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sunni-stuff · 1 day ago

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People are judgmental. Some think they aren't, others don't mean to be, and then there are those who do it on purpose and simply don't care.

Parents are guilty of this.

Parents who pay you to teach their kids do this.

But the worst offenders?

Wives.

Particularly those with too much free time—gossiping Gertrude's who'd rather nitpick and judge than deal with the boredom of daytime TV and their kids screaming in the background. You’ve dealt with a handful before—a crack in the system that always rippled right under your skin whenever one of those vultures threw out a backhanded compliment.

“You’re so patient with the kids. I could never do what you do—how do you even manage?”

“Must be nice having all that time off during the summer. A little vacation every year, huh?”

“Teaching must be so rewarding. Though I imagine it’s not really about the money, is it?”

Each one, a subtle dig disguised as flattery, like they couldn’t help but twist the knife just a little deeper.

If there was one thing you’d learned about this job, it was to always kill them with kindness. The rumor mill among parents was ruthless, and the wrong rumor could ripple out and jeopardize your career. So, you’d mastered the art of the polite smile, the well-timed thank you, and the effortless small talk. It was a strategy that had served you well, keeping any overly curious mothers at bay.

Still, these women were relentless. They circled like hawks, always looking for an opening to pry into your life or make veiled comments about your parenting. You’d never given them the satisfaction of slipping up—until the day you almost did.

The sun was setting, the air brisk and tinged with the promise of winter as parents gathered their children. Little voices chattered away as teachers handed over day charts, neatly summarizing each child’s activities. Standing at the cubbies, you were bundling up Adira. Her small frame was snug in her sweater, jacket zipped up to her chin, and scarf tucked securely around her neck. She fidgeted as you worked, barely able to stay still with how much excitement bubbled in her tiny frame.

Her voice was high-pitched and animated as she launched into a story, her words tumbling over each other in her eagerness to share. “Messy man said, we play trains when he comes back!” she chirped, her dark eyes wide with delight.

You paused, your fingers lingering on the last button of her jacket. A soft smile tugged at your lips as you straightened her scarf. “Oh, did he now?”

Adira nodded vigorously, her curls bouncing. “Yep! He said, “Adira, we make the best train track ever!” Her imitation of Simon’s deep voice was laughably exaggerated, and you couldn’t help but chuckle.” We gonna play with the biiig track!” She spread her arms wide for emphasis, nearly toppling over from the effort.

The mention of Simon was enough to draw some attention from the other parents nearby. You could feel their eyes darting your way, their curiosity almost palpable. Simon’s occasional appearances to pick up Adira hadn’t gone unnoticed, and the whispers had already started. Who was this tall, broad man with a thick accent? Was he Adira’s father? A boyfriend? The air was thick with silent speculation.

Ignoring the countless eyes and ears listening in on your harmless conversation, you assured Adira. “Well, if messy man promised, he’ll keep it,” Simon had made it clear that he intended to be a constant presence in Adira’s life, and so far, he’d stuck to his word.

As you stood and picked up her small bag, a sharp voice interrupted the moment.

"Well, aren’t you just the picture-perfect little family?”

Your polite smile returned instantly, masking the irritation that flared at the condescending tone. Turning, you saw one of the daycare moms—Linda, if you remembered correctly—standing there with her perfectly manicured nails wrapped around her designer purse. Her son trailed behind her, nose buried in a tablet.

“Evening, Linda,” you said evenly, keeping your tone light. “How’s Ethan doing?

She waved a dismissive hand, her eyes already scanning Adira with that overly curious gaze that made your skin crawl. “Oh, he’s fine. But I couldn’t help overhearing... this ‘Messy man’ your little one mentioned. Is he... new in your life?”

Ah, there it was—the opening she was fishing for.

Adira, oblivious to the undercurrents of adult conversation, grinned up at Linda uncharacteristically, the joy she felt for Simon completely expunging her normal glaring behavior. “Messy man makes pancakes! But they go splat!” She threw her hands out dramatically, mimicking the chaos Simon often caused in the kitchen.

Goddammit, poor Adira revealed too much to the wrong person, and you could already see the cogs turning in Linda's head. Forcing a chuckle, you reached for Adira’s hand. “Messy man is her nickname for Simon, her dad. He’s stationed overseas, so she gets pretty excited when he’s home.”

Linda’s perfectly arched eyebrow lifted slightly, clearly surprised. “Oh, I see. Military man, huh? I suppose that explains why we’ve never seen him around.”

You gave Linda your most neutral expression, taking notice of the other moms matching from behind her. “He’s been busy, but he’s doing his best to be here when he can.”

"Oh, I see. I simply would've never guessed you were married. You never wear a ring," Linda remarked, her tone dripping with subtle judgment.

You knew what she was doing. It was a carefully laid trap, baited to catch you in a corner. If you rebuffed her comment, if you made a scene, it would only give her more ammunition to spread rumors. These women didn’t care for nuances; they thrived on gossip, and the topic of marriage—or rather, the lack of a visible wedding ring—would be a field day for them. They’d ride that horse straight to hell, and you'd be left cleaning up the mess.

With the growing number of parents in earshot, you understood that this wasn’t just a comment; it was a test. You had to choose your words carefully. It wasn’t just about keeping things smooth in the moment—it was about protecting your future.

You gave a small, practiced smile, maintaining your composure as you slipped Adira’s bag onto your shoulder. “I don’t wear my ring because I work with children. It could get caught in their hair, or worse, I could lose it.” You met her gaze with a calm confidence that bordered on dismissive.

“That’s understandable, dear. We all have kids after all!” Lina laughed, her tone attempting to sound warm and genuine, but it was too polished, too forced. The laughter rang hollow, like a poorly executed attempt to mask her true intentions. “Does this mean we’ll finally get to meet him at the fundraiser this weekend? We’ve all been here for so long, and not a single glimpse of your beloved other half. Right, ladies?”

Her words floated in the air, sharp with insinuation. The smile she wore was one of practiced sweetness, but the glint in her eyes was anything but kind. She knew what she was doing—attempting to pull you further into her web, hoping to get a reaction that would either reveal more or, better yet, give her ammunition to fuel the rumors she clearly wanted to start.

A few of the other women murmured in agreement, their eyes flicking from you to each other, already whispering amongst themselves. They were all waiting for a response, and the pressure began to build in the pit of your stomach.

“Yes, he is.” The words slipped out of your mouth before you could even process them, your own response surprising you as much as it did the group of wives surrounding you. You felt a jolt in your chest, your heart picking up pace as the reality of what you had just said began to sink in. What the fuck did you just do?

The laughter from Linda faltered for a split second, her eyes narrowing slightly as she processed your words. The others exchanged glances, some of their faces lighting up with an almost predatory curiosity, while others masked their thoughts behind polite smiles. You could almost hear the gears turning in their heads—oh, this was going to be something they could use.

The tension in the air thickened, and you suddenly felt exposed, as if every secret you’d carefully kept tucked away was now dangling on the edge of a cliff. You’d just handed them the perfect piece of gossip, but what would it lead to? Would they use it against you, twist it into something worse? You hadn’t planned for any of this—hell, you hadn't even planned on saying anything at all—but now that it was out there, you had to somehow steer this conversation.

You had to control the narrative, or risk letting it spiral completely out of your hands.

Your mind races, trying to formulate a response, but everything seems so loud—your thoughts, the laughter, the eyes watching you. How could you backpedal without it seeming like a lie? How could you walk that fine line between the truth and keeping your personal life hidden?

"Yes, Simon’s coming," you added quickly, trying to steady your breath. "But, you know... he’s not really into the whole fundraiser thing. He’s more of a stay-at-home guy, a bit of a quiet one, really. I’ll be there though, and we’re looking forward to it." You tried to sound casual, but the flicker of doubt in your voice betrayed you.

The women around you didn’t miss a beat, though. The moment had been set, and now it was only a matter of what they would do with the information.

“Well, I look forward to seeing you.” Lina’s voice was dripping with a false sweetness, and you could feel the weight of her gaze as she gave you one last look. Her eyes lingered a bit longer than necessary, as if trying to peel back layers, searching for some crack to exploit. Then, with a nod, she steered Ethan away, her entourage of women following closely behind, their chatter rising in the air like a distant murmur. The click of their heels echoed as they disappeared down the hall, leaving you standing there, frozen in place.

"And so, that's what happened," you finished, your voice trailing off as you leaned against the kitchen counter, trying to gauge Simon's reaction.

Simon blinked up at you from where he was sitting on the floor, his focus still mostly on Adira, who was happily arranging her toy train with her blocks, making a makeshift kingdom. He didn’t seem phased, just a little confused. "You want me to pretend to be your husband?"

The question hung in the air for a moment before he let out a chuckle, shaking his head slightly, his eyes filled with that familiar warmth. "Out of all the things I've done in my life, this has to be the funniest, love.”

You blinked, momentarily thrown by the unexpected nickname. It felt oddly intimate, a shift in the dynamic between you and Simon that you hadn’t anticipated. Love. It wasn't what you'd expected to hear from him, not in this context, not when everything felt so messy and uncertain. But there it was, slipping out so naturally from him, like he'd always called you that, like he'd been in your life much longer than he really had.

Your heart skipped a beat, the sound of Adira’s laughter in the background making the moment feel surreal. It should have been funny—this whole situation, with you essentially asking Simon to pretend to be your husband for the sake of those gossiping women. But instead, you felt something else, something soft and unfamiliar tightening in your chest.

“Did you just call me that?” You couldn't help but ask, your voice a little quieter than you intended.

Simon paused, his playful smile faltering for a second as he caught the look on your face. “I—yeah, I guess I did,” he replied, his tone a touch more uncertain now. He glanced down at Adira, who was happily stacking blocks at his feet, then back to you. “It was just a slip of the tongue. Didn’t mean anything weird by it.”

“I’m not exactly husband material, you know,” he added lightly, his voice teasing. “I’m more of a... messy man.”

You chuckled at that, shaking your head. "A messy man, huh?"

He nodded, grinning. “Yeah, but I’m good at it. Just ask Adira.”

Adira, hearing her name, immediately let out a squeal of approval. “Messy man!” she giggled, throwing a block in Simon’s direction, her tiny hand pointing at him with delight.

"So, what's the plan here then?" That easy grin back on his face, his eyes still dancing with humor, but there was something underneath it—something you couldn’t quite place. “You want me to just walk into a room and act like we’re a picture-perfect couple?”

The way he said it made you laugh a little, though there was a slight edge of uncertainty to it. You found yourself shifting uncomfortably, knowing you had no real plan for what came next. It wasn’t like you had a relationship with Simon beyond the occasional dinner and time spent with Adira, and yet, here you were, asking him to play a role in your life, one that might end up blurring lines you didn’t fully understand.

“Well, you don’t have to pretend, exactly,” you said, running a hand through your hair, suddenly feeling all the weight of the day settling in. “I just... I just need you to be there. You know, to back me up, to—” You paused, glancing over at Simon again. “I guess I just don’t want them thinking I’m alone in all of this. It’s bad enough that has already started.”

Simon’s gaze softened as he leaned back in his seat, watching you with a quiet understanding. "You're not alone in this," he said, his voice steady. “And I’m here. You don’t need a ring or a title for that.”

The sincerity in his tone made your chest tighten again, but this time it was different. His words weren’t a joke or a half-hearted attempt to make you feel better—they were real. He was offering something more than just pretending for the sake of others. He was offering his presence, his support.

For a moment, you forgot about everything else. The plans, the expectations, the pressure. Instead, all that mattered was Simon sitting across from you, smiling at you like you weren't asking for something too much, like it wasn’t strange to think of him in your life like this.

“Thank you,” you murmured. "Really."

He gave a small nod, then grinned, shifting his attention back to Adira, who had managed to get half the blocks stacked to an impressive height. “It’s nothing. Besides, I think Adira’s got the best part of this deal anyway.”

You glanced over at your daughter, who was watching both of you with wide eyes, a smile tugging at her lips. Adira was your source of strength, a beacon that pushed you forward, her smile alone gave you determination. “Alright, let’s figure out what married people do.”

"I know just who to call." Simon reached for his phone, the battered thing covered in scratches, an old case and sporting a broken screen from a hazardous drop. Upon seeing it, the first thought running through your head was, how the fuck was it still usable?

Price’s living room radiated warmth and history, a perfect mix of domestic coziness and military precision. The centerpiece was a sturdy stone fireplace, its mantle adorned with framed photos of Price and his wife, Melanie. In some, they stood arm in arm at scenic locations; in others, Price was in uniform, the edges of his cap sharp against the backdrop of distant skies. Above the fireplace hung a shadow box displaying medals and insignias, each one polished to a shine, speaking volumes about his service.

Bookshelves lined the walls, filled with everything from military strategy texts to well-worn novels. On one shelf sat a small globe and a model of a Spitfire plane, a nod to his admiration for history. A comfortable, overstuffed armchair, complete with a folded tartan blanket, sat near the fire. The coffee table bore faint scratches, evidence of years of use, and atop it lay an open newspaper, a mug of tea, and a small dish of biscuits.

You sat stiffly on the plush sofa, feeling distinctly out of place amidst this blend of home and honor. The ticking of a grandfather clock in the corner filled the silence as you watched Simon talk to Price in the adjoining kitchen. Occasionally, their eyes flicked toward you, and you pretended not to notice, your gaze wandering instead to a black-and-white photo of a younger Price standing with a group of soldiers, all grinning ear to ear.

The awkwardness of the situation weighed on you like a heavy blanket. This wasn’t exactly how you envisioned your day—asking Price, of all people, to help stage your fake relationship. But you were in too deep now to back out.

In the kitchen, Price rubbed his hand over his mouth, barely concealing the grin that tugged at his lips. A low chuckle escaped as he grabbed a cup of coffee, shaking his head at Simon, who stood across from him, arms folded, his expression far more serious than the moment warranted.

“You want me and Mel to help you two seem like a couple? That right?” Price’s voice carried an unmistakable note of amusement, his words tinged with disbelief.

Simon shifted his weight, rolling his shoulders back, clearly trying to maintain some semblance of dignity. "Yes, that’s the gist of it."

Price’s laughter broke free, a warm, hearty sound that echoed off the kitchen tiles. “Bloody hell, Simon. You’ve seen action all over the world, but this—this is what’s got you nervous?” He clapped a hand on Simon’s shoulder, his grin wide enough to light the room. “You’re in for a treat, mate. Melanie’s going to love this.”

From your seat, you caught Price’s amused glance, and you couldn’t help the way your face heated. This was going to be a long evening.

Price, still chuckling, crossed the room to the wide bay window, pushing it open with ease. The crisp evening air drifted in, carrying with it the scent of freshly cut grass and the faint hum of distant crickets. He leaned out slightly, cupping his hands around his mouth.

“Mel! Come on inside, love. You’ve got to hear this one,” he called, his voice carrying easily over the quiet of their backyard.

From where you sat, you caught a glimpse of Melanie in the garden. She was tending to a neat row of vibrant flowers, her hands gloved and a straw hat perched on her head. At the sound of Price’s voice, she straightened up, brushing dirt off her knees with a curious look on her face.

“Be right there!” she replied, her voice warm and lilting. She removed her gloves, tucking them into her apron pocket as she began making her way toward the house.

Price turned back to Simon, shaking his head in mock disbelief. “You better hope Mel doesn’t laugh you out of the house, mate.”

Simon groaned softly, rubbing his temples. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, Price.”

Moments later, Melanie stepped into the living room, a radiant smile lighting up her face. She was the epitome of grace, her presence immediately softening the room’s atmosphere. Her gaze shifted between you, Simon, and her husband, her curiosity evident.

“What’s all this about, then?” she asked, removing her hat and setting it on a nearby chair. “You’ve got that mischievous look again, John.”

Price grinned, gesturing toward you and Simon. “These two need a favor, Mel. A big one.”

Melanie’s brows lifted as she looked between the two of you. “Oh? Do tell.”

Simon, looking equal parts determined and mortified, cleared his throat. “We... need help convincing a group of nosy parents that we’re married. Long story.”

Melanie’s smile widened as her eyes twinkled with amusement. “Oh, this sounds rich. Go on, I’m listening.”

You shifted in your seat, feeling the warmth of Melanie’s gaze settle on you. Her smile was kind but tinged with unmistakable amusement, and it was clear she was holding back a laugh as she took in your flustered state.

“Well,” you began hesitantly, clasping your hands together in your lap. “It’s a bit of a mess, really. One of the moms at the daycare cornered me, started asking questions about Simon, and… I might’ve let it slip that we’re married. Which we’re not. Obviously.” Your words tumbled out in a rush, and you glanced at Simon for backup. He was rubbing the back of his neck, caught between exasperation and amusement.

Melanie let out a soft laugh and gracefully sat down beside you on the couch. “Ah, I see. And now you need to sell the story before it falls apart. Oh, love, I’ve been in a similar pickle—not quite like this, but close enough.”

“See?” Price chimed in from his armchair, leaning back with an amused grin. “Told you Mel would get a kick out of this.”

Simon shot him a flat look. “Not exactly the reaction I was hoping for, mate.”

Melanie waved a dismissive hand at Price before patting your knee in a reassuring gesture. “Don’t mind him. Now, let’s think this through. If you’re going to convince anyone, you need to act the part. People pick up on the smallest details—how you talk to each other, how comfortable you seem together. If you’re too stiff, they’ll see right through it.”

Simon leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees as he nodded. “Alright, so what do we need to do? We’ve got about a week before the fundraiser, so I’m open to ideas.”

Melanie’s eyes lit up with a mix of mischief and determination. “Perfect. We’ll start with body language—how you interact without saying a word. And then we’ll move on to the conversational stuff. You’ll need to know each other’s habits, quirks, and all those little details married couples just know.”

Price clapped his hands together with mock enthusiasm, a cheeky grin plastered across his face. “Right, then. Let the awkward training sessions begin. This’ll be one for the books.”

You groaned inwardly, glancing between Simon and Melanie. This bizarre charade was only just beginning, and while you couldn’t imagine where it would lead, one thing was clear—you were in for a wild ride.

Happy new years friends! The holidays were a riot and I spent most of it spending time with family instead of writing as I felt kind of burnt out from writing in November, sorry about that but I hope this makes up for it.

@midnight-blue-moon-princess @pipedream411 @frogofrg @loonagabs @ghostlythots @vixenshiftsvrs @devoetee @shorty-tolentino @aethelwyneleigh27 @ayesha-eroticax3 @emilia527 @danielle143 @maniacalbooper @awildewit @gifted-aurora @teenagellamaangel @julesjunimos @tacticalgirlboss @midnights-song @suzuki-18 @t3a-bag @latencygirl @krispymagazinepizza-blog @harperdoodle @odettecigno @sockertop @arrozyfrijoles23 @lovelystarfish @my-little-evil-blog @imastorytelleritsondvd @l1lpip @cringeycookies @identity2212 @balletbiscuit @mulletmcghee @maciswack @littleracco0n @oliver-1270 @weemansoap @cryingpages @connorsui @beebeechaos @gluttonybiscuits @strawberrygato @sozainturpal @echo9821 @blinca @illusionistlover @blubearxy @superficialfeelings @new-author3 @xanvasy @oniiloma @bankaixx @evie-199 @notsochillnerd @thatpersonnamedrook @hon3y-cloud @jaguarthecat @reinekoya @apixasflora @a-lovers-card @gloriousloveduck @aetherthetrashpanda @princess-vibes25 @vickykazuya @enfppuff @liliannamae @m0chac0ffee @flamehero-phoenix @bean-cream @realizemandi97 @almostdecadentstarfish @lunamoonbby

#simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost x reader #ghost x you #simon riley x reader #simon riley #we meet again

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misty-surveys · 2 days ago

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if you have a lighter, what color is it? we have a green one with fern on it but we don't use it, in hs Nat is using one with art reminding us of Alfons Mucha, others choose whatever

pepsi box blue or cheetos bag orange? pepsi box blue

do you like pasta? we do

how often are you on tumblr? everyday! usually in the morning and evenings sometimes

are you only doing this because you’re bored? yes and no

what blogs do you mostly interact with? our favorite ones obviously, we follow over 200 blogs

have you had water today? yes, of course

which do you prefer, cotton candy or funnel cake? funnel cake I guess

bass or drums? drums

favorite tv commercial? host has few of 'em she might list someday maybe

can we be friends? don't know you :x

do you admire the clouds and color of the sky? at times

what’s the weirdest thing that’s happened to you? so many weird shit!

a netflix series that’s your favorite? can't choose

an earliest obsession you remember? host had an obsession on collecting monkey photos from newspapers/magazines and just articles about animals, she was constantly browsing her small encyclopedia on animals and it's still right next to me on the desk, one of few reasons we became animals ourselves...

do you play video games? not really

zombies or vampires? none anymore

your first celebrity crush? unsure who was real celeb crush for our host tbh

do you have a collection of cool rocks? yes, host does

five words that describe you? system, us, we, headmates, alters; for host - collector, sidekick, childish, small, clown

what have you learned about yourself? we know ourselves/each other better everyday!

can you tie a cherry stem with your tongue? nope

do you believe in aliens? dunno, don't care much

books or films? movies 100%, host read a lot during her childhood, when it comes to Brie he is reading way more in head space and isn't a big fan of movies but still watches them from time to time

an unusual song that’s your favorite? probably plenty of unusual songs for us ;)

the last thing you ate? host ate cookies with family

have you gotten bit by a dog? yes, host was bitten by a dog before and we were bitten by dogs in the inner world too

do you write better with a pen or a pencil? pen

a song that gets stuck in your head? none currently

when you hear “ peace ” what do you think of? hand sign

a school subject you're good with? depends

how many alarms do you have set? none, mom wakes us up

do you shop at thrift stores? host loves it!

what’s the meaning behind your url? it's our collective name

is there wise words you live by? nah, not really

you gotta have a favorite beatles song, what is it? Lio loves them but dunno which one is his favorite

earphones or a speaker? speaker more

what do you remember from your childhood? host remembers quite a lot actually

do you collect anything? she does - lots of stuff, we don't irl but some collect things in hs

favorite tea? black, sometimes with lemon but cold one

a christmas song you secretly like? why secretly? XD

book stores or record stores? book stores but Jacob would go to the record store

how weird were these questions? not weird at all

what scents do you like? we dislike most of scents, we're too sensitive

by Benji

weird asks because i’m bored

if you have a lighter, what color is it?

pepsi box blue or cheetos bag orange?

do you like pasta?

how often are you on tumblr?

are you only doing this because you’re bored?

what blogs do you mostly interact with?

can you swim?

have you had water today?

which do you prefer, cotton candy or funnel cake?

have you ever [insert question]?

bass or drums?

favorite tv commercial?

can we be friends?

do you admire the clouds and color of the sky?

what’s the weirdest thing that’s happened to you?

a netflix series that’s your favorite?

an earliest obsession you remember?

do you play video games?

zombies or vampires?

have you listened to [insert musician/band]?

your first celebrity crush?

do you have a collection of cool rocks?

five words that describe you?

what have you learned about yourself?

can you tie a cherry stem with your tongue?

do you believe in aliens?

books or films?

an unusual song that’s your favorite?

the last thing you ate?

do you have a favorite [insert question]?

have you gotten bit by a dog?

do you write better with a pen or a pencil?

a song that gets stuck in your head?

when you hear “ peace ” what do you think of?

a school subject your good with?

how many alarms do you have set?

do you shop at thrift stores?

what’s the meaning behind your url?

is there wise words you live by?

what’s your favorite [insert question]?

you gotta have a favorite beatles song, what is it?

earphones or a speaker?

what do you remember from your childhood?

do you collect anything?

favorite tea?

a christmas song you secretly like?

book stores or record stores?

how weird were these questions?

what scents do you like?

is there [insert question]?

send me some!

32K notes · View notes

totalswag · 8 hours ago

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podcast therapuss ⎯ DREW STARKEY

authors notes first time writing influencer!reader, i like it so far. this idea popped into my head the other day after watching one of jake’s episodes. there's no face claim for influencer!reader, i added this picture for the ideal theme.

taglist ⤕ if you would like to be notified every time i post you will type in your username then be all set to go.

masterlist

summary joining jakes podcast talking about various topics then mentioning not getting the chance to meet drew starkey. clips of you talking about him goes viral which leads him to reaching out to you.

warning(s) none!

About a month ago, your manager texted you about doing a podcast with Jake Shane, and you quickly said yes. You contacted him shortly after your managers confirmed it, expressing your excitement. Since then, you've grown closer and spent the night before the episode was filmed.

The two of you went out to dinner and got to talking about various of topics. It was a great way to get to know each other. You consider each other as friends now.

You've used social media since you were fifteen years old. You began by posting YouTube videos, and you continue to do so. Tiktok became another source of content to promote, including daily vlogs, hilarious content, and so on. Nothing would make you change it.

Everyone was getting settled before filming began. Jake started off by talking about a few topics then you came in. You were super excited about doing this.

“Welcome to Therapuss! "We've got the incredible Y/N here today," Jake says, gesturing toward you as you relax into the comfortable chair across from him. You flash your characteristic smile, which your followers enjoy. The cameras roll, but it feels natural—just another day in your life, sharing your thoughts and experiences with the world.

"Stop it!" you chuckle, shaking your head. "But seriously, Jake, thank you very much for having me. "I am a huge fan of the podcast."

"You're too kind," he replies, smiling. "So, let us dig in. You've experienced an unimaginable rise on social media. Your vlogs are really addictive, your TikToks are continuously trending, and everyone adores you. "How does it feel?"

You enjoy answering questions like this. They are your favorite because you don't always get to discuss what inspired you for doing this.

"It's surreal, honestly," you acknowledge. "I started YouTube my freshman year of high school because I wanted to look back on the moments I made. I never imagined it would turn out like this. It has been a whirlwind, but I am grateful for it."

Jake takes it all in, leaning forward and resting his chin on his hand. "Based on what I've seen, your content is incredibly diverse in your vlogs, TikTok, and lifestyle tips. Tell me, how do you balance all of that?" He asks, intrigued by what you do.

You respond to the question by explaining how you learned to draw boundaries over time. You prefer to keep a lot of things private that do not affect the outer world. As your audience grew, you formed a unique bond with them.

"Do you have a show you've been obsessed with lately?" Jake asks you while laughing and raising his eyebrows.

"Duh, Outer Banks pookie!" Before you laugh and toss your head back theatrically, you smirk. The statement, "I love all characters, Rafe is my favorite," leaves Jake speechless.

"Let me explain, his character is so interesting and yes, he's a psycho," you huff, putting your palms up in defense.

Jake and you keep talking about the show and his favorite show.

Jake nods in agreement. "Totally. Okay, switching gears to Pougelandia. Tell me everything."

You giggle and lean back in your chair. "Oh my goodness, that was incredible! The Outer Banks cast is as cool as they appear on television,” You gush, your excitement is evident.

Jake’s face lights up hearing you talk about the cast, “stop it that sounds so sweet, tell me more!”

You quickly point at him, “They’re so down to earth and so sweet. I got to meet practically everyone except for one person,” pouting then covering your hands with your hands.

Jake shrieks in surprise, "bitch who? "You must tell me!" He exclaims excitedly, settling into his seat.

“Drew Starkey. I was very disappointed since I'd heard he was the sweetest person, but our schedules didn't work out." you confess with a hint of disappointment. You were excited to meet him and start a conversation like you did with the rest of the cast.

Jake, of course, teased you about it, saying, “I feel like we’re setting up a rom-com here. Drew, if you’re listening, the universe is waiting.”

The remainder of the podcast you two continue to talk about various topics and even did the infamous NAME—someone will send in a question or mention something for Jake and the guest to answer the question on the podcast. There were lots of interesting questions.

A few days later, the episode is up—fans are talking about you talking about Drew and you wanting to meet him. TikTok is overloaded with clips of you talking about Drew, and your comments are full of hopeful hints about a possible meet-up.

You'd just completed editing your most recent YouTube video for your next vlog, and you were drained enough to fall asleep at your desk. The buzz of your phone buzzing from your bed, frowning but curious in who it could be.

You scream. Literally scream.

Drew Starkey followed you.

Drew Starkey sent you a message.

"Am I being punked?" Am I dreaming? "What the fuck is happening?" You ramble while holding your phone in your shaky hands and looking at the two notifications on your lock screen.

Allowing yourself to relax and compose yourself. You unlock your phone, tap on instagram, go to the messaging tab, you’re sure your jaw dropped to the floor.

Drew Starkey: Hey, I recently watched your podcast with Jake. We should get together sometime—finally make up for not meeting in Pougelandia!

What do you say?

How do you come off calmly?

Yourusername: Hi! Yes, it sounds perfect. Let me know when you’re free.

Fast forward two months later, you feel you’re still in a dream. Drew and you hung out together at a local coffee shop then went back to your place to talk more. Once you started talking you two couldn’t stop.

After hanging out the first time came more meeting ups. Drew asked you to be his girlfriend three weeks ago—you were shocked and excited all at once.

One day, while scrolling through TikTok in your kitchen, leaning on the counter, you came across the trend—wait they don't love you like I love you. You thought the trend was silly, so you decided to participate.

You did a couple tries and posted your favorite one out of the four—not realizing Drew was in the background on his phone, unfazed about what you were doing. Your comments started blowing up.

Bestie you got some explaining to do 🤨

Causally dancing in your kitchen while Drew Starkey is walking around at the same time? Interesting

When worlds collide fr 😏

Alright where the cameras at...

I fucking knew it!!!!

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✰ if you would like to be added to my taglist and be notified whenever i post please let me know in the comments or in my ask box. if there's a line across your name that means i couldn't find your account

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floraisunwell · 2 days ago

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Promise | s.r

who? post-prison!reid x ex gf reader (she's a nurse)

category: angst (bold move ig)

summary: Spencer left you 5 months ago without a word for undisclosed reasons but he comes teary eyed to your door after seeing a girl that looks a little too much like you.

based on (very loosely lol): promise by laufey. the fic does not follow the events of the song at all but i love the "if it weren't for the sight of a boy who looked just like you standing out on Melrose avenue" part right at the end so it's all on that line.

word count: 1.6k

a/n: my first fic ahhhhhhh, i'm so nervous and happy rn, this is my baby and ik there's a lot of space for improvement but i'm proud of my writing, this comunnity is full of amazing people and if it wasn't such a lovely space i would have never posted this. shoutout to @lilacsandlavenderhaze for being the first to hear my idea and telling me i should go ahead and write it; @spencersbabymama for telling me to cut the bullshit and self deprecation and post this; and to @esote-rika for being my first readerrrr. love y'all <3

dividers by @aquazero

English is not my first language pls tell me about any spelling and grammatical mistakes. enjoyy!

The air was cold and crisp, a light drizzle could be felt dampening the streets – a scene typical for this time of the year in Washington. Spencer had gone out with the team to get some drinks after a hard but successful case, he was happy, of course, the fact that they had caught the killer pleased him but everything inside the building felt overwhelming: the voices, and the drunk conversations, all the limbs touching a little too much, the overly loud music. He was out of it and to be honest he had been out of it for quite some time now, actually some months, everyone noticed how the breakup made him feel.

Funny, because he was the one to leave.

After you came back from a long shift at the hospital excited to cuddle with the love of your life (or so you thought) but the only remnant of him you found was a sticky note placed on the cover of a book you were reading at the time:

"I'm sorry, I can't do this anymore"

That was all he said before destroying everything you two had built over 3 years, 3 years of love, pain, and learning, 3 years of giving everything for each other, destroyed in less than 24 hours like nothing.

He hadn't been the same for a long time, though—not since prison. You didn't blame him; you tried to understand him, give him space, time, and everything one could need to heal. He was not the same, of course. You weren't expecting the same Spencer to come back, sure, but you also were not expecting whoever he had become: some cold and distant version of the person you used to know.

Your relationship with Spencer is divided into two eras: Before Millburn and After Millburn.

Before Millburn, you guys were somewhat happy. Both of you were overworked and stressed but happy. You would tell him about your work, and he would tell you about his. In the rare times, he got a day off work, he would hug you whenever he could, like he was making sure you wouldn't slip away.

After Millburn, you didn't talk much, not unless it was necessary, he didn't hug you a lot anymore, in fact, the last time he hugged you was when you went to pick him up at the correctional facility, all the emotions running high, you remember thinking he looked and smelled different, you didn't know he would be so different when you wrapped him in your arms, placed a kiss on his shoulder and whispered that everything would be fine. But everything was not fine. It was all so not fine and everyone around you two could tell. Yet you could have never imagined that Spencer, the man who made the hopeless romantic in you thrive would leave in such a disheartening way.

Back at O’Keeffe’s, the team was still at it. The count of how many rounds of drinks Rossi had paid long lost, Emily and JJ leaning suspiciously close to each other, Rossi nursing some unnecessarily extravagant drink, Garcia and Morgan somewhere on the dance floor and Hotch nowhere to be seen. Spencer had gone outside, hoping the sensory overload would ease with the fresh air, it did slightly but the agglomerate of people was no better than the one inside, so many people, reeking of alcohol, walking like zombies, and saying nonsensical things. As he was standing near the entrance, hands stuffed into his pockets, the soft rain dampening his hair, Spencer let his mind wander and it ended up where it always does: him contemplating if leaving was the right decision.

He was so deep in this thought that didn't even notice the man approaching until it happened- a hard shoulder bump that took him away from his thoughts.

"Sorry dude" the man muttered not even caring to glance back as he moved past. Spencer blinked, shocked as he watched the man move swiftly toward a small group of people nearby. A group that included you.

His heart jumped to his mouth. No - not you. But she looked like you, uncannily so. She even acted like you, the way she threw her back when she laughed or how she scrunched her nose in an attempt to put her sliding glasses in place - he could've sworn it was you.

For a fraction of a minute, he actually thought it was you. His breath caught in his throat and he took a step forward before reality sank in and he retreated. It wasn't you; it was never you.

But as he watched her wrapping her arms around the man's neck, as his hands almost automatically moved to her waist, and they both smiled like idiots in love. He couldn't help but feel like he had been stabbed and the knife was being twisted inside him. Was this some type of fucked up joke by the universe? "This could be you, bad thing you lost her" The thing is, he didn't lose you- he gave up on you which was worse because maybe if he had stayed, and tried a little harder, you would still be together.

He staggered back a few steps, and if he hadn't reached the wall, he would've fallen considering he already felt his knees buckle as all the bottled-up emotions from the past five months came crashing onto him; he was overwhelmed by his own feelings, eyes blurry with tears as a lump formed in his throat and the weight on his chest got heavier.

Blindly, almost unconsciously, he reached for his phone in the inside pocket of his jacket. His thumb hovered above your name in the contacts list. The message he typed was brief:

"Are you home?"

He didn't get a reply, he wasn't waiting for one. The moment he hit send his legs were already moving, practically running towards the street to hail a cab. He gave the driver your address, and it came out of his mouth easily, as if he had never stopped saying it.

You were in the shower when his message came through, you didn't pay the loud notification much attention, not even caring to glance at the device when you heard the familiar ding. You prioritized the small occasions you got to take care of yourself when your job is to take care of others.

Now freshly showered and in the kitchen making tea- the next step on your little routine- you hear a knock on the door, a distinct knock, a knock you could never forget, not even a billion years from now. Your heart stopped for a moment, heartbeat pounding in your ears, you didn't quite register you were moving towards the door until it was open and he was standing there, his brown eyes open wide once he registered your presence, reacting as though you opening the door was the last thing he expected. You just stood there for a few seconds, staring at each other until Spencer wrapped you in his arms like he used to, his nostrils flooding with the smell of your shampoo and body wash, smells he recognized all too well, smells that felt like home.

You pushed him away, shattering the brief feeling of happiness he had started to feel.

"What are you doing here?" You asked almost a little too loud in an attempt to hide the hurt in your voice

"I miss you" he replied eyes searching for yours.

You stood there, arms folded, trying to hide how weak those words made you feel. He had no right to miss you, not after leaving the way he did.

Why should I care? You thought to yourself. He made it clear that he didn’t care about you, but you cared, you cared so deeply that it made your heart ache.

You were not going to let him in.

"You can't just stop talking to me and then come here like nothing happened, Spence." You couldn't help using the nickname, your voice falsely steady, trying to hide the pain.

"I know, I just-can I come in?" No reply "Please"

You hesitated, gripping the door handle tighter as a tornado of emotions swirled on your chest. Anger. Hurt. Loneliness. You wanted to slam the door in his face, make him feel a small fraction of what you felt over the past 5 months. But buried beneath all these harsh feelings, there was something softer, something you felt ashamed to acknowledge: the echo of all the nights you stayed up worrying about him and what could happen in his work, all the mornings you woke up without the smell of coffee lingering through the apartment.

You let him in.

You tried to convince yourself that letting him in was about answers- you deserved an explanation, some sort of closure at least. But as you stepped aside and watched him walk past you knew that wasn’t the whole truth.

Because no matter how much he’d hurt you, part of you still longed for the man he used to be.

“This doesn’t change anything.” You muttered, as much to yourself as to him. He gave a slight nod in reply, eyes watering. Damn him and his big brown eyes.

As you were turning around after closing the door behind you, he captured you in a hug again and you couldn't help but wrap your arms around him too.

★

Somehow, he ended up asleep in your bed and as you gaze at his peaceful resting face, your mind tells you to wake him up, tell him to go home and never come back, tell him that he doesn't get to leave and reappear whenever it suits him, tell him that he can fuck off for breaking your heart like that. Yet, you don't do any of that, because your heart tells you not to.

tysm for reading, likes and reblogs are always deeply appreciated

@angellic4l it's finally here bestieee!

#mwah #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid angst #some angsty angst for ya #criminal minds #criminal minds fandom #post prison reid #your honor they are in love

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hisfavegirl · 2 days ago

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Beneath The Crown - Daemon Targaryen x Hightower!Reader

Summary : You became more than just the daughter of Otto Hightower and the sister of Alicent—you became the woman who had captured the heart of Daemon Targaryen, the woman who would stand beside him in the face of the dangers and challenges that lay ahead. But love, especially one born of such fire and conflict, was never easy. The world around you was shifting, and as much as you wanted to embrace this new chapter of your life, you knew that the path ahead would be fraught with obstacles. Yet, in Daemon’s eyes, you saw a future that was worth the fight.

Daemon Masterlist.

House Of The Dragon Masterlist.

It had been a year since your father, Otto Hightower, had decided to send you to King’s Landing. A year after Alicent had settled into her new life as Queen, after all the adjustments and challenges had been faced and overcome. Now, it was your turn to step into the complex world of the royal court. But unlike your sister, you were not as eager to embrace it all.

You had learned to navigate the winding corridors of the Red Keep, and although there were many unfamiliar faces, you had grown accustomed to this new life. You were beautiful, much like your sister, with the signature appearance of House Hightower. The people had taken to calling you the “Gem of Oldtown,” a title that carried with it both praise and pressure. The men of the court, and even those from other noble houses, flocked to your father with offers of marriage, eager to make you their bride.

But Otto, ever calculated, rejected every offer. You were not just any woman; you were a pawn in a much larger game, and your father had bigger plans for you than a simple marriage. Every suitor, no matter their rank or wealth, was turned away. But with each rejection, you felt the weight of your father’s ambitions press heavier on your shoulders.

Still, despite the countless men who courted you, there was only one who caught your eye—Daemon Targaryen. The infamous Prince of the Targaryen family, whose reputation preceded him. Daemon, with his sharp wit, silver hair, and mischievous smirk, was different from the others. He was not like the polished, calculating men who sought to marry into power. There was something untamed about him, something that intrigued you.

Your encounters with him were brief—fleeting moments before he left for the Stepstones, where he waged war on the free cities. The two of you would exchange words in passing, but it was enough for you to notice the way his gaze lingered, the way his smile was both playful and knowing. It was a connection that felt electric, and each time he left, you found yourself thinking about him long after his departure.

But you knew better than to act on these feelings. Daemon was not a man you could trust in the way you could trust a suitor brought to you by your father. His world was one of violence, ambition, and danger. He was no mere pawn in Otto’s game. He was his own master.

Still, despite your better judgment, you couldn’t deny the pull you felt toward him. Every glance, every word exchanged between you, ignited something deep inside you, and you found yourself eager for the next brief encounter.

As you sat in your chamber, gazing out at the bustling streets of King’s Landing below, you couldn’t help but wonder what your future would look like. Would your father’s plans for you come to fruition, or would you carve your own path? And if you did, would Daemon Targaryen play any part in it? The possibilities seemed endless, but one thing was certain—your life was about to change in ways you could never have imagined.

The evening air was cool and fragrant as you walked through the gardens of the Red Keep. The sun had just begun to set, casting a warm, golden hue over the meticulously maintained greenery. The soft rustling of leaves and the distant chirping of birds provided a serene backdrop to your thoughts.

You had just spent the afternoon with Alicent in her chambers. She was glowing with the joy of motherhood, having recently given birth to her second child, a beautiful baby girl. The bond you shared with her had only grown stronger since your arrival, and it warmed your heart to see her so content. Yet, as you left her chambers and wandered into the gardens, a different set of emotions began to stir within you.

As you meandered through the winding paths, your eyes were drawn to a familiar figure standing beneath one of the ancient trees. His silver hair caught the last rays of the setting sun, glinting like polished metal. His eyes were closed, his head tilted back slightly as if savoring the tranquility of the moment.

It was Daemon.

Your heart skipped a beat at the sight of him. It had been some time since you last saw him, and his sudden presence here felt almost surreal. You took a hesitant step forward, then another, until you were standing just a few paces away from him.

“You’ve returned,” you said softly, your voice carrying a hint of surprise and warmth.

Daemon’s eyes opened slowly, and for a moment, he simply looked at you, as if making sure you were truly there. Then, a smile curved his lips, a smile that was both familiar and disarming.

“I have,” he replied, his voice smooth and calm. “It seems the Stepstones can do without me for a while.”

There was a glimmer in his eye, a spark that made your pulse quicken. You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks, but you held your composure. It was difficult not to be captivated by him, standing there so effortlessly commanding yet at peace.

“I trust your campaign was successful?” you asked, trying to keep the conversation light, though your heart was pounding in your chest.

Daemon shrugged, a casual gesture that belied the weight of his accomplishments. “Success is a relative term. The battles are never truly over.”

His gaze remained fixed on you, intense and unyielding, as if he were trying to read your thoughts. There was a tension in the air between you, an unspoken understanding that neither of you dared to voice.

“And you?” he asked, his tone softening. “How have you fared in my absence?”

“I’ve been well,” you replied, though the words felt inadequate to convey the myriad of emotions you’d experienced since he left. “King’s Landing has its charms, though it can be… suffocating at times.”

Daemon nodded, his expression thoughtful. “I can imagine. This place has a way of making one feel trapped.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The silence between you was comfortable, filled with the unspoken connection that had always lingered just beneath the surface. It was in these quiet moments that you felt most drawn to him, to the man behind the legend, the man who seemed to understand you in ways few others could.

As the last light of day faded into twilight, Daemon extended a hand toward you. Hesitant but curious, you placed your hand in his, feeling the warmth of his skin against yours.

“Walk with me,” he said, his voice a gentle command.

You nodded, your heart racing as you fell into step beside him. Together, you strolled through the gardens, the world around you fading into the background. In that moment, it was just the two of you, bound by something deeper than words, something that neither of you fully understood but couldn’t deny.

The soft rustling of leaves accompanied the rhythmic sound of your footsteps as you walked alongside Daemon through the garden. The scent of blooming flowers filled the air, and the cool breeze caressed your skin. The tranquility of the evening seemed to wrap around you both, creating a bubble of quiet intimacy.

After a few moments of silence, Daemon’s voice broke through the calm. “I hear your father has been turning down every marriage proposal that comes your way,” he said, his tone casual but laced with underlying tension.

You glanced at him, noticing the way his jaw tightened slightly, a subtle sign of his discontent. You nodded, keeping your expression neutral. “Yes. He says he only wants what’s best for me.”

Daemon gave a short, humorless chuckle, his gaze fixed ahead. “Otto Hightower always does have a peculiar way of defining ‘what’s best.’”

You could sense the bitterness in his words, the disdain he held for your father. It was no secret that Daemon and Otto were often at odds, their ambitions clashing in the complex game of power that unfolded within the Red Keep. But beyond the political rivalry, there was a personal animosity that seemed to fester between them.

“I know how you feel about my father,” you said softly, your eyes meeting his. “And perhaps my sister as well.”

Daemon stopped walking, turning to face you fully. His eyes, sharp and piercing, locked onto yours. “It’s no secret that I don’t hold either of them in high regard. Your father… he sees you as a pawn, a piece to be moved on his chessboard. And your sister, well, she's too easily swayed by Otto’s manipulations.”

You felt a pang in your chest at his words, the truth of them cutting deeper than you cared to admit. “They are my family,” you replied, your voice steady but tinged with sadness. “I cannot simply turn my back on them.”

Daemon’s expression softened, and he reached out, his fingers brushing lightly against your cheek. “I don’t ask you to. But know this—your life is your own. You are not a piece to be played in their game.”

His touch sent a shiver down your spine, and you found yourself leaning into it, drawn to the warmth and sincerity in his eyes. In that moment, it was as if the weight of expectations, of duty and loyalty, fell away, leaving only the two of you and the unspoken connection that bound you.

“I wish things were simpler,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Daemon’s lips curled into a small, knowing smile. “Simplicity is a rare luxury in our world. But perhaps… we can find moments of it, here and there.”

He stepped closer, his presence commanding yet comforting. “You deserve to choose your own path, to live for yourself and not for the ambitions of others.”

For a fleeting moment, the world around you seemed to fade away, leaving only the sound of your heartbeat and the intensity of Daemon’s gaze. In that space between words and actions, you felt a flicker of something more—something that both thrilled and terrified you.

“Walk with me a little longer,” you said, your voice steady but filled with a quiet plea.

Daemon nodded, offering his arm once more. As you resumed your stroll through the garden, the tension between you eased, replaced by a mutual understanding. The path ahead was uncertain, fraught with challenges and choices that would shape your future. But for now, you took solace in the presence of the man beside you, and the shared moments of simplicity that seemed to defy the complexities of the world you lived in.

Your steps faltered as you and Daemon came to an abrupt halt. Standing before you, with his usual stoic expression, was your father. His gaze flickered briefly to where Daemon’s hand rested lightly on your arm before returning to your face.

“The King is waiting for you both in the council chamber,�� Otto announced, his tone formal and devoid of warmth.

You exchanged a quick glance with Daemon, noting the subtle tightening of his jaw. His distaste for your father was evident, but he kept his composure, offering a small nod of acknowledgment.

The furrow in your brow deepened. It wasn’t unusual for the King to summon Daemon, but to include you in such a meeting was puzzling. What could King Viserys possibly need to discuss with you?

“Me?” you asked, unable to mask the surprise in your voice. “What does the King wish to speak with me about?”

Otto’s expression remained impassive, though there was a glint of something unreadable in his eyes. “You will find out soon enough. It would be unwise to keep him waiting.”

With that, he turned on his heel and began walking back toward the Keep, expecting you both to follow. Daemon’s hand lingered on your arm for a moment longer, a silent gesture of reassurance, before he too began to move.

As you followed your father through the winding halls, your mind raced with questions. The Red Keep’s stone walls seemed colder, more imposing, as you approached the council chamber. The weight of the unknown settled heavily on your shoulders, each step bringing you closer to whatever fate awaited.

Daemon walked beside you, his expression a mask of calm, but you could feel the tension radiating from him. His presence, though steady, did little to quell the unease that coiled in your stomach.

Finally, you reached the great doors of the council chamber. Otto pushed them open, revealing the grand room beyond. At the head of the table sat King Viserys, his crown glinting in the dim light. His expression was kind, but there was a seriousness in his eyes that set your nerves on edge.

“Ah, there you are,” Viserys greeted, his gaze settling on both you and Daemon. “Please, come in.”

You stepped forward, your heart pounding in your chest. Whatever this meeting was about, it was clear that it was significant. You could only hope that whatever the King had to say would bring clarity to the storm of uncertainties swirling around you.

Your breath caught in your throat as Viserys’ words echoed through the chamber. “I have annulled Daemon’s marriage to Lady Rhea. It is my wish that Daemon marry you, to solidify the bond between House Hightower and House Targaryen.”

The room seemed to tilt around you, the weight of his declaration pressing down on your chest. You stood frozen, your mind racing to comprehend the gravity of what had just been said. Daemon, your confidant, the man whose presence had always been a source of comfort and intrigue, was to become your husband.

You cast a glance toward your father, who stood silently at the side of the room, his face unreadable but his intent clear. The puzzle pieces began to fall into place—the countless suitors turned away, the meticulous grooming of your image, the careful orchestration of your future. He had been maneuvering toward this moment, toward securing an unbreakable tie between his lineage and the Targaryens.

Daemon remained silent beside you, his expression unreadable, though you sensed a flicker of something in his eyes—was it surprise, or something else? His demeanor, however, was composed, as if he had anticipated this turn of events.

Viserys’ voice softened, attempting to alleviate the shock that he must have seen on your face. “I believe this union will bring strength and unity to both our houses. You are a remarkable young woman, and I can think of no better match for my brother.”

Your gaze dropped to the floor, your thoughts a whirlwind. The idea of marrying Daemon, a man who had always held a complicated place in your heart, was daunting. Yet, the political implications, the expectations of your father, and the desires of the King left little room for refusal.

Finally, finding your voice, you lifted your eyes to meet Viserys’. “Your Grace,” you began, your voice steady but laced with uncertainty, “this is… a great honor. But I must admit, I am taken aback. I would need time to… adjust to such a change.”

Viserys nodded, understanding in his gaze. “Of course. This is a significant decision. Take the time you need.”

Otto, however, took a step forward, his tone firm but respectful. “Your Grace, my daughter has always understood her duty. She will do what is necessary for the good of the realm.”

You felt Daemon’s hand brush lightly against yours, a subtle gesture that brought you a sliver of comfort amidst the turmoil. His eyes met yours, a silent communication passing between you—one that spoke of understanding, of the shared burden now placed upon both your shoulders.

As the meeting concluded, you followed Daemon out of the chamber, the weight of your father’s ambitions and the King’s decree settling heavily upon you. The path ahead was uncertain, fraught with challenges and choices that would shape not only your future but the fate of two great houses.

Leaving Daemon and your father behind at the doors of the council chamber, your steps carried you swiftly through the corridors of the Red Keep. The weight of the King’s decree pressed heavily on your mind, each thought a whirlwind of uncertainty and emotion. You needed someone to confide in, someone who could offer you solace and understanding.

Reaching Alicent’s chambers, you knocked softly before pushing the door open. Inside, you found your sister seated before her mirror, brushing her auburn hair with a calm, methodical rhythm. She looked up at your reflection in the mirror, her brows knitting in concern as she noticed the tension in your posture.

“Sister,” Alicent greeted gently, setting her brush down and turning to face you fully. “What troubles you?”

You crossed the room, sitting on the edge of her bed, your hands nervously clasped in your lap. “Alicent,” you began, your voice trembling slightly, “something… unexpected has happened.”

Her expression softened further, and she reached out to take your hand, offering a comforting squeeze. “Tell me,” she urged, her voice warm and soothing.

Taking a deep breath, you recounted the events that had transpired in the council chamber—the King’s announcement of Daemon’s annulment, the proposed marriage between you and Daemon, and the realization that your father had orchestrated it all. Alicent listened intently, her eyes wide with surprise and concern as you spoke.

When you finished, there was a moment of silence as Alicent absorbed the weight of your words. She reached out, gently brushing a strand of hair from your face, her gaze filled with empathy. “I cannot believe he would do this without speaking to you first,” she murmured, her voice tinged with frustration. “Our father… he always has his plans, but this…”

You nodded, the knot in your chest loosening slightly under her understanding gaze. “I don’t know what to do, Alicent. Daemon… he’s always been… complicated. And now, to marry him?”

Alicent leaned closer, her hand still holding yours. “Daemon is many things, but he cares for you. I’ve seen it in the way he looks at you, the way he speaks to you. This may not be what you wanted, but perhaps… it could be something good.”

Her words were meant to comfort, to offer a glimmer of hope in a situation that felt overwhelming. You appreciated her kindness, but the uncertainty remained, a constant hum at the back of your mind.

“I need time to think,” you whispered, your gaze dropping to your lap.

Alicent nodded, her hand resting on your shoulder in a gesture of support. “Take the time you need. And remember, you don’t have to face this alone. I’m here for you, always.”

Her reassurance brought a small smile to your lips, a fleeting moment of peace amidst the storm. For now, you had a decision to make—a decision that would shape the course of your life and the future of your house.

A month had passed since King Viserys’ announcement of your betrothal to Daemon, and the court was abuzz with whispers wherever you went. Every step you took seemed to draw the attention of nobles and servants alike, their eyes following you, their voices low with speculation. Despite the scrutiny, there was a surprising shift within you—a growing affection for Daemon that you hadn’t anticipated.

At first, your interactions were formal, marked by the awkwardness of an arranged match. But gradually, the walls between you began to crumble. It started with simple gestures—Daemon inviting you to ride Caraxes together, the exhilarating flight through the skies creating a bond that only the shared thrill of dragon-riding could forge.

The first time you soared on Caraxes, you were both terrified and exhilarated. Daemon’s reassuring presence behind you, his hands steadying you as the wind whipped around you, made you feel invincible. As the dragon dipped and soared, you felt a freedom that you hadn’t known you craved.

When you weren’t in the skies, Daemon often suggested horseback rides through the lush countryside surrounding King’s Landing. These rides were your favorite moments—just the two of you, away from the prying eyes and endless expectations. Daemon’s wit and charm surfaced during these quiet times, revealing a man who was not just the fierce warrior and unpredictable prince but also someone capable of tenderness and understanding.

It was during one of these rides that you realized how much you enjoyed his company. As the sun set over the horizon, casting a warm golden glow over the fields, you felt a sense of peace and contentment in his presence. Daemon, ever perceptive, noticed your smile and leaned over, his voice soft and teasing. “You seem happy,” he observed, his violet eyes gleaming with something unreadable.

You nodded, meeting his gaze with a sincerity that surprised even you. “I am,” you admitted, feeling the truth of your words settle over you like a comforting cloak.

Daemon reached out, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face, his touch lingering. “I’m glad,” he murmured, his tone unusually gentle. “I want you to be happy, truly.”

The simplicity of his words struck a chord within you, and for the first time, you allowed yourself to hope that this union might be more than a mere arrangement. It might be the beginning of something deeper, something genuine.

As the days turned into weeks, the bond between you grew stronger. Daemon’s presence became a constant in your life, his unpredictable nature tempered by a growing affection that mirrored your own. In his company, you felt seen, understood, and valued—a feeling that was as exhilarating as it was terrifying.

Despite the whispers and the ever-watchful eyes of the court, you found solace in the knowledge that, in Daemon, you had a partner who cared for you beyond the obligations of duty. And as you prepared for the next chapter of your life, the possibility of love no longer seemed like a distant dream but a burgeoning reality.

The preparations for your wedding were a constant buzz throughout King’s Landing, with every noble and servant whispering about the grandeur and significance of the upcoming union. As the younger sister of Queen Alicent and betrothed to Prince Daemon, your wedding was set to be one of the most spectacular events the realm had ever seen.

Alicent, ever the meticulous planner, took it upon herself to ensure that every detail was perfect. From the lavish decorations to the feast that would rival any in the history of the Seven Kingdoms, she left no stone unturned. But her most fervent attention was on your wedding attire.

You often found yourself being whisked away by Alicent to the royal seamstresses, where you were fitted for the most exquisite gown you had ever seen. The gown was a masterpiece, a stunning blend of white, gold, and silver threads intricately woven together. Each color held deep significance: white symbolized purity and new beginnings, gold represented House Hightower’s wealth and prestige, and silver reflected the Targaryen blood that now coursed through your veins by your impending marriage to Daemon.

Alicent watched every fitting with a critical eye, ensuring that the gown was nothing short of perfection. She would adjust the drape of the fabric, examine the embroidery, and insist on the finest embellishments. “This is not just a wedding,” she reminded you, her tone both stern and loving. “It’s a statement. A union of two great houses, and it must be reflected in every detail.”

Despite her stern demeanor, you could see the genuine care behind her efforts. She wanted you to shine, to be the epitome of grace and beauty as you walked down the aisle. You appreciated her efforts, even when the endless fittings became tiresome.

One afternoon, as you stood on the dais, the seamstresses bustling around you, Alicent approached with a soft smile. She adjusted a stray strand of hair from your face and said, “You’ll be the most beautiful bride the realm has ever seen.”

Her words, filled with sisterly pride and affection, warmed your heart. You reached out, taking her hand in yours. “Thank you, Alicent. For everything.”

Alicent squeezed your hand gently, her gaze filled with a mix of pride and wistfulness. “You deserve this happiness,” she whispered. “And I will ensure that you have it.”

As the days drew closer to the wedding, the anticipation grew. The palace buzzed with excitement, and you found yourself looking forward to the day not just as a duty, but as a promise of a new beginning. The whispers and glances no longer bothered you; they were the murmurs of a realm eager to witness the union of two powerful houses.

And in the midst of it all, Daemon’s presence remained your constant. His occasional smirks and whispered comments during the preparations reminded you that, beyond the pomp and ceremony, this wedding was about the two of you—a bond that had grown stronger with each passing day.

The day had arrived faster than you could have anticipated. As the morning sun bathed King’s Landing in a golden glow, the realization that you would soon be wed to Daemon filled you with a mix of nerves and excitement. The grand ceremony was set to take place in the Throne Room, a choice Daemon had insisted upon, refusing to set foot in the Great Sept.

In your chambers, a flurry of activity surrounded you. The seamstresses and handmaidens worked meticulously, ensuring every detail of your gown was flawless. The luxurious fabric shimmered as the light hit the intricate embroidery, each thread of white, gold, and silver representing the unification of your house with Daemon’s.

You stood before the mirror, taking in your reflection. The gown hugged your form perfectly, the delicate embroidery accentuating your figure. Your hair was styled elegantly, adorned with a few subtle, yet exquisite, pieces of jewelry. Despite the whirlwind of preparations, there was a calmness in the air, a sense of purpose that steadied your nerves.

As you adjusted the last piece of your attire, the door creaked open, and Alicent stepped into the room. Her gaze swept over you, a soft smile gracing her lips as she approached. “You look radiant,” she said, her voice filled with warmth and pride.

You turned to face her fully, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. “Thank you, Alicent. I’m… nervous, but excited.”

Alicent reached out, placing a reassuring hand on your arm. “It’s natural to feel that way. But remember, this is your day, and you are ready for it.”

She moved closer, adjusting a strand of your hair before pulling you into a gentle embrace. “Daemon is a complex man, but I can see how he looks at you. There is something real there. Trust in that.”

Her words brought a sense of comfort, a reminder that amidst the grandeur of the ceremony and the expectations of the realm, the union was ultimately about the bond between you and Daemon. You nodded, drawing strength from her encouragement.

As she pulled back, Alicent gave you a final once-over, ensuring every detail was perfect. “It’s time,” she said softly, her eyes reflecting a mix of emotions—pride, hope, and perhaps a touch of wistfulness for the journey you were about to embark on.

You took a deep breath, steadying your nerves. The moment you had been preparing for was here. With a final glance in the mirror, you straightened your shoulders and turned toward the door, ready to step into the next chapter of your life.

As you made your way to the Throne Room, the weight of the moment settled over you, but so did a sense of anticipation. The doors would soon open, revealing Daemon waiting for you, and with him, a future that promised both challenges and possibilities.

The grand doors to the Throne Room swung open, and you walked forward, your heart pounding with each step. Your father, Otto, stood by your side, his presence unwavering as you made your way down the long, imposing aisle. Every eye in the room was on you, the whispers of nobles and courtiers filling the air, but you hardly noticed. The only thing that mattered in that moment was the man waiting for you at the end of the aisle—Daemon.

His figure was regal, standing tall in his formal attire, his gaze locked on you as you approached. The way he looked at you, intense and unwavering, made your heart race. The noise of the room seemed to fade as you drew closer, the weight of the moment pressing down on you. Your thoughts blurred together, and all that remained was the certainty that you were about to marry the man you had come to care for so deeply.

As you reached the altar and stood beside him, the whispers died down, leaving only the echo of your footsteps in the vast hall. Daemon’s presence beside you was steadying, though his usual air of confidence seemed tempered by something else. He looked at you with a mixture of affection and quiet anticipation.

His voice, a low whisper, reached your ear, ensuring no one else could hear his words. “You are more beautiful than I imagined,” Daemon murmured, his breath warm against your skin.

You felt your cheeks flush, your heart fluttering with both excitement and the hint of nerves. You tried to steady yourself, but Daemon’s words lingered in your mind, calming your restless thoughts.

As the ceremony began, you focused on him, the man who would soon be your husband. There was no more doubt, no more uncertainty. With Daemon, you had found a place where you truly belonged.

The ceremony began, the High Septon’s voice echoing through the Throne Room as he led you through the ancient vows. Each word spoken brought you closer to the moment where you would be bound to Daemon, not just by the will of your families, but by your own choice.

"In the sight of the Seven, I hereby see you these two souls, binding them as one for eternity. Look upon one another and say the words."

"Father. Smith. Warrior. Mother. Maiden. Crone. Stranger. I am his/hers, and s/he is mine, from this day, till the end of my days."

As you exchanged vows, Daemon’s eyes never left yours, his hand gripping yours with a firmness that spoke of his resolve. When it came time for the rings, he slipped the band onto your finger with a gentle touch, sealing your bond with a promise.

Daemon turned toward you, his eyes alight with something deeper than the ceremony could capture. “You are mine now,” he whispered, as if sealing the promise that had been made not just in front of the court, but in the quiet moments between you two.

As the High Septon’s final words echoed through the Throne Room, declaring you and Daemon husband and wife, the tension that had hung in the air all evening melted away. The weight of tradition, the whispers of the court, and the eyes of the realm were no longer on you. The only thing that mattered was the man standing beside you.

Daemon’s gaze was fixed on you, his eyes dark with emotion. Without hesitation, he reached for you, his hand sliding around your waist as he drew you closer. The silence in the room felt heavy, the world outside of the two of you vanishing entirely.

He didn’t need to say a word. His lips found yours in an urgent, possessive kiss. It was everything you had imagined, and more. His kiss was a promise, a culmination of everything that had led you both to this moment. It was fierce and tender at once, as if he had been waiting for this kiss for a lifetime, just as you had.

You kissed him back, feeling the strength of his embrace, the warmth of his body pressing against yours. In that moment, you understood. He had waited for you, respected your decision, your wish to wait until you were truly married. And now, as his wife, you could feel the intensity of his feelings, his affection for you pouring through the kiss.

When you finally pulled away, breathless and flushed, Daemon’s hand gently cupped your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek. His eyes were filled with a mixture of passion and affection, his smile slow and genuine.

“You are mine now, fully and completely,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

You nodded, your heart racing in your chest. In his arms, everything felt right, as if the world had finally come into alignment. The decision to marry him, to give him your heart and soul, was no longer just an obligation. It was a choice, a choice you were proud to make.

Daemon smiled again, leaning in to kiss you once more, sealing the promises that had been made not only in front of the court but in your hearts. This was the beginning of your life together, and nothing could tear it apart.

You sighed, your breath heavy with the effort of trying to keep up with Aemond’s quick strides. Your growing belly made every step a challenge, the weight of your pregnancy slowing you down more each day. Frustration bubbled up as you called out his name, your voice tinged with irritation. “Aemond, wait!”

He turned back for a moment, a mischievous smirk playing on his lips, but he continued walking, not slowing his pace. You groaned and came to a stop, placing a hand on your back as you tried to catch your breath. Behind you, the sound of soft laughter drew your attention.

Alicent approached with a warm smile, her hands reaching out to support you. “Come, let’s take it slow,” she said gently, her arm wrapping around yours to offer balance. She guided you through the garden, the fragrance of blooming flowers surrounding you as the sun cast a warm glow over the Red Keep.

“You’ve been cooped up too much,” Alicent remarked softly. “Daemon’s protective nature has grown even more intense.”

You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips. “He won’t even let me walk to visit you. He insists you come to us.”

Alicent chuckled, shaking her head. “He’s just worried about you, about both of you.”

The thought of Daemon’s constant concern made your heart swell. His protectiveness was both endearing and suffocating. You understood his fears, especially after everything the two of you had been through. But sometimes, you longed for the simple pleasures of walking through the gardens or sitting in the courtyard, feeling the breeze against your skin.

“Thank you for coming to me,” you said, squeezing Alicent’s hand. “I know it’s not easy, being the queen and all.”

Alicent smiled warmly. “Family comes first. Always.”

You leaned into her support, grateful for her presence. The garden was peaceful, a small escape from the confines of your chambers. As the two of you walked slowly, your mind drifted to thoughts of Daemon. Despite his overprotectiveness, you knew it came from a place of love. The thought of him made you feel safe, cherished.

“Do you think he’ll ever let me out on my own again?” you asked with a teasing smile.

Alicent laughed softly. “Perhaps after the baby is born. Until then, I’ll make sure you have company.” She glanced ahead, where Aemond was waiting by a fountain, his arms crossed as he watched the two of you. “And perhaps I can convince your dear nephew to slow down next time.”

You both shared a laugh as you continued your slow walk through the garden, the bond between you and Alicent strengthening with every step.

Your peaceful walk came to an abrupt halt at the sound of Daemon’s voice, firm and laced with concern. “Why aren’t you resting in our chambers?” he asked, his gaze fixed on you, a hint of worry in his eyes.

Before you could respond, Alicent stepped in, her tone calm and reassuring. “She needed some fresh air, Daemon. Being cooped up isn’t good for her.”

Daemon, however, wasn’t convinced. His eyes softened as they met yours, but his protective instincts were clear. “Fresh air or not, she needs rest,” he replied, his voice gentler now but still resolute.

In a swift motion, he closed the distance between you, scooping you up into his arms with ease. The suddenness of his action made you gasp, but the warmth of his embrace was comforting. “Daemon,” you protested lightly, “I can walk.”

“I know you can,” he murmured, his lips brushing your temple. “But I’d rather carry you.”

Alicent stood nearby, shaking her head with a soft smile. “You’ve become quite the overprotective husband, Daemon.”

He glanced at her briefly, a small smirk playing on his lips. “I have every reason to be.”

You nestled against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart. His protectiveness, though overwhelming at times, was a testament to his deep care for you. Despite the exasperation you sometimes felt, you couldn’t deny the comfort his presence brought.

As Daemon carried you back toward your chambers, you allowed yourself to relax in his arms, the worries of the day melting away. Alicent followed behind, her expression a mix of amusement and understanding. She knew the depth of Daemon’s love for you, and though it bordered on overbearing, it was also undeniable.

Once inside, Daemon gently placed you on the bed, ensuring you were comfortable before sitting beside you. His hand found yours, fingers intertwining. “I just want you safe,” he whispered.

“I know,” you replied softly, squeezing his hand. “And I appreciate it. But a little fresh air won’t hurt.”

He chuckled, leaning in to press a tender kiss to your forehead. “Maybe. But next time, let me join you.”

A smile tugged at your lips. “Deal.”

Alicent watched the exchange with a knowing smile, excusing herself to give you both privacy. As she left, she couldn’t help but admire the love between you and Daemon—a love fierce, protective, and deeply devoted.

The quiet of the room was broken only by the soft crackling of the fire, casting a warm glow over the chamber. You lay reclined on the bed, the weight of your growing belly a comforting reminder of the life you and Daemon had created together. Beside you, Daemon knelt, his hand resting gently on your stomach, his touch tender and reverent.

A small flutter beneath his palm made both of you pause. His eyes widened with wonder as he felt the movement of your child. A soft smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he leaned down, pressing a kiss to your belly. His voice, low and filled with affection, murmured words meant only for the little one within.

“You’re already so strong,” he whispered, his breath warm against your skin. “Just like your mother.”

Your fingers found their way to his hair, threading through the silver strands with a gentle caress. The sight of him, so devoted and tender, filled your heart with a warmth that words could scarcely convey. His rough exterior seemed to melt away in these moments, leaving behind a man deeply in love, not only with you but with the family you were building together.

As he continued to murmur softly to the baby, you couldn’t help but smile. His hands, so often associated with swordsmanship and strength, now held a tenderness reserved only for you and the child you carried.

“Daemon,” you whispered, your voice filled with emotion.

He looked up at you, his eyes meeting yours with a softness that took your breath away.

“I’m so lucky to have you,” you said, your voice trembling slightly. “To be loved by you.”

His expression softened further, and he rose slightly to meet your gaze, his hand still resting protectively on your belly. “You’re not the only lucky one,” he replied, his voice thick with emotion. “You’ve given me a reason to be better, to love more fiercely than I ever thought possible.”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you leaned in, pressing a kiss to his forehead. The love between you was palpable, a bond that had only grown stronger with the impending arrival of your child.

As the evening wore on, the two of you remained in that quiet intimacy, sharing whispered dreams of the future. The weight of your love and the promise of the life you were creating together filled the room, wrapping you both in a cocoon of warmth and hope.

Tag list : @danytar @zaldritzosrose @hangmanscoming @julessworldd @yazzzmints @giirlinblack @callsignwidow

#hotd #hotd imagine #hotd one shot #hotd x reader #prince daemon targaryen #daemon targaryen #daemon targeryen x reader #daemon x y/n #daemon targeryan #daemon x you #hotd daemon #daemon x reader #alicent hightower #hotd alicent #hotd headcanon #hotd fanfic

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realcleverscience · 2 days ago

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Thanks for the thoughtful reply. I see things a bit differently. allow me to share what I hope to be a thoughtful reply as well:

In terms of plagiarism, I think there are two different issues at play: firstly, training on data one doesn't own, and secondly, reproducing that data and presenting it as original data.

I agree that these are both issues but I don't think they're of equal concern or frequency. In particular, I see "plagiarism" as representing the second issue more than the first. Reproducing other people's works is not ok. That is plagiarism. That has occasionally happened with AI and must be sorted out. No questions there. However, that represents a fraction of a fraction of results. It is a very small and niche issue which is already being addressed.

That said, the first problem - using unowned data - is more nebulous, legally and ethically speaking. On one hand, AI is doing basically the same thing that humans do, which is learn and imitate from others. On the other hand, AI can do this with a level of detail and speed which humans can't. Then there's also issues with the data. For instance, if google uses youtube to train their AI, they probably have some legal right to that as a result of hosting the video. Whenever people use "free" websites, there are usually "costs" which we agree to. (Is that fair? idk. personally, it's ok with me. I think it's a fair trade.) That said, I also expect legal frameworks to develop which make it easier for people to opt-in or opt-out or get compensation as these systems grow. Lastly, it's not clear to me that it's bad for AI to learn from these sources in general - again, much like how humans do. I only really see a problem when it starts to produce actual plagiarism, as discussed above.

Also, in terms of data, I agree with some of your points. I do want to point out, though, that data isn't a finite resource. Just the opposite. We put more and more data on the web each year. in 2010, it got around 2 zetabytes; in 2015 it was 15 zetabytes, in 2020, 64 zetabytes, in 2024, we're expected to have put online nearly 150 zetabytes. And with the growth of things like smartphones, video apps (youtube, tiktok, etc), augmented reality glasses, autonomous robots, self-driving cars, and people engaging with their AIs - these companies are going to get ever growing amounts of rich data, about the world, environments, movement, conversation, and more.

"And that gets to the part of your closer that I wanted to talk about. With "AI" as it is, we are not going to get to a post-labor world like you want. Replacing artists and writers and other creatives will instead create a post-art world... But in such a world, humans aren't just sitting on their asses doing nothing - a lot of people will be creating, not because they have to, but because they want to. Art should be the last job replaced in the process of creating such a world, but the people in charge are trying to make it the first, because their ideal world is nowhere near in line with yours."

To be clear, I'm not interested in replacing artists more or less than any other profession bc I see all professions as valuable. I want to see *all* jobs get automated as much as is possible to get us all to a post-labor society. And yes, it is my hope and expectation that everyone will pursue their hobbies and interests once we no longer have to work. I also know that there's a lot of public focus on AI-Art since a lot of the semi-decent AI products right now are art generators. however, that's only bc art has more wiggle room in its results. But AI is coming for ALL jobs. And I think that's good.

That said, I agree that the rich see AI as a way to get even richer and not necessarily to benefit society. However, I also think that massive unemployment will steer the country (and all countries) toward post-labor systems, such as increasingly shortened work-weeks, UBI, and other changes. I am concerned about how difficult that transition period will be. But that's largely on us and how we vote. (literally one of the reasons I told people not to vote for trump. he dgaf about anyone.)

AI is not a bad technology. It is a major boon for the world. The fight is with capitalism.

'People are panicking about AI tools the same way they did when the calculator was invented, stop worrying' cannot stress enough the calculator did not forcibly pervade every aspect of our lives, has such a low error rate it's a statistical anomaly when it does happen, isn't built on mass plagiarism, and does not obliterate the fucking environment when you use it. Be so fucking serious right now

#ai #art #capitalism #discussion

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lyricthecat-12 · 1 day ago

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I urgently needed to talk about the last scene between Sonic and Shadow in the third movie, because I think what they did is simply beautiful. 🥹💙❤️🖤

Before Sonic 3 came out, there was debate over who would be the one to change Shadow's mind since at that point, there was no solid indication that Amy or Rouge would appear. I was a fan of the idea that maybe they'd have Jojo be the one to remind Shadow of Maria's wish, since she was an established character from the start and fits the profile like a cheerful, caring, and optimistic girl.

However, seeing that in the end they made it so that Sonic was the one who talked to Shadow and convinced him to fight to save the world, surprised me and at the same time fascinated me infinitely more. Because they managed to make the change organic by connecting it with narrative elements that were also raised and developed from the beginning; Sonic's grief over losing Longclaw and his paternal relationship with Tom, making this moment something special and significant for both of them:

It is a moment of connection and understanding between two people who have lost the person who was once the most important in their lives, who loved them when no one else did and gave them a home,

That for a long time they had to deal alone with the pain and guilt of having been the trigger for their deaths but, as they emphasize in the film, While Sonic was able to find a family that would love him and help him get better and cope with that pain, Shadow was alone and the only person he interacted with after awakening, only manipulated him in order to fulfill his revenge.

Until this moment, where Shadow finally meets someone who not only knows his pain perfectly but has also learned to move forward and not let it corrupt him even in the most difficult moments, and who in turn motivates him to do the same.

All of this contributes fantastically to their connection, as it is no longer just that their personalities and ways of acting are opposite, but also the way in which their stories correlate and at the same time distinguish each other, creating a new and emotional parallelism between them: They are two sides of the same coin, two extremes that ultimately come together to bring out the best in each other.

Which is beautifully reflected throughout the final battle. Sonic and Shadow display effortless synergy, supporting each other, backing each other up, and even casually joking around.

A good reminder of the great chemistry and dynamism they used to have years ago. Unlike now that they make it seem like Shadow barely tolerates Sonic, before they both had a friendly rivalry where they respected each other, valued each other and helped each other without problem. And I'm really glad the movie brought back some of that dynamic and reflected it in such a natural and fun way, and I hope that continues for future SCU projects instead of sticking to the current direction.

And I'm not just saying this because I'm a fan of Sonadow, but because I genuinely believe that this is the most natural direction for their relationship after all this time.

#sonic the hedgehog #sonic #sonadow #shadonic #sonic movie 3 #movie sonadow #sonic x shadow #shadow x sonic #sonic cinematic universe #shadow the hedgehog #shadow #movie shadow #movie sonic #sonic movie #sonic analysis #opinion #sonic movie 3 spoilers

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motorsportbarbie13 · 5 hours ago

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A Package Deal - Part 6 (the finale)

Our time has come, this labor of love is *finished* (at least for now, i could probably be convinced to return to these loves soon)

warnings: none pairing: lando x singlemom!reader word count: 2k words

- A Package Deal - A Package Deal - Part 2 - A Package Deal - Part 3 - A Package Deal - Part 4 - A Package Deal - Part 5 - Master List

yourusername (private) posted

yourusername cold but happy carlossainz still can't believe you convinced Lando to spend Christmas in the cold. >>>yourusername oh it wasn't me! Stella said she wanted to learn how to ski, next thing I know he's booking a 2 week trip to Switzerland! >>>landonorris what my girl wants, my girl gets. 🤷🏻

Christmas, 2025 "Momma, are you sure Santa knows to bring my presents here this year and to not leave them at home?" The concern etched on Stella's face has you grinning into your wine glass.

"Yes, my darling." You assure her, patting her head as she snuggles deeper into Lando's side. "I wrote him a letter weeks ago, remember? You were with me when we mailed it! When you wake up tomorrow morning, all of your presents will be underneath that tree right over there."

This had been Stella's number one concern ever since Lando had announced that he'd booked a house at one of the most exclusive resorts in Gstaad, Switzerland for the Christmas holiday. You had spent a significant amount of time since discussing the fact that yes, Santa did know she wasn't going to be at home this year and yes, he would be able to deliver her presents here instead.

You had been in the mountain town for a few days now, spending nearly every waking moment on the slopes. It was beginning to feel routine, the way you all woke up around the same time and had breakfast together before getting your snow gear on and heading out onto the mountain. You had enrolled Stella in ski school that first day, despite Lando's protests that he could absolutely teach her to ski by himself, and she was thriving. It took a Herculean effort to get her off of her skis every evening but you were happy Stella was having fun.

Today you had managed to get Stella off the mountain early in order to go to dinner with Max and Pietra, who were also staying at the resort for Christmas. Max's initial reservations about Lando dating a single mom had long since evaporated into thin air, after he had seen how much both Stella and Lando adored each other this year. By the middle of the summer, you and Pietra had also become much closer as well, so you enjoyed traveling with Lando's friends who you now considered yours as well.

There was a crackling fire in the huge fireplace that took up most of the external wall of the large four bedroom chalet-style home and above the fireplace, Elf played on the tv. Stella was snuggled up between you and Lando, her head buried underneath Lando's arm, while her feet were stretched across your lap. Lando's arm is flung over the side of the couch, his fingers tangled in yours as his thumb brushes soft circles over the back of your hand. After a few days with a lot of activity, it felt nice to finally spend the evening relaxing in the quiet of your own space.

As the credits to Elf begin to roll, you tap Stella's feet, a signal that it's time to get moving. "Come on, baby girl, it's time for bed. Go brush your teeth and then I'll be in to read more of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory and tuck you in, okay? The sooner you get to sleep, the faster Santa comes!"

Stella stretches out her legs and whines, sounding a lot like a cat after it wakes up from a long nap. "I want Dad to tuck me in tonight."

The entire world goes still as you suck in a breath at the name she just used for the very first time. On the other side of the couch, you see Lando freeze too, gaze snapping straight to you as his fingers tighten around yours. The request has your heart squeezing in your chest, a response to her question simply unable to form in your brain.

Stella senses the mood shift in the room and glances up first at you and then over at Lando. "What? Can't Daddy tuck me in just this once?"

Daddy.

Lando's stomach does a somersault up into his throat as he grips onto your hand for reassurance. Had she just...

It really shouldn't have been a surprise, he'd realize later once Stella was fast asleep and you were curled up in his arms in your shared bed. Ever since Silverstone back in July, Lando had practically moved in to your house in all but name. He'd decided to rent out his Monaco apartment to one of the new rookie drivers next season, choosing to remain full time in England where you were. The teachers and parents at school all knew him not as Lando Norris, Formula 1 driver but as the man that often picked up Stella from school whenever he was able to. Stella's teacher had even begun including him on her weekly email newsletters she always sent out on Friday afternoons. He was as ingratiated into this family as both you and Stella were.

But hearing her call him dad for the first time? The new title did something to Lando's heart that he wasn't sure he'd ever recover from.

Emotion claws at his throat as he struggles to find the simple words to answer her request.

"Of course he can, honey." You whisper, seeing the shock and adoration sit heavy on Lando's face. Your own voice is with thick with emotion too. "Do you need help finding some jammies to change into?" You ask as Stella slowly gets up from her little nest between you and Lando.

"Dad can help me." She says with a shrug, as if the name is the most natural thing in the world.

Lando moves to get off the couch as Stella pads down the hallway, the brand new teddy bear she had conned him into buying at a shop today tucked into the crook of her elbow. He squeezes your shoulder as you look up at him, brilliant smile stretching over your face.

"You okay?" You ask as he rounds the couch, following behind Stella, dazed look still on his face.

Lando rubs at the back of his neck, stopping for a moment before turning back to you. His eyes shimmer with tears as he glances behind him and then back at you. "I think so...is...is that okay with you? Her calling me..." He pauses, trying to work his mouth around the next word, "dad like that?"

You're surprised to see concern flit across his face, like you could possibly be upset at what had just happened. "Lando." You murmur, rising from the couch to stand in front of him. You slip your arms around his neck, pulling him in for a kiss. His lips are warm despite the fact that his kiss is hesitant at first. He quickly reads the emotion you pour into him though: confidence, love, desire. All of it positive and he knows without needing to hear anything vocalized that you're just happy about his new title as he is.

You tuck your head into his neck, nuzzling at the warm spot you love so much. "She loves you so much and so do I. You're the best thing that could have ever happened to us, Lando Norris."

Lando chuckles. "I think it's the opposite way around, my love. You two are the best thing that could have ever happened to me."

"DAAAAAAD" From the end of the hall, Stella's little voice calls out and you both can't help the laugh that pulls you apart. "I'm waaaaaaiting!!! Stop kissing Momma and come read to me!" She demands.

"The Princess awaits." Lando mutters before giving you one last peck on the cheek and turning away to walk down the hall towards Stella's room.

Over an hour later and you're 2 glasses of wine deeper than you were when Lando left you, still sitting alone on the couch. You're beginning to think he's fallen asleep putting Stella to bed only because you've done the same thing countless amounts of times over the years when you hear the door to her room whisper open.

"You were in there a long time." You murmur as Lando sits down on the couch before he pulls you into his lap. You set the wine glass down on the side table next to you so you can wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you.

"Stella and I had some things to discuss." He says lightly.

Lando's body relaxes as he tucks his head into your neck. If there's one thing you adore about your boyfriend you'll adore until the ends of time it's how affectionate he is. He's always touching you when you're near and he never gives half-hearted hugs, they're something he pours his full body into. The same goes with cuddling, it's never halfway with Lando when it comes to physical affection and you simply cannot ever get enough.

"Oh?" You laugh, grinning at him. "And what are you two plotting now?"

Lando shifts, glancing away as if he's nervous to answer your question. "Stella calling me dad just had me thinking about things..."

You lift an eyebrow. "Things?"

"Yeah" Lando nods. He takes a deep breath and pulls you closer into his chest. "I just got to thinking and maybe it’s time we make things official."

"What are you talking about?" Confusion has you pulling away from him so you can look at him. There's a small smile playing at the corner of his mouth and you have to resist the urge to kiss him, despite the fact that you are fully lost as to what he's talking about. "You’ve been calling me your girlfriend for months now?"

He chuckles, shaking his head. "No, I mean official official. With this." Lando lifts his hips off the couch and pulls out a black velvet box from his pocket. For the second time that night, your heart stalls in your chest, world tilting a bit on its axis.

"Lan." You whisper before sucking in a breath as he opens the top of the ring box. Nestled in the black velvet sits the most gorgeous ring you'd ever laid eyes on. It's simple and perfect and something you would have picked out on your own had you been let loose in a jewelry store.

"Marry me, baby." Lando's voice is thick, anxiety and nerves evident in every syllable that comes out of his mouth. "I never want to go back to a world where you and Stella aren't in my life. Stella sees me as her dad, I hope you can see me as your husband and father of the rest of our babies one day. I love you so much l. Spend the rest of your life with me?

It's a wonder the sound of your heart clattering against your ribcage doesn't wake Stella up it's so loud. Blood rushes past your ears so loudly, the sounds of the house are muffled for a moment and all you can do is stare at Lando. He doesn't move, a look of anxiety and love and hundreds of other emotions sitting so plainly on his face you can barely form a thought.

"Of course. Oh my god. Of course." Your right hand finds his cheek and you frame his face with your hand as he takes your left hand before slipping the ring on your finger. A perfect fit.

"Yeah?" A wash of relief crashes over Lando because for a moment he thought you were about to reject him.

When he had finished reading a chapter of Stella's book to her, he had as casually as he could brought up the idea of them being a family for real next year. Stella had been a bit confused, asking him if the weren't already a real family but Lando had quickly explained he meant he wanted to marry you but only if Stella thought that was a good idea because she was part of their family too and what she thought mattered to him just as much as what you thought.

You nod, laughing through your tears before crashing your lips to his in a heated kiss. "Yeah." You mutter against his mouth.

"I was going to do this tomorrow morning" Lando pulls away, glancing down at your hand that's still captured between his. "But it just felt right tonight. Stella was so excited, she started asking what kind of dress she’d get to wear at the wedding."

"Oh Lando." You coo before you allow him to lay you down on the couch, kissing you as he goes.

yourusername (private) posted

123 likes liked by BFFSarah, CarlosSainz, yourdad, and others yourusername mrs. norris has a nice ring to it, doesn't it? 😘 BFFSarah OH. MY. GOD. I'm sobbing. Bestie. I love you. I love him. I love Stella. I'm so happy for you!!! >>>yourusername ❤️❤️❤️ thank you babes >>>BFFSarah sorry, back again to tell you holy SHIT that ring!! @/landonorris you did good!! >>>landonorris why thank you! ☺️

landonorris posted

1,098,874 likes liked by yourusername, mclaren, zakbrownceo, and others landonorris santa can't compete with my present this year zakbrownceo congratulations to both of you!!! we'll have to throw a little party when you're back in the new year! >>>yourusername thanks zak!! you are too good to us! user009 the gold digger got what she wanted...how long til she's knocked up with baby number 2? gotta get that bag somehow... >>>user221 seriously. bro fell for the oldest trick in the book. fucking gross. >>>user223 hey so this is a fucking WILD thing to say about someone you don't even know so publicly. JESUS. user928 OH MY GOD THEY'RE ENGAGED user230 we're going to get dad lando content FOREVER >>>user929 the way i live for stella/lando content and now we get even MORE??? Yes please!!!

@shelbyteller @formulaal @martygraciesversion381 @longhairkoo @samantha-chicago @stelena-klayley @dark-night-sky-99 @luckylampzonkland @chlmtfilms @aykxz98 @forensicheart @cheer-bear-go-vroom @lieutenantchaos @willowsnook @linnygirl09 @meglouise00 @mixedstyles @secret-agents-stole-my-bunnies @mrosales16 @charlesgirl16 @leclercdream @daemyratwst @dramaticpiratellamas @mochimommy2002 @llando4norris @chelseyyouraverageluigi @iamaunknownsecret @maxivstappen @imlonelydontsendhelp @nina-or-anna-or-nora @a1leexxa @littlegrapejuice @sunflowervol18 @freyathehuntress @finn-dot-com @swiftie-4-lifes-stuff @chirasama @lauralarsen @dr3wstarkey @saskiaalonso @mindless-rock @piastri-fvx @mel164 @schumi-angel @myescapefromthislife @supertrashbread @sunny44 @tinystudentblaze-stuff

#f1 #formula 1 #lando norris #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #ln4 #lando norris fanfic #lando x you #lando x reader #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #ln4 x reader #lando norris fic #lando norris x singlemom!reader #boyfriend lando #lando norris fluff #lando norris imagine

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scandalaciousintentions · 2 days ago

Text

This is it. After I referenced this line earlier, I'm going to talk about it at length.

I miss this line. It serves many purposes.

It's a funny line.

As in, this is not just a line that makes the other characters laugh. This is not a line that makes us laugh at the character. This establishes Fiyero as funny. It charms us as an audience and allows everyone to fall slightly in love with a beautiful (this we do have to be told, everyone has a type, after all) prince in his tight white pants and his dancing boots who makes us giggle.

2. It shows Fiyero's character development.

Piggy-backing on my earlier post about complexity, Fiyero is an enigma wrapped in a puzzle wrapped in tight white pants. Giving him this snarky snap at her allows us to watch their relationship develop. His changing opinion, his understanding of Elphaba, his affection for her gives him depth.

And we get to go along with him. We are Fiyero. We begin believing we'll choose Glinda every time. She's the heroine. This girl looks sweet in her little knitted cap and her glasses, but she is ultimately The Wicked Witch of the West. And then we learn that she's actually a rebel with a cause, we come to root for her, to love her. We no longer wish to make snide remarks about her, we may even regret our titter circa Dancing Through Life.

3. Elphaba and Fiyero are two sides of the same coin.

Their romance is inevitable. Like Elizabeth and Darcy, they are both Pride and Prejudice. They are both deadpan snarkers who use this weapon on anyone in their path. In Fiyero's case, quite literally. He's not used to being lectured, especially not by girls, so he lashes out. He just happens to choose the only chink in Elphaba's armour. But look me in the eye and tell me Elphaba wouldn't do exactly the same thing.

"I've been thinking."

"Yes, I've heard."

Cynthia's Elphaba doesn't draw that line out in the same way that Kerry's did. (Kerry Ellis, I'm that old.) But when it's said sarcastically, it's devastating. It's the kind of thing that would make me never want to show my face in public again. Especially if I'd crafted a mask of nonchalance that was slipping off faster than I could catch it.

We're not shown many of their similarities in personality, but when they snap at each other, neither is a kicked puppy. When these two fight, they'll go hammer and tongs.

I loved "You didn't? I did." It did make me smile; it was charming and I wouldn't take it out. But for all these reasons, I missed this line. I felt like I was missing a massive chunk of who Fiyero is as a character and the journey we all go on together.

#rip to another iconic fiyero line

#wicked #fiyeraba

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genderkoolaid · 2 days ago

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in what way, if any, do you think that indulging kinks is different than making jokes as far as emplanting/reinforcing ideas in the mind? do you think that being a sexual sadist makes you more permissive of nonconsensual violence?genuine question, feel free to ignore or answer privately if this is too thorny.

OKAY I have tried to write this 4 times now here we go!!!! This time it will NOT get deleted!!!!!!!!

This is a really good + important question so I am glad you asked! To me, it comes down to context and critical self-reflection.

Kink, done properly, occurs in a very specific and frank context. You discuss what a scene will look like beforehand, and then you discuss what happened and each person's experiences afterward. Proper kink requires blatant discussions of what is wanted and what is to be avoided, and the consent of all parties is what helps create this context.

Humor, on the other hand, tends to live in a hazy grey area between truth and lies. We like to think that because jokes are jokes, this means they are completely detached from our world. But humor has a social function. It helps bring people together, as well as delineate divisions. And it also helps us dip a toe into a certain feeling without having to discuss the feeling itself.

To give an example, let's talk about bees and wasps.

Say there is a person named A. A generally thinks of themself as liking animals and the natural world. They are against climate change and pro-biodiversity, although they don't really know a ton about these topics. They see people making jokes about wasps vs. bees: bees are sweet pollinators just trying to enjoy the summer, while wasps are angry assholes who will fuck your wife. A finds these jokes funny, especially having learned about how important bees are but having always been afraid of wasps. A also begins making jokes about how wasps have no purpose, they just exist to ruin your day, and should be killed. A finds themself joking about how we should really just kill off all wasps, since they are evil and worthless creatures. When A sees a wasp, they feel nothing but fear and the desire to kill it painfully. If they hear about something is causing mass death amongst wasps, they think its probably a net positive for everyone.

A was clearly biased against wasps from the beginning, which isn't really their fault; wasps can be scary and hurtful! The jokes seem to reaffirm their feelings as natural, socially valid, and even funny. But as I'm sure many of my followers know, wasps ARE pollinators and are quite important to the environment, as well as having the inherent worth that all creatures do. It's rather contradictory for A to both say they value biodiversity, while also devaluing an entire group of creatures and being okay with, or even advocating for, their extinction.

It is fully possible for A to dislike wasps, AND value biodiversity. The problem is that A does not really know how to apply their values to the world and their actions. They generally have beliefs, but those beliefs do not form a bedrock they can reference. Their values and their actions are not in conversation.

To take it back to what you were discussing: properly done kink always involves conversation between values and actions. The values are consent, risk-aware safety, and mutual pleasure/satisfaction/positive experiences. Knowing these values and what they mean, the people involved can talk about what they want to do and how those actions will relate to those values. When a sadist is hitting someone in a scene, they know that this is happening because they have created a context in which that action aligns with their values. And if someone does find that they are being shaped negatively by kink experiences, they can recognize that and choose to stop.

I believe there is a problem with people not truly knowing what they believe or value, and/or not truly knowing how their beliefs/values interact with the world and their actions. And when you combine that with the ambiguity of jokes, the way we are encouraged to see jokes as something separated from the "real world," and the way they can encourage people to follow their gut feelings and reaffirm them as socially valid and true, you get. well. bad times! radicalization! Oops All Assholes!

I just made a post that was kind of an example of this. I watched Megan Thee Stallion's documentary and joked about how she should be allowed to kill indiscriminately. When I think about making those kinds of jokes, I am keeping in mind:

Killing individuals doesn't solve systemic issues

I value transformative justice over punitive justice

I generally avoid making these- humourously communicating my anger at injustice into calls for violence- because I am conscious that jokes aren't "just jokes." This doesn't mean I NEVER do it. It's not, like, radioactive. Making a joke won't corrupt me a la the One Ring. But I make a choice to steer myself away from that kind of humor. Because I don't want to create that kind of thought pattern; because I am being conscious of the distinction between feeling and value, of catharsis and justice; because I don't want to connect with others on the basis of a belief I don't actually hold and am just putting on to express frustration; and because, in the case of other jokes, regardless of their impact on ME, they can still hurt other people. Even if you feel like you can make small dick jokes and still genuinely believe body-shaming is bad… if your jokes still have the impact of body-shaming people, then your values aren't really having an impact on your actions, at which point they are meaningless.

#m.#ask box

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revelboo · 14 hours ago

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REVEL! I BEG OF THEE! Please feed us our dear Metroplex!

(If you want or have time. No pressure! Please take care of yourself!)

Sure!

I Can Feel You Pt 14

Metroplex x Reader

• Legs bumping against the drone as it walks implacably forward, descending into the darkness as your skin prickles all over, you’re glad that this time you’re not alone. Even if you hadn’t been truly alone the first time, Metroplex watching over you. You hadn’t forgotten how massive his labyrinthine interior was, but it still makes you feel uncomfortably small. And the drone is eerily silent as it carries you, but it’s the fact that it had been pulling Ratchet after it that nags at you. Even mass displaced, it’s ridiculously strong. Stronger than Ratchet. “You’ve been down here before? Alone?” Ratchet asks, voice disapproving and you grimace.

• “Metroplex was watching over me. He showed me where to go,” you say. Leaving out how afraid you’d been anyway. And what he’d brought you down here for, not about to broach the subject that you’d gotten intimate with the city. No, you’ll take that to the grave. Trying to squirm into a more comfortable position, the drone refuses to ease up its grip and you eventually give up and just hang there in its arms. “Are there more of these guys somewhere?” Head craning to stare up at the eerily empty face. Yeah, you can definitely tell when Metroplex isn’t controlling it, because it’s kind of creepy like an animated doll now.

• Where are you? Not where he lost contact with the drone, but he can’t find it either. Turning his focus inward, it takes longer than he’d like to find Scamper again. Unsettled as he slips into it to find it heading toward the damage carrying you. On its own. There’s no awareness inside it beside his own, but it had acted of its own volition somehow. Uneasy, he tips its head down. “Okay?” He asks. You’re dangling against him, the drone’s arms wrapped around you. Stopping to shift you up into his arms, hooking an arm behind your knees, he’s aware of Ratchet staring.

• “Better now,” you say, offering him a smile as Ratchet frowns at both of you. “No offense, but the drone’s creepy when you’re not controlling it.” You’re definitely not telling Ratchet about that intimate encounter, because he already looks like he’s uncomfortable with the way Metroplex is fussing over you. Does the drone have its own spark? Any awareness that it’s being piloted about and controlled? Or is it just an empty shell? You somehow doubt that given the way it’d moved on its own.

• “Apologies, little one.” Already growing tired, he keeps moving. But soon, once he’s repaired? He can find the other drones. Have the energy to make you a place worthy of you nestled near his spark with all three drones to protect and tend to you. Have a possible future with you, kept safe with him. Time to learn each other, to speak and be heard. Do you understand how precious you are to him? How much he’d do for you?

#transformers x reader #metroplex x reader #metroplex

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claypigeonpottery · 2 days ago

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How did you get into selling your ceramics? I'm interested in selling my stuff but have no clue how to begin

I started out selling on Etsy. I think it was a decent place to start. unfortunately the site’s definitely gone downhill since 2020, when I started. posting on Etsy did make it obvious that I had to learn to take good pictures, and taking that step has been a huge help in the long run.

in 2021 my spouse @subpar-lemon-bar and I set up some tables with a few other potters, outside my parents’ house, and sold my work. the sale went ok, though most of the people who bought my work were friends or acquaintances lol, so it’s debatable whether it would have been a success without their support

after that, I sold my work at a few local craft shows, sales, and a maker’s faire. some of them went great, a couple of them went badly. but it was a good experience and I think it was helpful for me to talk to so many people at events about pottery and art.

the easiest way to start that is, unfortunately, to know someone who organizes or sells at craft shows or markets, but you can also find yearly local markets and apply to be a vendor when they’ve got an event coming up.

I was offered a couple tables by artists who knew me and after we’d done a couple shows, we got to know a lot of the other vendors. you also need a decent amount of pottery if you’re selling at a market, unlike selling online.

in-person sales are a ton of work, and by the end we were always exhausted. but overall, we made enough money and enjoyed enough of it that it was very worthwhile

once I started this tumblr, I found I didn’t really need to do in-person shows. I never have to worry that my work is too weird or too naked or too queer on tumblr, whereas craft shows in a fairly conservative area were… not suited to all my work lol. I got a lot of comments on any piece with nudity, and not all of them were kind.

I also had a few of my pieces for sale in a local coffee shop for about a year. nothing sold, it just wasn’t the right place. I tried selling through instagram stories too, a bunch of potters would sell their work at the same time and post each other’s work. I didn’t sell anything. it was early on and I was a little disheartened.

if things aren’t selling, that doesn’t mean your work won’t sell. it might be that you haven’t found the right place for it yet

good luck!

#ask #asks #market #pottery #craft fair

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pasteldreams · 13 hours ago

Text

aftercare - c.s.

pairing: fwb!chris sturniolo x reader

summary: you teach your fuck buddy, chris, how to care for you after he rails you

cw: mentions of sex and bodily fluids (mdni), aftercare, pet names (baby, pretty girl, etc.), educational maybe?, fluff

word count: ~1.2k

you and chris had been "together" for a while. when you broke up with your ex 6 months ago, you missed his dick more than anything. fortunately, your friend, chris, offered up just what you needed. you two weren't technically dating, but everyone knew you were fucking each other and only each other. chris was great in bed, he knew exactly what to do to make your back arch and your fists grab the sheets. however, he didn't have nearly as much experience as you do. his lack of experience didn't seem to affect his performance much, but his aftercare skills were shit. and today was no different.

"fuck, you did so good for me baby," chris says in between heavy breaths. he slowly lowers himself to lay next to you as he gently brushes your hair off of your face, both of you sticky from a combination of bodily fluids.

all you could release was a soft hum in response as the blood pumping through your ears began to quiet. you attempt to open your eyes only for the exhaustion to drag your lids back down.

chris laughs, "damn, it was that good?" you could practically hear the smirk in his voice before he let out a soft laugh.

"i'll give you a minute to recover, pretty girl." he presses a soft kiss to your forehead before moving to check his phone on the night stand. after seeing his notifications, he begins rambling on about something sports-related, but you were still much too fucked out to comprehend any spoken language. once your senses returned to normal, your eyes fluttered open and you slowly turned towards chris, cringing as your lower body vibrated from even the small movement.

"guess what time it is," he grins laying against the pillow while facing you.

"what time is it, chris?" you ask trying to mask the discomfort.

"it's… CUDDLE TIME!" he yells suddenly before throwing himself on top of you, forcing you to lay on your back, and engulfing you in his arms.

you groan and attempt to push him off quickly receiving a pout in response.

"heyyy, what's wrong? why won't you cuddle with me?"

"dude… i literally have your cum dripping down my ass crack right now," you roll your eyes.

"oh," he pauses. "um. do you want me to get you a towel or something for that?"

"uh, yeah, that'd be nice," you say passive aggressively.

he doesn't respond as he quickly shuffles to the bathroom to grab a towel.

"do you want a big one or a small one?" he yells from the bathroom.

you sigh. "either is fine," you grumble just loud enough for him to hear.

he returns with a small towel.

"what's wrong baby?" he says as he climbs onto the bed putting the towel next to you.

"have you ever heard of aftercare?" you ask using the towel to soak up as much of the leaking fluid as you could, grimacing at the friction on the sensitive area.

“aftercare? like when a parent forgets to pick their kid up from school?" he jokes.

"no, chris… like for after sex," you state bluntly.

"no? am I supposed to know what it is?"

"do you wanna keep fucking me?"

he looks at you with surprised eyes not expecting that kind of question.

"of course I do, I mean─fuck─look at you," he gently slides his hand up your side as his eyes follow, taking in each inch of your skin on the way up.

"well, if you wanna keep fucking me, you need to learn how to take care of me after. you can't just fuck me the way that you do and expect me not to be in pain afterwards…"

"wait, you're in pain?" he furrows his brows in concern. "why didn't you tell me, angel? i can be more gentle whe-"

"no! fuck, no. i love the way you fuck me. please, don't be gentle. that's not what i want"

"so what d-"

"christopher, you can't learn if you don't let me talk."

"oh right, sorry, i'm listening," his expression turns serious suddenly.

"aw, what a good boy," you smirk teasing him.

"yeah, yeah, yeah, let's get on with this so I can keep fuckin' you, pretty girl."

"my pleasure," you grin. "first, you're usually pretty good with this one, but after you practically abuse me with your dick, i need you to tell me how good i was for you. because it's a lot of work taking you like i do, and i deserve the praise."

"you do deserve it princess. i can─no, i do do that. easy. next," he responds confidently.

"next, the towel. non-negotiable, and honestly, put it down before we even start 'cause once you pull out, sometimes even before that, it all just…"

"yeah, yeah, makes sense. i definitely should've thought about it when i was washing the sheets every single time we fucked," he admits sheepishly.

you laugh, "yeah, maybe."

"what else can I do for you, baby?" he cups your face with one of his warm hands, softly gliding his thumb across your cheekbone.

"now… i'm gonna need some help getting to the bathroom, 'cause i don't think i can even stand up on my own right now," you laugh softly, thinking about the less-than-natural positions chris had just put you in.

He laughs, smirking. "i really fucked you good today, huh?"

"just shut up and help me up."

“yes ma'am," he salutes jokingly before standing up and reaching his hands out to lift you out of bed and to the bathroom.

"you didn't have to carry me," you tell him.

"i know, but i like carrying you," he admits as he gently places you on your feet in the bathroom. once you're standing with the support of the counter, chris can't help but look you up and down.

"are you just gonna watch me piss or can i get a second by myself?" you tease him.

"oh shit, right, sorry. i'll be- um, i'll be out here," he says clearly flustered by your comment while backing out of the bathroom and closing the door.

You laugh, shaking your head.

After finishing in the restroom, you call chris's name softly.

"yes, baby?"

"can you help me get back to the room?" you giggle at your own sad state knowing it was partially your fault for begging chris to go harder.

he opens the door, quickly scooping you up and carrying back to the room.

"so, when do we get to cuddle?" he asks laying you down on the bed,

you roll your eyes playfully at him. "now, we can cuddle now, chris."

"fuck, finally, i've been waiting years to hold you," he exaggerates as he lays next to you, pulling your frame against his chest.

"chris, it was like 10 minutes."

"yeah, and I was going through withdrawal."

"you're so dramatic."

he nuzzles his head into your neck, releasing a content sigh. "you trust me to take care of you now? i can keep fucking you? please say yes."

You laugh. "yes, you can keep fucking me, on one condition."

"anything for you. what is it?"

"you promise to always cuddle me after."

"i promise to always cuddle you, whether we fucked or not."

a/n: love y/all and thanks for all the support! enjoy :)

🏷️ taglist: @y3sterdaysproblem @sofia-is-a-sturniolo-triplet-fan

reply/msg/inbox and ask to be added to the taglist!

cake divider by @dollywons, apple divider by @ithemes, and heart divider by @cafekitsune

#chris sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #nick sturniolo #matt sturniolo #the drawing board 𓂃🖊#chris sturiolo fanfic #chris sturniolo x reader #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo x reader #mdni #comfort #dividers not mine

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xinganhao · 12 hours ago

Text

some thoughts and extra content on my how is your youth? mini-series, where booseoksoon are your youth ✦ stories of the past (soonyoung), present (seokmin), and future (seungkwan).

(1) as mentioned, all titles are from day6's remember us : youth part 2. being a carat x myday strikes again lol. the references are very loose/barely there, but this is one of the first albums i think of when i think of the word 'youth'! it also has some of my favorite day6 songs of all time. (:

(2) when the series was but an idea clanging around in my brain, i went to maplegyu for advice. i gave her an inch ('dk is childhood crush coded'), and in turn, she gave me a mile ('a playmate u met for the summer that impacted ur life but never saw again'). when i say maple has helped me come up with some of my best ideas, i mean it. attaching her review here because it gave me so much joy!

(3) i couldn't find the photos that would pull it off, but i wanted seokmin to show off the rings that he still had from reader ): in my imagination, the rings are the plastic, toy type that you win from a gashapon machine/can buy at the cornerstone/et cetera. some visuals -ish:

(3.1) when reader and seokmin start dating, he starts wearing the ring in a necklace. he also never stops calling reader his 'wife' despite protests.

(4) no better place to drop this, but here's a panel that didn't make it into the final smau because of space/pacing issues! would have been towards the ending. (:

(5) i hadn't intended for lorde's ribs to be a recurring theme throughout the work, but it helped me realize that i wanted each of the readers to have internal conflicts (as much as bss might have). it ended up going as follows:

so cool!reader being scared of growing old

121U!reader holding grudges

days gone by!reader moving on from what-could-have-been's

(6) the first rain of may (referred to as unang ulan ng mayo in my country, and agua de mayo in spanish) is viewed as mentioned— something that's supposed to be 'healing'. it felt most appropriate to associate with seokmin, who embodies healing in his own way. 🌻

(7) the idea of focusing on soonyoung's taekwondo history is once again maple's, and the specifics on the rivalry (i.e. lacing up armor, pulling during stretches, racing during suicides) are all from sarangcoups. i felt very strongly about a childhood!soonyoung being a little bit annoying over having a crush— the type who mistakenly believed that bullying = affection.

(8) by this point, i started locking in the idea of each boy representing either the past, present, or future, which is laid out more clearly as follows:

seokmin, who associates reader as his youth which he wants in the present

soonyoung, who carried his past with him and learns from it on the daily

seungkwan, who plans to face the future with the love he received from his youth

(9) i realized belatedly that soonyoung's smau is shorter than the others, which is why i tried to compensate with a longer -ish headcanon format. nonetheless, it was fun to explore his voice both in the texts and the written part. he's still a little obnoxious, but it's endearing. out of all the work in the series, this one feels like the one that's likeliest to get more parts (but don't hold me to it! haha).

(10) up until posting, i was on the fence about whether i should conclude seungkwan's story the way that it ended. that's why i ended up publishing it a couple days off 'schedule', primarily because i had to contemplate whether i was cheating seungkwan out of a 'happy ending' because soonyoung/seokmin got theirs.

and so maybe that's why i feel like i have a soft spot for this particular verse now because it helped me remember something important: romantic love is not the end all be all. a happy ending is still possible without it. how foolish of me to forget that, and how apt is it for me to be reminded with a story of seungkwan when it's something he would very easily tell people in a heartbeat.

(11) the alternate romantic ending would have still featured a similar line wherein seungkwan insists that 'kwannie' belongs to reader, but i pulled it out at the last minute when i realized— 'kwannie' doesn't exist anymore. it's a past version of him, one that the reader has maybe romanticized in her head. so, yes.

high school almost-lover 'kwannie' is reader's, but present-day 'seungkwan' is not.

(12) MOAs might recognize this, but the last line of seungkwan's interview is from a well-known soobin quote. it's something i think of constantly, and i feel like it's also something that seungkwan himself would believe in.

(13) another slide i cut for space reasons (replaced with seungkwan's '27' tweet):

it was posed as a gentle reminder from reader -> seungkwan that, as the lyric goes, life has just begun. it's also a prompt for him to not pick up only on the sad parts of the song/life, when the good lyric/part is in the very next breath.

tl;dr, your youth is whatever you want it to be. whether you are stuck in the past, living in the present, or afraid of the future— know that there is a love that waits, and it will be a good love. i promise you that.

like i always say: this story was mine once, but it's all yours now. ❥ thank you for reading along, and happy bss comeback szn!

how is your youth? 📢 a booseoksoon three-parter.

three independent smaus featuring booseoksoon, who you've had the pleasure of knowing throughout various stages of your life. or: verses where bss are your youth.

ⓘ synopses under the cut. aus will be linked back here once posted. happy bss comeback season, everyone!

do you remember...

so cool ✮ seokmin x reader.

... the kid you pretend-married on the playground? you were only 'spouses' for one summer, but you have the photographic evidence to prove it. it would be nice to know how he's doing, right?

121U ✮ soonyoung x reader.

... the annoying guy from your after-school taekwondo class? you hated his guts. you don't even really care much for the sport anymore; you just want to get back at him for making your life a living hell.

days gone by ✮ seungkwan x reader.

... your first love from high school? sure, you never really dated him, but your feelings were very much valid. whether they've stood the test of time is the real question— and it looks like you're about to to get some answers.

with love, kae ✎ a very special shoutout to the best of the best, @maplegyu, for helping me brainstorm some of these (..◜ᴗ◝..) starting the year with bss, lfg!

all titles are from day6's remember us : youth part 2.

› scroll through all my work ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ my masterlist | @xinganhao

#── ᵎᵎ ✦ yapping

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fortunxa · 2 days ago

Text

「 ✦ pinks and neons ✦ 」

Jinx x ballerina!reader / modern AU

─── ballerina masterlist ˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊ // second position

summary: Your friendship was a delicate balance, like a tightrope stretched between two distant worlds. One night, Jinx led you away from the soft glow of your studio and into the neon chaos of her underground. But a hand lingered too close, a grin cut too sharp—and her storm broke loose. In the quiet aftermath, something between you began to shift.

contents: modern AU, opposites attract, harassment

author's note: posting two days in a row? diva.

Jinx still didn’t know how it happened—how someone like you, with your soft eyes and even softer voice, had become part of her world.

But it started with quiet evenings in the studio, watching you twirl and leap with a precision that made her mind spin. She would sit cross-legged on the scuffed wooden floor, doodling nonsense in her notebook, stealing glances at you as if afraid to blink and miss something, occasionally tossing out commentary that made you groan and smile in equal measure. You, in turn, would sit beside her as she tinkered with gadgets, your steady presence anchoring her in a way nothing else ever had.

You found yourself lingering after practice, not just because Jinx made you laugh, but because she made you feel—alive, seen. Somehow, the girl with the blue hair and reckless grin was both a storm and a shelter all at once.

You had learned to laugh more, to let yourself be carried by the unpredictable current of her energy. Jinx, in turn, softened her sharp edges for you, learning how to sit still, to listen, to care. You were still opposites, but in the way day and night needed each other or how silence made music more profound. You weren’t something yet, not exactly, but you were more than nothing—there was something blooming there, something unspoken but undeniable.

The city breathed in rhythms you were only beginning to share. Somewhere, between pristine ballet studios and street corners sprayed in neon, your lives had started to intertwine.

And so, nights in the studio gave way to walks along the city’s edges, where she would point out graffiti tags like old friends, and you would listen, laughing at the outrageous stories behind each one.

But tonight was different.

“Alright, ballerina,” Jinx announced, her voice crackling with excitement and swinging an arm over your shoulders as you stepped off the subway. “I’ve been playing nice in your world long enough. Tonight, you’re coming to mine.”

And tonight your worlds collided at an underground party.

Deep in the industrial district, tucked inside a forgotten warehouse, brought to life with neon lights and the pounding rhythm of heavy-bass music. It was a riot of color and sound—Jinx’s natural habitat. You, however, stood near the edge of the chaos, wide-eyed and out of place.

“Are you sure about this?” you asked hesitantly.

“Relax, you’ll be with me,” she reassured with a wink. “C’mon, live a little!”

She led you inside, weaving through the crowd with practiced ease. You passed dancers, graffiti artists tagging the walls, and a makeshift bar. You tried to ignore the eyes that lingered on you—a soft, pink-dressed figure standing out in this world of spikes and leather. You stayed close to Jinx, who didn’t seem to notice or care about the stares as she grabbed a couple of sodas, handing one to you.

“See? Easy. Just stick with me, and you’ll have fun,” she promised. “I’ll make sure no one bites.”

You took a sip, trying to focus on her energy rather than the overwhelming scene. The party was wild, unapologetic, just like Jinx—a far cry from the orderly beauty of the studio. And you, for all your nerves, wanted to trust her.

The music pounded, electric and deafening, a rhythm you couldn’t quite follow—too fast, too rough. She grinned as she pulled you toward the center of it all. “Dance with me!” she shouted over the noise.

“I don’t know how!” The statement was so foreign to you. You laughed, only half-protesting, but she just spun you in a clumsy circle, her energy infectious.

It wasn’t long before you began to relax, your body finding its own rhythm amidst the chaos. For a moment, you felt free, unbound by rules or technique, lost in Jinx’s world.

But then the spell broke.

A man approached from the crowd, his steps slow and deliberate. He was taller than the blue-haired girl, broader, of course, with a slimy grin that made your skin crawl.

“Hey,” he said, his voice heavy with the slur of alcohol. “You look a little lost, sweetheart. What’s someone like you doing here?”

You came to a halt and stiffened, slightly out of breath. “I’m fine. I’m just… here with a friend,” you managed, your voice soft but firm as you took a step back.

The man leaned closer, his grin widening, and it almost felt like a wolf was snarling right down at you. “A friend? Come on, doll. Let me show you around. This isn’t your kind of scene.”

He reached for your arm, but before you could respond, a figure slid between you like a blade—sharp, deliberate, and impossible to ignore.

Jinx.

Her grin was gone, replaced by a dangerous glint in her eyes.

“Touch her again,” she began, her voice low and cutting, infused with a subtle warning, “and you’re gonna wish you hadn’t.”

The man raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “What, you’re her bodyguard? What’s your problem?”

She smiled, but it wasn’t friendly. “My problem?” she echoed, cocking her head like she was genuinely thinking about it. Then she leaned in, her voice dropping to a stage whisper. “I don’t like people who don’t know how to take a hint. Makes me itchy. You don’t want to see me itchy.”

He straightened, frowning. “I was just talking to her.”

“Yeah? Well, now you’re talking to me,” she retorted, her grin all teeth. “Lucky you.”

There was something in her eyes—something wild and unhinged—that made him hesitate. His bravado faltered, but he tried to recover. “Look, I was—”

“No, no, I get it,” Jinx interrupted, nodding earnestly. “You see a pretty girl, you do the whole caveman thing. Real classic. But here’s the thing—” Her hand suddenly dropped to her side, where her fingers twitched like they were itching for a fight, wrapping around the neck of an empty bottle. “She’s not interested. And if I have to explain it again, I’m gonna get real creative.”

The man hesitated, clearly sizing her up, but her sharp confidence didn’t waver. When he finally muttered something about “crazy chicks” and stumbled off, she turned to you, her expression softening instantly.

“You okay?”

You nodded, though your hands trembled slightly. “I didn’t know what to say. He just—”

“You don’t have to explain,” she assured gently, her hands brushing your shoulders. “This was a bad idea. Let’s go.”

Without waiting for a reply, she laced her fingers with yours and pulled you toward the exit. You emerged into the cool night air, the noise of the party fading behind you. The sudden quiet was jarring, but it felt like a relief.

Jinx kept walking, unusually silent and unaware of the way she still held onto your hand. Or maybe she just liked it too much to let go yet, enjoying the feeling of your soft skin beneath her thumb as it brushed over your knuckles.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought you here,” she eventually spoke up, her voice uncharacteristically vulnerable. “I thought it’d be fun, but I didn’t think about… well, that.”

“It’s okay,” you said, glancing up at her. “I wanted to see it. I wanted to see… you.”

Her steps faltered, her blue hair catching the glow of a distant streetlight. A flicker of something you didn’t quite recognize flashed in her eyes. “You don’t need to do that. You don’t have to dive into my mess just to understand me.”

You just smiled, soft and warm. “I want to.” The statement is simple—too simple even. But you had said it so naturally, with so much conviction, that she couldn’t bring herself to argue against it. “And… Thank you for defending me, by the way,” you added, quieter this time, more sheepish than usual.

She laughed, a low, breathy sound. “Yeah, well, somebody’s gotta keep you safe, ballerina.” Jinx wasn’t the hero in anyone’s story—far from it. But, much to her surprise, she wouldn’t think twice about being the biggest, fattest hero the world has ever seen for you.

You started walking again, your pace slower now, the city stretching out before you. Her world was chaos, yours was order, but in this moment, you were somewhere in between.

“Next time,” she began, “we’ll stick to your studio. Just you, me, and some boring classical music. Deal?”

You laughed, the sound light and genuine. “Deal, powder keg.” It slipped out teasingly, a way to get her back for “twinkle toes”, but her reaction wasn’t quite what you expected.

Jinx froze for a fraction of a second, her breath catching in her throat. Powder. The name clawed its way out of her past, dragging memories she didn’t want to touch with it—volatile, destructive, dangerous. You glanced at her, your doe eyes holding concern at her sudden change of demeanor.

You thought you had said something wrong—and in a way, you did, though you didn’t know what. But before you could take it back, she just tugged you closer, swinging an arm around your shoulders, the movement so familiar you relaxed instantly.

“Come on, ballerina,” she simply said, steering you down the quiet street. She didn’t correct you, didn’t explain the weight behind the name you had just so casually given her. Instead, she let it sit there, unspoken but not unbearable. Surprisingly, it didn’t hurt as much as it should’ve—not when you said it. For once, the name didn’t feel like a weight on her shoulders. It felt… lighter, almost. “Let’s get you home.”

And somehow, tonight, the distance between your worlds felt smaller than ever.

—dedicated to my helpful softies .ᐟ.ᐟ

@jinxsbunny // @luckybunny555 & @ladey 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

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