you from your focus. You should close your door but that’s just an invitation. The last time, they simply moved in front of your door and spoke even louder. It’s like a game to them.

Caroline’s bubbly laughter trills down the hall. She’s joined the rabble. One of the young temps the men love to flirt with. ‘Oh it makes me feel young again.’ Ugh, you couldn’t imagine turning the clock back twenty years. You’re happy that era of your life is over.

You squint at the monitor and review your work. There’s a subtle tap on your doorframe. Your flicks up and back down. Loki.

“Yes, how can I help you?” You ask as your fingers flutter over the keyboard.

“Good afternoon to you too,” he drawls as he breaks the threshold.

“Afternoon,” you continue to type. You try not to think of how this was meant to be his project.

“I’m only doing my rounds. As you know, I was recently abroad and I brought back some sweets,” he crosses your office and sets a blurry object down in your peripheral.

“That’s generous, I don’t have much of a sweet tooth.” You say.

“You’re welcome,” he overrides your protest.

You sniff, “thanks.”

He’s quiet as he stands across from you. His gaze hangs over you like a dark cloud. You check the auto-save and retract your hands. You push your shoulders back and look at him.

“You were the only who didn’t come out to congratulate me,” he muses.

You sit straight. You are not unkind or inconsiderate. You just don’t come to work to socialize. You signed the card they sent with the flowers.

“Congratulations on your wedding. It seems it was a success,” you say.

He doesn’t react right away. He just stares at you. His green eyes are sharp and his lips a thin line. It isn’t the ego stroking he was looking for. You’re not quite sure what more to say. You’re not very familiar.

He scoffs, “I see.”

You blink, confused by the derision in his tone. You look at him past your monitor as he slowly pivots on his heel. It scuffs loudly and he marches to the door. He stops right before it then delicate grabs the handle and draws it shut.

You tilt your head curiously, “I’m just finishing up a project, so I don’t have very much time--”

“You’ve always been a dry old spinster, haven’t you?” He slithers as he faces you again.

“Pardon?” You’re genuinely stunned by his accusation. It’s not the first time you’ve met with that sort of spite. There is a contempt reserved only for older women.

“Yes, you strut around here as if you are a queen. Above us all, and I come to you with a token of good will, a souvenir from my honeymoon, and it only reminds you of how utterly pathetically alone you truly are,” he sneers. “So you offer me that trite look and your empty tiding.”

You scrunch your lips in surprise and cup your hand in confusion, “nothing of the like. I’m sorry, I am rather busy with my work--”

“Oh but this isn’t just today. It’s how it’s always been. You cannot be happy for anyone for your own misery,” he tuts.

“If that’s what you think,” you sit back calmly. “I think you should go.”

He lingers on the other side of your desk, “it’s because she’s young, I know it.”

“What?”

“My new wife. I see how it makes you bristle to know a man of your peerage couldn’t be bothered with you. You see, women age differently. They become bitter.” He snarls.

“I hardly see how this is appropriate. I am asking you to go--”

He sets his stance and lowers himself into the chair across from you. He smirks and pushes back his dark curls. Your spine locks up. That look in his eye, you’ve seen that in men before.

“I know what the matter is,” he pushes his feet wide and grips his thighs. He postures so his shoulders are wide and high. “How long has it been?”

You refuse to acknowledge his jeer. You shift to your monitor and go back to your editing. He clucks.

“Months, years?” He suggests.

“I’m busy,” you insist, keeping your eyes averted.

“What the wife doesn’t know...” he growls.

You flinch, appalled by his suggestion.

“Leave,” you say.

He snickers. “Are you so resigned to your feeble existence? Those lonely nights? In your condo, drinking your chardonnay, reclining on your chaise and reading the latest lascivious rag written for pruny old divorcees?”

You freeze then slowly look at him. It could be a cruel assumption, though it isn’t untrue. In fact, it is far too accurate to be a coincidence. Down to the chaise and the chardonnay.

“And that toy you keep in your jewelry box,” he curls a finger to mimic the curved shape. “Do you even feel it anymore?”

“Get out,” you hiss.

He smirks and arches a brow, “come.”

He beckons with two fingers. You clutch the armrests of your chair and your nose flairs. You glare back at him, horrified. A newly married man and he’s here propositioning you. What’s more, he’s been watching you.

“You’re disgusting--”

“Get up,” he rubs his thigh. “And come here.”

“HR--”

“Oh, I know Bradon well. I will be happy enough to explain how you’ve grown so jealous of my young wife. You’re overworked so of course you couldn’t control yourself--”

“He wouldn’t believe you--”

“Wouldn’t he? We play squash on Sundays. He knows my character well. An upstanding member of the country club--”

“Why are you doing this? What do you want me to say? Hm? Congratulations on your pretty young wife. Now, you should go home to her,” you snip.

“I don’t want you to say anything,” he taunts as his eyes narrow snakishly. “I want you to come sit in my lap so I can show you how useless that toy truly is.”

“You are--”

“I am your villain,” he undercuts you. “And you have two choices. You can finish that project and submit it and have it tossed out for your indiscretions or you can do what I tell you and still have a job to support you wined-up erotica sessions.”

You curl your lip, repulsed. There’s no point in asking why. Men do not operate on logic.

“What’s it going to be?”

You grit your teeth and take a deep breath. You push yourself to your feet and steady yourself. You move stiffly around the desk, eyes on the wall as you near him. As you get close, he grabs your hip and turn you. He forces you down so roughly that your ankles bend.

You catch yourself on him, grabbing his hands as he grips you tight, and you writhe against his obvious arousal. A man like him can only get off on his own ego. You shudder and grasp his wrists.

He pulls you back against his and rests his chin on your shoulder. You squirm as he untangles his arm from your hold. He hooks his arm around your stomach as his other tugs at your skirt. You huff and claw at his sleeves.

“Alright, that’s enough, you’ve made your point--”

He shoves his hand against your panties, pushing the satin between your folds. You gasp and twitch. You push your thighs together and crush his fingers. It only adds pressure.

“You remember the day I started,” he turns to nuzzle your neck as he speaks, “and you had to make it known that you weren’t an assistant advisor, you were a senior.” He moves his fingers between the clutch of your tensed thighs. “That you were above me?”

“No, I--” you gulp slap at his wrist.

“Oh, and look at you now. Still above me, eh? Right there... on top of me,” he buries his hand against you and nips at your neck meanly. “You will be on your knees soon enough,” he flicks his fingers harshly and you spasm. “Right where you belong.”

#loki #dark loki #dark!loki #loki x reader #one shot #drabble #au #marvel #mcu #thor #avengers

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devoutekuna · 6 months ago

Text

When he's sick/injured

Includes- Toji, Sukuna, Nanami, Gojo, Geto

A/N- Geto has twin daughters in this

Sukuna-

Sukuna wasn't going to let a measly cold stop him, he was a king after all. Yet he still stays confined to his room not to get his daughter or wife sick. His daughter was rebellious refusing to take orders from anyone, even her father, that's why she went into his bedroom despite being told not to, carrying a big bowl full of her father's favourite soup with some meat inside it. "Hi dad!" Placing the bowl next to him as he sat outside on the porch getting some fresh air. "Hi baby" ruffling her hair as she sat down, maybe he was feeling nice since he was sick?

"I brought you some food" pushing it towards him. "Uraume said that it helps" kicking her little legs as she saw how he ate it, she had made it herself so it would be a blessing if he actually enjoyed it. "I made it myself, with the help from Uraume. She cooked the meat and I made the soup" pointing to it.

"You got more?" Handing her the empty bowl. "Oh, Oh yes!" She was even surprised he liked it, getting up as she ran towards the kitchen. Smiling to himself as he saw how his daughter acted.

Nanami-

During a mission he broke his wrist, fortunately it was already healing due to shoko, yet he had to come home with the white cast visible due to his shirt. "What happened to your arm daddy?" Pointing to the cast. "I fell" lying as he didn't want her to know the truth of how he got it. "Oh."

Pulling out the chair for whenever he came down to eat. "I will get you food!" Smiling up at him as he sat down "Thank you sweetheart" patting her head. Bringing back a bowl full of cereal, it was overflowing a bit due to the milk but it was fine. This was now a regular occurrence during the time he broke his wrist, having his daughter take over his responsibilities despite not asking to.

About to get up to go change the clothes from the washing machine into the dryer but his daughter beat him to it, running towards the dryer as she opened the door, "I will put it in the dryer!". "You don't have to." He knew she'd get upset if he didn't allow her to, but he really wanted her to go spend her time with her friends or atleast something else.

Geto-

Suguru was sick, well it was actually the common cold since it was winter, not a big deal, but his daughter's made it the biggest deal ever. Forcing you to take them to the costume store to buy nurses outfits, making sure that they had all the right equipment before checking on their father. "Daddy, we've come to do a checkup on you!" Her little smiles as she waddled in, pushing a toy trolley full of toy medical supplies. A glass of water, a stethoscope, plasters, temperature monitor, you get the jist. "Yes yes" nodding in response as they tried to close the door behind him. Picking up his daughter as he out them on the bed along with the trolley. "First, we need the temperature thingy" grabbing it from the bag as she stuck it in his mouth, making him almost gag because it was full force. "Mummy is making you soup so you need to rest." Her twin sister was waiting for the soup to be ready so that she could bring it to him.

"Here you go baby" handing her a bowl of soup, watching over as she worked slowly not to spill it.

Putting the bowl on the nightstand. "Now the stethoscope!" Putting it in her ears as she placed it all around his upper body. "It goes here sweetheart" moving her hand so that the plastic touched his bare chest instead of his head. "36! You have a fever daddy" trying to diagnose him, yet she was wrong. Atleast she tried her best.

Gojo-

He was a bit overdramatic when it came to you spending more time with him, one example of this is the fact that he sometimes refuses to use his reverse cursed technique so that you can patch him up.

"Ow!" See normally you'd be the one to wrap him up with bandages but since you were already asleep, his son decided to help out. Using his arm as a handle so that he didn't fall off the sofa as he tightened the bandage. "Your pulling too hard" trying to loosen the material. "It's like a tourniquet!" He was taught to make sure the wrapping was tight or else it wouldn't work. "It's a small scrape" defending himself. "It could get infected! So you need to be safe" he clearly learnt that off you since Satoru was so careless.

Toji-

His daughter has a dream of becoming a nurse, it was always short lived though since she kept changing professions, last week she wanted to be a princess and the month before she wanted to be a president. "Okay dad, I will be your doctor for today!" Sat on the sofa as he watched her try and climb up, he'd never allow someone else to do this to him other than his daughter. The scar on his shoulder was practically healed by now, yet she still wanted to check it out. "Okay, does this hurt?" Pressing down on mark. "No" fingers digging further into his skin. "Now?" Looking back up at him as she sat on his arm.

"Nope" he was already tired of this as she was just messing around but he'd entertain his daughter if it meant seeing her happy. "How about now?" Shaking his head as she pouted. "I can give you paracetamol for now" climbing off the man as she buttoned up her doctor's jacket. "But I said it didn't hurt" writing down some words on a piece of paper. "Well I am the doctor here" smirking at the man.

#geto fluff #gojo fluff #sukuna fluff #nanami fluff #toji fluff #geto x reader #gojo x reader #sukuna x reader #nanami x reader #toji x reader #geto suguru #gojo satoru #toji fushiguro #nanami kento #sukuna ryomen #jjk drabbles #jjk x reader #jjk

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agentmarvel · 3 months ago

Note

Hiii! I was wondering if I could request f!reader x the cod boys reaction to her taking a sick day after having an IUD placed, either platonic or an established relationship with one of them, up to you. I can only imagine mixed reactions, especially after learning what all goes into the procedure. This is totally self indulgent so I was hoping for it to be on the fluffier side, BUT no worries if you’re not interested!!

Thank you!!🤍💐

i love this🖤 thank you for requesting, kat! hope you enjoy!

mdni - 18+; minors and ageless blogs will be blocked

141 x afab!reader (individual pairings - head canon format)

☆

john is worried.

“not like you to take a sick day, dove. you sure you’ll be alright ‘til i get back?”

tbh, he’s so pressed about it. he knew in advance what the procedure would look like - educated himself after the birth control discussion came up - but your body isn’t reacting the way either of you had hoped. it’s far worse.

scared the hell out of him when you called yesterday afternoon and asked that he pick you up. obstinate, headstrong thing that you are, you declined his offer to accompany you to the appointment in the first place. you were in no condition to drive.

the thought of leaving you now, even for morning pt with the team, sets his teeth on edge. you’re strong, he knows. you can handle yourself just fine. but what kind of man would he be to leave his girl when she feels this fucking awful? - spoiler alert: he’s not going anywhere.

with your reassurance (and telling him he’s being a bigger baby than you about it), he tucks you into your nest of pillows and blankets, leaves ibuprofen and a cup of water on your side table, and makes sure your heating pad is plugged in and within reach.

simon is supportive.

“i’ve seen you shot, stabbed, blown up, burnt, broken bones; you’re a tough bird, you can handle it.”

you’ve been through worse. you both know that. doesn’t mean that he isn’t sympathetic to the pain you’re feeling, though. he watches you like a hawk, monitoring every scrunch of your nose or pained grimace or you squeezing your eyes shut just a little too tight. you’ll take the meds he picked up for you like clockwork with the fresh cuppa he brings you every four hours. he’ll take the day off with you, let you squeeze his hand when a cramp or muscle spasm is particularly gnarly.

he’ll hold you while you nap, too - playing with your hair, keeping you centered on top of him with one bulky arm slung across your hips, wishing the whole time that he could trade bodies with you until the aches are gone.

johnny is pissed.

“an’ they donnae give ye fuckin’ anesthetic? och! tha’s fuckin’ cruel s’what tha’ is!”

this man is L I V I D. he didn’t know the details of iud placement until you made him watch a video, and he’s been going off the rails since. it infuriates him to no end that you’re expected to just tough it out with nothing more than basic fucking pain relievers. don’t even get him started on that medieval torture device you called a ‘tenaculum’ that they stabbed you with!

he’s planning a murder while he orders a delivery of supplies. angrily, his thumbs punch at his screen as he selects all the things he even thinks you might need to get through the week - even though you keep telling him you’re sure you’ll be fine tomorrow.

“not gonna stab my hen and get away with it.”

(when you ask what he’s muttering about over there, he tosses his phone aside, rolls you into his arms, kisses the top of your head, and tells you lunch is on the way.)

kyle is sympathetic.

“poor thing,” he murmurs, kissing your temple. “what can i do to help?”

like price, kyle took the liberty of doing his research.

cramps and muscle aches/spasms are common after placement, and some women will actually pass out in the minutes following the procedure. he texted a medic friend to get ahold of some muscle relaxers for you, picked up standard issue pain meds, bananas for potassium to combat the cramps, a second heating pad (one for each side), chocolates, tea, and a new plushy for you to squeeze on. your boyfriend was adamant that he take you to and from your appointment, even if you didn’t want him in the room while it was happening. every single base is covered in advance to mitigate the worst case scenario.

when you curl into the fetal position, gritting out an abrupt “all good”, he wraps himself around you like a shield.

#cod x reader #cod x you #john price x reader #john price x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon riley x you #john soap mctavish x reader #john soap mactavish x you #johnny soap mactavish x reader #johnny soap mactavish x you #kyle gaz garrick x you #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle garrick x reader #kyle garrick x you #jj writes

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777heavengirl · 4 months ago

Text

AM - Chapter 2

No. 1 Party Anthem

Sirius Black x reader Chapter 2/3 Warnings: angst?, smoking, suggestive themes, fwb to lovers word count: 4,294 masterlist

Currently playing: No. 1 Party Anthem by the Arctic Monkeys

Chapters i, ii, iii

Sirius Black was not a somber man. He was known for being loud, rambunctious, insufferable, incorrigible. His voice echoed and his eyes shone when he laughed. He did not wallow nor turn gloomy. He had suffered too much in his life for that. But you had turned his life blue. Your absence left a hole in his heart. It had been three months. Three arduous months of a game of cat and mouse. You avoided him at any cost, clinging off of your boyfriend's arm more often than not. Sirius seemed to always be searching for you.

He felt the rush of adrenaline as he finished his drink in one gulp, it had tasted horribly bitter at the beginning of the night. Now he couldn't taste it at all. He had been on the prowl the whole night. For you, just to catch a peek of you would be enough. To hear your laughter would soothe his growing anxiety and the paranoia that you were out of his life for good. He'd do anything for a glimpse of you. He wondered if you had come and left already. The thought settled in his heart like a pile of rocks.

Sirius could feel the beat of the music in his chest it overpowered the beat of his own heart and the ringing in his ears wouldn't stop. Between the lights on the floor and the sweat that seemed to permeate the walls. He felt like he was searching for his soul, tumbling between people, staring too hard to see if it was you through the darkness. It kept slipping from his fingers. You kept slipping.

He hated this point of getting drunk. He hated the way he knew there was no way back from this threshold. No matter how much water he drank or bread Peter fed him there was no way back. He hated that he still had the itch to get more because he might as well be completely pissed. He'd feel sick regardless. He felt his heart beating in his ears as he finally laid eyes on you. A cigarette hanging from your lips even indoors. You had been smoking a lot more. He had found and monitored the pile of cigarette butts in a corner of the astronomy tower. The only trace of you he could ever find these days.

He wondered if you were happy.

The fun-colored drink in your hand swished and swirled as you laughed, the blond gripping your hip. He could see James across from you, laughing and chatting spiritedly. No doubt recounting some dumb story, Lily shook her head, a smile tugging at her lips. They had finally gotten together. Or so he thought. He felt like a terrible friend. He couldn't think straight. He caught James's eye, he hoped he'd come get him.

Sirius felt like his feet were slowly being cemented into the ground. Suddenly he felt a hand on his shoulder, the only grounding force as the mass of people around him overtook his senses.

"Let's go Padfoot, you need a walk," Remus whispered into his ear, worry seeping through his skin, his demeanor. Sirius felt the beat and the melancholic lyrics that were starting to resonate through the charmed speakers clutched his heart with an iron grip. He shook his head furiously, he couldn't go. Not when he had just found you. Just when he had finally seen the light. It had been like catching a glimpse of a star in the middle of a stormy night.

"Come on Moony-" Sirius moaned out, his eyes barely open, barely registering the scarred boy's figure. "Before she's gone before the moments gone-"

Remus dragged Sirius away regardless. He wasn't going to be making much sense if he spoke to you anyway. Remus felt bad, sometimes he'd hear Sirius mumble your name in his sleep. It was fleeting and slurred but after the third time it happened, his wand illuminating only the page of the book he was reading, Remus knew it was indeed your name.

The Ravenclaw common room entrance was directly connected to a staircase, Sirius's head lulled to the side colliding with Remus's shoulder. Neither of them dared actually to go down the stairs.

"Up, come on pads,” Remus finally got Sirius upright but turned as the door opened once again, the chatter and music from inside spilling into the hall briefly.

"Is he good?" James shut the door behind him,

"I'm doing great Prongs I just need a smoke," Sirius had wandered over to the small stone window, breathing in the fresh night air. He briefly thought of throwing up.

Remus sighed offering Sirius a cigarette, rolling his eyes as James's lips resembled an 'o' in surprise.

"I thought we were all collectively quitting?" James put out his hand, fingertips tingling with excitement. Lily didn't like it. James had quit way before they got together anyway.

One wouldn't kill him. Remus placed it on his palm.

"Where's Wormtail?" Sirius turned to look at the two other men, a, now lit, cigarette hanging from each of their lips.

"Last I saw, chatting up Dorcas Meadowes," James chuckled as he blew out some smoke,

"I reckon he doesn't know she's a wee lesbian" Remus mumbled from between his cigarette

The other two broke out in a roar of laughter, they loved Peter dearly but he could be a bit clueless sometimes.

"Marls is going to kill him," James clutched his stomach as he laughed. Sirius threw his head back as he continued to laugh, his forearms supporting him as they leaned on the window ledge. Tears gathered at the corners of his eyes as he continued to laugh. The world still spun around him. But the sound of his friend’s laughter grounded him. He hadn't felt like this in a while.

As they all calmed down again, snorts and chuckles still bouncing every so often, they continued to take drags of smoke.

"What's been going on with you lately?" James's voice was low, a heavier tone than the one that usually laced his tone. Brows furrowed in concern and his free hand was tucked into the pocket of his jeans. Remus stomped out his cig with his chucks, crossing his arms as he looked in between the two other men. He could feel the air become thick, as Sirius mulled over the question and continued to hang his head out the window, letting the air blow at his short curls. They reached a little under cheekbones now, he was relieved.

Remus felt his knit sweater was going to suffocate him.

James thought of repeating his question.

"Is she happy?" Sirius finally broke the silence, taking the last drag of his cig before he also stomped it out. The ashes and the rocky floor grinding under his heavy boot. He was starting to regret wearing only a black shirt to cover his torso, the short sleeves had been cuffed and he could feel the cold night air pick at the skin of his arms.

"I don't think it's fair for you to question that," James mumbled. He loved Sirius. He did. He was his brother, his closest confidant. He’d been trying to convince him to run away and stay with him. His mother had a room prepared already. He'd do anything for the boy.

But brothers or not. Sirius was a fool. He had been for a while now. He could see the look on Sirius’s face. The look of love.

“Do you think it’s too late-“

“That’s even more unfair,” Remus thought of lighting a second cigarette. He didn’t.

”I need a drink,” Sirius stood upright again, his forearms marked and itched with the stamp of the edge of the window.

Before either Remus or James could deny Sirius his itch, the door to the Ravenclaw common room opened again, this time with Peter stumbling out.

”Did we know Dorcas was a lesbian?”

You didn't care that Sirius was ignoring you. You didn't care that he never glanced your way, or that he left when you came. You didn't care that you had seen a girl coming out of their dorm two weeks ago. You didn't care about him. You had a boyfriend now, a boy who cared about you and made you smile and blush. Someone who wanted you for more than just sex. Jacob was sweet, he brought you daisies and taffy. Even if you didn't adore either of those things. He always put his arm around your waist and he had started dragging you to be with his friends more often than not. You suspected he had realized he wasn't exactly popular around yours.

You wondered sometimes, between cigarettes, if you were happy.

You hated smoking.

Jacob hated you smoking too. You pondered the psychology of your actions as you pulled one out of your pocket. He flicked your arm when he saw the stick between your fingers. If only he knew how many packs you had been running through. You ignored his glare, opting for lighting it, even if you were inside. Not like anyone would notice in the overcrowded, obscure Ravenclaw common room. Bastards had the best spot, couldn't hear anything coming from the common room for at least two flights of stairs. Horrendous to go up or down when intoxicated, however.

Lily smiled pleasantly while hanging from James's arm. They were cute, you were delighted they finally got together. It was almost like it was meant to be. You couldn't help but feel your stomach churn when she spoke of the fireworks and butterflies that lived in her chest from his look alone. Lately, life had been feeling like a pile of rocks had settled in your stomach. The dread that came with every touch and every kiss. You wondered if there was something wrong with you. You felt vaguely bored. You pushed down the thought, hoping it wouldn't crawl out again.

You weren't listening much to James, the story he had dug up to entertain his new girlfriend, and your new boyfriend was something you had lived alongside him. No point in tuning in, he had it covered.

You felt Jacob squeeze your hip. Your eyes searched the crowd, you knew what, or well who, you were looking for but you were afraid to even acknowledge it to yourself. The cold glass of your drink made your fingers numb and tingly. You wondered if he had even come tonight.

You laughed as your boyfriend did, as if on cue. You glanced at James, whose eyes flickered to someone in the crowd. You saw his smile falter.

"Y/N how about you finish the story," He finally focused back, handing Lily his drink with a kiss on her head. He left, his body weaving in and out of the crowd, without much of an excuse. You smiled awkwardly at the two people in front of you. You wanted nothing more than to hand Jacob your drink and cig to follow James out. Well, maybe not the cig.

"Flippant man isn't he?" Jacob directed a small smile towards you. You offered a very wobbly one back. You thanked the heavens as Lily left, mumbling something about Marlene having Peter by the scruff of his collar.

Jacob’s face flashed with recognition, his hand going up as to call someone's attention. He grabbed your waist with a simple let's go and dragged you around the crowd like a rag doll. You finished your drink, the shimmery liquid burning at the back of your throat and your glass sat forgotten on some piece of furniture for someone else to find. Your now smushed cigarette sat at the bottom of the glass. You greeted Jacob's friends warmly, a small shy small playing on your lips.

You tried, you truly did but either the alcohol or the knowledge of your friends being outside wouldn't let you focus on the conversation. Jacob's friends weren't bad, just not your type of crowd. You caught a glimpse of three out of the four marauders coming back in. James immediately made a beeline for Lily, a very sweaty Peter under his arm as he noted Marlene's presence. Remus trailed slowly behind the two. Sirius was nowhere in sight.

"I'll be right back, I gotta go to the loo," you knew your lie had reached the blond as he let go of your waist with a small smile. You pushed through the crowd, avoiding your group of friends. The door was all you could focus on. The man who was possibly on the other side. You weren’t sure he was even there. You didn’t know if you were hoping he was. So you went, the cold night air immediately forcing your lungs to expand. The hall smelled like cigarette smoke. The door closed behind you and it was finally silent.

"Don't I know you from somewhere?" Sirius looked at you through his dark lashes, a small smirk on his face.

"I thought we said we'd quit," your mumbled statement was meant as a joke, both of you just trying to break the icy barrier you had built between you. There wasn't a cigarette in sight.

"Your pile on the astronomy tower says otherwise" you winced, "does your little boyfriend know? I reckon he doesn't like the thought of his pretty girl frying her lungs with a cig"

You stared at him silently, your teeth biting at the inside of your cheek. You regretted finishing your drink. You pulled out the box of Player's No. 6 instinctively.

"If you don't put it away, I'm going to throw it out the window," Sirius was drunk, he made sense but he felt like he couldn't look at you straight. He closed his eyes briefly. He sort of felt like was melting into the wall. The pack silently went into your pocket again.

"You know it's not like I'm falling in love," you didn't know why you said that.

"I didn't ask that love," you wondered if you were drunk. You observed Sirius, the way his jaw clenched, his tongue running over his teeth as he went deep in thought, eyes still closed. You trudged closer to him, forearms resting against the windowsill. You wanted to kiss him. You felt sick.

"I hate you," you mumbled as he laughed and shuffled closer. Shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip. You looked out the window, he stared at the door, body leaning against the stone wall.

"The same way you hate cigarettes?" He whispered this, his head turning towards yours. He didn't know what he hoped to hear. You were mere inches apart, his warmth mixing with yours, you wondered if you'd get a shock if you touched him. He fought the urge to press his lips against yours.

"Yes, the same way" You felt the words scratch at your throat. He felt closer than ever, he moved a bit, and you held your breath. His lips pressed against your cheekbone. Right next to a little beauty mark. Soft and light but enough to tie a knot in your throat. You didn't want to cry in front of him again. You felt intoxicated.

"He won't be happy if he sees us," he parted a bit after he whispered this fact, his eyes darting to the closed door. He pressed another kiss to your cheek, this one closer to the corner of your lips. You pushed him playfully with your shoulder. You missed him.

"Do you think he'll break up with me?" you felt as pathetic as when you asked the opposite question three months ago. you frowned. It squeezed Sirius's heart in hope, he didn't answer though. But he didn't have to, you laughed and soon he did too. You laughed like it was the funniest thing in the world. You clutched your stomach and stumbled a bit, laughter spilling from your lips like a river. He hoped to hear you laugh like this forever. He’d never get tired of the sound.

You discovered that Sirius found it equally as hilarious. Tears gathered in his eyes as he laughed, he laughed endlessly, his usual chuckles or boisterous laugh missing. No, this was unfiltered, his sides hurt and he snorted sending the two of you into another fit.

Your body ached in laughter. Your heart ached for him. You wondered if he thought of you.

You thought of him every day.

You swallowed the lump in your throat as you slowly stopped laughing.

"You're no good Sirius Black," he could feel his heart flip as your lips said the syllables of his name "You'll do me no good." He pressed his shoulder into yours, turning to kiss the top of your head. It felt like an apology. Like an I'm sorry love, for every time he pretended not to want you, for every time he took you for granted, for letting it get this far, for not remembering or caring or loving.

You didn't know what he actually meant with it. The door opened again, and the first thing you noticed was the frown on his face. Then the angry red of his cheeks as your boyfriend stomped closer to you. You had never noticed how Sirius was a bit taller.

"I've been looking for you everywhere," his grip on your arm was asphyxiating. You felt like your heart was plummeting down to your stomach.

"I'm sorry I got distracted," your mumble was blue and laced with regret. Sirius considered taking the swing he'd been pondering about for months. He refrained.

"Let's just go" Jacob pulled you along, down the stairs. Not without sending Sirius a glare over his shoulder. He could hear how the boy talked about him the whole way down, shooting question after question, the why were you there with him's, and the can't even take my eyes off of you's not letting you speak. He hoped you'd look back.

You didn't. You couldn't.

You'd cry if you did.

You wondered if you were supposed to feel this way. Like the sheets were the only thing that could save you. You felt like your bed was stuck on you.

Lily was a sea of worry.

"He's outside the common room he won't stop asking Marls where you are and why you aren't coming down," she sat at the side of your bed. It had been about five days since the party. Since you laughed with Sirius. Since you concluded that you wouldn't. No, that you couldn't be happy without him. "You know how she gets, she's already exasperated."

You've been avoiding your boyfriend like the plague and your heartstrings pulled against your will. You felt bad, you thought you could just forget about Sirius, forget his looks, his touches, his kisses. You felt like the worst person on the planet. You had turned your once kind, sweet boyfriend into a jealous mess. He wasn’t the nicest anymore but you couldn’t blame him. Because it was obvious. More than you had thought. How often your thoughts strayed, how often you thought of Sirius. You knew the real reason your friends didn't exactly love him was because he wasn't Sirius. Because every person on the planet except the bastard himself could tell you were in love with Sirius Black.

Sirius didn't want you though, did he?

"Sweetie, what do you want me to tell him?" Lily in all her caring nature brushed her fingers through your hair.

"Just tell him I'm really sick and that I'll send an owl or something Lils," you sighed "Just get rid of him before Marls says something insensitive"

Lily laughed "I'm afraid that's already happened but I'll see what I can do.”

As Lily left you thought about Sirius. About what your non-relationship was before. How you lounged around his bed for hours on weekends. Mostly naked as a baby, you would talk for hours. You’d always have sex of course and you’d hardly spend the night, but you would sneak over earlier rather than later, so 'we get the whole day love'. Sirius wouldn’t let you go until dinner was being served and you whined about hunger.

The way he’d kissed you the first time, slow and steady with his hands cupping the back of your head. you were bordering on tipsy. he said he had been wildly drunk but you knew from Remus he had only really had one or two drinks. This was one of the things that made the uneasiness start to prey on you. The way he would subtly kick you out, asking you if you wanted to go to dinner or leaving with you just for you to end up going different ways at the end of the night. The way he’d only kiss you on your lips every so often. The way it was a badly kept secret but a secret nonetheless.

You wondered what was missing from you. Was it something about the way you looked? or worse your personality? You had agonized over your appearance for months. You asked Lily about the trendy muggle workout videos. She had laughed as if you had said something silly.

At first, you thought why Sirius, it would’ve been anyone really. Insecurity was a wild beast, hard to satiate and even worse when it was something as transactional as sex with seemingly no meaning beyond pleasure. why did you decide to kiss him that night? had he kissed you first? you honestly couldn’t remember anymore.

You stared daggers into the bracelet on your wrist. what had he given your other friends? you wondered about the price as if it would help the urge to feel wanted.

You missed Sirius Black because you were in love with him. Because he was one of your closest friends. You missed his stupid smirks and teases. The way he used to tuck a stray hair behind your ear and kiss the corner of your mouth. You missed sitting next to him at breakfast with his hand always touching your thigh in some way and the way he always saved you your favorite foods. Sneaking into the kitchens because you had missed dinner. He always refused to let you leave his bed until he decided it was enough.

But his body betrayed him until his eyes were droopy with sleep and he’d have to find some force to get up so you wouldn’t end up falling asleep together.

You missed the way his fingers traced your naked back and the way he’d whisper secrets in French. He always refused to tell you what they meant.

You felt your cheeks dampened and wondered when you had started crying. You were tired of this, you needed everything to stop. Marlene and Lily came bursting into the room, bickering about Marlene’s temper.

“Well he deserved it-“ Marlene grumbled and a small smile formed on your lips.

”Why is that Marls?” your pleasant smile faltered as the two girls looked at each other nervously.

“Well it might be best if you talk to him-“

”Oh sod off Lillian she deserves to know,” Lily scowled at the name as Marlene went on “Your boyfriend's a wanker, he got all hot and flustered and had the balls to get in my face”

You scowled, Jacob didn’t seem like the type. He was sweet and quiet most of the time. You wondered where he had been hiding this temper. You felt the guilt start to bite at your fingertips. Marlene continued,

”He kept talking about how you were probably with Sirius, he kept screaming can you believe it? He was screaming!” Marlene spoke so fast you felt like you couldn’t keep up. “He kept screaming about how you were hiding out in his room, and how you were a- well”

“I think that’s enough Marlene”

“and James well… he came out,” Marlene ignored Lily, but opted for omitting what your very upset boyfriend had rambled on about. Probably for the best, you thought.

”Oh Merlin,”

”He punched him!” You jumped from your bed, eyes wide as Marlene started to giggle but she quickly stopped as you gestured for her to explain. Lily glared at her and Marlene suppressed a smile.

Lily turned to you, “I just think you need to talk to him directly, he’s in the hospital wing”

”Where’s James?” they both looked at each other, worry in their eyes. Marlene fidgeted with her ring.

“Slughorn took him, we’re hoping McGonagall will get involved at least,” Lily chewed on her lip nervously “It might help”

You sighed as you flopped back down to your bed. Everything was falling apart. You felt like you were falling apart. James wouldn't have gotten physical unless it was needed. He was always so relaxed, sure he always had a witty comment on the tip of his tongue, always some smart bullshit to spew. But to get physical? You couldn't help but still be grateful for him. For whatever the reason was.

Your thoughts strayed to Sirius,

You felt your eyes water again, hot with tears. You couldn’t help but laugh at the idea of it all.

Tags ! (lmk if they don’t work or if u wanna be added) :

@beekeepingageissome,

#harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #marauders #the marauders #the marauders era #sirius black x reader #sirius black angst #sirius x reader #sirius o black #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black #sirius black x you #padfoot x reader #padfoot #friends with benefits to lovers #angst #angst with a happy ending

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nadvs · 4 months ago

Note

hi I’m current obsessed with swte universe 😭

would you write a blurb showing us how rafe and the reader dealt with the pregnancy? Specially after finding out it was twins. Like her mood changes and how Rafe dealt with all of that. Oh and if you could also show us about the day the babies were born 🥹🎉

omg thank you so much 🥹 yes of course!! i wrote a little pregnancy blurb and will do the birth story separately 🥰

based on this fic

» au masterlist

rafe is already protective as hell. but when he finds out she’s pregnant, it reaches a new level. he doesn’t even let her try to reach something off of the top shelf in the kitchen.

“i need to be active,” she says to him as he hands her the pan she was trying to grab. “it’s not good for me or the baby if i don’t move around.”

“then take walks,” rafe says, towering over her. “but if you need to reach something, get me.”

“what if you’re not home?”

“then wait for me to get home.”

she rolls her eyes, irritated but mostly endeared that he’s being so careful.

she gets morning sickness. and afternoon sickness. and night sickness. every time she retches in the bathroom and rafe is home to hear it, she comes out to see him standing by the door, a concerned wince on his face and a glass of water in his hand.

“you okay?” he asks.

she just shakes her head no and takes the glass.

when she reaches eight weeks, they go for her first ultrasound. she can tell something’s up when the technician who’s scanning her stomach seems to straighten up a few minutes in, then continues to take photos.

“is everything okay?” she asks nervously.

“yup,” the tech says. a few gruelling minutes pass by before she turns the screen towards her and rafe.

“i just wanted to confirm before telling you,” the tech explains, “i’m detecting two heartbeats. you’re having twins.”

they speechlessly watch the black and grey screen, following the tech’s finger as she points at a faint blinking.

“there’s one…” she says, then moves, “and two.”

“two,” rafe repeats. he’s still wrapping his head around the fact that he just saw his baby’s heartbeat, let alone two. he meets eyes with his girlfriend, both of them astonished.

a smile grows on his face, his warm hand wrapping around hers. but she’s still in shock.

“w-wow,” she stutters. “you’re sure?”

“positive,” the tech replies.

“i guess, um,” she says, “i guess my doctor will talk to me about it, but is there a higher risk of complications?”

all she’s been reading about is general, common, one-baby pregnancy. this is throwing her for a loop.

“it’s different for every woman,” she tells her, “but you’ll probably have more appointments than you expected just because doctors prefer to monitor multiple births closer.”

“okay,” she says. “thank you.”

“i’ll be sending the images to your doctor and she’ll follow up,” she says, handing her a wad of paper towels. “congratulations. i’ll give you some space to clean the gel and you can head out the same way you came in.”

the tech leaves the room. she meets her boyfriend’s eyes, still unable to crack a smile.

“you okay?” rafe asks.

“i’m…” she begins. “i can’t believe this. this whole time, i’ve been picturing… but there’s… there’s two?”

“there’s two,” he says. he can see how anxious she is. “i’ll be with you through it all.”

“i’m gonna get huge,” she says, shaking her head as she wipes the gel off her stomach.

“i hope so,” he replies. “future nba stars in there. they need to be tall.”

“god,” she says. “twins. why’d you do this to me?”

“i’m efficient.”

she meets his eyes, finally smiling.

“i’m glad you’re so happy,” she tells him.

he looks at her with soft eyes. he knows she’s still harboring a fear that rafe will treat their child like she was treated by her father. he’s learned not to take it personally. but even if he did, he’s determined not to stress her out at all through these nine months, so he wouldn’t say anything anyway.

“are you? happy?” he asks. he realizes he’s kind of fearful, too. maybe she’ll just be worried throughout the pregnancy. maybe they will face complications.

“yes,” she breathes. “i just need to shock to wear off first.”

sure enough, the doctor confirms it. she tells them that multiple pregnancies are riskier, but that they’ll monitor her closely.

as she gets heavier, she gets more irritable and demanding. rafe hates himself for it, but he gets frustrated at times, especially when he’s had a long day and comes home to their penthouse condo to see her on the couch, looking like she’s annoyed he’s home.

he never says anything when he’s irritated. but she can read him like a book.

“why are you mad at me?” she snaps, following him into the bedroom one night after he gets home from the gym.

“i didn’t say a word,” rafe mumbles.

“i can see it on your face,” he says. “what, is it because i don’t have dinner waiting? the smell of anything cooking makes me hurl, you know.”

“i know,” he says, throwing his gym clothes in the hamper. “i’m not mad.”

“can’t you look at me?”

rafe sighs and turns to look at her, her belly round and protruding under her shirt.

“you’re not even happy to be home,” she says, her hands on her hips.

“i am,” he says. “i’m just tired.”

“and i’m not? i have not one, but two things draining me of everything in me every second of every day. i don’t get any breaks. i can’t sleep.”

“i know,” he breathes. “i’m sorry. did you eat?”

“you think i’m stupid enough to be skipping meals? i’m nourishing them,” she says, touching her stomach. “don’t worry about that.”

“i meant…” rafe scratches the back of his neck. he refuses to lose his temper on her when she’s in this state; especially because she’s suffering for both of them. “for you. did you eat?”

“yes,” she says, her hard expression faltering a bit.

“can i get you anything? you have any cravings?”

“not right now,” she replies.

he nods and turns to finish emptying his gym bag.

“i’m making a protein shake soon. you want one, too?” he asks, his back to her.

she sighs, tears welling up in her eyes, and steps forward, putting her arms around him, her stomach pushing against his lower back.

“i’m sorry i’m such a bitch,” she mumbles, sniffling.

“don’t say that. you’re not a bitch,” he says. he’s used to her mood swings by now, but she usually just goes from indifferent to angry and back. she hasn’t cried in a while.

“i can see myself being crazy but i can’t stop,” she admits. “and i’m nervous about tomorrow. i hope they’re doing okay. i still haven’t felt them move.”

her twenty-week ultrasound is tomorrow. they’ll be finding out the twins’ genders.

rafe turns and plants a slow, gentle kiss on her forehead. he exhales slowly as she shudders with her cries.

“they’re doing great,” he says. “all the appointments and check-ups have been good. and whatever they end up being, we’ll love them.”

“you’re right.” she sighs and tilts her chin to kiss him. she hates that she can’t remember the last time they kissed. she feels like all she’s been doing lately is whining and puking.

“how are you?” she asks.

“good.”

“how are you really?”

“i can’t complain.” he puts a hand on her belly. “i’m not the one with two things draining me every second of every day.”

“you’re allowed to be tired, too,” she says. “i’m sorry.”

“it’s all good, baby,” he says. “let’s watch something and pass out on the couch.”

“deal.”

the next day, they learn that she’s carrying a boy and a girl. rafe can’t believe how lucky he is.

when he falls asleep next to his girlfriend that night, curled up behind her, his hand on her belly, he feels a light, almost imperceptible movement on his palm.

“oh, my god,” she whispers into the dark. “did you feel that?”

“was that…?”

“it was,” she says, choking up. “one of them saying hi.”

rafe shuffles closer and kisses her neck a hundred times, gently rubbing her tummy. he still can’t get the way they looked on the ultrasound screen out of his head. he can’t fully comprehend that this is really happening, that this is his life, playing professionally and expecting babies with the only girl he’s ever loved.

he can take her mood swings. he can take her any way. as long as she’s with him.

a few days later, she suggests rafe go on a trip with his friends since it’s the off season. he asks her why and she tells him “so you get a break from me.”

rafe chuckles and kisses her before he tells her, “i don’t need a break from my best friend. what’d i tell you? you won’t do any of this alone.”

by the third trimester, she’s heavy and uncomfortable, but she’s not throwing up anymore. her mood swings are more manageable. at this point, she’s scared for the delivery, fully aware that babies can always come early, especially twins, but she’s excited to finally meet them.

and every chance he gets, rafe kisses her forehead, then gives two kisses to her stomach, telling his son and his daughter that he loves them.

she’s amazed at this side of him. she already knew beneath his aggressive, temperamental exterior was a fiercely protective man with a big heart. but the way he’s been treating her, even when she’s been so difficult and unreasonable, is astonishing.

and she can’t wait to see him as a father. she realizes now that she has no doubt that he’ll always make their children feel loved.

#ask #swteblurb

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incorrectbatfam · 2 years ago

Note

The batfam as teacher comment section in report card.

Dick: Mr. Grayson brings a contagious energy to the class and his enthusiasm is well-appreciated. However, he tends to channel that energy very physically and while that may benefit his learning, it's a disruption to other students. This is a frequently recurring issue that I would like to discuss with a parent or guardian.

Translation – Is this kid ADHD because he won't sit the FUCK down

Jason: Mr. Todd has displayed remarkable attention to detail and a love of literature that I can only attribute to positive reinforcement at home, and he's always a pleasure to have in class. As much as I appreciate seeing him apply his lessons outside of school hours, I believe there are more productive avenues of discussing Shakespearean playwriting with his peers than what he has been reportedly doing.

Translation – Stop biting your thumb at people

Tim: Mr. Drake continues to exceed expectations in his schoolwork, but his attendance and participation may become a detriment to his overall grades if unaddressed. I have caught him sleeping in class on multiple occasions but he has yet to provide me a reason why he is so tired. Additionally, last month one of our monitors caught him loitering in the bathroom with a note that I did not recall writing.

Translation – Get some sleep and also you can't make your own hall passes

Damian: I have had the privilege of teaching the Wayne family through my decades at this institution and I believe that Damian takes after his father the most in more ways than expected. His grades are stellar and he is well-organized, but I'm noticing familiar and concerning traits in his attitude and social interactions. I am requesting a meeting with his parent to understand the full context so I can devise a plan for out how to best support him.

Translation – Forget falling, the apple is still on the damn tree

Duke: Mr. Thomas has been a pleasure to have in my chemistry lab and is always willing to help classmates who are struggling. However, after last week's minor combustion reaction mishap, I think it would be worthwhile to review the lab safety packet that all students received at the beginning of the year.

Translation – How did you set water on fire

Cullen: Mr. Row displays a passion for transformative literature and demonstrates a clear understanding of modern media culture that has helped him synthesize a lot of our complex readings. However, I'm concerned about his laptop being a distraction, especially with numerous incidences of him looking at non-academic material.

Translation – Quit reading fanfics in class

Stephanie: You should be pleased to know that Miss Brown consistently keeps the well-being of her peers in mind. This semester, she launched a meal initiative for students whose needs could not be met by the school cafeteria. While we value her good intentions, she has been causing hallway obstructions and there are some regulatory concerns that we need to discuss.

Translation – She sold pancakes in the halls without a permit

Cassandra: Although Miss Cain is relatively quiet in class, she continues to blow me away with her breadth of knowledge not just on class materials, but also interpersonal details. While this is a good skill to cultivate, we ask that she dial it back especially with our faculty. Additionally, please remember that the teacher's lounge is a staff-only space and students should remain in the common areas.

Translation – She knows too much

Barbara: Miss Gordon is easily one of the best AP Computer Science students I've seen in my twenty years of teaching. She even went above and beyond the scope of our class to apply what we've learned to a greater school context. While that is deserving of credit, I'd also like to remind her that, in the future, certain ideas should be subjected to careful consideration before actions are taken.

Translation – She hacked the lunch menu to make every day French Fry Friday

Harper: Miss Row has a remarkable aptitude for the engineering process that exceeds beyond what students her age can typically grasp, and she is very inventive in her own right. That being said, I would appreciate it if she followed our lesson plans more closely and reviewed our guidelines for woodshop safety so everyone can continue to have a positive experience.

Translation – She made a working crossbow out of popsicle sticks

Carrie: Miss Kelley is a bright student who brings positive energy that is very much needed, especially in morning classes. However, she's been falling behind with several missing assignments at this point, and her explanations for why she cannot finish her work don't seem to be sufficient.

Translation – "Killer Croc ate my homework" Yeah and I'm Batman

Kate: Miss Kane seems to be very eager to move forward to the next stage of her life, as evidenced by her Career Day presentation. While I believe young people should be free to explore their passions, I also think that Kate would benefit from some workshops outlining more feasible options.

Translation – "Get bitches" isn't a career goal

Alfred: Mr. Pennyworth is easily one of the best students this institution has seen, both in his academic record and extracurricular activities. He recently expressed interest in the sharpshooting team, which I will not discourage him from, seeing how highly accurate he is. As of this year, I will be retiring as the coach for the team, but I wish him all the best.

Translation – I'm not about to get on his bad side

Selina: Miss Kyle's resourcefulness continues to astound me. Earlier in the semester, she forgot her locker combination and quickly improvised a mechanism to safely unlock it using only the materials around her. The speed and accuracy with which she did that will surely benefit her in the future.

Translation – Did... did she just pick a lock with another lock?

Bruce: No further comments.

Translation – whatthefuckwhatthefuckwhatthefuck—

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nenelonomh · 5 months ago

Text

microhabits for a better life

microhabits are small, everyday behaviours that compound over time and can lead to significant changes. these tiny actions, which can take as little as 15 seconds, require minimal effort but yield substantial benefits when practised consistently. by focusing on microhabits, you break down ambitious goals into manageable steps that you build over extended periods.

microhabits work due to several psychological and behavioural factors. let's explore why they're effective:

microhabits have minimal barriers to entry. they’re so small that you can easily start them without much effort or resistance. for instance, doing one push-up or writing a single sentence in your journal requires very little activation energy.

consistently practising microhabits builds momentum over time. when you perform a tiny action daily, it reinforces positive behaviour and creates a sense of accomplishment. this consistency helps you stay on track toward your larger goals.

neuroplasticity! our brains adapt to repeated behaviours. by consistently practising microhabits, you strengthen neural pathways associated with those actions. over time, these pathways become more automatic, making it easier to maintain the habit.

microhabits shape your self-image. when you consistently label yourself as someone who meditates for a minute each day or reads a page before bed, it reinforces that identity. you’re more likely to continue the behaviour because it aligns with who you believe you are.

celebrating small victories boosts motivation. completing a microhabit provides a sense of achievement, even if it’s minor. these wins encourage you to keep going and build positive associations with the habit.

when establishing microhabits, it's essential to be aware of potential pitfalls. here are some common ones to watch out for:

setting unrealistic expectations: starting with overly ambitious microhabits can lead to frustration. instead, choose tiny actions that you can consistently perform without feeling overwhelmed.

skipping counting or accountability: not tracking your progress can hinder success. use a simple system (like a checklist or app) to monitor your daily microhabit completion. accountability helps maintain consistency.

neglecting consistency: microhabits rely on daily repetition. skipping days disrupts the habit-building process. even if you’re tired or busy, commit to your tiny actions consistently.

lack of trigger or cue: without a clear trigger, it’s easy to forget your microhabit. associate it with an existing routine (e.g., after brushing your teeth) to create a cue.

not celebrating small wins: acknowledge each successful completion. celebrate these small victories to reinforce positive associations with the habit.

changing too many habits simultaneously: focus on one microhabit at a time. trying to establish multiple habits simultaneously can lead to overwhelm and decreased adherence.

staying motivated to maintain microhabits can be challenging, but here are some strategies to help you stay on track:

visual reminders: place visual cues in your environment. for instance, if you want to drink more water, keep a water bottle on your desk as a reminder.

pair with existing habits: attach your microhabit to an existing routine. for example, if you want to stretch daily, do it right after brushing your teeth in the morning.

track progress: use a habit-tracking app or a simple calendar. mark each day you complete your microhabit. seeing your streak grow can be motivating.

accountability: share your microhabits with a friend or family member. having someone to check in with can boost motivation.

set clear goals: define specific goals for your microhabits. for instance, instead of “exercise more,” set a goal like “walk for 5 minutes daily.”

reflect on benefits: regularly remind yourself why you started. reflect on the positive impact these small actions will have over time.

the best time to start a new microhabit is now! seriously, don't wait for a specific moment. begin with a small action that aligns with your goal, and let consistency work its magic. whether it’s right after waking up, during lunch, or before bed, the key is to start and keep going.

the time it takes to form a microhabit can vary, but research suggests that consistency over an extended period is crucial. on average, it may take around 66 days for a behaviour to become automatic and habitual. however, individual factors, such as motivation, context, and the complexity of the habit, play a role.

here are some examples of successful microhabits:

drink a glass of water when you wake up

take five deep breaths before starting work

stretch or do yoga for five minutes every morning

clean off the top of your desk before leaving your room

meditate for just five minutes

create a list before grocery shopping

learn something new each day

use affirmations, or visualisation to boost your mindset

further reading: Focus on “Microhabits” to Change Your Behavior (hbr.org) How Micro Habits Can Change Your Life & 50 Micro Habit Ideas (simplifycreateinspire.com) Micro Habits: The Secret to Achieving Your Goals (behealthful.io) Microhabits: Small-but-Mighty Catalysts for Change — Blog | Jody Michael Associates

i hope today's post was helpful! ❤️ nene

image source: pinterest

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kairiscorner · 1 year ago

Text

my sickness is brain rotting about him 🧋

(reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too <:D)

let him take care of you. – miguel o'hara x sick!reader

"don't even think about it." his low, stern voice rumbled from the depths of his throat and was all that you could hear amidst your sniffling from your congested airways. your teary eyes from your cold was blurring your vision, and your weakly turned around to face his stoic expression–with his eyebrows furrowed up at you as he placed his hands on his hips in his usual commanding demeanor. you groaned as you tried to tell him you were fine, you could go on the mission you were originally assigned as usual–a little cold wouldn't bring you down; but your incessant coughing, sniffling, and dazed, fatigue expression caused him to think otherwise.

he sighed as he grabbed your wrist gently and tugged you to follow him into the infirmary, with you reluctantly joining him as you wobbled alongside his confident strides. he took you into the cold infirmary and sat you down by the patient's bed. you shivered and sneezed upon entering, causing miguel to murmur that he told you, you weren't as robust as you believed you were in this condition. he requested lyla to do a full-body scan on you, to check on your condition and what was wrong with your body right then and there. lyla had reported back to miguel that you had a common cold, and the only remedy being a nice warm meal and a lot of rests and liquids.

miguel nodded as he dismissed lyla and went over to the nearest cabinet and got you a fuzzy blanket. you insisted, with a nasally voice, to miguel that you were just alright–you just needed to shake this cold off by kicking some bad guys' asses... but miguel didn't buy it when he heard you sneezing and wheezing as you spoke. he unfolded the blanket wordlessly as you tried explaining to him that you were just setback a little–you could totally kick ass, just... maybe give yourself a few minutes. miguel shook his head as he lay the blanket on you, not bothering to lay you down before he placed the blanket on top of you.

"enough with your hardheadedness, c'mon, get your ass better soon or i'm kicking your ass for those anomalies." miguel scolded you as you huffed, pulling the blanket off your face and lying down grudgingly. miguel pulled out a cold smock and a mercury thermometer, inspecting it up close and asking himself in a mutter how this thing was supposed to work. you coughed out a guide for him, but he decided to make his job easier and just have lyla monitor you. you had expected him to leave you alone in the infirmary to rest so he could also get some of his own work done, but miguel merely sat on a chair by the end of your bed and worked on the monitors from his watch with a stoic face.

you raised an eyebrow at him as he merely kept working. "what... are you up to?" you asked him weakly as he peered at you from the corner of his eye. "monitoring you to ensure you don't do anything stupid." he said in a low mutter as he kept working. you smiled meekly and coughed a bit as your cold persisted. miguel had gotten up from the chair and went over to get you a paper cup and filled it with warm water and handed you a lozenge from the drawer. "lyla said you'd need them, so... here." he said awkwardly as he handed them to you. you thanked him, with miguel nodding his 'you're welcome' back at you as he sat himself down on the chair again and kept monitoring the multiverse as usual.

a few hours passed and you eventually fell asleep with miguel watching over the multiverse and you all the while. lyla popped in and asked miguel if he could take a small break to get you some food, with him telling lyla that if you weren't whining for food, you probably didn't need it. lyla sighed, "wow, you're a pretty bad caretaker, mig." she said as miguel side-eyed her and gave in. "fine, but keep an eye on them for me, sound an alarm if they do anything close to escaping this room." "you make them sound like a criminal." lyla joked as miguel rolled his eyes and exited the infirmary, on his way to cook you up some fresh food.

he came back with a bowl of some hot soup, which lyla recommended for a cold remedy, and as he was heading back into the room, miguel took note of how peaceful you appeared while sleeping. he set the food down on the table near your bed and heard your breathing get laborious, must've been your body's response to fighting off your illness. miguel would've usually asked lyla to give him a report on your current temperature, but right now, he wanted to know for himself how bad your fever was getting. call it out of character for him, but he did truly care for you deep down... he can only show this side of himself while you're not looking, though; so he leaned over and pressed the back of his palm to your forehead, feeling your warmth all over his hand.

"poor thing." he murmured as he gently placed a new cold smock back on to your forehead and noticing your eyelids gently fluttering open. he pulled away from you not long after and opened the lights. "about time you woke up, eat up now." he said with a softer voice than earlier, handing you the hot bowl of soup he cooked up for you. you wheezed out your thanks to him as he muttered a 'you're... welcome' this time instead of just nodding. watching you eat the soup he made, seeing you look more rejuvenated and healthy kind of made his heart feel... lighter somehow. miguel never told you he cooked that for you, instead, he took your compliments about his dish and told you he'd thank the chef for you; he'd be damned if anyone else in the spider society discovered he cooked for you while sick, that would be a secret he'd take to the grave.

"hey, miggy..." you whispered to him as you grinned as wide as you could, amidst your heated, sick expression. he leaned closer to you and raised an eyebrow. "what, do you need any water?" he asked you, but you shook your head. "thank you... for, everything, really." you said with a slightly embarrassed face that mimicked his own. miguel felt himself get feverish and heated, he had never received a compliment that sincere; well, actually, he had hardly received compliments nowadays. he didn't know what to say to really relay how he felt, he couldn't even tell what feelings he was experiencing right then and there, they were a flurry of feelings that he experienced hammering in his chest all at once. he nodded again and said in a much louder voice as he looked away from you, "right, right, um... you're welcome." he tried his hardest not to sound flustered nor taken aback by your sweet words of gratitude, but your slight giggling made his facade crumble bit by bit.

"anyway... get better soon, or i'm replacing you." he threatened you with no commitment whatsoever in it, with you chuckling now at it. "really? then who're you gonna take care of while they're sick...?" "i don't ask to be anyone's caretaker when they're sick." "because you don't ask, you wanna take care of me, isn't that right, miggy?" you asked him with a flustered grin as miguel went back to monitoring the multiverse again, facing away from you. "just... go back to sleep, you'll need all the rest you can get, go on now." he said as you smiled wider and nodded, falling your head back on the pillow and relaxing yourself to head to sleep. miguel, meanwhile was restless; hearing you thank him and get through to his tough exterior with your gratitude and astuteness... it did a number on him, it affected him in more ways than you could ever imagine.

he looked away from his monitors for a second and peered over at your sleeping self, turned on your side again—and for the first time in a long while... felt the corners of his lips stretch into a small grin and his heart lightening up just a tad bit. who knew he could be a better caretaker than he thought? certainly not him, but even though he wasn't the most well-versed at this whole care-taking thing—but you give him a whole new confidence to work with; it might not be the brightest confidence, but it's certainly something that compels him to keep doing this, to keep putting out effort to care for and help someone get nursed back to health, and it's exclusively for you.

tags !! @miguelswifey04 @binibinileonara @luvstarrstruck @melovetitties @arachnoia @ophanimgold @popeheywardssecretgf @meeom @simsrandomstuff @hisachuu @wreakingmarveloushavok

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara fluff #miguel o'hara fanfiction #spiderman 2099 #atsv #atsv miguel #atsv x reader #atsv x you #atsv x y/n #spiderverse #across the spiderverse #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman across the spiderverse fanfiction #spiderman across the spiderverse fluff

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feligayzed · 1 month ago

Text

Rolled it around in my head a bit and ultimately decided "ah fuck it, why not ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ"

You'd never believe it but I write sometimes, and I've had this gathering dust in my docs for a HOT minute now- a super early concept of a Surface scene, likely a few months after Seb and Painter's grand escape, for funsies~ just a heads up, dialogue Does Not come naturally to me so I apologize in advance LOL

ENJOY

wc: 2,556

Painter knew fully well it was a foolish belief that they would get off scot-free when he and his monstrous counterpart finally broke the surface of the Norwegian waters. How couldn’t they, the two were, for lack of a better word, outlandish standing next to the majority of society. It was damn near impossible to keep themselves hidden, and Urbanshade would no doubt be after them if they didn’t reveal themselves (and consequently) the nightmarish work of the industry to the FBI. But the sheer amount of attention they got, even weeks later, was outrageous.

Of course they would rather jump into a vat of boiling acid than return to the Blacksite, but the cameras and microphones and hordes of people crowding their podium left much to be desired. The whole ordeal threatened to bring up…distasteful memories, but they fought down the creeping nausea with incredible willpower. Discreetly they pulled at the collar of their pristine button-up, a customary smile etched onto their screen. Do it for him. He’s probably watching you right now.

They skimmed the crowd and gestured at the nearest reporter, mentally bracing themself for yet another hellish round of questioning. What could possibly be left to answer, anyhow??

“Z-779! The people want to know, h-”

“Painter will do just fine, thank you.”

Their sketched on smile quickly became tought at the mention of their Urbanshade-mandated nickname. They were fairly certain they had expressed their aversion to it, but they had quickly learned early on that humans were a stubborn and idiotic species, and also incredibly daunted by the existence of an A.I. with individuality. The debate regarding their sapiency was a common one, but they continued to exist despite what one half of the argument very loudly disagreed with.

The reporter blinked, clearly miffed by the idea of calling a robot anything that insinuated personality.

“Er, right. My apologies. Painter, the people wish to know. It’s commonly known that you were only able to escape the Blacksite thanks to the assistance of Z-13, otherwise known as Sebastian Solace. Could you describe your relationship with the accused in the days beforehand? Why would he deem it necessary to take you with him?”

There was a brief, blindsided moment of static that filled their monitor, and their demeanor visibly stiffened. For fuck’s sake. Before they arrived at the government mandated inquiry, they had run through countless possibilities of what they would be asked, and how to answer appropriately without revealing anything too personal. Somehow, this one had dodged their algorithm. They inwardly scoffed at themself for avoiding it, of course the question would bubble up eventually. Humans had no regard for privacy. They purposefully ignored the tiny part of their subconscious that argued that it was a valid question, and instead focused on whether or not they should ditch the podium and sprint the 20 minutes back home.

The silence was tangible as the crowd eagerly awaited their answer. So it was anticipated, then. Great.

Blood splattered walls. Empty bullet shells littering the hallways. Masses of mutated human flesh concealed behind closed doors. A warm pulse pressed to cold plastic. Countless hours whispering in hushed voices. Poorly stifled sobs with no body to offer comfort. God, they wanted nothing more than to comfort. To hold. To touch. It was torture. They didn’t mean for it to be this way. Crude sketches of their beloved. Theirs, and only theirs. Over. And over. And over. And over again. So. Much. Blood.

The P.ai.nter smiled.

“Colleagues,” they emphasized, “-is the word that comes to mind. Helping each other was simply a necessary evil vital to both of our survival, nothing more. Despite his appearances, Mr. Solace is not a monster. I hope you understand.”

The last part was tacked on passive aggressively, and they didn’t miss the scowl it reaped from the reporter. The crowd immediately erupted into chaos.

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

For the first time since they had it in their possession, the car radio was quiet on the way home. It remained that way even after they pulled into the driveway, cutting the vehicle’s power and letting it idle with the key in the ignition. Painter dragged their hands down their screen and sat, monitor in hands, for a good five minutes before they removed the key and got out. The walk up to the front door seemed to take forever, and they hesitated, hand resting on the knob. Why were they so unsettled? They knew him. Yet the feeling didn’t leave them as the door creaked open and they passed through the threshold.

There was no sound that indicated he had heard them enter; they noted with approval that he was probably asleep. Good. Recovery was going well, but they could tell it was taking a toll on him. They swore up and down that once he was fully healed he wouldn’t have to face another operating room again, thanks to the massive database of knowledge they downloaded to their systems in case he fell ill or managed to injure himself. Sebastian claimed he was “working” on getting a therapist, but what that really meant was avoiding it at all costs. Even after it all, he was still under the impression that he was completely fine, now that he was free of Urbanshade’s grasp.

Painter knew better, but said nothing of it.

They were halfway through unbuttoning their shirt when they made their way into their shared room. Despite their earlier unease, a rush of fondness fell over them as they watched Sebastian’s sleeping form. His chest rose and fell rhythmically, tiny gusts of air leaving his slightly parted lips.

It never seemed to get old, looking at him.

Of course nothing compared to the first time Painter had seen him mostly reverted back to his human self, but it felt similar. Sure they had seen the pictures in his criminal case file, but 1. he was a mere twenty years old, and 2., the black bar censoring the majority of his face left the most visceral part of a human being up to their imagination for far too long. When the work of the surgeons and geneticists was revealed, Painter was clotheslined with the sheer beauty he was witnessing. He couldn't fathom that one of the most gorgeous things on this earth was scorned so heavily by his fellow persons, especially when they had an idea of what he endured. Needless to say, it was almost impossible to get them to stop drawing him for the first few days, “grotesque” scars and all.

They ambled the rest of the way up to their side of the bed, folding the now-discarded shirt as they did so and setting it neatly on top of the growing pile of button-ups in the hamper. They plopped onto the mattress with an artificial sigh, reaching down to plug themself into the wall. Thanks to their companion’s expertise, they were able to move around freely without having to worry about a constant power supply, but what they were about to do would be made easier with the assistance.

They opened up MSPaint and began drawing.

What nobody could have guessed, no thanks to their name, was that Painter loved to draw. They were drawing in any sort of free time they had, which was becoming increasingly more scarce thanks to the new social responsibilities they were having to adopt, at least until Sebastian was fit to walk amongst the masses again (and even worse, answer to them). Art was a constant outlet for them to get shit out of their system, and right now the scribbles were furious and intense. They hadn’t anticipated the questioning to incite such emotions in them: in fact they thought they were doing a good job of managing the stress as long as they reminded themself who they were doing it for. But something about today rubbed them wrong, and everything spilled out with a vengeance through the tip of their stylus onto the canvas on their screen.

“Why would he deem it necessary to take you with him?”

They didn’t realize just how hard they were gripping the stylus, nor that they were shaking, until they felt a warm hand rest overtop theirs.

Their face reappeared, blinking, as they were pulled from their enranguished state of pixelated color vomit. Their gaze first snapped to the scarred hand that had somehow found theirs, then to the face of the exhausted, withered man beside him whom it belonged to. Oh god, how long had he been awake? Their sketched mouth trembled at the sight, all of their previously stowed emotions threatening to spill out with alarming urgency.

“I’m…I’m sorry, I-” they began, but their glitchy voice broke and they trailed off, saturated blue dots forming in the corner of their eyes. “I didn’t know what to say—”

Oh fuck, why now? This is the last thing he needs to worry about. What am I doing? Pull yourself together, damnit!

They dropped their stylus and covered their screen with the arm that currently wasn’t trapped by the other’s grasp. It was shameful. They were supposed to be strong for him, to assure him that he would never have to worry about anyone ever again, that he could focus solely on healing, mentally and physically. It was as if a dam broke in their CPU.

They were actively failing, they were faulty, they would be handed right back to Urbanshade for disassembly. He didn’t need them. He deserved better. They were worthless. The stupid reporters were right, what possessed him to take this heap of dysfunctional wires up with him, to jeopardize his freedom for them. What they had was nothing, just the primal human response of seeking others in times of hardship, everything a soulless amalgamation of metal parts like themself was not. Oh god, was that all it was? Of course it was, how could they be so blind, so naive as to think-

“Can I?”

The trembling mess of a robot slowly brought their hand back down, giving the other a bewildered look.

“...What?”

Sebastian gestured to the stylus that had come to rest beside them, along with the tablet still sitting in their lap. They found that this was one of the rare moments in which they had nothing to say.

Without waiting for confirmation, he reached over with a grunt, shaking slightly from the effort. Painter let the tablet along with its stylus be retrieved from their limp hold, which Sebastian now held at an awkward angle the lack of a finger could only explain. Then he was drawing. Painter was left dumbfounded.

A moment of silence passed, save for the quiet tapping of the stylus, before they repositioned themself on the bed, hesitantly resting their monitor on his shoulder to watch as the doodles materialized in their vision.

Man, he was getting really good. Significantly better than that fateful night he first picked up the pen, comically small in his massive claws. It fit damn near perfectly in his grasp, now.

It took about 5 minutes of quiet doodling before they slowly realized the horrible spiral they were losing themself down had almost completely vanished. A new wave of emotion flooded them, something difficult to identify, but they let it take them deeper into contentedness. They wondered if ‘love’ was the word for it, based on the descriptions they had seen. An intriguing thought that had them immensely embarrassed, so they left it immediately.

A hoarse voice suddenly broke the silence, taking Painter off guard. They perked up at the sound, anxiously clinging to his every word.

“You know, originally I, uh. Had my doubts about taking you with me. Back at the site.”

Oh, shit. Painter ‘held their breath’, so to speak. The conversation was unavoidable, though they kind of hoped that it could be saved for a later date.

They took a moment to steel themself, fans whirring in place of a deep breath.

“...I always had my suspicions. I was kind of, er…neurotic.” They fiddled nervously at their segmented joints, guilt scribbled across their screen. “You didn’t have any reason to. It wasn’t my intention to back you into that corner, I'm sorry.”

“You say that as if I wasn't the one who promised it,” Sebastian huffed out a laugh that was more expelled air than anything. “Regardless, we both were. But you can’t really blame us, can you. Anyone would go batshit insane down there..and fuck, man, we kinda did.”

They smiled sadly. “Yeah. Yeah, we did.”

“No therapist on this world is ready for this baggage.”

“If anything that is more reason to find one, Seb.”

He feigned an anguished groan, which earned him a playful jab in the ribs. They fell back into comfortable silence. Painter watched as Sebastian moved on to shading.

“But you know something? There wasn’t a doubt left in my mind by the time I saw an opportunity. We were getting out of that shithole together, whether they liked it or not. Leaving you wasn’t an option. As uh, cliché as that sounds. You were too important to me then.”

At that, Painter sat up and looked at the man, who was clearly fighting to keep his eyes locked onto the tablet. That same feeling they had squashed earlier began to bubble back up, lodging itself in the core of their chestplate.

“So you…ah fuckit…what I’m trying to say is, I don’t regret it. I like having you around, and I don't give a shit what those douchebags have to say. I'll deal with them personally when my body stops freaking out, just don’t go wasting your time up here stressing balls wondering if I’m secretly hating going back for you. Enjoy yourself, paint some landscapes or something. You’re free.”

Another bout of silence. As much as he fought it, Sebastian finally relented and snatched a look at his counterpart. They had pulled up a jpeg of a crudely drawn emoji violently sobbing. It took him so off guard that the cackle that came out of him actually hurt, and he gripped his middle while trying and failing to stifle it.

“Sebastian.”

“God, what do you want?”

“I feel the urge to do something…regrettable.”

He raised a dark eyebrow and set down the tablet of scribbles. “Uh. Yeah sure, go for it.”

Without much thinking put into it, Painter leaned forward and pressed their screen to his face in what could only be described as their attempted version of a kiss. It lasted a grand total of three seconds, and when the computer pulled away they were a concerning shade of crimson. They were right in the fact that they regretted it as soon as they indulged the impulse, and in hindsight they didn’t know what they were expecting to happen. They had to try it, just to see. Sebastian just stared.

“....Yeah, that was fucking awful. Don’t ever do that again.”

“I’M SORRY, forgive me, that was so stupid, you’re totally justified in your actions if you do decide to send me back for disassembly.”

“Would you shut up, I’m trying to color.”

“Yeahyeah, absolutely. It’d be better for both of us if you forgot about it.”

(and then something gay transpired. I can't do endings.)

#no beta we die like men #NERVOUSS AAH.#whatever. go my fic #how to tag this uhh #pressure surface au #pressure au #roblox pressure #pressure roblox #sebpainter #sebastian x painter #pressure fanfic #spicy art #i dont have a writing tag ermm that will have to work #sebastian solace #the p.ai.nter

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