#i was extremely vague when they continued asking questions

[dixons-sunshine]

Have some family staying over for a while and accidentally let it slip that I write in my free time. Let me tell you, I've never felt more awkward in my life than having to think of a good enough lie as to what I write than just straight up say I write fanfiction. Ain't no way I'm gonna let them know about that. It's just too weird. I would never be able to look them in the eyes again. I'd have to move out of the country. Thank god they believed my little lie 🙂

[marinecorvid]

blorbos from my brain

[nevereclipse]

father figure

Pairing: Platonic!Tim Bradford x femme!rookie!reader

Requested Y/N: no this came from my own brain !!

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: Use of y/n, yelling (standard TO Bradford style), domestic violence from a police perspective, light verbal sexual harrassment, mentioned vomitting, mentioned anxiety/nervousness, panic attacks, referenced/discussed past child abuse (emotional, with vague mentions of physical). Tim being a big ole softie (eventually).

Words: 5k+

Summary: How you went from being Tim Bradfords boot, to his unofficial kid.

this one got away from me a lot and has not been proofread!😭 enjoy! feedback is fuel.

----

“Officer Y/l/n, you’re assigned to Sergeant Bradford.” Sergeant Grey was standing at the front of roll call, having just asked you to introduce yourself to your new coworkers. It was your first day as a rookie at Mid-Wilshire, and your stomach was alive with nerves.

“Yes, sir.” You responded, sitting back in your chair.

“Alright everyone, you’re dismissed,” Grey continued, “Stay safe out there.”

Immediately, Sergeant Bradford was out of his seat and walking towards you, his face stony. You’d been warned about him by a… Officer Chen? You couldn’t really remember her name. Still, she’d warned you about his ‘Tim Tests’ and gruff demeanour. It wasn’t helping your nerves.

“Boot! Let’s go.” Bradford snapped, gesturing you over with a flick of two fingers. You smoothed your uniform and walked over. You forced a smile onto your face, wanting to make a good impression.

“Sir, I’m-,” you started.

“Save it, boot.” Sergeant Bradford cut you off. “You will address me as only Bradford, Sergeant Bradford or Sir. Is that understood?”

You nodded, the nerves settling comfortably in your stomach. Bradford was clearly not planning to calm your worries. “Yes, sir.”

“Good. Go grab the warbags and meet me at the shop.” Bradford nodded his head vaguely in the direction of the supply room, and you hurried off to prepare the war bags. The last thing you needed was to make a bad impression on someone who was already making you nervous.

---

Tim watched you hurriedly walk to the war room to set up. As he watched you go, Angela Lopez approached.

“So, what do you think of the new blood?” Lopez asked, gesturing (albeit unnecessarily) behind you.

“Too soon to say.” Tim replied, crossing his arms as he turned to Angela.

“Come on, Bradford, you always know right away.” Angela pushed, nudging Tim’s side.

Tim couldn’t deny that. He had a knack for knowing whether someone would be a good fit for policework – it was why he was an excellent TO.

Still, he paused, considering. “She’s… eager.” He hedged. It was true, to a degree. You did seem eager. But he could tell there was something more bubbling under the surface.

“Uh huh.” Lopez grinned, “Don’t be a total dick today, yeah?”

Tim glanced over his shoulder just as you walked out of the storeroom carrying the war bags. “No promises.”

---

Office Chen had been right. Sergeant Bradford was extremely intimidating. You’d graduated third at the Academy, and you knew you were good (well, competent at least), but some part of you was still constantly second guessing. Maybe it was Bradford’s height and build, or his permanently pissed off energy but an hour into your shift and you were scared. Not of him (not really), but of what’d happen when you inevitably screwed up. You’d tried to chat initially, but it hadn’t gone down well.

“So. Why do you want to be a cop?” Bradford asked as he pulled off West Olympic.

After an hour of near-silence, since Bradford had firmly proclaimed that the shop was a personal-life-free zone, the question surprised you. “Is that a trick question?”

“No. If I’m going to train you, I need to know why you’re in this car.” Bradford didn’t even look at you as he drove, instead scanning the streets around you.

You looked out your window for a moment. It wasn’t exactly an easy question to answer. Not without revealing way more about yourself then you wanted to on your first shift. Then you wanted too ever, really.  “Um.” You swallowed. “I know it’s… basic, but I want to help people.” You hedged. “People who don’t have anyone else to-.”

The shop screeched to a halt, and you were suddenly cut off by Bradford yelling: “I’VE BEEN SHOT! WHERE ARE YOU, BOOT?”

Fuck. Fuckfuckfuckfuck- you didn’t know. “Um…” You looked around, trying desperately to find a street sign, or some clue as to where you were. After a few more seconds, you heard Bradford scoff.

“Now I’m dead. It’s your fault.” He didn’t even look mad. Just completed blank. That was almost more nerve racking.

“I-I’m sorry, sir,” You started, hating the way your voice shook.

“Not good enough, Boot!” Tim’s voice was loud and sharp, cutting through the silence of the shop. “Apologies don’t save lives, rookie. Get out.”

Your stomach dropped. “What?”

“I said get out and walk, boot. You can get back in when you know where you are.”

In that moment, you knew you’d ruined it. This had been your chance to be a cop, and less than two hours in, you’d already fucked it up. You got out of the shop, walking along side it. Hoping Bradford didn’t notice how your legs had shaken as you left. You wouldn’t let yourself be upset by this. Bradford was just doing his job, you were perfectly safe. From him, anyway.

Still, when you finally got back in the shop, you didn’t talk again. All your focus went towards scanning your surroundings.

---

Your legs had shaken when you got out of the car. It was subtle, but Tim had noticed it. Unbidden, a touch of guilt settled in his stomach. He honestly hadn’t meant to frighten you. It was just a Tim Test – he didn’t need (nor want) you to be scared. It was hardly conducive to training a good rookie.

What bothered him most, though, is your complete silence the rest of the day. You’d been annoying chatty the first twenty odd minutes of your shift (until Tim had, in traditional Bradford fashion, banned any sort of personal talk), but since getting back in the car, you’d stuck strictly to ‘yes, sir’s and ‘no, sir’s. It had been… unnerving.

Tim didn’t like changing his training style. After all, after half a dozen rookies, he liked to think that he’d perfected his TO methods. Everyone knew that he was an exceptional training officer. The only people he ever made exceptions for were veterans like him. But the thought of scaring you every time he yelled made his stomach drop in an unpleasant way. You’d been so eager when you’d first gotten in the shop – nervous, sure, but eager. And you were so, so young. You reminded him of himself in a way.

In the way you’d immediately changed he’d yelled, which even Tim could admit would’ve been… slightly scary. And that change had implications, ones Tim didn’t like. He especially didn’t like the implication of what that made him to you. A threat. So he’d never mention it, but he did quietly resolve to adjust – adjust, not change – the way he made sure you learnt what you needed too.

---

A few weeks into your training and Sergeant Bradford had significantly lowered on your rating of ‘scary people I know.’ While he was still harsh, and quick to criticise, he’d never shown you that cold, disappointment-infused yelling that he had on your first shift. It’d made it a lot easier for you to get comfortable around him, and you’d almost immediately started breaking the ‘no personal talk in the shop’ rule.

“Anyway, then she said that I was the one who needed to check my attitude. I mean can you believe that? Me? Having an attitude?” You said, watching your surroundings (you hadn’t forgotten your first Tim Test) as you rambled about some woman you’d run into grocery shopping.

At your comment, Bradford simply side-eyed you. He did that a lot, you were realising.

“Rude. That’s rude.” You said in response to the side eye. “It gets worse, though. She had the audacity-.”

Bradford held up a hand, cutting you off. “Boot.”

You turned, “Yes, sir?”

“Stop. Talking.”

You shut your mouth, but that was mostly to hold back a slight laugh. Bradfords hands were wrapped around the steering wheel, but they weren’t white like they were when you really needed to shut up. (You’d always been observant.)

“But this is the best part of the story.” You pressed.

“Boot, I swear to god-.” Before Bradford could issue whatever threat, he planned too, someone’s voice crackled over the radio.

“7-Adam-100, we have a domestic call at 4195 Clover Drive. Neighbours reported shouting.”

Tim’s face hardened. He glanced briefly at you, and you knew, even without a mirror, that your face had paled a shade. You’d been lucky so far to not have to deal with any DV calls. Guess that luck was over.

“7-Adam-100, show us responding, Code 6.”

Tim floored the breaks a little harder than he objectively needed too.

You could hear the yelling as soon as you pulled into Clover Drive. It was distinctly male, the words harsh and clear, and coming from a house halfway down the street.

It was an effort to clear your head.

“What’s the procedure for a domestic call, boot?” Asked Bradford as you switched off your sirens and approached the house.

You swallowed, “Um.  Get inside the house to assess any damage. Separate the assumed predominant aggressor from the presumed victim or any children if possible. If there doesn’t appear to be violence, there isn’t much we can do, though.”

Bradford nodded tightly. “Good. I’ll take lead on this one.”

“Yes, sir.”

 You knocked on the front door as Bradford called out, alerting the occupants to the polices presence. The yelling stopped immediately.

“Is there a problem, Officer?” Asked a man, probably in his forties. You and Bradford pushed your way into the house as you spoke with him. There was water spilt across the countertop, and a girl in her early teens standing in the kitchen. Her face was tear-streaked, but she appeared unharmed.

“We got reports of yelling from this area, sir.” Came Bradford’s voice from behind you. Your head was starting to spin as memories flooded back to you: late nights, angry words, the occasional smashed plate. Or worse.

You didn’t hear what the man (you assumed he was the girl father) said in response. The teen was watching you and Tim with wide eyes, shaking her head. She rubbed her wrist absentmindedly, and if you weren’t so stuck in your own head, you would’ve thought to ask to see if she was injured. You turned to her father and vaguely registered that he was wearing a wife beater under his button up. Ironic.

“Let’s go, boot.” Bradford snapped, beckoning you over. His jaw was set, and he obviously didn’t believe whatever the man had said. Your head felt like it was underwater as you walked out of the house, and your stomach turned. Memories flooded your head.

Bradford was grumbling under his breath, something about hating the laws around DV in California, when he noticed you stumble towards the bushes outlining the road.

“You good, boot?” He asked, frowning something.

You nodded frantically, “Mmhm… fine, si-.” The ‘sir’ was cut off by the sound of you throwing up in the bushes. You hadn’t eaten since breakfast, so nothing really came out, but still you dry heaved, clutching your stomach.

“Shit, Y/l/n, are you okay?” Instantly, Tim was at your side, one hand on your back. You nodded vaguely, gesturing for a drink of water. He almost ran to get it. When you could finally breathe, and had swallowed nearly half a litre of water, he asked,

“Jesus, boot, what the hell was that?”

“I’m fine.” You insisted, not wanting to get into some conversation about your past: Bradford wasn’t the understanding type. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Like hell it’s not.” Bradford snapped, guiding you back to the shop. His words were harsh, but his touch gentle. A strange combination, but one that left you feeling comforted. “Listen, boot, if you’ve got something that’s going to make you react to scenes like that, I need to know. Now.”

You shook your head frantically, refusing to open up. As much as you were starting to trust Bradford, you weren’t ready to give him that information. Not when he was the age he was, the build he was, holding so much authority over you

“It’s fine, sir. I swear. It won’t happen again.” You repeated, and you meant it. It wouldn’t happen again.

Tim surveyed you for a moment, watching the guarded expression in your eyes. It was one he recognised, having seen it in his reflection countless times after teachers asked about a suspicious bruise. It was for that reason he relented, though he fully intended to bring it up again. “Fine. But if have something you need to tell me… you can, kid.”

“Yes, sir.”

---

More time passed, and even though you still refused to open about your childhood to Tim (how do you even have that conversation?), you were starting to rely on him.

It was inevitable, you supposed. Unrequited, but inevitable. After all, he was in his mid-forties, an authority figure, admittedly a bit of a dick, but you were gradually (ever so gradually) starting to see a slightly gentler side of him. So of course you looked up to him. You had daddy issues, okay?

It wasn’t a crush. You knew that for sure. You’d half expected it to be, but it wasn’t. Instead, it was a healthy dose of admiration, paired with a slightly-less-healthy dose of please god be proud of me. But that was fine. It was entirely reasonable given he was your TO. You hoped.

---

“You’re under arrest for attempted grand theft auto and possession of illicit substances,” you said, hooking handcuffs around some criminal’s wrists. He’d been a pain in the ass to catch, and you could already feel a bruise blooming across your jaw from his escape attempts. Bradford had, predictably, been unhelpful in the arrest, instead opting to analyse your fighting technique as you’d taken the crook down. He’d even cracked a rare ‘good job’ smile as you’d put the cuffs on.

You pushed the perp against your shop, already halfway through the Miranda Rights: “You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you. Do you understand these rights?”

The thief mumbled slightly, and you nodded to Tim to take him off your hands. The second your hands were off him, however, he started complaining. Loudly.

“Aw, come on man. If you’re gonna arrest me, at least let the lady cop throw me ‘round.” He said, looking over his shoulder to grin at you. You scrunched your nose. It wasn’t the first time a suspect had hit on you, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last.

“Nothin’? Dude, you gotta… I ain’t going to jail without gettin’ to feel some sweet lady cop ti-! Ow! The hell was that for?”

Tim scowled, hitting the suspect over the back of the head a second time for good measure (or something). “Get your eyes off Officer Y/l/n. You’re not fit to look at her.” He shoved the perp into your shop, rougher than was strictly necessary, and you couldn’t help the slight smile that crept onto your face.

“Really?” You asked, slipping into the shop’s passenger seat.

“What? You got a problem, boot?” Tim said, his voice flat. You just chuckled and shook your head.

“No problem, sir.”  

---

The silence in the shop was unbearable. It was almost lunch, and you’d scarcely said a word all day. You were preoccupied replaying your conversation with your parents from the night before over and over in your head, trying to figure out how them coming over for dinner had dissolved into fighting so quickly.

“You good, boot?” Tim asked after a particularly long stretch of quiet. “Usually I can’t get you to shut up, but you’ve barely said a word today.”

You nodded quickly, forcing yourself to focus. “I’m fine, sir. Sorry. Just tired. Besides, not personal talk in the shop, right?”

“When have you ever followed that rule? You sure you’re good, boot? Because if something’s going on that’ll affect your performance, I need to know.”

“Nothing’s going on. Sir.” You knew the words sounded thin, but what were you going to do? Complain about your parents?

Tim glanced at you out of the corner of his eye. “Uh-huh. In that case, what colour was the Lexus we just passed?”

Shit. You hadn’t been paying attention to your surroundings, too lost in your own thoughts. “Uh… silver?”

Another side eye, this one harsher than the last. “There was no Lexus. It was a Camry. And for the record, boot, it was blue.”

“I…” You didn’t really have a defence.

“Seriously, kid. What is going on?”

“Nothing.” You said, and you had to admit, you sounded like a kid. “I just. Had my parents over last night, and it didn’t… go great.”

Instantly, Tim was on edge. He wasn’t proud of the reaction, of the way his stomach instinctively dropped. He knew, he knew, that his version of ‘it didn’t go great’ with family wasn’t the same as most people’s. But this was you. You who’d thrown up at your first DV call, even without any violence. You who’d completely shut down after being yelled at.

Which is why he couldn’t help the immediate questions if: “Are you hurt?”

You tensed. Why would he ask that? “No,” you replied, “I’m not hurt.” It was true, technically. You hadn’t been hit since you were fifteen. And even then, it’d been rare.

Tim’s eyes flicked over you, trying to find a lie. “What happened?” He asked, and his voice had a weird gentleness that made you feel... strange.

You swallowed. Shrugged. “My parents came over for dinner. I did something, I don’t really know what, ‘n pissed my father off.” Your explanation was purposeful vague, but you could help but add: “He broke my favourite mug, which really pissed me off. It’s my apartment, you know? He’s not supposed to be able to break my shit anymore.” A long pause, your father’s furious insults running through your head. “He didn’t like it when I told him that.”

Tim nodded slightly, knowing exactly what you were suggesting. “He insult you?”

“Nothing I haven’t heard before.” Despite your cool delivery, the words stung. You looked away, out the window, feeling tears prick at your eyes. You didn’t like talking about this, especially not with Tim. Just because you viewed him as... something, didn’t mean he thought of you ask anything more than a rookie he had to train. A burden.

“I’m sorry, kid.” Tim said, assessing you carefully. “I know what that feels like.”

“You do?” You looked at Tim, curious, and instantly regretted it. The tears welling in your eyes were all too obvious now.

“Yeah. My dad was like that too. I got slapped around my fair share.” Tim’s words were clipped. He clearly also wasn’t fond of talking about his childhood.

“Oh.” What else could you say?

“Listen, boot. I know it’s rough. And you don’t deserve it. But you’re not whatever he says you are, okay?”

You sniffled, hastily wiping your eyes. “Yeah. I know.”

Tim nodded tersely. “Good.” There was a small moment, where Tim placed a hand on your shoulder, and you felt like things might actually be okay. Like you might actually have someone. Then, “Come on, boot. We’ve got six hours of shift left. You gonna focus now?”

---

Tim kept an eye on you the rest of the day. He’d known there was a bit of him in you, but the parallels between your childhoods made his heart crack.

He could see the countless untold stories behind your eyes, ones he’d undoubtedly heard before. And the way you’d tensed when he asked if you were hurt... you hadn’t been hit last night, but you had been before.

He really had tried to not get attached.

And look. He knew you looked up to him. He’d seen the way you preened at praise, the shaky look over to him after making a decision, waiting for his nod of approval, regardless of how confident you were in the decision. He’d tried not to encourage it – limiting praise, refusing to approve your decisions unless you did first. It wasn’t good for a rookie to get that attached to their TO, not when they were only partners for a year. It was especially not good for them to view them as some sort of parental figure. More importantly, Tim Bradford didn’t get attached to his boots.

But goddammit it. The look in your eyes when he’d told you about his dad? It made him abandon all the principles he thought he held so strongly. He’d always wanted a kid, after all.

---

“Does anyone know what day it is today?” Sergeant Grey asked from the front of the roll call room.

You groaned internally. Of course he had to announce it to the whole it room.

A few rows behind you, Officer Chen perked up, grinning, you were sure, at Bradford.

“The day Officer Y/l/n takes her six month exam.” She said.

Cheers and whistles filled the room and you almost buried your head in your hands.

“Boot!” Tim called out. You turned to look at him. “I’ll take it as a personal insult if you don’t get more than a 93 on this exam.”

Great. Like you weren’t stressed enough about the exam already. “Yes, sir.”

As Grey tried to calm the room down, you swallowed, focusing on calming your breathing. You knew what you were doing. You just had to not disappoint Tim. Not forget everything. Not be a total fucking failure.

No pressure, right?

---

Three days later, and you were back in roll call. Grey had written three numbers on the white board. An 84. A 91. And a 95. Your stomach dropped at the sight of the 91 and the 84. Of course you’d failed. Of course. Why hadn’t you worked harder? You’d been a straight A student in high school, and university, why was this different?

“Can anyone guess which of these belongs to Officer Y/l/n?” Grey asked the room. Various answers were shouted out, most leaning towards the 95, until Grey cut them off and said: “The 91. Good work, Officer.”

You could only nod, your head already pounding. You’d failed. Not really, not truly, but enough. And Tim. What would he do?

You didn’t notice everyone leave the room. Didn’t notice Tim approach you, not until he was practically having to shout in your face.

“Boot? Boot! Y/l/n!” The sound of your name, paired with Tim waving a hand in your face, snapped you back to reality.

“Yes, sir?” Your voice had an almost unnoticeable tension to it. A shake. Please, please don’t be mad.

“Let’s go, boot. Why aren’t you getting the war bags?” Tim asked, completely ignoring your test results.

Completely ignoring your test results? What? Why wasn’t he yelling, reaming you out for disappointing him? He’d been very clear with his expectations and he’d never been one to let you down gently if you did something wrong.

“Sir?” You asked, confused.

“What is it, boot?” Tim asked, exasperated. You should’ve been on the road by now. Wait, where you okay...? Your eyes were wide. Almost afraid.

“Why aren’t you mad?”

“What? Why would I be mad-..? Oh.” Tim looked down at you, his face softening as he recalled what he’d said before your test. What you’d told him about your past. “About your test? No, kid, I’m not mad. I was screwing with you when I said you needed to get a 93. A 91 is an excellent result, boot “

“Oh.” You said quietly, looking away sheepishly. Of course he wasn’t mad. This was Tim.

Tim looked at you like you were an idiot, but somehow, you didn’t feel stupid or insulted. “Yeah, oh. You’re not a disappointment, kid. Not to me. Now hurry up and get the war bags sorted.” Tim clapped you on the shoulder as he sent you on your way, and you couldn’t help but think that this was what a father was supposed to be like.

---

“Red or black?” You asked Tim during one shift a month or so later. It was a random question, but you wanted his opinion.

Tim glanced at you. “As concepts, or…?”

“As dress colours.” You elaborated, before hesitantly adding, “I have a date.”

The shop skidded to a stop. “Woah, woah. You have a date? When? With who?” Tim was turning instantly, all his attention on you.

You bit back a laugh. “Tonight. With a boy. Jacob. And I don’t know what to wear.”

Tim frowned. “Where did you meet this ‘Jacob?’” He couldn’t help the protective instinct. The last time one of his rookies went on a date, she got kidnapped. And you weren’t Lucy (he wasn’t in love with you) but he did… care.

“At a bookshop. Calm your farm, Bradford. It’s one date. You really pulling the protective dad card right now?” You smirked, watching the slight red colour Tim’s face.

“I- no. I’m not pulling a card, boot. I’m just… curious.” Tim spluttered, not wanting to admit that he was definitely acting like a protective dad.

“Uh huh. He’s a good guy, Sarge. He’s funny, and sweet, and I actually like him.” You said, as if the concept of actually liking a guy was foreign. It had admittedly been a while since you went on a date. “So, red or black?” You repeated, crossing your arms. Your cheeks were the tiniest bit pink.

Tim glared from the corner of his eye. “Black.”

“Thank you.”

In signature Bradford fashion, Tim huffed and simply said, “For the record, I still don’t like this whole ‘date’ thing, boot.”

---

The date was a success. So much of a success, in fact, that three dates later, Jacob came to pick you up after work the next day. It was adorable, and he showed up with fresh flowers and a planned date, and it would’ve been perfect, if you hadn’t been leaving the station with Officer Bradford.

The same Bradford who’d been demanding more information about “this Jacob person” ever since you’d first mentioned a date.

So, while you were excited about the date, you weren’t thrilled at seeing Jacob stand in front of you, levelled by one of Tim’s many practiced glares.

“Who are you?” Tim asked, crossing his arms. He knew exactly who he was.

“I’m Jacob…?” Your boyfriend said hesitantly, trying to figure out why the man in front of him was staring at him so intimidatingly.

You winced and jumped in quickly. “Jake, this is Tim. My TO?”

Recognition clicked quickly in Jacob’s eyes.  He instantly stuck out a hand to Tim, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Uh huh.” Tim raked his eyes over Jacobs outstretched hand, but didn’t shake it. “You got a last name, Jacob?”

“Anderson.” Jacob supplied immediately, lips twitching faintly in amusement.

“What do you do, Anderson? If you say screenwriter, you’re going in a cell.”

Jacob chuckled. “I’m a teacher, sir.” Tim didn’t look impressed, but he didn’t look totally disgusted either. Which, to you, was a win.

“Is this the part where you tell me not to hurt Y/n?” Jacob asked with a barely contained grin.

Tim glowered. “Yes. In fact, consider this your one and only warning. Hurt her, and I’ll find a way to make you spend the rest of your life in a cell.” Tim crossed his arms over his chest, and God you were glad he’d never given you that look before.

Pitying your partner, you jumped in and placed yourself between the two most important men in your life. “Oookay, Bradford, chill. We’re going to go now. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay, sir?”

“Uh-huh. See you tomorrow, Boot.” Tim’s words came out tense, and he didn’t take his eyes off you until you were well out of the carpark.

---

The day had arrived. You’d officially been a police officer for an entire year. You weren’t a rookie anymore.

It was everything you’d dreamed of it being.

“Finally, congratulations to Officer Y/l/n for completing the FTO program and surviving her rookie year. Welcome, officially, to the team, Y/l/n.” Grey walked over to you, shaking your hand proudly. “Good work, kid.”

“Thank you, sir.” You beamed, returning the handshake. Grey dismissed the rest of roll call, and you walked out of the room. You could barely make it a few steps without someone grabbing you, hugging you or congratulating you in some way. You’d never been happier.

You reached the edge of the room and were met with Sergeant Bradford, a rare smile on his face.

“Congratulations, Y/l/n.” He said, reaching out a hand.

“Don’t even try.” You said, knocking his hand out of the way and pulling him into a hug. It was unprofessional, you knew, but you couldn’t help it. Aside from your boyfriend, Tim had managed to become one of the most important people in your life over the past year.

Tim froze for a moment, but gently returned the hug, patting your back a couple times. You thought you heard Harper snicker from across the room. You definitely heard Lucy say the word ‘Dadford.’ She wasn’t… entirely wrong. You had found a father in Tim. Maybe one day he’d even admit it – in actual words, not just actions. You still laughed every time you thought about his interrogation of Jacob when they’d first met.

You pulled back and only then did you shake Tim’s hand. “Thank you, sir. For everything.”

Tim nodded, the smile lines by his eyes crinkling. “You’re welcome… Y/n. I’m proud of you, kid.”

You smiled softly and forced yourself to only say, “Have a good shift… Tim,” before hurrying away. But as you got into your shop (your shop, for the first time), you didn’t stop a few happy tears from falling.

---

You were nervous. It was your second time riding with Tim since graduating the FTO program and you were nervous. It had nothing to do with riding with Tim, however, and everything to do with what you were going to ask him.

“Tim?” You asked, hesitant.

“Yeah, Y/l/n?”

“I have to tell you something.” You fiddled with your left hand nervously, already missing the weight on your finger.

Instantly, Tim was softening and frowning, “Are you okay, kid?”

“Yes! Yeah, I’m okay.” This time you actually meant it. “I have news, though.”

“Oh?” Tim turned to you for a second, before looking back at the road. “What is it?”

You swallowed, and then, “Jacob asked me to marry him. I said yes.”  

Tim had finally come around to Jacob a few months ago. Little did you know, but Jacob had actually asked Tim’s permission before proposing. You’d told him once about how you wished you had a father that you still spoke to, just for that reason. Jacob had known Tim was the next best thing.

Tim smiled widely, “Congratulations, Y/n. I’ll be expecting an invite to the wedding.”

“Actually, I wanted to ask you about that.” This was where the nervousness was coming in. You were pretty sure the butterflies in your stomach had reached your lungs too.

“What is it?” Tim tilted his head slightly.

“Will you walk me down the aisle?” Tim froze, shocked. You quickly rambled on, as you so often did when nervous, “You don’t have to, I just-.. I don’t talk to my bio dad, and you’re the closest thing I have to a father, and it would mean a lot to me, and-.”

“Relax, Y/l/n,” Tim cut you off with a smile. “I would be honoured to walk you down the aisle.”

The smile on your face then was the third biggest you’d ever smiled. The first had been when you’d graduated the FTO program, and the second when Jacob had proposed. But this… this was an entirely different feeling. This was the feeling of your whole life, finally working out. You had a career, a fiancé, and now, a father. A real one, who never insulted you or made you feel worthless.

What more could you ask for?

fin

!! DO NOT REPUBLISH OR FEED TO AI !!

[makismei]

❝ ALL YOU EVER WANTED FROM ME WAS SWEET NOTHING!

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ geto x f!reader

cw: fwb to lovers, college!au suggestive content, modern! au, fluff, minor angst, MEN YEARNING, failing out of college, reader needs academic validation to live apparently

synopsis: he’ll love you, just as you are— even if you’re too soft for the world, he’ll gladly be your shield

suguru’s in love with you. it’s no secret.

as you lay on his chest, sweat slicked skin on skin, suguru wishes this pre arranged arrangement was more— he wishes you’d let him in, so he could love you more.

he tries, really. he wants to know you. anything about you.

at this point, he knows your body like the back of his hand. but your favourite colour? no idea. he would guess pink, but that’s only because you own a lot of pink tops.

you like sweets. recently, you’ve garnered a fascination for mochi donuts.

but all this information has come from his observant nature— you’ve never opened up to him, except for that one time, when you cried in his arms, seeking connection, another person’s warmth.

that was also the day you became friends with benefits.

whenever he tries to conduct a mini interview on you, you shut him out, telling him he doesn’t need to know those things.

he knows that you know he loves you.

he’s said it one too many times, when he’s most vulnerable, buried in you. but not once has he heard it back.

but it’s okay. he has a feeling that you’re starting to fall in love with him too.

you’ve started telling him about your day, as well as extremely vague plans for the next. suguru know he’s grasping at air, but he swears he can feel it in his hands.

“can we try?” he whispers, uncertain. to tell you the truth— suguru, as suave and handsome and perfect as he is, isn’t immune to insecurity. girls throw themselves at his feet, but he couldn’t care less because they’re not you.

you sit up. your warmth leaving him shatters his heart.

his room, air humid with sweat and sex, suddenly feels icy. but he gazes longingly at your back, at the scars on your elbows that probably have stories behind them— stories he craves so desperately to know.

“what’s so bad about it?” he continues, “is it me?”

“don’t ask stupid questions,” you retort. but he hears a shaky breath leave your lips, quiet cries filling the room.

he sits up, hand on your back. “look at me.”

he’s got you.

you shake your head, mindlessly bringing a finger to your lips, picking at the dead skin— a nervous tick.

“don’t do that,” suguru says, fingers cupping your jaw, gently turning your head so he can see your face. his thumb runs along your poor bottom lip, catching blood on his finger.

“i get overwhelmed easily,” you mutter, eyes glancing down in shame, “i shut people out when i feel too vulnerable and i’m mean.”

he huffs a laugh, thumb brushing against your cheekbone. “you’re protecting yourself and that’s okay.”

“i’m a shut-in, i don’t like leaving the house and i’m not romantic at all.” you continue and he nods, gaze never faltering.

“you like shoujo anime. especially the episodes with trips or big events.” he whispers, watching you pout. how cute, he thinks, like a petulant child who just wants to be noticed.

a tear streams down your cheek, wetting his thumb as he tries to wipe them away, but it’s like rainfall, so he lets you feel it out.

“i failed out of college,” you voice breaks, “the only thing i was supposed to be good at.”

you’re sobbing, head down in shame and suguru just pulls you into his arms. he rubs a hand soothingly up and down your back, heart absolutely shattering at the sounds of your cries.

“your failures don’t define you,” he mutters, “you’re still smart, capable and hard working. that doesn’t change.”

you pull away, staring him in the face and suguru thinks you’re so beautiful, so vulnerable in a way he hasn’t seen before.

“how do you know?” you sniffle, “you don’t know anything about me.”

he smiles, nodding. suguru wipes your tears, “i wonder why.”

you click your tongue, mustering a glare that holds absolutely no malice. he breathes a quiet laugh, “you’d bend over backwards for your so-called friends, even though none of them realize what you’re going through right now.”

“i don’t want them to know.” you refute.

“i bet you didn’t want me to know either,” he chastises, but it’s soft and his hands are so warm. “but i know now, because you’re important to me. i don’t want you to go through it all alone.”

you’re still glaring, but the crease between your brows have softened. “do you have a saviour complex?”

he shakes his head, “just a thing for damsels in distress, i guess.”

you pinch his arm. he takes your hand and it brings it to his lips. you feel warmth flood your body, but you don’t know if you deserve it.

“what if this ends up being the worst decision you’ll ever make?” you whisper and it’s the first time he’s heard you sound so insecure.

suguru cups your face in his hands, long black hair framing his face. his hair is so long that it tickles your skin, what would your parents say, when you bring home a guy with hair this long?

you can’t find it in you to care, because you know this guy loves you wholeheartedly. you don’t even know what you did to deserve it.

“it won’t be.” and it’s resolute, “haven’t i told you enough? that i love you?”

you nod slowly, tears finally drying.

he leans in, lips brushing against yours. “i’ll put in the work to make you believe me, to trust me.”

you laugh, “you don’t know what you’re getting yourself into.”

you realize here and now, that out of everyone in your life so far, suguru is the only one who doesn’t ask anything of you. he just loves you and it feels unbelievable.

suguru laughs, his forehead touching yours. “i should be telling you that.”

manga panel from my love story with yamada-kun at lv999 ^.^

[nachobsns]

Hello - I was impressed and extremely relieved by what you wrote in the post about the cult mentality of the Left RE Israel and accusations of genocide. You mentioned that you bought into the mindset until recently. If it's all right for me to ask, what was it that helped you break out of it? (Please feel free to delete/ignore if you'd rather not answer!)

thank you!! and no worries about asking— i think i put something in my pinned post about how people are welcome to send asks about this stuff, although my story isn’t super interesting. i fell down the typical online rabbithole, a couple weeks after october 7; i knew what had happened, at least vaguely, but the posts trickling onto my dash were all about the (undeniably tragic) loss of life in gaza, with little to no acknowledgment of the hamas atrocities that had started the war, so my narrative was pretty one-sided from the beginning. it just continued to snowball as the months went on and people became more radicalized, calling into question the reality of the 10/7 attacks and the humanity of all israelis. i never went all the way down the pipeline to full-on endorsing hamas or justifying their attacks, at least on a personal level, thank god, but i would reblog other people’s posts referring to hamas as a “resistance movement” and calls to boycott starbucks and mcdonald’s and condemnation of the “zionist media” etc etc etc. what pulled me out of it wasn’t any one thing— if someone had directly called me on my flawed logic and antisemitic biases while i was in this mindset, i doubt it would have done much, just reinforced my belief that i was on the “right side of history” and zionists were aggressors who couldn’t be reasoned with. it was mostly just passive observance and a slow exposure to other perspectives. i’m pretty sure the first post that led me to question my thinking was an ask on jewish-vents, which popped up on my dash in like, late july. this led me down another rabbithole, first scouring every single post on jewish-vents, then moving on to more popular jewish blogs that i had seen on “zionist blocklists” (applesauce42069, xclowniex, and spacelazarwolf were probably some of the blogs that influenced me the most, though i told myself i was just hate-scrolling at first, lol). i felt incredibly guilty seeing all the harm the movement i was a part of had caused to random jews and israelis just trying to live their lives and i realized how it went against everything i believed about how minority groups should be treated. from there, the aspect of actually undoing my thinking and changing my behavior for the better still took several weeks. denial of jewish indigenity to the levant in the face of tantamount archeological and cultural evidence was the first to go, as well as any ambiguity in my feelings about hamas. after that, it’s mostly been a slow process of redefining the idf’s actions from a “genocide” to a “war.” i still believe that what’s happening in gaza is unconscionable and horrific, and that too many innocent civilians have died, but i also understand how difficult it is to fight against a terrorist group that systematically embeds itself in civilian populations, and that the ratio of militant to civilian deaths is incredibly low compared to most urban warfare. i quietly deleted my old blog in early august— if i had directly engaged in harassment against jews, i likely would have kept it to make amends to the harmed parties and put a face to my actions, but as was, i had just contributed to the larger atmosphere of antisemitism on this site, and i felt uncomfortable knowing that i had a blog full of sentiments that no longer matched my values and beliefs. i decided i would be better if i took my endorsement out of the equation entirely, because when you’re looking through the notes of a post, it obviously doesn’t matter if someone who’s reblogged it no longer agrees with what was said— their notes still count as tacit approval, and i did not want approval of this “activism” attached to my online presence. i still have unwanted kneejerk reactions that crop up sometimes, particularly around the fundraiser posts from people “in gaza”; even though i know logically that they have all the markers of scams, there is still a part of me that really wants to believe i could help.

[spiderb00]

- PROVE IT

Megan Skiendiel x reader  

“Maybe all your girlfriend wanted was proof of your love.” 

Genre – smut  18+ MDNI   Warnings – Fingering and cunnilingus 

Now playing – Miss Possessive, by Tate McRae 

"Look at the floor or ceilin', Or anyone else you're feelin'. Take home whoever walks in, Just keep your eyes off him her"

The clinking of cutlery was barely heard over the lively conversations, the large table and the low lights made the restaurant seem cozy. You had your hand on your girlfriend's thigh as she chatted with one of your cast mates, and you couldn't deny that her skin made your fingertips tingle. You love getting together with the cast of Percy Jackson, but you wanted more than anything to go home with your girlfriend right now.   

Charlie's words had long since passed your deaf ears, you having long since disconnected from the conversation. Your girlfriend looked extremely beautiful tonight, she always did, but tonight, it seemed like something had happened. You didn't know if it was just the hair, recently dyed dark brown, or that brown top and short skirt, but you knew she looked radiant.   

“Dude, are you even listening to me?” Charlie asked, tapping you on the chest, snapping you out of your trance.   

You shook your head slightly, trying to keep your attention on your castmate. “Yes, I am.”  

Laughing sarcastically at you, Charlie shook his head negatively, knowing that you hadn't heard a word. “Of course you are.”  

Taking a sip of water, the curly-haired boy continued. “I bet you also paid attention to the way that waitress was looking at you...”  

“Shut up.” Tapping the boy on the shoulder, you continued talking to him and your friends, occasionally giving Megan's thigh a reassuring squeeze, just to remind her that you weren't forgetting her at all.   

When everyone said goodbye, you were happy. You appreciated the time you had with your friends, of course. But you appreciated the time you were going to spend with Megan much more.  

But the atmosphere was strange, too quiet. The drive home was filled with silence, occasionally a question from you and a vague answer from your girlfriend. You didn't understand, things had gone very well at dinner, Megan had agreed immediately when you invited her to go as your date, taking advantage and calling the Chinese girl to spend the night in your place. What had happened now?  

When you finally got home, Megan's silence was even more deafening, and you're sure you saw her snort as you took off your coat and locked the front door. Climbing the stairs your girlfriend had come up earlier, you saw the bathroom light on. Deciding to give her some space, you sat down on the bed, picked up the TV remote and turned it on, flipping through the channels until you turned it off again, concluding that maybe the universe was sending you signals to talk to your girlfriend now.   

Sighing, you got up and walked to the bathroom, only to see your girlfriend leaning against the sink. The elegant outfit from that night was quickly replaced by one of your shirts - which was too big on her body - and a pair of panties, you deduced, since the big shirt only let you catch a glimpse of her thighs, those same thighs that had warmed your fingertips all night.  

“Are you okay?” You asked, wrapping your arms around the brown-haired girl's waist.   

Megan's hands moved, quickly removing your hands from her waist, making you look shocked. “Hey! You can't take my hands off you when you look this beautiful.”  

You could see Megan's eyes rolling back in the mirror, and for a moment you wanted to get inside her head and know what had happened to that girl.  

“I bet the waitress looks pretty good too...” The girl said, turning to face you before crossing her arms, trying to look threatening.   

Your brain spun, doing somersaults inside your head, making you finally see what the whole silence game was about. Megan had always been jealous, one of the worst kinds, the jealous kind who would throw a tantrum just so you could be sure how she was feeling. Honestly, you felt a little disappointed in yourself, after two years of relationship, you should know.  

“Oh baby, I don't care about her.” You said, kissing the Chinese girl's forehead before giving her a peck on the lips. “I'm only looking at you!”  

Your girlfriend's eyebrow arched, and you sighed again. “I swear. You were so hot today, I didn't even pay attention to my conversation with Charlie because you looked stunning in that outfit...”  

Still with your arms crossed, your girlfriend passed you, walking towards your room without saying a word. Fearing for your life, you quickly followed her.   

“Come on baby, I didn't even really look at the girl.”   

Stopping abruptly, Megan turned to you, stepping forward to get closer. “ Prove it.”  

“What?” The expression of confusion taking over your face.   

“Prove that you only have eyes for me.”  

Without having to say it twice, you grabbed Megan, your arms snaking around the brunette's waist, while her hands automatically went to your hair, messing up the strands as you shared a desperate kiss.   

Kissing Megan was wonderful, one of the best things you'd ever done in your life. Her lips were soft, her tongue tasted sweet, the way she sighed during the kiss when you squeezed her waist was delirious, and the way she leaned closer and closer to your body was mesmerizing.   

Separating your mouths, Megan smiled at you walking backwards and grabbing the collar of your shirt and pulling you with her. When the back of her knees hit the bed, the Chinese girl sat down on the soft mattress, pulling your shirt down, making you kneel in front of her. The smile on Megan's face made you excited and anxious, you knew that smile very well, and you loved every detail of it.   

“Come on baby, prove it to me...” Megan's hands grabbed yours, guiding them to the fabric of your her shirt.   

You pulled the fabric of the shirt up, making the fabric bunch up on her abdomen, only to see that your guess was wrong, she wasn't wearing anything underneath.   

“Damn it, Meimei. You were planning that, weren't you?” Looking up, you saw that smile once again, thanking the heavens that you had the strength not to faint with those dimples pointing in your direction.   

Running her fingers through your hair, Megan suddenly grabbed the strands, bringing you closer to her intimacy. “Less questions and more proof, baby.”  

You didn't complain, you took everything as she had told you. Your girlfriend's taste was wonderful, and you swore you wouldn't waste a drop. Looking up, you saw the girl throw her head back, her mouth open in a silent moan of pleasure. Megan's nails scratched your scalp, but you had no objection.   

Feeling a little bolder, you grabbed the girl's thighs, steadying yourself before sliding two fingers inside her, watching her tremble at your action. “Fuck baby, you're being such a good girl to me.”   

Hearing your girlfriend's words, you moaned, sending vibrations to her pussy, making the brunette throw her head back again, throwing herself on the bed as she tightened her grip on your hair and let out a loud moan.   

“Fuck, just like that baby. I'm gonna cum!”  

Accelerating the movements of your fingers inside the girl, you sucked on her clit, watching her thighs tremble violently in your grip. Looking up, you could see the woman roll her eyes, hard enough for you to worry if they were really going to go back to where they came from.   

As her fluids began to flow, you licked it all up, loving the taste that landed on your tongue. Giving your girlfriend's clit one last kiss, you kissed your way up her thighs, to her abs, her boobs, her neck, her jaw and finally kissing her lips, making her taste herself on your tongue.   

“Do you believe me now?” You asked, just after breaking off the kiss.  

“Maybe I need one more, just to be sure.”  

Hi guys, here I am, cheering up everyone who begged me for Megan, I understand you.

Well, I've been very busy these past few months, it's now three in the morning and I can't sleep because I've had coffee and energy drinks to study for my exams. The good news is that I've already received one of my exam papers and I did well, YAY! The bad news is that it makes me a bit absent from my writing.

I'm not going to lie and say that only college is getting in the way. I'm updating the secondary blog more than this one, and the reason is that I'm simply a bit discouraged about this blog. Don't get me wrong, I'm not going to stop writing, it's just that I'm very involved with the people and characters I develop on the other blog.

But as I said, I'm not going to stop updating here, it's just that sometimes I need a break so that my passion can return. Anyway, I still have lots of ideas for this blog, especially for Fam Out. So everything will be fine.

Drink water and stay safe, as usual

xoxo, spider.

[kannady]

do you remember me too?

pairing: sylus x mc reader

synopsis: love and deepspace was a newfound obsession of yours. you installed the game shortly after sylus was released as a love interest. it'd be safe to say he was the reason you installed the app. however, finals week was approaching and you had to say goodbye to your favourite game. not for long, ofcourse. but you decide to login for the last time to check the new event.

word count: 2k

a/n: hey everyone! hope ur enjoying the story so far! my mans sylus FINALLY HERE! teheheh ull see. and i hope this chapter gives some closure abt what is going on. thats my own imagination btw, its not from the game. would love to know ur thoughts. enjoy!

check out all chapters here

Chapter Four

“Excuse me?” Your heart raced. How could she possibly know? Or did she even?

However, instead of answering you, your sister scrutinized you, her gaze sweeping up and down, as if she were trying to confirm something. When the silence grew too awkward, you repeated your question. At this, your sister hastily entered the room and closed the door behind her.

“If what I’m thinking is happening—holy shit!” she squeaked, plopping onto the bed. “Does anything seem weird to you? Or different?” How were you supposed to reply to that? Tell the truth or lie? Why was she asking that specific question?

“Umm… Is it supposed to?” Great. Stay vague.

She narrowed her eyes at you. “You know, just this morning I read an article by Professor Winster—a brilliant man, really. His research is groundbreaking…”

You rolled your eyes as she rambled, scanning the room for distraction—until a single phrase snapped your attention back.

“Soul switching.”

Your sister seemed to know exactly what nerve she’d struck, because once again, that smug expression crossed her face. The words weren’t familiar at all. You had no idea what “soul switching” meant, but for some reason, it intrigued you. You struggled to accept reality, yet you didn’t want to question anything either. Was that what had happened?

“Aha! I knew it! You—” She stood and slowly approached you. “—are someone else.” After her declaration, she folded her arms as if expecting applause from an imaginary audience. It was too late to hide your shock and confusion. Having lost control of your senses, you heard yourself ask, “How do you know that?”

“Well, I wouldn’t have. Your timing was just convenient. That article I mentioned? It talks about soul switching. It’s never been practiced before because it’s extremely dangerous—not to mention completely illegal. Still, it was a very informative read.”

“Oh. Well. Here I am.” Since your sister clearly had an idea of what was going on, you decided to come clean. You told her everything—from what happened after you left to returning home from the park. She was your sister, after all.

She looked deep in thought, as if analyzing and processing everything. “Okay, your turn. What’s soul switching? Why is it dangerous and illegal? And how did you figure it out?”

She took a deep breath. “Do you believe in parallel universes? There’s a theory that another world exists—just like ours, with the same people, but different fates.” She paused, giving you a grave look before continuing. “Soul switching replaces a body’s original soul with one from an alternate universe. Same person, different you. It’s dangerous because—because…” She hesitated, but you needed to know.

“Come on, it’s okay.” You gently placed a hand on her back, encouraging her.

“It’s dangerous because the displaced soul gets lost… and the body left behind dies.”

The last word sent shivers down your spine. I am dead. Your heart sank. Your legs gave way, and you dropped to the floor. You were dead. You were ready to believe this was real—that you weren’t dreaming—but you desperately wished someone would wake you up. You looked at your sister, hoping she’d say it was another prank, but her reaction only confirmed the crushing truth.

Warm tears trickled down your cheeks until your vision blurred, until you were sobbing openly. You had died, and you hadn’t even known. The more reality sank in, the harder you cried. “What about my parents? And everyone else?” you managed between sobs.

Your sister sat beside you. For a moment, she seemed unsure how to respond, how to console you. Finally, she pulled you into her arms. “I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

Your parents had lost their daughter. And yet, here you were—trapped who-knew-how far away. You wanted to tell them you were okay, but it seemed impossible. Was this really how your story ended?

You buried your face in her shoulder, crying until exhaustion took over. You had seen the pity in her eyes, but you were grateful—grateful for the truth, and grateful she was with you. Someone knew what you were going through. Someone was willing to stand by you. And for now, that was enough.

You didn’t know how long you’d cried or when you’d fallen asleep, but you woke to your sister still holding you, softly patting your back. You smiled to yourself. There was no one you could love more than that little devil beside you. You sat up and rubbed your eyes. “Hi.”

“Hey.” She smiled softly. “Morning, sunshine.”

“How long was I out?”

“A little over an hour. How do you feel?”

How did you feel? Better, definitely. Now that the initial shock had faded, you realized you still had unanswered questions.

“I’m okay.” She didn’t look convinced, but you pressed on. “You never told me—how did you figure out I was someone else?”

“I said your timing was convenient. Right after I finished that article, you barged in, acting strange. The rest just clicked.” She chuckled. “Anyway, while you were asleep, I tried researching soul switching, but I hit a dead end. Professor Winster’s entire blog is gone. Every article—deleted.”

“So, that’s it.” The weight of hopelessness threatened to drag you under again.

“Not necessarily. Someone went through a lot of trouble to bring you here and erase any and every proof of existence of soul switching. They must have a reason.”

You looked up. “What do you mean?”

“Soul switching isn’t just dangerous—it’s nearly impossible. It technically kills two people and requires an insane amount of energy. Bridging universes isn’t something done lightly.”

The implications chilled you. Whoever did this had power—and a motive. If they could do this, what else were they capable of? But you weren’t ready to face that yet. Maybe you already knew. Ever?

Your sister noticed your expression darken. “What is it? Do you know something?”

“No. Of course not.” If it was Ever, you couldn’t risk involving anyone else. You changed the subject. “Tell me about me. What do I do?”

She thought for a moment. “You’re training for the Hunter’s Association licensure exam.”

So, I wanted to be a Hunter.

“What’s my Evol?” You assumed every Hunter had one.

Your sister frowned. “How do you know about Evol? And how did you know Dr. Zayne?”

Would she believe you? At this point, anything was possible. You pulled out your phone. The app kept crashing, but the icon would have to do.

“Look. I used to play this game called Love & Deepspace—”

“Love and Deepspace?” She raised an eyebrow.

You handed her the phone. She tried opening the app, but it crashed again. “Oh my god. Wait here!” She dashed out and returned with a book—a catalog of paintings.

“See the icon? That’s Rafayel.” She flipped through the pages. His artwork was mesmerizing, each piece radiating emotion.

“So, you’re a fan of his?” you murmured, captivated.

“But why is his picture on the app?”

“He’s one of the love interests.”

Her jaw dropped. “What?! What kind of game is this?”

You laughed. “A dating sim, but with a serious main plot.”

“And Dr. Zayne?”

“Also a love interest.”

She stared, stunned. “This is our world? The characters, the places—in this game. They're all real...”

You nodded. “Took me all morning to process it too.”

As you flipped through the book, she added, “By the way, your Evol is Anhausen Class. Resonance.”

Your heart skipped. No. That can’t be. You needed proof before jumping to conclusions.

“How do I use it?”

“I don’t know. You just… focus on enhancing something. You can enhance mine. My Evol is water.” She summoned a water droplet.

You clasped her hand, squeezing your eyes shut. Enhance. Grow. Increase. Nothing happened. Maybe you needed more force? You gripped tighter, willing the droplet to change.

After fifteen minutes, you gave up.

“It’s okay,” she said. “You’ve never done it before.”

“Yeah.” She was right. You couldn’t expect to master something you’d just learned was real.

“So, I was thinking—wanna eat out? Just us.”

You loved the idea. A chance to bond, to learn more about this life.

“Sure. I’d love that!”

After freshening up, you followed her to an upscale restaurant—your parents’ canceled reservation worked in your favor.

“Don’t we need a reservation?” you asked, eyeing the elegant facade.

“Mom and Dad had one, but after today, they decided to stay home. So, lucky us!”

Guilt prickled at ruining their plans, but the moment passed as you were seated on the second floor near the balcony. The view was breathtaking.

You thanked the waiter as he took your jacket and pulled out your chair. Then you saw it—a single black feather resting on your plate.

As usual, everyone's been added to the taglist. Lemme know if you wanna be too. Dont forget to share ur thoughts!

tags: @zenbutnotreally, @godoffuckedupcats, @noxus123, @madam8, @agustdxjiminx, @liz9898, @lemonn015, @tearydamsel, @diegojeanne, @alyssac9, @dummiebunny, @acesgarden, @bigclownshoes, @sylusgirlie7, @roseyjean, @poptrim

[messylustt]

i had this on top of my mind today

imagine ethan with a huge crush on y/n, having all these fantasies on her. once a week they would call each other for econ homework, but that day he's just too horny so he gets off to her voice. y/n is too oblivious, he would be palming himself through his pants. his breath becomes a little too loud and she kind of guess what's happening and takes advantage of it to tease him/make him embarrassed.

this makes me feel things

a little help — ethan landry + reader ( scream ) : ethan can’t help but get off to your sweet voice.

male jerking off. teasing. innuendos. ethan has fantasies. wc 2.0k

Ethan felt slightly embarrassed with how eager he picked up the phone His heart was already beating fast as your sweet voice filled his ears.

"Hey, Ethan!" You smile, placing your assigment and study papers on your bed, as you got yourself settled.

"Hey, y/n." He says, a smile he can never force down appearing on his lips.

"Did you get the new assignement from this morning's lecture?" You ask, as you flip through your pages to find it.

Ethan does the same, putting you on speaker as he placed his phone on the bed. "Yeah...I think so... yes." He says, placing the assignment details ontop of the rest of his work. "Why did Mr. Harold give out papers, instead of just sending it?"

"Ah, he's old, which can sometimes mean old-fashioned, I guess." You say, clicking your pen. "Oh my god, though did you see Sophie?" You chuckle, remembering the way she had tried to flirt with the poor old man, leaning forward as she pushed her breasts together.

"No...Sophie was in today?" Ethan knew of her vaguely as the girl who would fuck for good grades. But his focus had been on you in econ, sparing glances down your body when you weren't looking.

"How could you not notice?" You ask, shifting more comfortably on your bed. "I was scared her tits were gonna fall out."

Ethan stiffened at your words, and not because you had mentioned Sophie's tits, but because the his mind wandered to your own, and how he'd always have to readjust in his seat when you'd wear a tight top. Wondering how they'd feel in his—

"We should get started." You unintentionally break his train of thought, as he gulps, silently cursing at himself. "Because I barely understood Mr. Harold."

"Uh, yeah." Ethan coughed, forcing himself to focus. "What part didn't you get?"

"The third paragraph, where he talks about the inflation and economic growth. His question after confuses me. I'm not sure what he's asking us to answer." You speak so innocently, brows furrowed, as Ethan furrows his own for an entirely different reason.

For some reason your voice was sending small electric jolts through him. All the way down to his dick, which has begun to strain painfully against his pants. Christ, not now-he thinks to himself. He licked his lips, answering your confusion, as you hum with an "ah, that makes makes more sense."

Ethan's mouth has salivated, as all his built up fantasies of you fill his head. "So, when he spoke on analyzing the economy as a system, the list he followed on from..."

Ethan doesn't mean to drown out your words. Because he's listening. But more so to the hilt of your voice, and how it would sound much more breathy, as you gazed up at him. One of his fantasies had you on your knees, licking at his cock, as your innocent eyes held his. He had orgasmed extremely quickly, multiple times, when he found this imagine in his head.

"...he could have meant that these are the elements," you had continued, completely oblivious to Ethan's wandering hand.

He couldnt help it. He palmed his cock, as he listened to you speak. You always spoke so pretty. He could imagine your confused expression as you spoke on your problems. He began to rub himself, restricting himself to just over his pants, as he bit his lip.

He won’t do more. Just…relieve a hint of tension. You continued to speak and your words began to sound like something he wished he could grab, as his hand tightened on his bulge, his rubbing growing messy.

His breathing had grown heavier but he covered it up by saying ‘yes’s and ‘no’s, answering your questions.

“Sorry, I��m rambling. Did you have any questions?” You ask. You were there to help each other, not him only help you.

Ethan had to spare a glance at his work, scanning to see if he’d written down any problems, trying to remember if he had any. Because the only problem he could think of right now is how his over-the-clothes rubbing was doing little to satisfy his need.

His cock was rock hard, and his mind was beginning to cloud over with lust, and want for you. “I—I don’t think so.” He mutters out, his fingers reaching the button of his jeans, as he pulled the zipper down.

It was shameful, but he just couldn’t help it. “Okay, do you mind if I ask another question?—sorry I just saw it now.” You ask as Ethan absentmindedly nods wanting to hear you speak more, before he manages a ‘sure’, trying to act casual.

“Great, thank you,” and you began to speak on either the 8th or 9th paragraph as Ethan stuck his hand in his pants, feeling his pre-cum practically staining his boxers.

He imagined the way you would touch him. Would you be gentle and slow, or would you deep throat him immediately. Ethan’s breathing stutters as he strokes himself. The little hums you make when you think have begun to make his hips thrust up into his palm.

His other hand had tightened around the sheet, praying that you can’t hear him jerking off to you. Ethan grows lost in your tone as his cock twitches.

“Ethan?” You slowly ask, making his hips jolt at the utterance of his name from your lips, but he tries to keep his voice of some composure.

“Yes?” He had to press his lips together after a needy whimper nearly falling.

“Are you…okay?”

Your question makes him halt-much to his cock’s dismay. “W-what?”

“You sound out of breath.” You say, behind the line trying to think of why. Because he can’t be running, he’s in his apartment with his papers on his bed like you.

“I’m not.” He coughs.

You nod to yourself, but then you catch the smallest of sounds fall straight from Ethan’s lips. You had to be mistaken, because that noise sounded like one due to pleasure.

Your mouth opened in shock as you realise. He’s out of breath because he’s…

“Ethan.” You say again, hearing a stuttering whimper from him before he tries to cover it up by asking ‘yes?’ again. “What are you doing?”

Ethan curses himself because you sound suspicious. “I’m studying. Going over the study. Like you.” He says, really forcing down his cock’s want to just ask you to keep talking so he could reach his orgasm.

“Ah huh.” You hum, unconvinced. “And you’re sure you have no questions?”

“No. No, I’m all good.” He says, really forcing his words to sound normal, as he had slowly began to stroke himself again, his cock angry.

“No questions for me?” You ask now instead. Slowly coming to the definite realisation of Ethan jerking off.

“What do you mean?” Ethan asks, your tone going straight to his cock.

“Oh, nothing.” You hum, before you intentionally make your voice come out breathier, seeing what he’ll do. “Did I mention how nice your hair looked this morning?”

Ethan’s breath hitches as his hand quickens around his cock, seeming to have a mind of its own. “N—no.”

“Oh. Well, it looked really good, I just wanted to run my fingers through it constantly.” You pause hearing Ethan’s surprised whimper. “But that’s weird isn’t it, sorry.” You were teasing him now, your study forgotten.

“I—it’s not weird. You’re not weird. At all.” Ethan’s words are broken up by his panting.

“Aw, that’s so sweet, Ethan.” You hum, making Ethan’s hips thrust up into his hand, his legs having widened as you spoke.

“Y—yeah?” His eyelids have begun to feel heavy.

“Yeah. Your always so sweet to me. Helping with my study, making sure I have a seat in econ.” You shift on your bed, debating on if you go bolder. “You’re also very good at studying, hence why you never have too many questions. You’re also very good at teaching, making sure I know what I’m doing. Your just such a good boy.”

Ethan chokes on a moan. This makes his eyes widen, because you definitely heard that. So he quickly goes to speak. “T—that’s sweet. Really sweet. You’re…really sweet.” His tone is still breathy though, as he imagines how sweet you really are…or taste.

“Am I?” You tease, as Ethan’s rapidly nods on the other line.

“Always so…sweet.” He says, his tone unintentionally dropping an octave.

“But I never seem to be able to help you.” You say. “I’m the one always asking questions.”

“That’s fine.” Ethan says. “I like hearing you talk.” He pauses, shit. “I—I mean, I like hearing your questions because then I can help you.”

A smile had edged your lips. “But that’s exactly it. You help me…” you drift off, speaking closer to the phone. “Let me help you.”

Ethan didn’t know what you meant but the tone you had dropped to makes his hand quicken as his hips had begun to grind into his palm. “W—with what?”

“Oh, you know, with many things.” You say, appearing innocent again. “One specifically would be your tension.”

Ethans chokes on a whimper as he places his hand over his mouth, still thinking you don’t know. “My…tension?”

“Yeah.” You say lightly. “I’m very good at massaging.” You hold back a chuckle as you tease him.

“You’d give me a massage?” In Ethan’s mind that’s the closest he could get to you.

“Yeah.” You say. “I’d start with your shoulders of course, getting essential knots out.” You fake normalcy in the conversation.

“Then I might let my hands drift down your back.” You pause. “You’d have to lie down, so I could get a good angle.”

Ethan’s mouth has opened in pleasure at the thought of you touching him on the bed.

“I’d have to ask where feels the nicest, before I’d drag my hands down your body.” Your words were growing bolder and if Ethan’s mind wasn’t hazed over with lust he might have been able to pick out your innuendoes.

“Really?” He asks, his stroking quickening.

“Yeah. Though, through your clothes it mind be hard to properly get that tension out.”

Ethan moans through his teeth, as his hips pathetically thrust at your words. “No clothes?”

“No clothes.” You confirm. “Would that be okay? I wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable—“

“Yes.” His answer was immediate, cutting you short. He coughs. “That would be fine.”

You grin. “Good. Because that way I could really relieve some tension. I’d have to straddle you of course.” You pause to hear Ethan’s heavy breathing and the faint sound of his hand gliding along his cock. “You may even have to flip around, because I’ve heard that the most tension can be by your collarbones and neck.”

Ethan nearly orgasmed at the thought of you straddling him, as your hands wandered his body. “As in straddling..my front?”

“Yeah, is that okay?”

“Uh huh.” He hums, his cock twitching with a soon need to release.

“I could give you that massage the next time we study.” You say, making Ethan’s breathing quicken at the possible reality of all that. “I could come over to yours.”

At this point he couldn’t care how desperate he sounded. “Yes. Please, come anytime.”

“Or maybe you should cum?” You ask, your innuendo strong, as pleasure began to rock through Ethans body. “W—what?”

“Come to my apartment.” You play it off, listening to the wet sounds his cock was making as you could hear how close he was to his orgasm.

“No. You should—should come here.” He says breathlessly.

“Do you prefer yours?”

Ethan just wants to see you on his sheets, all his fantasies having happened on this bed. He wanted to make one a reality, even if it was just a massage.

“I just have all the extra study stuff here.” Not that he couldn’t easily bring it, but he ignored that, and so did you.

“See, you are such a good boy.” And that did it. His orgasm wracked through him as quiet whimpers and moans left his lips his hips grinding into nothing. Wishing the air was you.

When the pleasure slowly ceased he heard words he never thought you’d utter. “Maybe next study session I could jerk you off?”

“W—what?” He chocked. Fuck, of course you had heard him. By the end he was being pretty obvious.

“Yeah, Ethan.” You grin. “Let me help relieve some tension.”

© messylustt.tumblr please don’t steal, copy or translate my work onto other platforms.

[rax-writes]

↬ when night falls

Tywin Lannister x Reader

intended to be a sequel to the morning after, but it's not necessary that you read it prior to this

Warnings: Smut, MDNI, 18+ ONLY ⇆ P in V sex, unprotected sex, creampie, age gap, nipple play, bit of breeding kink, mentions of pregnancy, pregnant!reader

The journey from Winterfell to King's Landing took considerably longer than necessary, given the Queen's insistence that she travel in that godsforsaken carriage of hers. As such, five weeks after your marriage to Tywin Lannister, you were spending one final night in a lavish red and gold tent alongside your lord husband.

For the entirety of the journey, the two of you spent the entire day apart – your horse trotting behind your father and King Robert, and Tywin a short distance behind, alongside Ser Jamie. Occasionally, Arya would pester you into allowing her to sit in front of you on the saddle, as you quietly conversed with her and taught her how to control the horse. But, aside from that, you were alone with your thoughts all day, every day.

The nights, however, were spent in the arms of your lord husband.

The two of you quite quickly developed a very… peculiar dynamic. You had quickly learned and adapted to the way the fearsome Tywin Lannister operates – preferring you speak concisely and directly, vehemently uninterested in anything otherwise. Additionally, there was a degree of mutual respect, as well as a vaguely guarded openness to one another – but certainly no love, or any semblance of romantic feelings at all. In truth, you assumed there never would be.

But gods was there lust.

On your end, it was your first and only experience with sex, and it was undeniably good, so you were eager for it. On his end… you couldn't be sure. It could be that the man was pent up from years as a bachelor, but it would be safe to assume he had simply sent for a whore when the mood struck him. A more likely reason would be his pursuit of an heir, but surely he wouldn't have needed to fill your cunt nightly to achieve that goal. No, you were almost certain that he was simply enjoying fucking you – just as much as you were enjoying fucking him.

When Tywin entered the tent, you were sitting on the edge of the cot, toying with the goblet in your hands, already undressed to your shift. He met your eyes as he entered, but said nothing, that unreadable (but somehow always leaning toward annoyed) expression on his face. He silently began taking off his boots, then removed his sword and placed it beside the cot. He was in the middle of pouring wine into his goblet when you found the courage to ask your question.

"Will you stop bedding me when I become pregnant?"

Tywin said nothing, setting the pitcher down and turning to face you as he took a sip of his wine. He wore that calm, calculating expression as he stared at you – but you could swear there was a hint of amusement in his eyes. The golden goblet made a faint clank as he set it down before speaking.

"Do you ask because you wish for me to stop? Or because you wish for me to continue?"

"I wish for you to continue."

"Then I shall continue," Tywin stated, the ghost of a smile on his lips.

"Good," you replied, then added, "Because I am."

"You are what?"

"Pregnant."

The smile dropped and Tywin's eyebrows raised, making his forehead crinkle.

"Already?" he inquired dryly, surprised. Then, incredulous, he asked, "How do you know?"

It was a fair question. You had never been pregnant before, so perhaps you were mistaking soreness and fatigue from travel as signs of pregnancy. But no. You knew.

"I should have bled three weeks ago, but I have not. My breasts are extremely tender, and certain smells make my stomach turn."

Tywin nodded, then stated, "I do not doubt that you are right, but we will have a Maester provide his confirmation and look you over when we arrive in King's Landing. In the meantime, is there anything you need?"

A faint but wicked smile spread across your face, and you stood from the bed, setting the goblet down as you slowly made your way over to him. The metal of his armor was cold beneath your fingers as you idly ran your hands over his chest, before toying with the belt around his hips, looking up at him through your lashes.

"You," was your simple answer. But both of you knew that it wasn't meant in a romantic, sweet sort of way.

Tywin's hand reached up to cradle your face, somewhat harshly, hooking his thumb under your jaw to tilt your head up and kiss you. It was lustful and full of desire, accompanied by the scratch of his beard upon the delicate skin of your face.

When he pulled away, Tywin smiled quite faintly, then hummed lowly and said, "Well, what sort of man would I be to deny his pregnant lady wife her wish?"

The old lion made quick work of removing his armor and smallclothes, and relieving you of the thin linen shift you wore, before guiding you to the luxurious cot. Tywin continued to kiss you, eventually trailing kisses down your neck, until he reached your chest, unexpectedly taking one of your breasts into his mouth and swirling his tongue around it.

The sensation nearly made you shout, opting to take in a sharp breath instead as your back arched off the blankets. Eyes squeezed shut, you heard a low chuckle, and looked down to see a set of very amused, crystalline eyes staring up at you.

"Hm, I see you were not exaggerating about the sensitivity."

Electing to ignore him, you let your head fall back onto the pillow. However, it seemed he did not intend to grant you any reprieve, moving to the other breast and doing the same thing – prompting you to dig your nails into his shoulders and bite your lip to avoid crying out. Unfortunately, that made matters worse, as Tywin let out a low groan with his lips still wrapped around your nipple, earning a loud, pitiful whine from you.

Seemingly enjoying himself, Tywin began peppering your chest with gentle bites, which he soothed with his tongue afterwards, sure to become small little bruises by morning. Breathy moans and sighs of pleasure filled the tent, as he then resumed his ministrations on the hardened peaks of your breasts before snaking one hand down to toy with your clit, expertly rubbing it in small, steady circles. Astoundingly fast, your release washed over you, soaking his hand as you moaned and writhed beneath the Warden of the West – who only chuckled darkly at your quick climax.

Noticing that the continued kisses and licks upon your breasts began to make you twitch, Tywin captured your lips in a brief, rough kiss, before rolling onto his back. He then pulled you into his lap, with a strength one wouldn’t assume the older man to still possess – which was, admittedly, arousing. Your mind was still foggy from the orgasm, and your movements were not unlike a rag doll, eyes half-lidded and jaw slack, moving somewhat limply as you allowed him to maneuver you. He gripped his hard, leaking cock in one hand, then reached behind you to urge you forward with a flat palm on the small of your back.

A hiss through gritted teeth escaped Tywin, and you gasped lightly, head thrown back and hands flat on his chest. Although you’d already lost count of how many times he’d taken you, it still felt more incredible than anything you’d ever experienced. A passing thought reminded you of the fact that he seemed to share the sentiment, always hissing or groaning when he first sheathed himself inside you.

Tywin’s grip moved to your hips, prompting you to begin rocking them against his own, keeping your pace steady. However, he made no move to halt you when you eventually began to move faster, leaning back to rest your hands on his thighs as you fucked yourself on his long, thick cock. The sound of it alone would have made a Septa drop dead – a symphony composed of wet skin upon skin and gruff grunts intermingling with breathy moans.

He reached up to grasp and knead your breasts in his rough, calloused hands – but he then surprised you, his hands drifting lower, until they rested flat against your lower stomach. You thought perhaps he was focusing on the movement of your hips, but then his thumbs began to stroke across the soft skin of your belly.

At first, it seemed very sweet and sentimental. You thought that perhaps he was basking in the joy of another child being on the way – until you felt the way his cock throbbed, deep inside of you, as he stared intently at your belly. Immediately, you came to the realization that it must be arousing for a man to have successfully fucked a babe into his wife – stroking their ego and their pride to have done their husbandly duty, as well as show everyone that you belong to them.

Truth be told, you were surprised to learn that it aroused you just as much.

Tywin groaned as you clenched around him, and when his eyes flicked up to meet yours, it felt as though he knew you had been thinking the very same thing he was.

That seemed to ignite something within your husband, and in the blink of an eye, Tywin flipped you onto your back and began driving into your soaked cunt with a newfound ferocity. You bit down on your knuckle to keep quiet, but Tywin pinned both of your wrists down, his arms on either side of your head. The act did not last much longer beyond that point, both parties having already been too near the precipice of climax, and the pair of you met your releases in unison.

Tywin rolled off of you, breathing heavily, a light layer of sweat covering his chest, along with the small patches of silver hair. You allowed yourself a few moments of recovery, before moving to leave the cot in order to extinguish the candles, as well as tidy yourself up. However, Tywin grabbed your arm to stop you.

“Where are you going?”

“The candles –”

“Can wait,” Tywin interrupted, voice sounding unbothered as always, albeit with a hint of fatigue. He exhaled slowly, as he gently pulled you back down to lay upon the cot beside him. “One of the guards outside can see to the candles in a moment. You are carrying my heir, so you are to rest. As much as is feasible, from now until the babe is born. And if anyone questions it, they are to discuss it with me.”

Anyone possessing the sense the gods gave a mule knows “discussing” something with Tywin Lannister was just the opposite – it was not to be addressed at all, because what Tywin Lannister says, goes. A fact which made you smile softly.

“As my lord husband commands,” you replied, a hint of sarcasm in your tone, but you did exactly as he bade you, pulling some of the blankets over you and nestling into the pillows. You were already yawning by the time Tywin called for a guard, who extinguished the candles, and bathed the room in darkness as you drifted into a deep, contented sleep.

[cheesecakeluver]

THE MORNING AFTER

hamzahthefantastic x reader

‎𐰁𖦹°⋆ When you wake up after a night out in a strangers bed, the two of you desperately try and figure out the events of that night, and how you ended up in his bed.

———————-

I stir in bed, awakening to a headache that pierces my skull. I shift in the covers lazily, snuggling into the warmth of them as cool air filtered the room.

Just as I’m near the the point of drifting back to sleep, I feel an arm drape over me. I sit upright immediately in shock, my eyes wide as they land across a dark curly haired man, who seems cosy in bed beside me. My mind begins racing, my heart beating uncontrollably fast as I stare at him, extremely confused, realising he was shirtless.

My eyes tear away from him, to the room surrounding me, and my jaw gapes wide open, as the room looking back at me wasn’t mine. The question running through my head, was how the fuck did i end up here, in this house, in this man’s bed?

Suddenly, the man in bed starts to stir, his eyes opening blearily as he wipes his curls away from his eyes, yawning softly, completely unaware.

That is, until his eyes adjust to the morning light peering through the window, and his expression becomes bewildered, stumbling out of the bed, wrapping the covers around his exposed body.

“Why are you in my bed? Who are you?” He exclaimed, his eyes widening as they scanned over me.

“I don’t know! I don’t even know who you are, or why I’m here, or.. even where the fuck I am!” I nervously ramble, my head in my hands as I avoid eye contact with him, my cheeks flushing pink.

He tilts his head as he continues to look me up and down with wide eyes, making me all the more flustered as i realised my attire, and the lack of clothes covering me.

“I was hoping that you’d be able to fill me in on what happened last night too” he asks, his breathing slowing down as he began to calm himself.

“My head is fucking killing me, and all I even vaguely remember is that one of my friends invited me to this party last night..” I recall, sitting down on the edge of his bed as I try and remember more of the previous night.

He slowly nods his head as you speak, smirking slightly as he gets a good look at you in your underwear.

“You and me both, this hangover isn’t fun”He responds, scratching the back of his head as he groans, feeling the effects of the alcohol from the night before still.

“Any more details coming back to you?”

I sigh, frustrated, until I get an idea.

“Wait, your phone. Where is it?” I ask frantically, thoughts and ideas flooding my mind.

He chuckles at my eagerness to be on his phone, clearly amused by it. He stretches to grab his phone that was charging on the beside table, handing it to me.

“There you go” he smiles, sitting down on the bed beside me, leaning back.

“Did you take any pictures last night, or post anything?” I question, giving the phone back to him so he could enter his passcode, my fingers dancing against his as I do, causing my heart rate to go up just that little bit faster.

He leaned in close to me, his muscular build now almost touching mine, grinning as he watched me fidget with my fingers as he enters the passcode. He opens up his photos, scrolling through photos and videos from the night before.

“I got a few, yeah” he mentions, scrolling through the dozens he had saved.

“Show me” i whisper, almost scared to look, just incase, as I lean closer to him, peering over his shoulder to face the small phone.

He snickers at how close I’ve gotten, obviously liking having my body practically pressed against his. He opens up one of the videos, showing a clip of me and him, clearly drunk, dancing together in the middle of the table.

I groan, running my hands through my hair as my cheeks flush bright pink, embarrassment overcoming me at my past, drunken self.

“Just.. skip to the next one” i cringe, hearing my past drunken self singing through the speaker.

He chuckles at my embarrassed state, thoroughly enjoying my reaction. He skips to the next video, where we see a video of me and him standing next to each other, and I’m clearly trying to balance myself on his much larger frame as i struggle to stand up straight.

I can faintly hear the sound of my girlish giggling over the music, making me feel like vomiting due to how much desperation leaked off of me.

He continues to scroll through the videos for a little while longer, showing us both in various compromising positions on the couch, floor, bathroom, even the kitchen. He smirks to himself as i become more flustered, before finally returning to the main camera roll.

“Well” he grinned, turning to face me, our faces merely inches apart.

“That explains a lot”

“Remind me never to go out ever again and keep myself locked up in my house forever” i groan, rubbing my eyes intensely until I begin seeing stars.

He laughs gently at my dramatic exclamation, as he reaches his hand out to brush a strand of hair behind my ear, enjoying how flustered i looked.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, trust me, we were both just as bad as each other” he sighs, leaning back again his bed once again.

A silence fills the air between us, not awkward, just comfortable as our minds race with different thoughts, and confusing conversations.

We both turn to each other, at the same time, speaking over one another.

“I don’t eve-“

“Listen I’m-“

We both pause, laughing slightly, until he motions his head towards me, and i go first.

“I don’t even know your name..” I admit, wondering if he ever told me it to begin with.

He chuckles as i admit that i don’t know his name, clearly amused by it.

“it’s Hamzah” he replies casually, before smirking.

“And what’s yours? other than the pretty girl that stumbled into my bed last night?”

Blush covers my face before I can help it, and I smile sheepishly. “It’s y/n. You’re so shameless” i laugh, slapping his arm lightly as he chuckles, his curls falling into his dark eyes.

He grins in response to my shyness, clearly enjoying my reaction to his shameless flirting.

He looks down at my arms as i slap his, taking my wrists in his hands, his fingers almost completely circling my arms.

“You’re cute when you’re flustered” he teases, knowing how to get a rise out of me at this point. How I wish I was sober enough to remember last night..

I freeze, memories from last night flooding my head as my heart begins to panic, beating faster and faster.

“I should probably, uh, leave. Get out of here, you know..” i say awkwardly, standing up from the warm spot on the bed beside him, and looking around the room for my discarded clothes, evidence of our interaction last night.

I’d never gotten this close with someone before, and certainly not a man I had met the night before. It was surreal, how easy it was to talk to him, but I knew I needed to slow down.

He watches me as i stand up from the bed, his dark eyes trailing all over my body, shamelessly appreciating the view. He lets out a light sigh, not making an effort to stop me.

“Yeah.. probably should”

He mumbles, also standing up, the sheets falling from around his waist to the floor, revealing his muscular bare torso, causing my heart to drop to my stomach, as was forced to peel my eyes away.

I grab the wrinkled clothes, throwing them on me, as I tug my shoes on. A part of me wished he wanted me to stay, but at this point, I’d felt as though I’d overstayed my welcome, and was sadly prepared to never see this man again, no matter how much I would yearn for it.

He stands there, in nothing but low hung sweatpants, watching me throw on my clothes, his muscular chest on full display, showing his broad shoulders and defined collarbone.

He notices my slightly flustered expression as i look up at him. He grins, clearly enjoying the way i was staring at him, before speaking up again.

“You really in a hurry to leave, sweetheart?”

“I’ll get out of your hair, stop bothering you. Just give me-“ i huff, struggling to get my shoe on.

These fucking converse would be the death of me.

He chuckles at my frustration, watching me struggle with putting on my shoe, still half naked as his strong arms cross over his broad chest. He watches me carefully for a moment as i struggle, before stepping forward.

“Let me help you, silly”

He grins, moving to kneel down in front of me, grabbing my foot gently and guiding it into the shoe.

I sigh, pink creeping in my cheeks as he got to his knees in front of me.

“Thank you, Hamzah.” I spoke, tasting his name on my tongue, and enjoying the way it felt.

He smiled to himself as i said his name, clearly enjoying how i sounded when i said it, evident by the expression on his face.

He finished helping me put on my shoe, gently setting my foot back down on the floor. He looked up at me from his knelt position, peering up at me with a sly grin, his face now even closer to my body than before. He slowly got up, bringing me with him, as we both stood facing each other.

“No problem” He replied, his hands finding their way to my hips, his calloused palms settling on the skin beneath my cropped shirt, as I began to feel as though I might melt under his touch.

I softly gasp, a little breathless, as his fingers dance their way further up my shirt, leaving a trail of fire as they did.

Suddenly, the doorbell rings, causing us to fly apart, my skin cooling as his touch departs.

He groans, rolling his eyes as the doorbell rings, a look of annoyance crossing his face.

“Stay here. I know who that is. I’ll be right back” He mutters.

He quickly disappears out of the room, heading for the front door.

I’m still stunned from our interaction, but I follow him, not listening to his commands. I needed to see who was at the door. Who interrupted our moment..

He strides hurriedly down the hall towards the front door, still in nothing but his low-hung sweatpants.

After opening the door, and then promptly slamming it shut, he lets out a frustrated sigh, turning to head back to his room to get a shirt, but stops in his tracks when he sees me following behind him.

“I told you to stay in my room” He says, his eyes brows furrowing as his brown eyes glance over me, my dishevelled state.

“Obviously I’m not gonna do that, be real. Whose at the door?” I question, my voice unwavering as I roll my eyes.

He rolls his eyes in response.

“It’s my stupid friend, Martin. He’s probably just here to gloat at me about getting with a girl last night too” he shakes his head, rubbing his hands over his face briefly.

Relief floods from me, whether i wanted it to or not.

He sighs as he says this, seemingly annoyed by the idea of his friend coming over just to rub another hookup in his face.

“I’ll uh, get to going then..” i mutter, avoiding his eyes as I fix my short shirt on my body awkwardly. I didn’t want to make it uncomfortable between him and his friend, and I knew I was outstaying my welcome.

The.. interaction we just had, was maybe just that. An interaction.

He stands in front of me, looking down into my eyes. He could tell that i was a mixture of frustrated and disappointed from his friend interrupting us both, and he felt the same way.

He reaches a hand up to brush my hair behind my ear, just like how he did earlier.

“I’ll walk you out” he mumbles, unlocking the door.

I let out a breathe I didn’t know I was holding, and when he swings the door open, and his friend sees us, he smirks.

He groans at the sight of his friend’s smirk, knowing exactly what his expression was for.

His friend’s eyes dart to me as he looks me up and down, clearly taking in how i was dressed in last night’s clothes.

His grin widens as he notices my flustered expression.

Hamzah grabs my wrist, his touch enlightening me, and slides us past his friend, who enters Hamzahs apartment nonchalantly, slamming the door behind him.

Any more slams, and that door would be knocked off its hinges.

His friend lets out a chuckle that’s heard through the other side of the door, as Hamzah drags me out of the apartment quickly, obviously aware that he was annoyed with his friend’s presence, and trying to get as far away from him as possible.

He keeps a firm grip on my wrist as he pulls me outside, letting out a sigh once we’re outside and away from his friend.

I sigh, looking around at the exterior of the apartment building, and recognising it. “I can walk back to my place from here..”

He pauses for a moment, letting my wrist slip from his grip. He looks down at me, his face showing he was feeling frustrated by the fact that he knew this was the end of things, and that I was about to leave.

“Are you sure? it’s kind of late. you shouldn’t walk on your own”

I smile, giggling. “It’s 11am, Hamzah.” I remind him, the daylight shining on us in the cold autumnal air.

He groans, facepalming himself at his own stupidity, causing me to let out a small chuckle, appreciating how he cared for me, however small it was, before running his hand over his face, the reality of the situation finally setting in.

He looks down at me again, his dark eyes searching mine, desperately trying to look for an excuse to keep me there longer.

The silence between us is unfathomable, and I can’t take it anymore.

“I’ll maybe see you around Hamzah.” I finally speak, breaking the tension between us, wrapping my arms around myself as I shiver, his arms not there to keep me warm anymore.

Hamzah watches me wrap my arms around myself, taking notice of the light shiver that passes through me. He sighs.

“Yeah. Maybe we’ll run into each other again sometime” He mutters bitterly, knowing it’s a lie the second the words leave his teeth.

I gently lean in, kissing him on the cheek, my warm lips on his cold face, as I smile, my heart heavy in my chest, and turn away from him, walking away.

As I take those steps, I can feel the weight of what just happened lingering in the air. It was brief, yet somehow profound, like a fleeting moment that leaves a mark.

I felt as though I had a connection with him, one that just wasn’t made too last. It was a moment, that I enjoyed, and appreciated in all its glory. But once a moment passes, you must let it move on.

I glance back, my eyes locking on his, catching a glimpse of his small, subtly sad smile, a reminder of the connection we shared, however little it was.

There's a bittersweet taste in my mouth, a mix of nostalgia and the realization that sometimes, moments are meant to be just that—moments.

———————-

He watches you walk farther away, his mind spinning in circles. He stands there on the sidewalk, his head swimming with a concoction of thoughts and emotions.

He couldn’t figure out why he was so reluctant to let you go, why he felt his heart ache in his chest watching you walk away.

He wanted to run up to you, to grab your hand and tug you back towards him, but just as quickly as the thought appeared in his head, it vanished.

Gone, not just for now, but for forever.

———————-

[anxietycheesecake]

I'd like to ask you a very fair question: now that they no-homoed nandermo, now that we know for certain we aren't getting any gay relationship, what makes wwdits so high quality rep over other shows that have gay sex jokes and throw a coming out in an episode? Is it because they're actually having gay sex? Because it's still just played for laughs and treated as less than the canonical straight relationships (also "haha they're pervs who'll fuck anyone" isn't peak bi representation, that said as a bisexual who is a perv who will fuck anyone). What did wwdits do that other similar shows haven't done decades ago to earn that queer media™ recognition and be packed with OFMD and good omens, two actual extremely queer shows with gays having feelings beyond horny?

Not to say I didn't enjoy the episode because I absolutely did (queerbaiting aside), and it's amazing if you find this resolution satisfying. I do too, to some extent (as a start rather than an ending, tbh). But after so many years calling out how they teased a queer relationship they never intended to portray and then hit us with homophobic "let guys be friends" rethoric (you don't have to be homophobic to say homophobic shit) and getting absolutely dragged for it... was it all worth it? Don't you feel a little TJLC? Aren't you kind of mad that nothing has really changed since the days of Sherlock and Supernatural? Or, even worse, that now showrunners can point at characters, go "haha these bitches be gay af" and get awards for queer representation?

I love wwdits, even when I hate it. Nobody forced them at gunpoint to write season 3 and 4 like that, or be purposefully vague about what they were going for, or teasing the possibility of nandermo all over the marketing. If things have continued to go like in season 1 and 2, I'd be more than cool with this ending. If they had gone "holy shit, we didn't want to make it seem like it'd actually happen, we just thought it was funny that they acted so gay" and course-corrected after season 3 instead of doubling down, I wouldn't even call it queerbait. Sometimes people making media don't know how it's going to be received and that's okay. It becomes bait when you refuse to clarify and after pulling all that shit you act like fans are insane for noticing.

So by all means, continue to enjoy wwdits. This show means so much to me and if it had remained a plotless sitcom without character development that is just meant to make me laugh, I'd call it one of the best comedies I've ever watched. It's just that, in retrospective, they took the show in a direction that made no sense for them, ran with it for far too long and then asked why people expected so much from a show that wasn't meant to have any depth, despite all the times they tried to make it look like they knew where they were going.

[theonceandfuturequeenoftarts]

“You came.”

“As always, Harry Potter, your powers of observation astound,” the Dark Lord carps. “Care to explain why we’re both here?”

And there’s the million-dollar question. He hesitates for a moment, sticking his hands in his pockets to keep from fidgeting more. “You can feel it, yeah? Everything’s coming to a head.”

After staring for a few beats, Voldemort gives a terse nod.

Harry nods a couple times awkwardly in return, licking his dry lips. “So. We’re expected to fight, and at least one of us is meant to die.”

Voldemort tenses at his side. “If you intend to ask for mercy–”

“No, no,” Harry says, anxiously dragging a hand through his wild hair and leaving it even more of a mess. “I know there’s no middle ground, for either of us.”

His words catch in his throat, stuck in the anger and frustration and exhaustion of years of fighting and losing people with no real gain.

“But,” Voldemort prompts.

“But,” Harry agrees. “Have you ever ridden a Ferris wheel?”

Voldemort blinks and frowns at the apparent non-sequitur. He says, “I beg your pardon?” but the meaning is clearly ‘Are you mad?’

“Because I haven’t. My relatives,” and his voice breaks on the word because it’s only accurate in the most technical of senses. “Used to go to the local funfair every year. My cousin would always come back with candy apples and caramel corn and some gigantic plush animal he’d say he’d won.”

He smiles, but he can feel how ragged it is. “Fat chance, that. Guaranteed my uncle bought it for him.”

“Potter, what in Merlin’s name are you on about?” He’s apparently worn through Voldemort’s limited patience and the wizard is looking vaguely murderous.

“Right, sorry. Point is, I’ve never been, and I’m guessing you’ve never been to a funfair either. I doubt it was a priority at Wool’s.”

Voldemort’s wand appears in his hand and ‘vaguely’ has shifted quickly into ‘distinctly murderous.’

“Y’know, It’s funny what you fixate on when contemplating your mortality and what you’ll regret not having done when you die,” Harry continues quickly, trying to defuse the situation. “There are lots of things I haven’t done, and so many things I’ll miss. But I keep getting caught up on riding a bloody Ferris wheel, of all things.”

He’d considered asking his friends – he had. But it wouldn’t be new for Hermione, who’d had a pretty normal childhood, magic aside, and Ron wouldn’t get why it was important even once he’d wrapped his mind around the idea of a Ferris wheel. Ron had grown up with flying broomsticks, after all. 

“I thought about who else might understand why it meant something, and, well,” Harry huffs, shuffling his feet self-consciously. “Here you are.”

He refuses to look at Voldemort’s face – who knows what expression he’s wearing, but it’s probably derisive in the extreme – instead focusing on the Dark Lord’s wand in case he has to defend himself.

“You invited me to go to a fair with you,” Voldemort says levelly. “Because we’re going to battle to the death soon.”

Well, when he puts it like that.

(naïve melody)

[spearsillustration]

🏛️ Senator Shockwave X Cybertronian Female Assistant Reader (Part 1/3)

Notes: Why did I ever have to learn that Shockwave had a super tragic backstory? When I was younger he was my least favorite Decepticon since I just thought he was pure evil. Practically crying after seeing what happened to him in the comics. And his line "Remember me as I was-." Was an even harder blow. 😭

This will probably end up being super long. I had half of this planned and the other kind of thrown in randomly so not my best work but I'm proud of it nonetheless. 

- I fear this might be a boring read, So I'd love some feedback after you finish reading this. - 

Part 2/3 -

Word count - 5,424

Page number - 15.2

        I was rushing to get to the senate building where I had a meeting this morning. I went to the front desk asking where I could find Shockwave. The person at the front desk gave me extremely vague directions. I just hoped I could find his office. 

        Luckily for me, I found an office that looked at least a bit useful I could probably ask for better directions. I lightly knocked on the door to politely get their attention. 

        He seemed lost in thought before looking up at the door where I stood. 

        "Oh, welcome to the senate. How can I help you?"

        "I'm sorry to bother you, I was scheduled for an interview with Shockwave for the assistant position and seed to have gotten myself lost," I said shyly from the door. I was definitely lost.

        "I'm probably in the wrong place."

        He looks up from his desk. "Ah, yes. That was today. You're in the right place."

        He stood up, moving around the desk to greet me at the door. "Please, do come in. Take a seat."

        I tried my best to shake off my nerves and smiled. "Of course thank you."

        He gestured to the seat across his desk.

        "Please, make yourself comfortable." He returns to his seat. "May I have your name first and foremost?

        "(Y/N) sir. It's nice to finally meet you in person." 

        "(Y/N), hm? Well, it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance. And you said you were here for the assistant position?"

        "Correct." I kept my hand neatly folded in my lap so I wouldn't nervously fidget.

        "Right."He leaned back in his chair, seemingly studying me before nodding.

        "Now, just so you are aware, as my assistant, you would essentially be my second pair of hands. You would need to be there at my beck and call for anything I may need." He explained. "You will also need to keep track of my calendar and make sure it's up-to-date and correct at all times. Can you do that?"

        "Yes sir."

        "Very good. I should also mention, that if you *do* get this position, it will be long hours. Long hours and more than a few late nights. Do you think you can handle that?"

        "Nothing I can't handle, I'm a night owl myself so some late hours aren't a problem for me."

        He seems pleased enough. "Excellent, as a follow-up question, are you at all familiar with my work or... philosophy?"

        "Of course, I've read some of your historical studies and other works related to your late mentor. I always found it quite interesting."

        "As you should!" He leaned forward on his desk, a slight smile on his face as he spoke, clearly pleased by my answer. "I find a surprising amount of people in this city don't see the true potential of the technology we develop. Not to mention our society itself. But I can sense you're a bit more aware than the average individual."

        "I graduated from the same academy you went to. I've seen some of your work firsthand. It was one of my old professors who told me you were looking for an assistant so I quickly applied to work with you."

        He chuckled heartily at this news. "Ah, is that so? Hah, they're still teaching my work? I'd almost be flattered if that old building hadn't fallen apart even more since my time there. But, I digress, it's an interesting coincidence, of our... similar histories. Although I can't say most of my old professors had anything positive to say about me, to my face or not."

        "Yeah he can be quite stern but he seems proud of your accomplishments. He almost made my spark give out when he sent me a message telling me about you. Not very often he reaches out."

        He laughed again. "That old coot? Hah! You know, I don't think he's changed a bolt since I first met him. Always so "passionate" about progress, about expanding our minds and inventing new technology and whatnot."

        He leaned back against his chair again, taking a moment to size you up as a person.

        "And he has a soft spot for you, does he?"

        "Apparently and completely unexpected. I graduated five years ago and this is the first time I remember speaking to him besides running into him a few times. I always thought he hated me or at least my class." I laughed at the thought.

  ��     He chuckled as well, shaking his head. "Oh, he most "definitely" thought of your class as a bunch of dunder-headed fools and idiots. I couldn’t count on my servo how many classes of his I had to sit through as he bemoaned the incompetence of his students. But something about you… must've caught his optics."

        "I suppose, but you as well it seems. He talked pretty highly of you. But he also said at least one of his students had to do something with their lives." 

        "Did he, now? Hah! I can hear it now…Well, at least at least ONE of my students will accomplish something*.”

        He imitated the professor, lowering his voice and making it harsher and gruff to replicate him. I couldn't help but laugh at his silly impression. Causing his smile to grow wider as he continues the imitation, laughing himself. 

        “Shockwave! Yes, I remember him… He was the ONE I had hopes for. He had a good brain! But now he’s a politician, so I can see it’s all gone to his head!" He continued.

        "Sounds about right. If I closed my eyes I'd think I was back in the academy."

        He chuckled, resting his arms back on his desk and watching me intently. It seemed he enjoyed my presence. 

        "He certainly did have a way with words, I'll give him that. As I said, very passionate. Very *very* passionate. Okay back on topic. So tell me, miss (Y/N), why do you want this job?"

        "I'm honestly interested in working with you. Your research is top notch and you're a politician I fully support."

        His smile widened. "Ah, a flattery, as well as a loyalist. You're a sharp one. And a quick learner, I imagine." He leaned back in his seat a bit. "Now, tell me this; if you don’t mind, what interests you about my work the most? I’m curious."

        "Your outlook on the future Is quite interesting and you seem to be one of the only researchers interested in our resources. You are aware that as our population grows we need more energon mainly. Too many people try to simply think in the present which won't help us in the long run." I accidentally ranted on. 

        He nodded, pleased with my answer. "So you understood what he was trying to accomplish...Precisely. People in this city, especially those I work with up in the Senate, are more concerned with now, or themselves more than Cybertron as a whole. In this day and age, a city of this size requires a very specific amount of energon for it to thrive. And we’ve nearly used up our planet’s natural resources." He laced his fingers together. "Something must be done to maintain that balance."

        "And I know your research is to find a solution. I'd love to assist you in that endeavor."

        He smiled at this. "It’s been a while since someone was so enthusiastic, or willing, to assist in his cause, let alone someone with a similar mindset to my own. I like you. You’ve got ambition, you’re quick, and you seem to be capable of thinking for yourself. It’s very refreshing, I’ll say that much."

        "Thank you, sir." 

        "Oh please, sir makes me feel old. Just call me Shockwave.  I have a question for you if you don’t mind."

        "Oh of course Shockwave."

        "Now, I have to ask. You’re not interested in getting into politics, are you?" He chuckled softly. "You’d either be a terrifying political opponent or an excellent addition, given what I’ve seen."

        "Oh me, I couldn't do politics. I'm a horrible public speaker. I stumble my words and get super anxious." I answered a bit too honestly.

        "A shy one? I never would’ve guessed." He seemed almost genuinely surprised. "You carry yourself well. You look like a confident person, you certainly sound it, although a bit reserved."

        "I do the best I can in professional settings."

        "Fair enough." He seemed to think for a moment, studying me, then smiled again. "Tell you what. How about I give you a week-long trial? See how you can handle yourself working alongside me, get a true taste of the position, hmm?"

        "That sounds perfect to me." 

        He smiled, nodding in agreement, and stood up. "Excellent, be here at 9 am, next Monday, sharp. No being late, first impression, and all that. I’ll clear out some space at my desk for you, you’ll be working there for the majority of the time. I’m expecting good things from you, (Y/N)."

        "Thank you so much, you won't regret your decision." I shake his hand with a smile.

        "So I shouldn’t, (Y/N)" He grips my hand firmly in a handshake, his expression stern yet pleased, before it softens again as he releases you. You best be on your way now, you know the way out. Until next Monday, it’s been a pleasure, I’m looking forward to working with you."

        "Me as well. See you Monday." I stood up and gave him a curt nod with a smile before leaving.

        I was so giddy with excitement the second the door closed behind me I had to take a deep breath to calm myself.

        Can't wait to start.

---

[Time skip to Monday]

        I made sure to leave early so I wouldn't be late. I arrived at his facility half an hour early so I walked the halls a bit anxiously waiting for the proper time to enter his office. I think five minutes early would suffice. When I stepped into his office, he looked up from his work, smiling at me.

        "Ah, (Y/N) right on time. Good, you seem to be a punctual individual, good quality to have."

        "I do the best I can Shockwave."

        "That’s what I like to hear," He set down the datapad he was going over and got up from his chair, gesturing to the small, clearly recently made space on the other side of his desk. "Come, take a seat."

        "Thank you." I walked over to my new nicely organized work space.

        He stepped out of the way as you slid into the seat, standing next to you as he gestured to your area. "Ah, I had one of the staff set that up for you last Friday. I trust it’s to your liking. If not, feel free to request a change whenever you feel necessary."

        "No It'll work perfectly for me."

        He nodded, satisfied with my response, then pointed at the datapad he had put down earlier. "Speaking of which, your primary function here will be to assist me. You’ll be taking care of my calendar, and you’ll also be a sort of…second pair of hands. Whatever I may need you to do around the office, I expect you to do it well, with minimal error, and promptly. Is that understood?

        "Completely." 

        He smiled, pleased, and sat back down in his chair. "Excellent, and remember, my work here is private, what you see or hear in this office stays in this office, understood?"

        "Of course, I figured as much with your position."

        His smile grew. "You learn quickly, good. That’s a very necessary quality to have, around here."

        He put a fresh datapad in front of me. "Now, first thing’s first. Open that, and familiarize yourself with my schedule for the day."

        "Understood," I said reading through the list. "Seems like an easy workload for today. Some paperwork to sort through, and meeting with one of your fellow senators later this evening. Which in the end would probably include more paperwork to fill out."

        Shockwave nodded, watching intently as I quickly read through his schedule. "Very good, correct on both counts. Very observant, I must say. Tell me, you read fast, don’t you?"

        "Yes sir, always have. I quite enjoy it as well."

        He smiled again, resting his chin against his fist as he studied me from behind his desk, amused by how enthusiastic I was. Eager to learn, eager to work. Exactly the kind of person he had been looking for I hoped.

        "Reading is a hobby of yours, then?"

        "Yep,"  I answered while looking at the data pad.

        He chuckled and leaned back in his Chair, "Any other hobbies you might have? You know I’m going to do a background check on you, I might as well have the whole list."

        "Reading, writing, and art are the main things I enjoy." 

        He raised an eyebrow, intrigued by that. "Reading, writing, and art, hm…? You’re a creative type, then?"

        "Yes, and it comes in quite handy for work."

        He smiled again, leaning his chin against his palm. "Oh, I imagine it does. And these aren’t just things you do during your leisure time? You put them to good use, as well? I’m almost jealous, I have a one-track mind, it’s all about politics and work."

        "Well, we all work differently." Though it was a bit disheartening to hear. He must overwork himself.

        He chuckled bitterly like I read his mind, confirming my thoughts.

        "Indeed we all do. But unfortunately, politics isn’t kind to individuals with many, diverse, interests. My mind tends to hyper-fixate on the present, on work, and my research. Sometimes I wish it weren’t that way…" He paused, thinking for a moment.

        "Say, what time was my meeting later?" He changed the subject so quickly that it almost made my head spin.

        "Oh um, five this evening." I quickly answered looking back down at the datapad.

        "Tch, 5?"  He looked at the time, a bit bothered that the meeting was later than he thought. "That’s right, why am I only just now remembering this…?"

        He mumbled, clearly annoyed with his forgetfulness. Then, turning back to me, he looked contemplative for a moment and then got to his feet. "You’re joining me for the meeting."

        "To take notes I assume?" I was a bit nervous joining a meeting room full of senators.

        "Of course, that’s one of the main purposes of your being here, I’ll need you to take notes." He said with a nod, walking over to stand next to my chair, and leaning on my desk. It seemed he noticed my nervous expression and smiled. "But you don’t need to look so frightened, you won’t be the one in the hot seat."

        Well, that eased my worry for the most part. "Shouldn't be anything I can't handle."

        "Exactly."

        He chuckled, folding his arms as he leaned over the desk. We both were so close now, and he seemed almost amused by how nervous I looked. "And even if something were to go wrong, I’ll be there. Don’t worry, I don’t throw my assistants to the wolves."

        "W-well I appreciate that."

        He quickly continued with his line of thought, still leaning up against my desk. "And if I may ask, why do you look so nervous? As far as I’m concerned, you’re not the one being scrutinized by the other senators, you’re here for my benefit. Is it the other senators that worry you?"

        "A bit, I just don't know what to expect. I'm just a bit nervous and I'm new to the job. The longer I work with you the calmer I'll be." 

        "You’re very inexperienced, yes, I’ve noticed. That’s another one of your good qualities, you’re not afraid to admit that." He smiled, tilting his head, still leaning next to me. "The others won’t scrutinize or judge you, I promise. They may question me, and be somewhat skeptical of you, but I’ll handle them, you needn’t worry."

[Timeskip To Meeting]

        Now I was walking beside Shockwave, the halls of the senate building bustling with activity around the two of us as we made our way to the meeting. It was evident Shockwave held an established presence in the halls, his gaze commanded respect and demanded attention.

        Eventually, we arrived at the meeting in question, a large room with a long table taking up most of the space. A few other senators were already present, chatting amongst themselves at their seats. A few of them looked over to Shockwave as we both entered. I stayed behind Shockwave and silently followed him to his designated spot. 

        He took his seat, right at the center of the table, with me beside him. The others were still chatting, a casual atmosphere until Shockwave clears his throat, and they fall silent. He waits until everyone is in place before speaking. "Alright, let’s get down to business."

        His booming voice was completely different from his usual tone. It silenced the room entirely as everyone else looked our way making me take a deep breath.

        He smiles as everyone quiets down, some of them glancing in my direction before turning their attention back to him entirely. He takes a moment to glance around the table, observing everyone’s expressions, and their demeanors, before speaking again. "If I may have your attention, I have a new assistant that I wish to introduce." He motions to me, and I immediately feel multiple pairs of optics and attention on me.

        My eyes widened a bit anxiously as I turned to him hoping he would do the introducing part. I'm worried my voice wouldn't hold nearly as much volume as his. 

        He chuckles softly, seemingly amused by my hesitation. He glances at me then back at the other senators, before addressing them all again. "This is (Y/N), she’ll be my assistant from now on, and a valuable asset to me."

        I note the smile he gives me while he says this, and the senators begin murmuring and whispering amongst themselves. Shockwave doesn’t object to this, instead smiling wider, clearly waiting to hear what they have to say. You also notice some of them glancing your way occasionally.

        I quickly whispered my thanks. I probably would have made a fool of myself and him if I spoke.

        He glances over at me and nods, before turning his attention back to his fellow senators, his expression slightly more serious. They had now finished their whispering, and Shockwave spoke up again, his voice returning to a somewhat stoic and serious tone. "Now, enough distractions, I believe the topic at hand was funding for the Iacon Academy. Yes?"

        As they went back and forth with their arguments I wrote down every word from the Senators, which I will say is quite difficult with all the useless bickering some decided to partake in.

        It was clear some of the senators were more interested in arguing for the sake of arguing, rather than actually getting things done. Shockwave was getting noticeably more annoyed with each word spoken in the meeting. His fists occasionally clenched, and his jaw tensed, he was growing frustrated with it all. Even still, he was a master at keeping his composure, his expression stoic, never letting anyone see him annoyed. The fact that I had noticed, was a slight testament to my perceptiveness.

        I looked up at him with a nervous smile easily noticing his annoyance and whispered to him. "I didn't realize how annoying your job must be at times."

        He glanced at me when I spoke and sighed internally. He was trying his best to maintain a professional demeanor, but they were pushing it.

        "The arguing, the bickering, is just one of many parts of the job I could go without." He whispered back, keeping eye contact with me, before returning his attention to the meeting.

        "How do you ever get anything done around here?"

        He chuckled a little at that. A rare moment of lighthearted humor in the tense atmosphere of the meeting. "A fair and understandable question to ask in this situation."

        He sighs, as the arguing only raises in volume, before tapping the table, and commanding all attention on him.

        With a stern expression and a commanding tone, he speaks. "That is enough!"

        His tone would have scared me out of my seat if it had been directed at me. All eyes turn to him in unison. Shockwave stares straight ahead with an intense, yet serious expression, waiting for one of them to argue or object. No one speaks up, and he takes this opportunity to speak again. "All this arguing among friends doesn't get us anywhere, does it? We’re all here with the same goal, to aid the best interest of Cybertron. We may have our own beliefs and personal goals, but our purpose here is to keep things running smoothly for the greater good of all."

        I wasn't always completely certain of his goals as a politician but his voice rang out with a truly hopeful and optimistic outlook for Cybertron. I was proud to be working beside him. He glanced in my direction again, for a moment, a silent gesture of reassurance. He wasn’t done speaking yet. But he was pleased to see he had made an impression. His expression and tone soon turned serious again, and he began speaking once more. "We’re all on the same side here. Let’s put this childish squabbling aside for a moment, and start getting work done."

        I looked around the table to see all the senators had a slight look of shame. Shockwave smiles, pleased to see them all quiet and a bit humiliated by his actions, and continues speaking, as he pulls up a holographic map for them all to see. "Alright, let’s get back to business." He says as he moves on to the subject of the Iacon Academy.

        It had seen better days since I last saw it. A heartbreaking sight to see such a wonderful facility going to shambles. He brings up some numbers, charts, and other data related to the academy. All concerning funds, or lack thereof.

        "This academy has stood as a beacon of learning and knowledge for generations of individuals in this city, but funding is running dry. More and more of its resources are dedicated towards its deteriorating state rather than actual education, and it's getting worse by the day."

        It was truly a shame to see. I just hoped they could all agree on a solution.

        A small discussion ensues between the others, some agreeing some arguing, and some simply keeping to themselves. It goes on for a short amount of time until one of them speaks up.

        "I say we cut funds entirely from the Iacon Academy, and dedicate those funds to something more useful." Came from one of the quiet senators on the far end of the table.

        I accidentally gasped at the suggestion louder than I'd like. So I quickly covered my mouth and looked down at my notes hoping I didn't get scolded for my disruption.

        Shockwave raised an eyebrow at this unexpected outburst and glanced over at me. Then, glaring at the one who suggested cutting all funds, he says, pointedly and sternly, "The Iacon Academy needs funding, we cannot just cut funding entirely. It's a core part of our city, and we can't simply just let it fall apart."

        Shockwave took the words right out of my mouth. Shockwave glared at the one that suggested the foolish idea. The others all began to speak up and add their own opinions, some more heated than others. It was clear it'd become a bit of an argument again, one quite different than the bickering during the start of the meeting. It was now a tense discussion of different opinions, with everyone throwing ideas into the mix. Again, Shockwave's fists clench, and his jaw goes tense again. He seems frustrated but keeps himself from reacting, for now.

        He called for the meeting to close for now so everyone could think through their decisions and come back with clear plans rather than arguing with one another.

        And just like that, the meeting was over. Most of the other senators seemed disgruntled and mildly irritated with Shockwave's decision to close the meeting in the middle of a discussion, but they didn't object.  

        He knew they'd come back later with even more to say, and even more to argue about, but it would hopefully be less heated than this meeting, and actually accomplish what it was meant to. After the others began to leave, Shockwave sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, tired from everything that had just taken place.

        "Are you alright Shockwave?" I asked kindly while making sure all my notes were together and organized properly. I know he'd like to read over them later.

        He looked over at me, surprised, and sighed. "Just tired. Frustrated with all their arguing and bickering, it happens every single time. I don't know why they bother to show up if all they do is go back and forth about things."

        "Well, that's how it always seems to be when people with positions of power get in a room together. But you seem different. You don't act like most politicians."

        He raises an eyebrow again, amused by this comment. "Oh really? And how is it you expect politicians to act, exactly?"

        "Well like most of the people arguing during the meeting. Argumentative, rude, judgemental, and completely self-centered."

        He rolls his eyes at this, nodding in agreement. "Unfortunately, that's just what it's like working with most fellow politicians, I could spend hours listing everything I find annoying about the way most of them act."

        "Then why do you do it, why deal with them? There are plenty of other things you could do to help people. And less dangerous. You're always in danger while in your position and no one can get along."

        He crossed his arms, a serious but calm expression on his face. "Because if no one like me does it, then everything will go to waste, and nothing will change for the better. Someone needs to maintain balance and make sure things run smoothly. I am quite aware of the dangers that come with the job, but I am willing to take the risk to make sure Cybertron continues to thrive."

        I could almost sigh. "You're too good for this job. I mutter to myself. An old friend of mine also told me about you before I got this job, you know him pretty well. Orion Pax, the name should sound familiar. I might have liked a bit about why I signed up for this job."

        His eyes widened and he raised an eyebrow again. "Orion? Of course, I've known him for longer than I can remember. What does he have to do with this?"

        "He's the main reason I applied for this job. He's worried about your safety. We all know you've had multiple death threats in your time working here. We'd all hate to see you get hurt."

        He raises an eyebrow at the death threats part. "Of course, he is."

        He sighs. "I appreciate his concern, but I'm not in danger. I know how to handle myself, and I'm perfectly aware of all the risks that come with the job. I knew what I was getting into when I decided to join the Senate, and I won't let a handful of death threats from scared politicians stop me."

        "Well Orion wants to make sure you're safe so..he might have asked me to try and work with you. Everything I said in our interview was true but I'm not just a simple assistant. I worked with Orion before on more important and dangerous operations."

        "You…Worked with Orion on something dangerous?" He tilts his head, looking at you with a curious yet somewhat uneasy expression. "Tell me truthfully, did Orion know you were going to mention this to me?"

        "No he wanted me to stay quiet, but I hated the idea of lying to you. I wanted you to know the truth, but my main reason for being here is to help you and make sure you're safe for Orion's sake."

        He crosses his arms, and his expression turns into a serious yet slightly displeased look. "Orion knows that I don't want to be protected or treated differently because of his concerns. And he should have told me this ahead of time. I understand his concern, but I didn't ask for him to send someone to watch over me."

        I looked down in defeat. "If you want me to leave I'd understand."

        He shakes his head and sighs. He's angry with Orion, and his expression makes that clear. "No, I don't want you to leave. I want you to do exactly what you were hired for. It's Orion who I have some… choice words for."

        "He only means well. He views you as a good friend. But times like these are unsafe for good bots like you. Well us I suppose."

        "I'm aware, he's mentioned that fact countless times before and I always tell him the same thing. There are others more valuable than me, and I can handle myself if there really is danger. And I know he means well. The concern comes from a good place and I appreciate the sentiment, truly. But sending someone to protect me, without ever asking me about it is just… a bit insulting." 

        "That's why I wanted to tell you. And the only reason Orion sent me is because he's heard word of someone planning something against you. We're not sure yet but it seems like you're in danger."

        He raised an eyebrow, listening intently. "Heard of something? From who? Do you know anything concrete about these threats?"

        "From what I know it's possible some of the other senators want to take you out. But that's all I know for sure. I wish I could tell you more."

        He closes his eyes and puts a hand to his chin, in a thinking pose. "They want to take me out? That's certainly an interesting development… and probably not all that surprising, a good portion of the senators don't like me one bit." He sighs and turns back to me, his expression more serious now and his tone matching it. "So you're here to what? Look out for me?"

        "In simple terms, yes."

        He looks me up and down, considering the situation. He's still somewhat unhappy about this arrangement, but he's not exactly opposed to it either. "I don't need anyone's protection, no matter what Orion says. But I respect the honesty you've shown...Alright, I accept your presence. But don't expect me to be any more careful than usual."

        "I accept those terms. I'll still only function as your assistant unless you're in danger. My goal isn't to be an overgrown babysitter. I'm only here when needed."

        He nods, and his expression softens again. "That's all I ask. As long as you still function as my assistant. I'm still not happy with Orion, I'll need to speak with him later."

[hangesdarling]

the two of us — h. zoë

PAIRING. Hange Zoë x female reader SYNOPSIS. You are the Female titan under Dr. Zoë's experiments, could it be that your relationship is growing to something more? CONTENT. 18+, MDNI, mentions of squirting, oral sex, some light angst, Erwin stirring conflict WORD COUNT. 2.3k A/N. this is part 2 of captive as requested by @coconutchan (hope u don't mind me tagging u hehe) (I just noticed that captive is also 2.3k words long lmaooo major coincidence xD)

"You're an extremely unethical scientist, you know that?" you managed to mutter in between the soft moans spilling from your lips, a hand clutching on the couch as Hange continued to spread you open for them. 

"That's a very vague way to say `Hey, Hange thanks for making me squirt four times in less than an hour,ʼ" Hange chuckled, raising their head a little to get a good look at your flushed face. Their breath breezed on your soak folds, their lips digging in to suck your clit once more. 

Your back arched, hips chasing the expanse of their tongue as they kept a firm palm against your inner thigh. They've been in this position for half an hour, head buried between your thighs. What started as a frivolous banter ended up with another intimate session as if you hadn't done it early that morning. 

"You're exaggerating," you argued, trying to ease down how much your legs shook as another wave of orgasm crashed right at your core. Hange smiled to themself, their tongue rolling on your insides to gather up the remnants of your release. When they sat up, you couldn't help but roll your eyes at the sight of that perpetual smirk in their face, showing their smugness right after making you come. Hange was too aware of just how good you felt under their touch, their eyes reading at every rise of your chest or every soft moan you managed to slip out.

"I think your soaked skirt could speak for itself, sweetheart," they snickered once more, taking a good look at the mess under you before pulling down the skirt bundled at your waist. "You've been so good today despite your bratty attitude. I like it."

With that remark, you might have been tempted to kick their ass just as you sat up. Not only did they refer to your intimate sessions but also to the information you managed to give them so far. Hange fixed their creased shirt, their other hand leafing through the pages containing what they know about your abilities as a titan shifter. It was difficult to make you talk but Hange managed to pull through by asking the right questions and just enough charm. Hange lightly bit on the edge of their pen, eyes trailing down their list. 

"Hm, I wonder what else?" they thought out loud. Hardening, agility, stamina, speed, endurance... what else? 

"Flexibility," you butted on their train of thoughts, busy smoothing out your clothes with a firm palm. 

Hange glanced at you, eyes crinkling as they smirked, "Oh, I know that already." 

"How observant of you," you scoffed. 

Hange tilted their head, facing you as they spoke. 

"That's true and I know there are things you haven't told me yet."

"Those are things you should be finding out by yourself, Doctor." 

"I like it when you're difficult," Hange laughed, a brief hearty one from their throat. 

"Cause it turns you on?" 

"Oh, don't get me started with that," Hange grinned, flipping through the few pages for the last time. "Anyway, I still have experiments for you tomorrow."

Hange gave a soft pat on your hair, fingers lingering for just a moment before they stood up. 

"Rest for now, alright?"

As they walked out and disappeared behind the door of that lab, you wanted to ask where they would go, a subtle plea to tell you their whereabouts so you could drift off to sleep knowing that they would come back. But as the door shut closed and lights went off, you cursed at your vulnerability, trying to cut away the possible tether linking your heart to theirs. 

Hange is an enemy. Your enemy. 

You shut your eyes, squeezing out the lingering unwelcome thoughts, burying them in a place far away. But even at the edge of sleep, your mind snapped, pulling you out of a hazy scene of dream as the door opened once more. 

Light poured in, a blurring white at the edge spilling at the center table and some lab equipment was strewn at the side. You sat up, grazing over the figure's taller stature entering. Your hand felt for the shiv squeezed on the crevice in the couch, your body in alert stance as you felt that the person approaching wasn't Hange just from the heavier footsteps against the floor. The switch was flicked on, filling the room with light once more. 

Then there he was, the man you were warned about, the devil himself in the flesh: Erwin Smith. If it wasn't for his astute planning as the mastermind of the previous attack, you wouldn't have been on the couch of this lab, experimented by your enemies. 

Erwin greeted you with much politeness, a practiced formality of words carefully crafted for his prey. Your mind skipped over his pleasantries, focusing on the language in his eyes that his words couldn't hide. It was clear, even at the stray threads from his careful weaving that he only sees you as nothing but a weapon to be used later on. Even as he sat across from you with that friendly smile and conversational tone of interest, you couldn't put a sliver of trust in him. 

"To be honest, Dr. Zoë insisted on your stay here, Y/N," he said, a hand indicating the laboratory and your unrestrained hands. "Such a considerate move, bearing in mind that you are a trained soldier." 

He stood up, walking over to the lab equipment as if in inspection. Hange frequently used those tools and equipment but found no time to clean up the dusting wires powering the engine inside.

"Given this unrestraint opportunity, you could have tampered with the equipment without Hange knowing." Erwin ran a finger on the trail of dust before continuing, "But you see? Nothing was touched in here. No sign of infringement."

He looked back at you with a small, knowing smile and ever-perusing eyes. "Why is that, I wonder?"

"I shouldn't say anything that could be used against me, don't you think?" You swallowed the lump in your throat, hard eyes set upon him when truly your heart wanted to bury itself deeper as if doing so would get you off Erwin's perusal.

"Oh, right. Fair enough," he said but only stepped closer from where you sat. "However... I'm starting to think that a seasoned soldier such as yourself is falling for Dr. Zoë's charms."

And even before you could utter a rebuttal, he only stepped closer and continued, "Their charm is their greatest tactic next to their intellect. I would say that even a mindless titan would yield."

Followed by a humorless chuckle, a smile curled on the side of his lip.

"You, Y/N, you've become so obedient to them as far as I can see. Even someone as stubborn as yourself could be coaxed into submission, after all," he said, eyes gazing down at your stature. You felt indignant at how small you were from where he stood. 

Your tongue twisted into a knot, the outbursts you have for him clamped shut and swallowed into an endless pit. The anger bubbling up your chest could only transpire as a hard glare as he moved to open the door once more. 

"Anyway, I'll be taking my leave since I really had no business in here," Erwin waved, taking a step outside. "I'm glad Hange has made the couch cozy for you."

—

Anger. Is that what you should've felt from his words? Anger at his inner sneer, his subtle taunts, or perhaps anger at the truth that you have been so compliant to Hange's wishes. You've become too trusting, yielding with no questions asked to their words and touch. You've doubted their intentions to a certain degree but never acted upon that thought because no matter how much you denied the truth to yourself, Hange has already warmed your heart to let them in. You've fallen to whatever deception they have in mind. 

Your eyes pierced nothingness as you gripped the weapon right in your hands. Your thoughts crawled into your limbs, letting them think for you as the door opened once more. Hange was caught off guard as you pounced into them, knocking them on the floor and your thighs straddling their torso. A gasp escaped their lips as they felt all your weight pressing them down the ground, the shiv you were previously holding pointed perilously at the vein of their neck. Hange couldn't ask what brought them on your grip or even scan your face as your hair fell over your face. However, your tight and almost desperate grip on their collar became enough to subdue the questions flooding their mind. 

"Y/N?" Hange asked, eyes chasing yours for an explanation, an emotion to be understood. 

"You'll have to answer my questions or else," your voice was low and rough, Hange wondered if you'd cried or what had angered you so much to lose that calm voice they're familiar with. 

"I see you've made a shiv. Quite efficient of you. I didn't even notice," Hange remarked, trying to smile and ease themself down. Their palm rested on your thigh upon instinct, but the shiv only brought its tip closer to the flesh of their throat. 

"What do you truly want from me?" you muttered, voice threatening to break.

"Could you elaborate on that?" Hange asked as a slight confusion passed over their eyes. 

"You know damn well what I'm talking about." When you responded, Hange sensed your frustration, drawing a taut line only to be ripped out. 

What do you want from me? Hange thought over your question, their mind ramming one response they couldn't utter. They want to brush the hair off your face, alleviate the distrust forming around your relationship, or just hold your hand if you will let them. Hange threw their head back to the floor, lying on their bundled hair like spilled brown ink. 

"I want what every researcher wants, Y/N," Hange spoke softly. "Results."

"Sure, yes. Results from the experiments. Then retrieve the Female titan from me. That's it? I'm sure you won't stop on that." 

"You know I shouldn't tell you about that, right?" 

"And you know I can kill you right now if I wanted to," you shot back, your glowering eyes boring through them.

"I know, sweetie. You're aiming to puncture a major artery right there by the looks of it." Hange smiled softly in surrender, their other hand lying by their side as the other never left your thigh. Their body was too relaxed under you. Too submitting, too comfortable in knowing that you wouldn't hurt them. It only boiled you up inside, tempted to leave a crude mark on their neck just to make a point.  But you only let go of their collar, the tip of your shiv drawing in an unthreatening stance on their clothed chest. 

"I hate you," you muttered. 

"Listen to me, Y/N." Hange clasped your hand but you only pulled it away from them. 

"Why would you do this?" 

"Do what?" Hange mumbled to themself but retracted almost immediately as they glimpsed your eyes for the first time. It wasn't anger or violence they'd read, but a pure wounded look that pricked their heart. Hange knew you were questioning the motive behind every touch, every kiss, and every pleasure you've shared since that moment they had you. You might have thought yourself a prey, lured into the trap of those lovely brown eyes, of that teasing smile, and of their loving touch. Hange sat up against your softening grip. 

"Listen to me first," they whispered, clasping both of your hands near their chest. "You see, I didn't plan beyond experimenting on you. But I have a vague idea of what I want to do." 

Their eyes did not waver behind those glasses as they spoke. "This may cost me my license or, hell, even my neck. But... I'm not planning to take the Female titan from you."

Their statement came as a surprise, your mind running around the possibilities of what could that mean but found none you could accept to be true. 

"What...?" 

Hange smiled softly. "You know what I mean, Y/N. I want you to join my side."

Betrayal. Betray Eldia. Forget we're enemies and be with me, their words translated themselves on your head, etching a frown on your face. 

"What... What makes you think I'll follow along those plans?"

"I'm not expecting you to," Hange sighed, relaxing on where they sat and no longer restraining your hand gripping the shiv. "Of course, you will never let yourself become a weapon against your own kind. But that's not what I have in mind.

"I know it would be difficult for you to believe me again but I need your trust this time. I don't have a clear vision of what will become of us but know that in the future I envision, it would be just you and me. No war or another bloody clash between Marley and Eldia," Hange sighed, letting go of you as they stood up, eyes locked on yours. "I never planned to kill you the moment you stepped in here, Y/N. Trust me and I'll tell you everything."

Trust. The word played in your mind once more, repeating itself in various tones of inquiry and mockery. Hadn't you become too trusting and reprimanded with a cruel hand right after? The harsh scars and claws on your insides writhed, sending your mind back to your roots to decide for you. You're not just the Female titan or an Eldian soldier, you are Y/N, ingrained with a will and desire of your own. 

"Fine," you muttered, pulling the collection of makeshift weapons you hid on yourself, even a small prized weapon on your ring finger. Your stern, stone-cold eyes met Hange's as you placed the dangerous collection in a neat line on the center table. "I'm trusting you."

You sat back on the couch with transparent intentions this time, the sinister thought of regret shoved at the back of your mind as you spoke. 

"Now tell me everything.” 

likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated, sweethearts <3

[astriiformes]

Hi, i just learned about the scientific revolution in europe at school. Can you tell me why you dont think scientific revolutions exist? im curious!

So I feel like I have to lead with the fact that I'm kind of arguing two different points when I say scientific revolutions aren't really a thing

One is that I'm objecting to a specific, extremely foundational theory of scientific revolutions that was put forth by the philosopher Thomas Kuhn, which I think really misrepresents how science is actually practiced in the name of fitting things to a nice model. The other is that I think the fundamental problem with the idea is that it's too vague to effectively describe an actual process that happens.

It's certainly true that there are important advances in science that get referred to as "revolutions" that fundamentally changed their fields -- the shift from the Ptolemaic model of the Solar System to the Copernican one, Darwin's theory of evolution, etc. But there are historians of science (who I tend to agree with) that feel that terming these advances "revolutions" ignores the fact that science is an continuous, accretional process, and somewhat sensationalizes the process of scientific change in the name of celebrating particular scientists or theories over others.

Kuhn's model that he put forth in The Structure of Scientific Revolutions (which is one of those books that itself stirred a great deal of activity in a number of fields) suggests science evolves via what he called "paradigm shifts," where new ideas become fundamentally incompatible with the old model or way of doing things, causing a total overturn in the way scientists see the world, and establishing a new paradigm -- which will eventually cave to another when it, too, ceases to function effectively as a model. This theory became extraordinarily popular when it was published, but it's somewhat telling who it's remained popular with. Economists, political scientists, and literary theorists still use Kuhn, but historians of science, in my experience at least, see his work as historically significant but incompatible with how history is actually studied.

Kuhn posits that between paradigm shifts there are periods of "normal science" where paradigms are unquestioned and anomalies in the current model are largely ignored, until they reach a critical mass and cause a scientific revolution. In reality though, there is often real discussion of those anomalies, and I think the scientific process is not nearly so content to ignore them as Kuhn thinks. Throughout history, we see people expressing a real discontent with unsolved mysteries the current scientific model fails to explain, and glossing over those simply because the individuals in question didn't manage to formulate breakthrough theories to "solve" those problems props up the somewhat infamous "great men" model of history of science, where we focus only on the most famous people in the field as significant instead of acknowledging that science is a social enterprise and no research happens in a vacuum!

Beyond disagreeing with Kuhn specifically though, I think the idea of scientific revolutions vastly simplifies how science evolves and changes, and is ultimately a really ahistorical way of thinking about shifts in thinking. Take the example of the shift from Ptolemaic, geocentric thought to the heliocentric Copernican model of the solar system. When does this supposed "revolution" in thought actually start, and when does it "end" by becoming firmly established? You could argue that the publication of Copernicus' De revolutionibus orbium coelestium in 1543 was the beginning of the shift in thinking -- but of course, then you have the problem of asking where Copernicus' ideas came from in the first place.

The "great men" model of history would suggest Copernicus was a uniquely talented individual who managed to suggest something no one else had ever put forth, but realistically, he was influenced by the scientists who came before him, just like anyone else. There were real objections to the Ptolemaic model during the medieval era! One of the most famous problems in medieval astronomy was the fact that assuming a geocentric model makes the behavior of the planets seem really weird to an observer on Earth, referred to as retrograde motion, which had to be solved with a complicated system of epicycles that people knew wasn't quite working, even if they weren't able to put together exactly why. There were even ancient Greek astronomers who suggested that the sun was at the center of the solar system, going all the way back to Aristarchus of Samos who lived from around 310-230 BCE!

Putting an end point to the Copernican revolution poses similar challenges. Some people opt to suggest that what Copernicus started, either Galileo or Newton finished (which in and of itself means the "revolution" lasted around 100-150 years), but are we defining the shift in terms of new theories, or the consensus of the scientific community? The latter is much harder to pinpoint, and in my opinion as an aspiring historian of science, also much more important. Again, science doesn't happen in a vacuum. Copernicus, Galileo, and Newton may be more famous than their peers, but that doesn't mean the rest of the Renaissance scientific community didn't matter.

Ultimately it's a matter of simple models like Kuhn's (or other definitions of scientific revolutions) being insufficient to explain the complexity of history. Both because science is a complex endeavor, and because it isn't independent from the rest of history. Sure, it's genuinely amazing to consider that Copernicus' De revolutionibus orbium coelestium and the anatomist Andreas Vesalius' similarly influential De humani corporis fabrica were published the same year, and it says something about the intellectual climate of the time. But does it say something about science only, or is it also worth remembering that the introduction of typographic printing a century prior drastically changed how scientists communicated and whose ideas stuck and were remembered? On a similar note, we credit Darwin with suggesting the theory of evolution (and I could write a similarly long response just on the many, many influences in geology and biology both that went into his formulation of said theory), but what does it say that Alfred Russel Wallace independently came up with the theory of natural selection around the same time? Is it sheer coincidence, or does it have more to do with conversations that were already happening in the scientific community both men belonged to that predated the publication of the Origin?

I think that the concept of scientific revolutions is an important part of the history of the history of science, and has its place when talking about how we conceive of certain periods of history. But I'm a skeptic of it being a particularly accurate model, largely on the grounds of objecting to the "great men" model of history and the idea that shifts in thinking can be boiled down to a few important names and dates.

There's a famous Isaac Newton quote (which, fittingly, did not originate with Newton himself, but can be traced back even further to several medieval thinkers) in which he states "If I have seen further it is by standing on the shoulders of Giants." I would argue that science, as an endeavor, is far more like standing on the shoulder of several hundred thousand other people in a trenchcoat. This social element of research is exactly why it's so hard to pull apart any one particular revolution, even when fairly revolutionary theories change the direction of the research that's happening. Ideas belong to a long evolutionary chain, and even if it occasionally goes through periods of punctuated equilibrium, dividing that history into periods of revolution and stagnancy ignores the rich scientific tradition of the "in-between" periods, and the contributions of scientists who never became famous for their work.

[loonylupinblack3]

Could you do fic for Mark Webber with wife reader? Just her being their children to the paddock and everyone quickly gushed over the kids. Both Lando and Oscar act like big brothers to them and felt very protective of the Webber's family. Would absolutely do everything the kids asked them to. So, there was chaos every time she brought them to the garage. But everyone wouldn't trade them for anything. Just something fluff and cute. Tag me later!! Thanks:)()

Pairing: Mark Webber x Reader

Warnings: extremely vague suggestive content

Summary: Mark brings you and your kids to the grand prix

A/N: was very fun to write this request, hope you enjoy <3

You fixed your son’s hat, turning it the right way and giving it a slight pat. Ever the moody nine year old your son Connor scowled up at you, batting your hand away.

“Now, is that the sort of way you treat your mother?” came your husband’s voice, accompanied with an arm around your waist.

You smiled as your husband finally finished getting ready and as your five year old daughter waddled behind him, ever the follower. Wherever Mark went, Lily went with him. You knelt down and picked your daughter up, the girl giggling and hugging your neck.

“Ready to go?” you asked your family, though it was Mark who answered, nodding his head and putting his hand on the small of your back, leading you outside to the car.

You buckled in Lily, Connor insisting he could do his seatbelt himself, and got into the passenger seat as Mark started the car. Lily was full of questions about her first grand prix event, a constant stream of words leaving her mouth at all times.

You answered them the best you could, though some of them were quite….. Unique questions.

“What if a dinosaur went on track during the race?” Lily asked, kicking her feet. “Would the race stop? Would people die?”

Lily looked a bit too cheerful at her words. Connor rolled his eyes at his sister.

“That wouldn’t happen, dinosaurs went extinct ages ago.”

You smiled at your son through the mirror. “Someone’s been doing their research.”

Connor smiled, puffing his chest out slightly. His early defiance was forgotten and he was looking quite pleased that you’d noticed his education on dinosaurs. 

“I learnt it at school. Also, did you know….”

You listened intently as your son explained his learnings of space, smiling at his excited rambling. Mark’s hand moved to your thigh, resting there comfortably. Your smile widened. You’d known Mark a long time, and during that time you’d figured out whenever Mark was happy he’d touch you. Like he felt contentment and touching you just mirrored his feelings. Like touching you was the icing on the cake, the perfect addition to his perfect feeling.

You looked at Mark with a smile. He noticed your gaze and smiled back, squeezing your thigh gently. 

“Also Mum,” Connor continued, “when we get to the race can we have a hot chocolate?”

Lily gasped. “Please Mum!”

You sighed at your children’s antics, and you knew sugar would just hype them up and then have them crash down, but how could you say no to them?

“We’ll see,” you conceded, which was basically a yes.

You arrived at the circuit, parking in the VIP car park Connor was all too excited to talk about as you walked to the grid. You held his hand as you walked, something Connor had complained about at the start but you were insistent. It was a crowded place and you didn’t want to lose him.

Mark was holding Lily, the girl curled up in her father’s arms. You smiled at the sight before listening to Connor, paying him the attention he expected from you as he swung your arms back and forth, chattering about his latest discovery.

Hefting Lily to one arm, Mark took your free hand and together your family walked into the paddock, receiving the sudden flash of cameras as people tried to get your attention. You held your son closer, feeling his hand squeeze yours in panic, though unfortunately he was used to this. You could see Mark doing the same thing for Lily, letting the girl hide her face into the crook of his neck.

When you’d passed the paparazzi, entering the VIP section of the grid where they didn’t have access too, Mark gently put Lily down and you let go of Connor’s hand, trusting the two of them to walk freely.

Mark held onto your hand more tightly, tugging you closer to him. You laughed, shaking your head, and Mark grinned, pressing a chaste kiss to the side of your head.

“Oscar! Oscar!” 

Lily started bolting forward, making your eyes widen and an immediate reaction to run after her seize you, but when your brain understood what she was saying your gaze travelled further and found the Australian driver grinning, arms out for your daughter.

Connor was quick to follow, running after his sister, and you and Mark shared a wry grin before walking after them. Lando appeared next to you from who knows where, giving you a tight hug.

“There’s my favourite F1 wag,” he murmured into your ear.

You laughed and hugged him back. “It’s good to see you too, Lando.”

The two of you pulled back just as Lily noticed Lando, letting a dramatic gasp leave her lips before she was running after him, Connor hot on her heels. You smiled, watching your two kids embrace Lando as Mark greeted Oscar, squeezing his shoulder.

As they talked you kept an eye on your kids, making sure they didn’t overwhelm Lando with their questions and chatter. The young Mclaren driver seemed to be doing just fine however, enjoying the conversation almost as much as the kids themselves.

Oscar walked over to you and you tore your gaze away from your children, instead focusing on your other child that Mark and you had practically adopted. Oscar gave you a grin and hugged you tightly, his figure towering over you slightly.

“Thanks for coming,” he murmured into your hair.

You pulled back, giving him a fond smile. “Of course. We wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

A faint blush spread across Oscar’s cheeks and you grinned, letting him go. Mark immediately replaced him, hand snaking to your waist and pulling you to his side.

“Mum! Mum!” Connor asked, running up to you. “Lando said he’d take us to the Mclaren garage. Can we go? Please.”

You smiled and nodded. “We can all go.”

Your kids let out a cheer and trailed behind Lando and Oscar who’d joined them, the two Mclaren drivers listening to your chattering children as they led them to the garage.

“How about you and me disappear somewhere?” Mark whispered into your ear, a devious grin on his face. “Lando and Oscar can mind the kids for a while.”

You turned to your husband and smirked, hands wrapping around his neck. “What did you have in mind?”