#like. just say it to my face and i will understand
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From Scratch
Nutrition Info: Johnny/Reader; 4k; a meetcute launched by Reader's inability to cook reasonable portions, and Johnny's... well, just Johnny
No matter how long you live alone, you canât get the hang of cooking for one person. Even when you try to make a single-serving meal instead of batch cooking, somehow it balloons out of control. Wasting food makes you feel awful, but you can only freeze so much.
One evening, desperate and utterly fed up, you go kick gently at a neighborâs door, both hands full, trying to mimic a knock with your shoe. Jason, you think his name was? Striking blue eyes, big frame, a cute cropped mohawk, amazing brogue, and heâs always been cordial when youâve run into him around the building. Friendly, but not too friendly.
Heâs understandably confused by your request at first, but seems happy enough for the food, and takes it around your repeated apologiesâfor bothering him, for existing, for anything you can find, really.
Unfortunately, not even forcing yourself to go and do all of that manages to pierce your shite sense of volume. Your trips to his door do get less awkward over time, though. And Johnny, his name is, always has sparklingly clean dishes and containers to return in exchange for the full ones.Â
Eventually he just starts showing up at your place instead and eats with you at your bar counter. He didnât really ask, and you definitely didnât, but there he is all the same, and⌠if you're honest? Heâs just so easy to be around, it quickly feels natural having him there. He puts you off your guard, puts you at ease and makes you smile, like those are somehow the most natural things in the world.
From that first night, Johnny has insisted on helping with dishes. Starting the second, heâs always got groceries with him. Even manages to talk you out of your discomfort over accepting them, so well that on his fourth night, youâve got a small shopping list ready. Heâs cheeky, you donât think heâll mind. And he is right, after all: you're probably feeding him at least three or four nights out of the week, what with all the leftovers.
You start eating better, and trying new things you'd always planned on âgetting around to,â now that you've got a reason to cook beyond not starving. Everything comes out fine the first time you make it, when youâre closely following a recipe, and Johnny has no qualms about trying anything you put in front of him. Youâve never met someone so genuinely un-fussy when it comes to food.
A couple months after heâs started eating at your place, he disappears for a while. âWork trip,â is all he'll say, and you donât pry, even though you really want to.Â
Once heâs back, he starts coming over weekend afternoons sometimes. You do brunch with beer or fancy drinks in champagne flutes, or occasional breakfast on the roof before other people are awake, him in a big hoodie or jumper, and you wearing a thick blanket like it's trying to digest you, looking like a half-drowned cat because no living being is meant to be awake at such an hour.Â
You cut fruit into mangled flowers and vague geometric shapes for the brunches, usually while just spending time with him. He tries his hand at it once, with you pulling up videos, laughing the whole time youâre explaining how itâs supposed to work, and the utter bastard is better at it on his first go than you were after weeks. His hands are confoundingly steady, and his hand-eye coordination borders on the unnatural.
Thatâs probably the official start of his sous chef arc. And thatâs what has him spending a night judging your knives and marveling, repeatedly and loudly, that you still have all your fingers.
You might put a piece of eggshell into his omelet that night in retaliation, and he might not even have the decency to react to it.
â...Johnny I can hear it crunching, oh my God would you spit it out!â You manage between laughter thatâs got your face hurting.
That happens a lot around him. Smiling so much it hurts.
âNah, iâs nice texture,â he says around the mouthful, then starts enunciating the longer words. âVery advanced technique. Shows a great awareness of the culinary experienceââ
âYouâre being such a prat. Why are you being such a prat!â
He talks over you as if he canât hear you, as if heâs doing some mockingly posh review. âAnd honestly, the crunchingââ he pauses and chomps down on the shell for effect, and how is it still intact, âit really engages the senses. Keeps me immersed in my dining experience.â
You regret loaning him your cooking books. Never again.
After that, though, he steals your knives, takes them home, and they come back so sharp you can cut windowpane slices of potato. He offers to teach you how to do it yourselfâafter stipulating with heart-clenching thoroughness that heâs happy to come over and do it for you any time.
Johnny gets weirdly into shopping farmerâs markets, walking around discovering new produce and varieties of things heâs never seen before. âFuck would I know tomatoes come in this color? Look at this thing, itâs like a feckinâ... itâs a wee lumpy sunset, isnât it? And this! Like someone took the heart of a dragon,â his voice had gone terribly dramatic, and you definitely hadnât covered your face, âand stuck it on a bush somewhere.â
âBaby how are you so huge, but so adorable?â You don't know when the pet names started, but you know he started them; sometimes it feels like you two grew up together.Â
You like the challenge of the new and unexpected ingredients that come from his trips, and by this point, heâs keeping your kitchen pretty stocked with whatever oddball pantry items you ask for, so you're set up to deal with almost anything. But on rare occasions heâll call you with a question, too. Youâve had each otherâs numbers for a while, it just made coordinating easier.Â
âOi can you make sommat with uh⌠fiddlehead ferns?â
You always can, whatever he asks about. It just takes a quick internet search to find out if you can tackle it that same night, or if it needs to wait for another day. Sometimes it ends up disastrous, but like a shot, Johnny has you laughing or throwing something at him (usually-but-not-always also while laughing) before guilt or shame can get a proper foothold.
There was a night when he was too excited about something to wait for you to answer the door when he knocked, and since then, he just sort of comes in on his own after he announces himselfâat least when you know to expect him. That feels right, too, just like having him at your counter had.
Youâre feeding the both of you almost every night of the week by now, even if youâre still not cooking often. You like being around him so much, you canât imagine doing it less, not even when cooking is the last thing you want to be doing. Itâs like thereâs a bubbly little sun in your chest when heâs around.
Johnny makes you so happy, in fact, and youâre so afraid of losing your time with him, itâs nearly six months before the first time you have to tap out of a dinner, too knackered to make yourself even casually presentable, nevermind cook so much as instant noodles.
He reacts like itâs no problem at all, which of course heâd do, because heâs wonderful, but you donât manage to keep your heart from dropping that heâs not at least a little sad. That he doesnât, maybe, look forward to the nights like you do. You know your arrangement is practical, and heâs never been over unless there was food involved, but⌠well⌠seeing him seems to have become rather⌠vital to you.
Which means itâs better to put it away, anyhow, right?
So when, an hour after youâd texted him and basically all heâd said was No problem, thinking takeout, any votes?, heâs coming through your front door with delivery bags and talking a mile a minute like itâs just another night, you're left with your mouth open and your hand on the knob, because⌠because he's here.
You're not cooking, but he's still here.
You just stand there gobsmacked as he sits on the couch, nattering away, half the food out before he even realizes youâre still playing doorstop. He asks if youâre having the time of your life or if youâre going to come sit down, those horrible (wonderful) crinkles at the sides of his eyes, brows pulled up in the middle.
He looks confused when you say you want to freshen up, like he canât see that your hair mightâve lost a row with a feral rodent, or that youâre wearing clothes that shouldnât even be outside of a bin, nevermind on a person. He just tells you the food will get cold, and that itâll be no good that way.
So you run your hands through your hair and sit, subdued and uncertain like you havenât been around him in ages, as he amiably fills the silence. You know he can tell youâre not right, but heâs just⌠acting like itâs ok that you arenât.
Midway through the meal, he reaches forward to grab a container and put it in front of you, and it makes his knee come up against yours.Â
It doesnât move away when he sits back.
Then, as the night wears on and the very most jagged edges of your weariness have eased, he makes a joke and you bump your shoulder into him in retaliation. It pushes your legs flush⌠and neither of you do anything to separate them. He just keeps on being Johnny like nothing is different, like nothing strange is happening, like he canât see how bloody flushed you must be, like the room hasn't turned to glass and burst, leaving the both of you toppling through the air.
You're not stupid, so you have to tell yourself repeatedly that heâs just trying to comfort you. Heâs acting completely normal otherwiseâfor Johnnyâand you look like a person in need of a friend tonight. And same as him, youâre at all your meal nights instead of off with friends or dates. At least for him, itâs because of his career. You havenât even seen him bringing up a new fling in ages.
âŚYouâre not stupid. Right?
After the food is finished, Johnny putters about cleaning up, working his way around your kitchen like he knows it exactly as well as he does. He puts all but one container of leftovers in your fridge.Â
You hug your knees comfortably, just sort of watching him, too full of static to be paranoid about it, and he either doesnât realize or isnât bothered by it. Not being a complete creep, you donât keep it up for too long, anyhow. Youâve got plenty to occupy your thoughts.
He surprises you on his way out by casually setting a mug in front of you. Heâd made you something hot to drink while he was cleaning up, and you were so spaced you hadnât realized. He just gives you a little smile, a gentle squeeze on the shoulder with a stroke of his thumb, says, âWednesday, yeah?â (the night of your next normal get-together), and moves on toward the door. All normal. But thereâs some metal in your chest painfully bending itself into unaccustomed shapes, jabbing places that arenât used to the pressure, pushing into your windpipe until itâs hard to breathe, and you canât stop yourself from telling him that you made up a new seasoning blend for popcorn, if heâd maybe like to watch a movie before he goes.
He stands there by the door looking at you just for a split second too long, opens his mouth, closes it, then settles right back onto the couch up next to you. He reaches out an arm and pulls you gently into his side, moving in a way that makes it an invitation and not a demand, while heâs talking about what to watch.
You fall asleep there. So does he.
Things turn a bit funny after that in a way you canât quite put your finger on. At the surface, everything is the same. But nothing feels the same. Every time thereâs a tease, casual touches, close quarters, you have to chant not stupid not stupid not stupid on repeat in your head. Heâs just Johnny, thatâs all. The guy you could have grown up with.
You keep up the dinners and the weekends, and eventually, finally realize that with him around to take all your extras, you can bake. Itâs something youâve wanted to try forever, but recipes donât really make single servings, and you never had anyone to pawn off the other 22 muffins or ž of the cake onto, or the sheet of croissants, because you absolutely want to try the most fussy, difficult things. And it turns out, when at last he tells you what he does, that Johnny works at the local military baseâwhich at least explains his sizeâso if he canât polish something off, well, he knows some blokes.
Youâre so excited after that, things almost seem to return to normal. He even comes over and hangs out while youâre baking sometimes. Just knocking about, licking the beaters and the spoons and the bowls, doing dishes as you go, fidgeting with this or that, all while knowing youâre equally as likely to produce something inedible as you are a treat.
Johnny tells you a little about his career one evening. He says that it means heâs in real danger often, thereâs a lot of secrecy with people in his personal life, long absences and surprise ones, shit pay, and likely a brief expiration date. (You donât really let that last one in). Heâs got a bit of a funny look in his eyes when he shares about all of it. Quite focused on you, in a way? It makes your cheeks heat. It isnât as if itâs on you to approve of his life.
But at least now you understand why heâs on his own. And you suppose youâre a bit small, because while youâre incredibly sad for him, part of you is thrilled that it means heâs not likely soon going to be swept away by someone else too soon.
You just gather yourself up, smile, and tell him that at least heâs spending the time he has as best he can, which is a hell of a lot more than a lot of people doâalthough you personally hope thereâs a lot more of it. And that⌠at the end, you're glad for all the times you're involved.
Johnnyâs leaning against the counter while you fold nuts and rum-soaked fruit into a thick batter, his normally busy hands jammed into his pockets, posture a bit off, and so close you almost keep elbowing him on accident, the two of you just bantering back and forth.Â
You turn your head toward him to fire back, andâ
âhis mouth is just there, on yours.
He lingers, but doesnât move otherwise. Itâs⌠testing, you think. You feel his lips shake against yours, in fact, just once.Â
Your shock dies fast and your eyes slip closed, and while itâs a brief kiss, when he pulls away, you donât open them. You canât. Because if youâre honest, youâve probably been gone for him since the first time you gave him a friendly hug goodnight, and itâs only ever gotten worse. If you open your eyes, this wonât be real, or it wonât have happened, or it will shatter somehow.
After a pause, he runs the back of a finger down your temple, trailing the side of your face to your jaw. You still wonât open your eyes, so he just toys with your face until you do.
Heâs got a soul-crushing smile at the corners of his eyes.
âBeen wanting to do that for a long time,â he admits into the quiet.
â...Oh?â Your voice is embarrassingly, unhelpfully breathy. Itâd probably be mortifying, if you had the mental capacity to fully register embarrassment at the moment.
He pauses, smile making its way to his lips, and curling them up at the corners, bit by bit. He cants his head, just a little, like he wants to see you from another angle. âAye. âŚMightâve been since the first time I saw you at the mailboxes.â
âOh?âÂ
That had been one of the first times you remember ever seeing him. He never said a word to you other than, âMorninââ or âEveninâ,â if he said anything at all.
His smile blooms until you can see his teeth. âYou were wearing this little shirt. Green, thin. Bit worn, like it was a favorite. Showed a wee spot of skin at your back.â His fingers brush the spot, soft and testing, near the base of your spine, and it jolts you from scalp to toes. âMightâve⌠lost some time, thinking about what itâd feel like if I slid my hand up there.â He toys with the hem of your shirt and steps in, voice going deeper and rougher around the edges. âMightâve imagined pushing it up, getting a bit closer. Really mightâve imagined putting your back up to the slots, moââ
You kiss him this time, before he can go on, and itâs anything but testing.
And just like everything else about him, this fits.Â
His mouth fits against yours. His body fits against yours. And as if some band of control snaps, so abruptly you swear you feel it jolt through his skin, he's got you up on the counter, his thighs between yours, both of you already breathing hard.
His hands on you are perfect, calloused, slipping up under the back of your shirt, smoothing and gripping, making your chest and your thighs feel molten. It's ravenous, like he just has to touch your skin, has to get you closer. You arch toward him, fingers running up through his hair, legs curling around his and pulling him nearer.
His hips are carefully, stubbornly, infuriatingly back from you, but the kiss is so full of need, so close, that some of his breaths sound hollow against your mouth. It's like he can't decide whether inhaling or devouring you is more important, so he just doesn't choose.
When you're at the point of moaning unintentionally, of hungry little sounds forcing their way out of your chest, of your hips moving against the counter in desperation, when you're moments from outright begging, Johnny pulls back, and goes further when you try to chase his mouth.
His lips are red and full, his face dark--much worse when he catches sight of how completely drunk you must look--and he's panting. His fingers dig into your hips like he's trying to keep one or both of you from drowning. He squeezes his eyes shut.
You don't mean to, you really don't, but you look down, and lord help you butâ
âThat looks painful,â you tell him. Your voice sounds like it's been run over a washboard. He's tented against his denim, and his size is⌠proportional.
âŚYou can't seem to remember how to make yourself look up.
âReally rather not talk about my cock just now, love,â he gravels, fingers clenching briefly against you. His head tips forward onto your shoulder, breaths panting out against your collar bone, leaving you to pick up every bit of heat he's trying to get out of himself.
You hum, teasing. âShame, because I can't think of anything I'd rather talk abââ
His big paw covers your mouth. âFor the love of every Saint, Iâm beggiââ
You cut him off right back. By licking his palm.
He recoils in horror, but the moment your eyes meet, you both burst into laughter, made worse every time he tries to tell you how disgusting that is, something about his sisters as kids, you don't know what else.
You're the first to sober, breathing almost back to normal, thoughts already whirring on fast-forward. You look down, pulling your knees together, hands gripping the edge of the counter. âAre weâŚ. Will we be ok, after this?â
You peek up to see him looking at you like you're daft.
ââS been the better part of a year,â he says softly, moving forward and running his thumbs over your knees. Asking your legs to make room again, to let him get close again. âHave you really not figured it out, all this time?âÂ
Your legs open hesitantly, and he steps in and, when you look up at him, kisses one corner of your mouth, then the other, slow and warm and so tender it feels like your chest is cracking right down the center.
Eyes closed, brows a little pinched, you murmur, âWe can't all be SAS savants, Johnny.â Maybe you know. Maybe. But it has been all this time, so maybe you need to hear it, too.
He's still kissing, pace unhurried and savouring, making his way to your jaw and just beneath it. But it's calming now, somewhere between reverential and still trying to bring the both of you down. Himself especially, you think.
âThen let me spell it out for you. Gladly.â He noses up against the bottom of your ear and roughs, âYou are fucking stuck with me. Glued. Bloody welded.â He huffs a laugh and leans back uprightâbut not all the way, not too far back. âThis isnae a new thing for me. You know that, right? I justâŚ.â He shakes his head and abandons the thought, âHell, my mates have already been asking when they can come over for dinner, the dobbers.â
Your brows shoot up. âYou've talked about me at work?â
He looks down, and while his face is in half a scowl, you'd swear he does it to hide a slight flush, too. âHaven't shut up about you, more like. Should hear what my Lieutenantâ Ach, nevermind that.â
You hurry to say that they're welcome any time, but it makes him scowl fully.
âNot exactly keen on the idea just yet.â He puts his arms around you, buries his face in your neck, and just stands there, breathing you in. He mutters into the crook of your shoulder, âMind if I stay like this for a bit? Just while I, uh⌠calm down.â
His hips are still well back from you. Youâre not sure youâve ever adored and hated him so much at once.
âIâd really like that,â you tell him softly, arms going around his ribs, hands on his shoulders, chest to chest.
It's warm and resounding like this, so after a spell, without thinking, you bite his shoulder. Just sink your teeth in and leave them there. Itâs not even entirely conscious, it's just so comfortable and comforting.
âAll good, there, wee piranha?â he eventually asks, a smile in his voice.
You detach instantly. âAh, sorry! I, uh, might have a tiny bit of an oral fixation.â
He groans. âAre ye trying to do me in?â
âIâm not the one who said we had to stop, Mr. Military Discipline.â
His eyes darken in a flash, but he tamps down on it just as quickly and gets that godawful cocky look on his face, instead. âPardon me for not wanting to rush something that really matters.â His tone goes so soft at the end that you canât even be mad at him--exactly as you know he intended, the great bastard.
âHow did I not know what a sadist you are?â
And that look means heâs about to make you eat your words.
âJohnny I will happily kill you in your sleep.â
âI could handle that. Means you'd be in my bed, aye?â
He pulls your hands up from the death grip they've found on the edge of the counter and laces your fingers together. âI dinnaeâŚ.â He clears his throat, frowns. âJust being away on deployment is shite now, and I love what I do. But I miss you while I'm gone, think about you back here all the bloody time, and we havnae evenâŚ.â
When he doesnât finish, you whisper, heart clenching with the realization, âYou don't want to rush this.â
He laughs quietly like he wants to argue. But what he says is, âNo. I don't. But while that's trueâŚ.â He steps in, chin ducking, eyes darkening even as they shine, voice lowering. âWhat do you say we turn the oven off? I've a funny feeling you willnae be getting around to that bake today.â
Masterlist
#johnny soap mactavish#cod soap#john soap mactavish#soap cod#soap x reader#johnny mactavish#slow burn#friends to lovers#060#meet cute#comfort fic#demisexual#fluff#johnny x reader#cod
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âBREAKING DISHES!â
They're filming the tiktok trend with you.
characters: Sylus; Xavier; Zayne; Rafayel.
warnings: Rafayel! I'm not trying to impose complexes on you! Every girl is beautiful!
a/n: English is not my first language, so I apologise for any mistakes. Requests are open.
Sylus:
⢠Initially, he was reluctant, insisting he didn't want to waste his time on "nonsense."
⢠Eventually, though, you managed to persuade him. You showed him several videos demonstrating the trend, and he nodded in understanding. âWhy should I put you on my shoulder when you could just sit on my face?â he asked with a cheeky grin.
⢠You playfully slapped his forearm and shot him a disapproving look. âSylus! I plan to post this on TikTok!â you exclaimed, half-amused and half-annoyed.
⢠âWell, if we film something else, then you can post that onâOuch!â He barely finished his thought before you poked him in the side, pretending to be offended. You turned as if to leave, but he quickly grasped your wrist and pulled you back towards him. âAlright, kitten, donât sulk, okay?â His voice was gentle as he pressed a soft kiss to your nose, only to follow it up with a playful bite, chuckling at the way you scrunched up your adorable nose in response. âIâll do it for you.â
⢠What can I say? He nailed the trend effortlessly. You didnât even need to jump, as Sylus effortlessly tossed you onto his strong shoulder. A man says it, a man does it. A man of his word indeed. 10/10!
Xavier:
⢠He was sleeping sweetly until you jolted him awake. You should have seen the look of confusion on his face! Xavier genuinely struggled to comprehend what you wanted from him, his brain still in a fog.
⢠After a few attempts, he finally nodded and got out of bed, tousling his hair. The man stretched, revealing a hint of his stomach and showcasing his delicious abs. You swallowed hard, pulling yourself together, and placed your phone on the nightstand, turning on the camera.
⢠To say you nailed it would be an understatement. Xavier still didnât quite grasp what he was supposed to do. A couple of times, you fell, but his quick reflexes kept you from kissing the floor.
⢠By the tenth attempt, Xavier somewhat figured things out.
⢠Well, "figured out" might be a stretch. He just hoisted you up by your arms and legs, tossing you over his shoulders like a sack of potatoes! âXavier! Not like that!â
⢠And what was the end result? After a couple of hours, you finally captured that trend! But heâs such a sweetheart. âDid I do everything right? Am I a good boy?â The hunter looked at you with puppy dog eyes, flashing a charming smile. How could you stay mad? But for dropping you a few times, you rated him a solid 7/10.
Zayne:
⢠The cream of the crop.
⢠He was deeply engrossed in his work at the computer, but the moment you walked in and shared your idea, Zayne immediately set everything aside just to give you his undivided attention.
⢠It only took him one video to grasp exactly what needed to be done.
⢠The doctor unfastened the buttons on his sleeves to roll them up, revealing his veined arms.
⢠No jumping was necessary. The man effortlessly lifted you by the waist and hoisted you onto his shoulder. With one hand securely holding you, he casually slipped the other into his pocket. Zayne caught sight of your beaming smile and couldnât help but grin back. Tilting his neck towards you, he gently kissed your leg and rubbed his cheek against it. âYou're so light, my princess.â
⢠Too hot and too sweet all at once! âžď¸/10!!!
Rafayel:
⢠After your request, he rolled his eyes. You were already losing interest in filming with him. âFine, I'll just shoot with your assistant; he looks strong.â
⢠âWhat?! Don't you dare!â the artist shouted, feeling a pang of jealousy. âAlright, I'll do that silly trend with you!â
⢠Well, you knew just where to push his buttons.
⢠He had come across that type of video a few times, so he knew what to do. But Rafayel wouldnât be Rafayel if he didnât start teasing you. He pretended he couldnât lift you at all. âDamn! You're so heavy!â
⢠He had you in tears. Rafayel literally knelt before you, begging for your forgiveness. âMy little fish, I was just kidding! Youâre the lightest girl in the world!â
⢠In the end, you nailed the trend. The artist effortlessly sat you on his shoulder. For the teasing and reducing you to tears, he gets a 1/10.
Š 2024 do reblog, but donât copy or publish my work on other platforms, or translate (without my permission) into other languages. Any coincidences are coincidental! The dividers belong to me! If you want use them, just tag me: @alexvolleyball
#alexvolleyball#sylus x you#sylus x mc#sylus x reader#lads sylus#love and deepspace sylus#sylus#zayne x you#zayne x reader#zayne x mc#lads zayne#zayne love and deepspace#xavier x you#xavier x mc#xavier x reader#lads xavier#xavier love and deepspace#lads rafayel#rafayel#rafayel x mc#rafayel x you#rafayel x reader#love and deepspace#love and deepspace x mc#love and deepspace x you#love and deepspace x reader#love and deepspace headcanon#lads mc#lads#lads x reader
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[Images: fancomic featuring Charlie and Vaggie from Hazbin Hotel, uncolored but for the reds and pale purples of their respective speech balloons. They are seen from behind standing together on a balcony with skyscrapers in front of them, Heaven and the hellish moon above them in the background as the two women lean against each other.
Charlie asks, âDid you really mean all of that?â
âOf course,â Vaggie responds.
The perspective shifts to show their faces. Charlie is looking over at Vaggie with a small worried frown as she asks, âAre you sure?â
Vaggie looks down with a soft smile as she replies, âIâve been sure for a while, to be honest. It just took me some time to tell you. I just didnât think I was worthy of you. I still donât, really.â
Charlie turns and takes Vaggieâs hands into her own, looking shocked as she exclaims, âThatâs ridiculous!â
Vaggie smiles warmly up at Charlie as she says, âItâs not! You have no idea how amazing you are. Iâm nothing compared to you. But I want you to know that Iâd dedicate the rest of my existence to be worthy of you.â
Charlie frowns tightly, her eyebrows furrowed and a small blush on her face as she looks down to the side and says, âI donât know about being worthy and all that. Itâs not like Iâm some special little trinket that you have to be highly deserving of. What even is the metric for that? Iâm just me. I donât need you to prove your worth to me, but I understand that it might take you awhile to be convinced of that. I know I struggle with it too.â Vaggie looks up at her with a sad frown, and Charlie steps closer and continues, âAll my life, what Iâve done and what Iâve wanted was for my people or my family. But VaggieâŚâ
Both women blush as Charlie raises Vaggieâs hands up to press a kiss to her knuckles. Charlie says, âYouâre the first thing I got to want for myself. You make me feel so loved⌠Hell, Iâm the one who doesnât feel worthy of it all. I donât think anything I could ever do would prove that I am.â
They look at each other with half-lidded gazes as they press their foreheads together. Vaggie says, âI donât need that. I just love you anyways.â
Charlie pulls back and grins widely at Vaggie as she says, âRight back at you. Thereâs no need to prove anything, is there? Just let me love you anyway.â
End description.]
from chapter 4 of my fic The First Guest
I'm soooo happy to have finished this fic. Writing is such a struggle for me, so I'm really proud whenever I get to finish a multi-chap fic. Here's my personal favorite scene to celebrate
#such a beautiful scene and i love how tender you've drawn their expressions and body language#Hazbin Hotel#Vaggie Hazbin Hotel#Charlie Morningstar#Chaggie#eye contact#nails#long post#mostly bc of my id like always lol
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No bon its fine, i do also see oscar as the sweetest thing, thats why i maybe thought he always forgives you for not paying him with sex, until one day, after like 6 months of not doing anything, snaps and just comes to you and gives yoh an ultimatum either you ride his cock or leave entirely
anon you absolute slut i love you for this, because for the longest time i couldn't even see oscar as a sugar daddy and now im seeing the vision, you genius i am going to pull you onto my lap and make out with you for this ;alsdkjfasldkfja;sldkfjasd;lf LMFAO bon's thoughts (18+)
sugar!daddy oscar piastri who really isn't that entirely older than you. he understand how university life is, and he helps you sometimes. he asks some of his buddies for opportunities for you, and he definitely sends you big checks to help you buy whatever you need, and whatever you want. but there are some days where he really really wants to touch you, just to know what it's like to be inside you. you're absolutely stunning, you're always smiling at him and so he feels awkward bringing this up into a conversation because you seem content, everything's working out fine and he feels a bit too selfish for wanting to ask this of you. so he lets it slide. he's not your boyfriend, necessarily, so he keeps his boundaries and nods his head whenever you talk about sex to him. it's a normal topic, you say, but you're unaware that he's biting his knuckles not because it's a habit of his, but because his cock cannot stop craving to be inside your sweet cunt.
and you can imagine months later when he overhears a phone call with your friends about how one of your classmates invited you to the library to study only to eat you out, oscar's standing there in shock because all this time he was waiting and waiting only to realize that you had just completely ignored him. if you wanted to have sex with someone, he was right there for you! you're in his bedroom, giggling with your friends about masturbating to some porn videos you found online and that's his final straw. when you come down to tell him that you were heading back to your dorm, you see him sitting there with crossed arms and a glare on his face.
"what's wrong?" you ask.
"i'll tell you what's wrong," oscar scoffs, "here's how this is going to work, because i've lost all my patience. either you come over here and ride my cock that's been aching for you for months, or you step out this door to get back to your dorm and you never come back. everything stops between us."
and you raise an eyebrow, a grin on your face when you realize your sugar daddy's feeling jealous that you weren't giving him the attention he deserves. so like the good girl that you are, you straddle him, taking off your clothes and sinking down onto his cock which causes the both of you to moan out loud. all restrain is out the window, the man has his arms wrapped around you just in case you try to leave him without having his cum inside you, and he's thrusting his hips upward to meet your bounces. he's having you cum again and cum, relishing in the feeling of your walls clenching around his cock that just keeps gifting you wave after wave.
"fuck, from now on, you wanna fuck someone you tell me," he groans, "and when i want to have my dick inside you, you better have your cunt spread wide for me. oh my," he throws his head back, slapping your ass as you continue to ride him. you nod your head, telling him that you'll never leave him unattended ever again. he's wrapped around your finger, permanently.
#bon's thoughts#bon's anons#bon's asks#oscar piastri smut#oscar piastri x reader#oscar piastri x reader smut#oscar piastri one shots#oscar piastri headcanons#oscar piastri imagines#oscar piastri drabbles#oscar piastri x you#oscar piastri x you smut#f1 smut#f1 x reader#f1 x reader smut#f1 x you#f1 x you smut#formula one x reader#formula one x you#formula one x reader smut#formula one x you smut
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my take on the whole "dean was parentified" narrative and where that slippery slope usually takes people ("sam was spoiled as a kid and dean shielded him from all harm") is that many people can't comprehend that dean was in fact parentified, but that doesn't mean he was sam's father. sam had a father, and it was john.
nor does it mean sam was spoiled or babied by either of them. canon doesn't support this interpretation despite it being so popular in the fandom.
dean was parentified in the sense that he had responsibilies and stressors that weren't appropriate for his age and his role as a son... but that doesn't change the fact that his relationship with sam was that of a brother, not a parent.
at one point dean says "I had to be more than just a brother. I had to be a father, and I had to be a mother." and his feelings of overwhelm and resentment are validâtheir childhoods were difficult, stressful, and abnormal.
however, this doesn't mean "john was absolutely useless and neglectful, so he was completely out of the picture. dean was indeed sam's father and mother. and he fulfilled those roles so well that sam had a happy, easy childhood and he was freed from any parent-related trauma, since dean was his parent, and he did a stellar job at it"... you know?
parentified siblings are siblings after all (and sam and dean only have a 4-year age gap). and dean did "fail" in his parentified roleâsometimes he fucked up, sometimes he was the one hurting sam. in many ways, he didn't understand sam's needs or how to fulfill them. which is understandable. and he definitely couldn't shield sam from the difficulties they both had to face. that was well beyond his capability after all
on top of that, sam was taught self-reliance from a young age and he was exposed to the hardships of their lifestyle just like dean (hardships in general since he was born, and hunter-related ones since he was eight). and most of the glimpses we get of sam as a child/teen show a lonely, sad, troubled person. where's the pampered and unconcerned child!sam people keep hallucinating?
deep down, the issue is that people seem to put sam and dean on a seesaw and weight their problems and traumas against each other. if we say sam had a shitty childhood, then we're somehow denying dean's traumas and sacrifices. and if we believe dean suffered a lot in his youth, then that must mean sam had everything served on a silver platter. and that makes no sense.
#parentified dean discourse#weechesters#I've seen some posts on my dash about this but I haven't read them all fully. so I'm sorry if maybe someone has said all of this before lol#â
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Suburbia X
Peter Parker x Reader
Warnings: mentions of NON-CON, DUB-CON, blackmail, voyeurism, stalking, breeding kink, eventual violence, age gap, brief side of Bucky x reader, babysitter!Peter, mommy!reader
⼠banner by @maysdigitalarts | divider by @silkholland
âĽÂ series masterlist
~
âThanks for coming.â
That was what you finally said to Peter after you both had been sitting on your couch for what felt like hours. In truth, it was only about ten minutes, but the silence was so tense and heavyâand you were so nervous and terrified of the young man in front of youâthat the time didnât pass normally in your mind.
Peter wasnât wearing his glasses today, and without them he looked beyond only twenty-three. Or maybe that was all in your head. Maybe the reveal of his true character and nature made him seem so much more intimidatingâŚand in turn, older. His dark curls framed his face as he gazed at you, patiently waiting for you to say what he was no doubt eagerly waiting to hear.
âWellâŚâ he ran his eyes over your face. âOver the phone I asked if this was about our talk, and you said sort of, so naturally I became curious.â
You nodded at that, glancing away from him and taking in the silence of your house. Your girls were asleep, and you envied them in this moment. You envied their innocence and their complete ignorance of what was going on around them and their own part in it. You would never in a million years tell them what you were about to put yourself through just to protect them and their quality of life, but you hoped theyâd grow up to understand the lengths you would go to for them.
You swiped your tongue between your lips.
âI wanted to tell you face to face that you were right,â you finally said, looking at him.
Peterâs face was hard to read, but there was a noticeable glint in his dark eyes that made your heart stutter. He didnât take his eyes off of you as he straightened, and it made him appear taller. You felt so small and insignificant beneath his gaze, and you desperately tried to remember what you were doing and why you were doing it. Peter had seamlessly shifted the power dynamicâand in the worst way possibleâand you desperately needed to have the upperhand again.
âWhen I chose to be a single momâŚI did it with no regrets and because it was genuinely what I wanted.â
Peter leaned in a bit, and you spoke up.
â...and soâŚdetermined to prove something, I think that I never even really considered the possibility of more. Of more helping hands, of more comforting figures in their lives, of moreâŚlove that could be given to my girls,â you continued, looking between his eyes. â...and me.â
Peter wasnât saying anything, and you felt a stab of panic, wondering if he saw through you.
âYou were right. You are so good to themâŚand me, and itâs terrifying not only because itâs new but also because itâs you.â
You abruptly stood, turning away from him.
âYouâre so much younger and I hired you and Peter, you have to understand,â your voice cracked as you stared at the wall. âYou have to understand how Iâm feeling because this makes me look and feel like some predator, like-.â
You cut yourself off when familiar hands took your arms, forcing you to face him, and you watched the way Peterâs expression softened with one look at your face.
âI know that I said some unkind things, but this situation is very tricky and scary and has the potential to really change my life in a way that canât be undone or at the very least not for years and years to come-.â
âI know that,â he whispered, finally speaking again. âTrust me, I understand-.â
âYou say that, but if this doesnât work out, you're not the one whoâs going to have to deal with the fallout. Do you truly understand how people will see me? It doesnât matter that this was reciprocated. Cougar will be one of the nicer words Iâll be referred to asâŚâ
Your words died in your throat as Peter gently shushed you, one hand coming up to graze your now tearful cheek. The way he looked at you told you that he believed everything you were saying, but you couldnât be sure. He leaned in a tad, and on instinct, you turned your face away. Your gaze lowered to focus on the floor, and you felt Peterâs breath on your face as he sighed.
âNo. Youâre not the kind of woman to just jump into something like this, and I should have known that,â he whispered, more to himself than you. âI shouldâve known that you would panic and freak out and follow your initial instinct of rejecting this in every way you can.â
The younger man rubbed your arms, hands gently sliding up and down over the fabric of your sleeves, and you shuddered.
âYouâre smart about things, and itâs why I love you,â he murmured, making your stomach churn. âI should have thought about that, gone about this differently.â
You finally met his gaze, and your heart dropped to your stomach at the way he looked at you. It reminded you of that nightâor what you could remember from it, anywayâand the morning after and the day at the restaurant. One of his hands tightened on your arm, and you swallowed at the position you put yourself in.
â...but you donât understand what you do to me,â Peter chuckled.
It was light, and his teeth winked at you, and his eyes gleamed in a way that terrified you. It didnât matter what you believed because Peter believed he was in love with you and was the one for you and was the best father for your girls. His mind was made up, and you felt that you shouldâve accepted as such when he went through such great lengths to back you into a corner.
He handled this whole ordeal like a man with nothing to lose, and you supposed that in a way, that was true. In this scenario, you were the one with way more to lose. If this ever got out, you would be the villain in this story, and it was something that Peter had so eloquently thrown in your face.
âI donât think I can say I regret confronting you like I did at the restaurant,â he confessed, his thumb brushing along your lip. â...but believe it or not, I didnât take pleasure in putting things into perspective for you like that.â
So that was what he was calling it.
âI donât take pleasure in hurting you in any way, even if it is only making you uncomfortable for a short while, but I needed to make you understand. Understand what you mean to me and what I would do to have you.â
When his lips gently brushed along yours, you let him kiss you.
âYou donât even know the things I would do for youâthe things I have done for you,â he whispered into the kiss, and you couldnât stop your form from trembling.
Peter noticed, and he made a humming noise.
âThere are a lot of things for you to fear in this world, but now that we see eye to eye, Iâll never be one of them.â
You felt tears kiss your eyes as he tried to kiss you again, but spoke, effectively halting his movements.
âItâs not you Iâm afraid of, Peter.â
A lie.
He seemed to understand what you were getting at, and he chuckled again. The dark-haired man pulled back some to gaze at you like you were so silly, and you hated how boyish that smile made him.
âYouâre it for me, Y/N. Donât you get that? Hmm?â
He held your gaze with his own dark one.
âWhatever comes of this, youâll never have to doubt my loyalty. Iâm going to be by your side when things inevitably progress into something more public, and I will make sure that whatever thoseâŚâ he took a deep breath, lip curling over his teeth. â...women put you through, it will be worth it.â
His brows drew together as he fought to make you believe his words.
âI swear to you, now that it wonât hold a candle to coming home to me everyday. Iâm going to make you so happy that whatever they have to say wonât mean a thing to you.â
Peter kissed you again then, deeply inhaling.
âIâm not going anywhereâŚâ
You knew that those wordsâif nothing elseâwere true, and that was what you hated.
You stood with your arms around yourself as you watched Peter bring a suitcase into the house. You had prepared yourself for this, anticipating by all of his actions so far that Peter was not one to take things slow. Or at least, he didnât want to take things slowly with you. Besides, if you were going to get your hands on every copy of that tape he possibly had, then you needed to be up under each otherâs noses.
You needed him to be comfortable enough to bring his thingsâhis laptopâinto your house and not spare your proximity a second thought. When he caught your eye, you gave him a gentle smile, and while he was slow to return it, he eventually did. You took your time in nearing him.
âI know how nervous this makes you,â he told you, and he reached for your face. âItâs okay. Weâll be discreet for a while, and Iâll gradually make myself at home, and when the time is rightâŚâ
He trailed off, a secretive smile dancing on his lips at the thought of going public with you one day.
âThank you,â you finally replied. âYou donât even understand how much that puts me at ease, Peter. Especially since I know how difficult this is for you.â
The look he gave you encouraged you to elaborate, and so you did.
âWhile I might not completely understand it just yet, you do love me, and it canât be easy hiding a relationship with someone you care about so much.â
You noticed the way his face fell a bit at that, and you reached out to rest your hand on his arm.
âI donât doubt that you want to navigate like any other couple in the world, but youâre being considerate of me and how this will affect me, and it means a lot.â
You stepped closer, and you watched Peterâs eyes drink in the action.
âYouâre so good to me,â you whispered to him.
At that, he didnât take his eyes off of you, and you played with the fabric of his sweater.
â...and Iâm sorry that I let my fear and panic prevent me from seeing that before.â
You watched him take a deep breath, dark eyes still trained on you.
âItâs okay,â he quietly told you. âI forgive you for that, you donât have toâŚâ
He shook his head.
âDonât apologize for it.â
You took his hand, and Peter was eager in threading his fingers through yours. He pulled you along up the stairs to unpack, and you told yourself that smiling in his face and kissing him with your eyes closed and telling him what he wanted to hear was the easy part. As you walked down the hallâPeter taking the leadâyou reminded yourself that the hard part was only just beginning.Â
The real challenge would come in cohabitating with him like he was someone you cared about. The truly hard part of all this would come when he wanted to shower together and wrap his arms around you in bed and pull you against him like you were any average couple in love.Â
When he wanted to have sex with you.
This would go beyond just acting, but you would have to fully embody someone elseâsomeone who cared about this man almost as much as he cared about you but was simply hesitant and nervous. You would have to take on an entirely new persona, and to make it all the more challenging, you had to do it in enough time to get what you needed before he wanted this relationship to go public.
âŚbecause you didnât care what Peter said.
He wasnât going to be content with keeping this between you forever.
You hadnât missed the way heâd said Buckyâs name at that restaurant. There were more sides to Peter you hadnât been privy to yet, and you hoped to God that you never would be, but you knew without a doubt that there was a part of Peter that wanted to show this entire town you belonged to him. Peter had never struck you as that kind of man, but then again, there were a lot of things about him that you absolutely would have never guessed.
As you helped him unpack what he brought over, you tried to keep your face even at the sight of clothes and toiletries and nothing else.
âIâll have to tell Nat that I rehired you, of course,â you said to him, hesitantly glancing his way. âIt seems silly to have you hide away any time she comes over.â
Peter found that funny for some reason, and he nodded.
âOf course. What are you going to tell her when she asks why?â
You stewed on that for a moment.
âI havenât decided on that yet. Maybe Iâll tell her that I just really need you around, right now,â you eventually came up with, and it wasnât a lie.
âWell, itâs not a lie,â he said, voicing your own thought. âYou do need me.â
He leaned in and pressed his lips to the side of your neck, pausing in his unpacking to give you his attention. Peterâs intentions were pretty clear, and you didnât doubt that said intentions had been on his mind from the moment youâd uttered the words âyou were rightâ earlier. While you knew that it would eventually come to thatâprobably as soon as hours from nowâyou werenât mentally prepared. You couldnât make your body do that, right now, and so you hurried to ruin his mood.
âIâll have to tell Bucky the sameâŚâ
Your words had the desired effect, and you relaxed a little when Peter froze. He lifted his head from the crook of your neck to rest his chin on it, and while you had expected several things, you hadnât expected the next words that came from his mouth.
âI donât think itâs a good idea for Mr. Barnes to come by here, anymore.â
You couldnât stop your frown at that, and you pulled away just a little to turn and face him. Peterâs visage was entirely serious, and your frown deepened as you realized this. His expression didn't relent at all the longer you stared at him, and you were the one to break the tense silence.
âPeterâŚâ
âIâm serious,â he confirmed, moving to finish unpacking the rest of his clothes. âNow that our relationship has evolved, I donât want him coming by here anymore.â
â...but heâs my friend.â
The younger man gave a scoffing bark of a laugh at that, and you watched him run his hand through his thick curls.
âFriend,â he repeated. âYeah, sure.â
The humor disappeared from his features by the time he looked at you again.
âHeâs your friend because you didnât want more with him. If you had, he wouldnât be your friend right now, and weâd be having an entirely different conversation.â
You blinked at that.
âThe kind that would involve me telling you to break up with him because I actually dislike sharing.â
His tone was serious, and you swallowed as he stared you down. Your lips parted, and you snapped them shut, thinking over your next words carefully.
âIf I suddenly stop being friends with him, itâll be very suspicious, Peter.â
He stared at you for what felt like too long, expression unmoving before his lips suddenly pulled into a small smile.
âWhile true, I imagine that him walking in on you coming around me would be even more suspicious.â
His words had you blinking furiously, but before you could respond to such a thinly veiled threat, you heard a familiar cry. The curly-haired young man didnât hesitate to drop what he was doing in favor of checking on whichever twin had woken up from her nap first.
You were still tense from his parting words, and telling yourself that you needed to pick your battles wisely, you softly sighed.
You knew that you couldnât just outright ask Peter to delete that video. It was so brazenly stupid that not only would Peter accuse you of not trusting him, but he might even suspect this whole thing was an act. Heâd be right, of course, and it was why you had to convincingly get him settled into a comfortable lull.Â
âŚand you had to do that by committing to doing things you werenât comfortable doing.
Your fingers clawed at your sheets as Peterâs tongue swiped between your folds and pressed itself into your core. Your girls were down for the night, and you knew that as soon as they were, and dinner was done and put away, Peter would waste no time in reaching out for what he felt now belonged to him.
âI havenât stopped thinking about that night since it happened,â heâd murmured to you, humming at the taste of wine on your lips.
Youâd concluded that you needed something in your system if you were to commit to this.
âThe sounds you made, the way you tasted on my lips,â heâd breathed into your mouth. âThe way you felt wrapped around me.â
Heâd taken a reprieve on the stairs, just pinning you against the wall and kissing you. His hands hadnât stayed in one place for long, touching every inch of you that he could, and when he seemed satisfied, he continued in pulling you towards your bedroom.
âFuck,â heâd swore into the kiss the moment you were through the threshold. âI canât wait to be inside of you again.â
The moments that followed bled together into one long endless pleasurable moment. You didnât know if it was a relief or not that Peter was so skilled and so determined to make you come undone. You found it shockingly easy to surrender to his ministrations, unable to swallow down your moans and whimpers as he ate you out.
His tongueâso warm and firmâgreedily lapped at you, and his fingers pressed into your thighs so hard that you didnât doubt thereâd be bruises in the morning. Your chest arched as you squirmed on the bed, and unable to help yourself, one of your hands found itâs way to his curls. Peter hummed against your cunt, and you knew that he liked that.
You confirmed as much when he reached up to find your other hand before forcing it to find a home in his hair right next to your other one. You were completely nakedâPeter having wasted no time in getting your clothes off of youâbut your nudity did nothing to cool you down. A thin layer of sweat coated your skin, and you absentmindedly recalled that Peter was only partially undressed.
It seemed that he only just remembered that too, and when he pulled his mouth away from you, you were ashamed of the stab of disappointment that tore through you. Your chest heaved with deep breaths, and you blinked as you watched him sit up before getting undressed.
He didnât take his eyes off of you as he did, pulling his lip between his teeth as he rejoined you on the bed, a hand wrapping around your ankle. The wine in your system definitely helped you to relax, but if you were honest, it did more than that. Playing this part came to you easier than you anticipated, and that worried you a little. Maybe even scared you a little.
The younger man was gentle in running his hand up your leg, fingers dancing along your skin as he did so. His dark eyes appeared even darker if that were at all possible, and in this moment, it was evident that Peter cared about nothing more than he did the thought of being inside of you again.
Glancing down, you caught sight of his cockâerect and wet at the very tip and just waiting to fill you up.
âGod, youâre beautiful,â Peter murmured, reaching for your face.
When he kissed you, you didnât swallow down your hum in time, and your throat vibrated as it climbed out of your mouth and into the kiss. Peterâs entire body covered yours as he made himself comfortable on top of you, andâplaying your partâyou rested your hands on his back. His hands slid down to grip your thighs, pushing them apart to accommodate him, and you gasped at the feel of his length pressing against you.
Peter didnât waste any more time.
Forcing your knees to hook over his arms, Peter lifted his hips and dipped his cock into you with one smooth thrust. A choked gasp left you, and your mouth was soundlessly parted as he started to thrust into you, hips snapping against yours every time. Your hands slid over him, unsure of what to grasp onto, and you couldnât stop the small whimpers that started to fall from your lips.
Peter was fucking you with the assured confidence that he finally had you.
The strained grunts that left his mouth were in time with every push of his cock, and you were almost ashamed of how wet you were. Although, you supposed that it would only prove to help you in convincing Peter this was genuine. You were literally dripping around him, and you repeatedly reminded yourself that you were playing a part. That you were doing what you needed to do to earn his trust and get him to let his guard down.
Although that was easier said than done when his lips kept seeking yours out. Every kiss he gave you was hungry and heated, and you gasped again when his teeth nipped at the sensitive skin there. His toned chest repeatedly brushed against yours with every movement, and the gentle stimulation against your hardened buds made you shudder beneath him.
Every time he dipped his cock into you, the sound reached your earsâŚand his too.
âYouâre dripping for me,â he whispered into the kiss. âI love how wet you are.â
You wanted to come up with something to say to reel him in more, but you were genuinely at a loss for words. It was hard to focus on anything besides the feel of him stretching you out.
âIâm so glad you came around, So glad,â he murmured, kissing you over and over and over again. âI reallyâŚI really didnât want to do things the hard way.â
Your bed shook beneath you as Peter pounded into you, his curls tickling your skin.
âYou may not believe that, but itâs true.â
He finally paused, holding himself inside of you as he pulled his head back some. He stared into your eyesâboth of your chests heavingâand he looked between them as you struggled to catch your breath.
âI meant it when I said I don't take pleasure in hurting you. Thatâs not something that makes me happy,â he said through uneven breaths.
He slowly pulled his hips back before snapping them against you again, and you gasped. He didnât take his eyes off of you as he fucked you, carefully watching your face.
â...but Iâll do what I have to. You understand?â
He didnât give you time to respond.
âIâm smart, and you know it, and I know you know it.â
Your nails dragged along his skin as he thrust into you slowly, taking his time in pushing the length of him into you.
âSo if all of this is just you playing at something, then you need to be prepared to play at it for the rest of your life,â he whispered to you, staring into your eyes. â...because you donât know the things Iâve done to protect you.â
Your wide eyes looked between his at that.
â...and Iâll do worse to keep you.â
#peter parker x reader#peter parker#dark peter parker#dark!peter parker#dark!Peter Parker x reader#dark peter parker x reader#dark fic#marvel fanfiction#marvel imagine
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okay so I'm gonna try keep this brief so I'm not here forever, but here's the thing, this isn't new, actually people have tried using computers for therapy since the 60s:
Meet ELIZA
ELIZA is a simple computer program that responds to questions it is asked in a way meant to emulate a therapist, it did this so well, even it's creator was concerned at how quickly people started to empathize with it and consider it to not be a machine but a sentient being.
Humans are really good at recognising human like traits, and latching on to them, we decide that things with traits like us, are humanlike like us, similiarly, things that lack those human traits, will have their humanlikeness diminished.
This is great at finding likeminded tribes, terrible at identifying any sort of truth though.
To start my next point, I'm just gonna preface it with yeah therapy is good, therapists are good, it's not an easy job, and therapy with a person probably better than with an 'AI', but saying 'bots' (i don't think AI is the right description here,) can't help is just not correct, as measurably, they can, and do.
One of the advantages of therapy is having someone to prompt you to think in ways that you aren't used to, therapists can't peer magically into peoples minds, they are prompting the patient to express their experience, and try to help them to realize things they might not be aware of
"And how does that make you feel?"
Immediate follow up, obviously therapists do way more than this, this isn't gonna help everyone, and it isn't gonna automatically solve problems, but a lot of the time people just need help reframing issues into terms that they can understand and deal with, and bots can help with that.
Whether you think this is good/bad, right/wrong or useful at all is up to you, but ruling it out as being non-functional because "ai bad" is bad praxis.
sources:
guys. please
#i hate how buzzwordy everything is nowaways jeez#âoh it uses AI? Must be bad don't use itâ#ELIZA#and again let's reiterate#a bot won't have the experience or competence to deal with everyone's problems#but a lot of peoples problems are simpler than they realize and having an external agent to interact with is enough to figure it out
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Batboys and reader doing the hear me out cake trend and reader pulls out a picture of Bruce when he was in his prime.
Apologies anon but this trendâŚDo not get me started on how misconstrued the phrase âhear me outâ is. Iâll rant about how a lot of ppl should look up the definition first. Iâm very passionate about how butchered the trend is that every time I see one I canât help but think ânot a hear me out, try again or donât to save my small remnants of sanity.â I hate it so much.
Dick
Pouts.
âMy dad? Really?â Heâd ask you.
âYeah, what can I say he was a total hunk.â You shrugged.
âWas?!â Dick replied, looking at you as though you had grown a second head. âWhat is he now then chopped liver? Do you not like older men?! Do they loose their charm the moment they have a few grey hairs and lines on their face?!â He exclaims.
This wasnât what you were expecting when doing this challenge because now you were being grilled by dick on whether youâll still feel attractive to him when he himself gets old and grey.
âI donât have anything against older men dick, I just find your dad hot in this specific picture.â You defended yourself and dick only puts his hands on your shoulders and gives them a firm squeeze as he presses his forehead against yours.
âSweetheart I donât think you understand because what do you mean you find him hotter in the picture?! Itâs Bruce the man is just naturally photogenic!â Dick tells you. âYou couldâve chosen a recent picture of Bruce and say the exact same thing.â
âEh, itâs not the same thing.â You say and dick felt as though he might as well rip his hair from his head because what do you mean itâs not the same thing?! He was now more certain that you didnât like older men if Bruce was only appealing to you in his youth, his supposed prime.
Needless to say the conversation diverted from the fact that you found his dad hot, to one where dick was trying to prove to himself that you just didnât like older men/ silver foxes for whatever absurd reason.
Jason
Heâs oddly silent.
You feared you did something the moment you pulled the picture of young Bruce Wayne out to put on the cake.
The wait was over the moment he did decide to say something but it was nothing like youâd expect to come out of his mouth;
âOut of all the pictures there are of Bruce, thatâs the one you picked? Nothing about that picture is flattering to him in any way whatsoever.â
âOh youâre just jealous.â Youâd tell him and Jason only raises his brow at you.
âJealous, babe have you seen me? Whatâs there to be jealous of that old bat.â Jason replies as he gestures towards himself before pinching your cheeks. âI just think itâs adorable how you consider Bruce in his prime as a hear me out, itâs laughable really but you do you chipmunk.â He adds.
However when you werenât looking, heâd take the picture of Bruce from the cake and throw it over his shoulder, for there was no way in hell he was going to have a picture of Bruce on a cake. No sir, Jason would much rather die again than allow his own father to overstay his welcome on the damn cake.
Heâd even act innocent when you would ask where the picture went as though he didnât set it on fire with a lighter after plucking it off the cake. âIt mustâve grew legs and walked off.â Heâd shrug but it wasnât hard to know the truth.
His dad can fuck off away from the cake and you.
Damian
Another one whoâs not so amused by the fact that you added his father on a âhear me outâ cake.
He doesnât partake in such stupid trends thatâll sooner or later long forgotten by the public consciousness in favour of a new trend thatâll run itself to the ground just as quickly as the last. He questions the publics attention span if it was this short and unreliable, he really does and fears that the age of stupidity has begun with people who think a conventional attractive man with a Roman nose or any other unique feature is a âhear me out.â
As if they were any less attractive than a man with a plain featured, and rather unappealing and basic appearance. Theyâre werenât, if anything people with romantic noses or any other unique features were just as attractive as the plained featured ones, and Damian found it rather ridiculous that is what is being considered a secrete that many think theyâll be judged for finding appealing.
âMy father? Really?â Heâd say as he looked between you and the picture of his father.
âYeah.â You shrugged.
Damian only sighed as he crossed his arms over his chest. âA conventionally attractive man is you hear me out?â
âNot just any conventionally attractive man-â you tried to explain but Damian didnât allow you the space to do so.
âMy father in his prime doesnât count, you should really do better research before putting random people on a cake, or better yet donât partake in a challenge you donât understand.â Was all Damian said before he leaves the room, heâs not impressed and feared that there was too many people who for some stupid reason also though his father in his prime is a âhear me out.â
It freaks him out and disappoints him greatly of what the future of Gotham and humanity as a whole would look like if these people were to be at the helm.
Tim
Not amused.
Heâs sick and tired of people putting conventional attractive people and anthropomorphic animals who are drawn in a specific way to elicit such emotions out of people.
So to see that you had put his father, more specifically Bruce in his first steps as the dark knight, he couldnât help but look at you disappointedly.
One, you obviously didnât understand the concept of a hear me out and Tim is more then ready to educate you on what one is with his long ass PowerPoint presentation. And two, really? His dad? What was wrong with his dad in his current old age? Did you have something against older men?
Wait- why was he so suddenly concerned whether or not you find his father less appealing now than how he looked in his prime? He should be more focused on the fact that you found such pristine picture of Bruce during that time, heâs tried multiple times but the resolution was god awful and didnât do anything to flatter Bruce.
Youâre still getting lectured on what a proper hear me out is though. Timâs got fucking tons.
#dc imagine#dc x reader#dc x you#dc comics x reader#dc fanfic#dc fic#dc x y/n#dc fanfiction#jason todd imagine#jason todd x reader#jason todd fluff#jason todd x y/n#jason todd imagines#jason todd x you#dick grayson x you#dick grayson imagine#dick grayson imagines#dick grayson x reader#dick grayson fluff#damian wayne x you#damian wayne imagine#damian wayne x reader#damian wayne imagines#damian wayne fluff#tim drake x you#tim drake imagines#tim drake x reader#tim drake imagine#red hood x you#red hood imagine
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Reconciling Comfort: pt.2 of Stray Kids' reactions to their S/O refusing a hug
Part 1: Rejected Embraces and Heavy Hearts
Bang Chan
The apartment feels oddly still as you stare at your phone, debating how to text him. Youâd assumed Chris had gone to the studio like he planned, leaving the tense air of the argument behind to clear his head. You hate how things were left, hate the way his face crumpled as he turned away.
Finally, you decide to get up. While typing out a message you walk to your living room but out of the corner of your eye you see a silhouette sitting on the couch. Your heart jumps as you glance up.
Your boyfriend is sitting there, headphones on, his laptop balanced on his knees. His brow is furrowed in concentration, his fingers tapping away at the keyboard.
The sight startles you. âChris?â you blurt out, breaking the silence.
He looks up sharply, pulling his headphones off with one swift motion. âOhâhey,â he says, his voice soft, almost hesitant. âI didnât mean to scare you.â
You blink, still processing his presence. âI thought you went to the studio. Why are you still here?â
He rubs the back of his neck, glancing away sheepishly. âI didnât want to go in case⌠you wanted to talk to me.â His words come out rushed, like heâs second-guessing every syllable. âBut if you donât â if you want me to leave, I understand. Iâll go right nowâ.â
He immediatly closed his laptop, as if to pack up, but you stopped him with a quick shake of your hand. âNonono, Iâm glad you stayed,â you said, moving to sit beside him.
âIâm sorry,â you say softly, your voice heavy with sincerity. âIâm sorry for hurting you. I know physical affection is important to you, and stepping back like that⌠I didnât mean to shut you out like that. I justââ You pause, struggling to find the words. âI wasnât ready at the moment, but it doesnât mean I didnât care.â
His expression softens, a mix of relief and lingering vulnerability. âThank you,â he says quietly. âThat means a lot to me. But⌠you donât have to feel obligated, okay? I donât want you to do anything youâre not ready for, even if itâs just a hug. Iâm not upset about that, I promise.â
Chris hesitates before continuing, his voice low. âAnd⌠Iâm sorry too. For the argument. I think I let my emotions get the better of me. I wasnât trying to put all that pressure on you. I just â sometimes Iâm not the best at explaining what I mean.â
Instead of answering, you lean into him, wrapping your arms around him. Itâs warm, grounding, and the tension that had built up between you dissolves. Chris lets out a breath he seems to have been holding and hugs you back, his arms encircling you tightly.
Lee Know
An hour passes, the weight of the day easing slightly as you reflect on Lee Knowâs words and his quiet presence. You finally gather the courage to seek him out, hoping to mend the small gap left by your earlier rejection. The sound of gentle clatter of utensils lead you to the kitchen.
There he is, focused on the task at hand, the light from the stove casting a warm glow over his side profile. Heâs stirring something in a pot, his movements precise yet relaxed.
When he senses your presence, he glances up. His eyes meet yours, and for a moment, no words are said. The hurt you feared would linger is replaced by a soft understanding, though his brow lifts in slight surprise.
âHey,â you say quietly, stepping closer. âIâm sorry for earlier. I didnât mean to hurt you. I just⌠I needed a bit of time to digest my day.â
His expression softens, his lips curving into a small, reassuring smile. But before he can respond, your stomach betrays you with a loud grumble.
He blinks in surprise before breaking into a chuckle, the sound warm and genuine. âWell, I guess youâre not just digesting your day â youâre starving too,â he teases, setting down the spoon. âHave you even eaten?â
You shake your head sheepishly, and he lets out a mock sigh of exasperation. âUnbelievable. No wonder youâre feeling down. What am I going to do with you?â
Before you can reply, he grabs a couple of plates and starts dishing out the food heâs prepared. You watch him, the way he moves with care, the way heâs still here, doing this for you, and it makes your chest ache in the best way.
âThank you,â you say, the words carrying a weight that goes beyond the meal. âI really donât know what I did to deserve this â to deserve you.â
He pauses, turning to meet your gaze again, his eyes filled with something tender yet teasing. âOh, donât get all sappy on me now. Just eat.â
You hesitate, biting your lip. âActually⌠before we eat, can I ask you something?â
He tilts his head. âWhatâs that?â
You step closer, your voice soft. âAre you still up for that hug?â
His lips twitch into a grin, though he narrows his eyes in feigned disapproval. âNow you want one? After I offered earlier? You know my hugs are exclusive, right?â
You roll your eyes, but before you can defend yourself, heâs already pulling you into his arms, wrapping you in warmth and familiarity. The scent of his cologne mixes with the faint aroma of the food, and for the first time that day, you feel like you can truly breathe.
âI missed out earlier,â you whispers, your voice gentle but playful.
Changbin
Hours later, after giving you the space you seemed to need, Changbin cautiously approaches your room. The quiet hum of the house feels heavier than usual. He pushes open the door gently, only to find you sprawled out on the bed, passed out.
Changbinâs expression softens as he steps closer. The tension on your face is still visible even in sleep, and it tugs at his heart. He sits on the edge of the bed, careful not to disturb you, and studies your features for a moment. A sigh escapes his lips.
After a while, you stir awake to the dim light form outside. Blinking blearily, you notice Changbin sitting in a nearby chair, scrolling absentmindedly on his phone. He looks up as he senses your movement, offering you a gentle smile.
âYouâre awake,â he says softly, setting his phone aside. âFeeling any better?â
âA bit.â You sit up slowly, rubbing your eyes. The weight of the day still lingers, but his presence is grounding. âIâm⌠Iâm so sorry, Binnie,â you say suddenly, your voice cracking. âI didnât mean to shut you out earlier. You had a tough day too, and instead of being there for you, I made it worse.â
His brow furrows with concern as he shifts to sit beside you. âHey, noââ
âNo, please let me finish,â you interrupt, tears welling up in your eyes. âI just⌠Iâve been so burned out lately, and I know thatâs no reason but I took it out on you. Thatâs not fair. You deserve so much better than that.â
Your voice falters as you break into quiet sobs, the stress of the day finally overwhelming you. Without hesitation, Changbin pulls you into his arms, holding you tightly as if to shield you from your own thoughts.
âShhh,â he whispers soothingly, resting his chin on your head. âItâs okay, baby. You donât have to carry all of this alone.â His hand strokes your back in slow, comforting circles. âI know youâve been going through a lot. I just want to help you, not make things harder.â
You cling to him, his warmth melting away some of the heaviness in your chest. âIâm sorry,â you repeat, muffled against his shoulder.
âDonât apologize,â he murmurs, pulling back just enough to cup your face in his hands. His thumbs gently wipe away your tears. âI love you, even on the days when itâs hard to show it. And Iâll always be here, okay? Weâll figure it out together.â
Hyunjin
Later that evening, the cool night air brushes against your skin as you sit on the balcony, your gaze lost in the vast sky above, dotted with countless stars. The events of the day weigh heavily on your heart, but the stillness of the night gives you a moment of solitude, a chance to reflect.
The sound of footsteps breaks the silence, and you donât need to turn around to know who it is. Hyunjinâs presence is unmistakable and you feel the space between you stretch even farther. He stands by the door, as though testing the waters, not wanting to disturb the fragile silence that exists between you two.
âIâve been thinking,â he finally says, his voice soft and measured. âI donât want to make you feel like you have to forgive me right away. But I need you to know Iâm here, no matter how long it takes.â
You glance at him then, his words tugging at something inside you. The sincerity in his eyes doesnât erase the hurt, but it reminds you of the person standing before you. Slowly, you lift up the blanket thatâs shielding you from the chill of the evening. You shift slightly, creating a space beside you, a silent invitation for him to join you.
Hyunjin hesitates for just a moment before he slides closer, wrapping himself in the blanket with you. The quiet is comfortable now, not as heavy as it once was.
Minutes pass, neither of you speaking, but the tension between you seems to lessen. Eventually, you find yourself leaning closer to him, your head resting on his shoulder as the stars above seem to sparkle brighter in the stillness of the night.
Youâre not ready to forgive him â not yet. But as the night stretches on, you realize that the hurt isnât as sharp as it once was. It hurts more to be apart. Right now, this moment, sitting together in silence, feels like the only step you can take.
Han
Han was pacing quietly in the living room, trying to distract himself from the worry that had been growing in his chest since your refusal to be held. His eyes flickered to where youâd been earlier, feeling like a puppy abandoned by its owner. He couldn't help but wonder what you were thinking, what you were going through.
Then, suddenly, a sharp sound sliced through the quiet. His heart leapt in his chest, and before he could think, he rushed toward the kitchen.
When he burst into the room, his breath caught in his throat. There you were, crouched on the floor amidst the sharp shards of a broken glass. Your expression was a mix of shock and something darker, like the weight of everything inside you had finally spilled over.
"Omg, are you okay?!" Han asked urgently, his voice trembling slightly. His eyes wide, quickly scanned you for any sign of injury, but it wasnât just the glass that had him panicked â it was the look in your eyes, distant and vacant, like you werenât fully present.
You shook your head, looking down at the shards scattered around you. "I... I'm fine," you murmured, but the words didnât sound convincing to him.
Your breath caught, a bitter laugh escaping your lips. "I'm such a mess," you said quietly, a shaky exhale following. "I donât even know why... I just... everything feels so broken right now, and I donât know how to fix it."
Hanâs heart ached for you, and he didnât hesitate. With a gentle, almost tender tone, he spoke. "Itâs okay to be a mess," His eyes never leaving you, he crouched next to you. "You donât have to have everything together. Iâm here, and Iâm not going anywhere."
You let out a long breath, the tension in your body easing just slightly as you allowed yourself to lean against him. Neither of you spoke for a while, the stillness of the moment offering a rare kind of comfort. You could feel the warmth of his body against yours, a quiet support, like he was holding you together.
Eventually, Han reached out with his free hand, carefully pushing the glass shards to the side, making a little space between you and the mess. "We donât have to clean it up right now," he said softly, his voice gentle. "We can just be here."
For a moment, you just sat there, on your cold kitchen floor surrounded by the shards of one of your favorite glasses, your head resting against his shoulder, letting the quiet soothe the chaos inside your mind. The world outside could wait.
Felix
Felix sat in the airport terminal, his phone clutched tightly in his hands. The din of travelers blurred into white noise around him, but all he could focus on was the blank screen he fiddled in his hands. He had checked it at least ten times in the past minute, hoping for a message from you â a lifeline to soothe the ache that had been growing since your last conversation.
The past few days had been tense, the effortless flow of your texts reduced to short, clipped exchanges.
"Still nothing?" Chanâs voice broke through Felixâs thoughts as the older member settled into the seat beside him.
Felix shook his head, a small, resigned sigh escaping him. "I donât blame them," he murmured, his gaze fixed on the screen. "I just... I hate leaving like this, you know? I donât want them to think I donât care."
Chan placed a reassuring hand on Felixâs shoulder. "They know you care. Sometimes, people just need time to process."Â
Felix nodded, though the unease remained. He knew Chan was right, but the uncertainty gnawed at him. What if time wasnât enough?
A soft buzz interrupted his thoughts. His heart leapt as he saw your name flash on the screen. Hesitating for only a second, he opened the message.
"Hey. I hope you have a safe flight. Let me know when you get to the hotel? If you want, we could call."
Felix read the text twice, his chest tightening with a mix of relief and longing. It wasnât everything, but it was enough. Enough to feel like a small bridge had been built between the two of you.
Chan caught a glimpse of the soft smile spreading across Felixâs face and leaned back in his chair, giving a small nod of approval. He didnât say anything, but the respect he felt for the bond between you two was evident in the quiet way he patted Felixâs back before standing up.
The flight was long, but the thought of hearing your voice made it bearable. When he finally arrived at the hotel and dropped his bags, he dialed your number without hesitation.
The days passed slowly, but eventually, Felix was home. His heart raced as he opened the door. The familiar scent of the place hit him first, grounding him, but it wasnât until he heard your footsteps that everything felt real.
You appeared at the edge of the hallway, your expression a mix of hesitation and warmth. Felix froze for a moment, his breath catching as he tried to read your face. Then you smiled â small and shy.
Closing the distance between you, he wrapped his arms around you tightly, burying his face in your shoulder.
âI missed you so much,â he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.
You held him just as tightly, your fingers threading through his hair. âI missed you too, Lix.â
It wasnât just a hug; it was a reconnection, a renewal. It felt like the first time all over again â the warmth, the electricity. And in that moment, Felix knew you would both be okay. Even with the heavy talk standing in front of you, he believed that you'd both find your way through it.
Seungmin
The following day, you wake up to the soft light filtering through the blinds, your heart still weighed down from the emotions of yesterday. You go about your day until you find a small, neatly folded note on the kitchen counter, its edges creased from being gently set down. You recognize Seungmin's handwriting immediately.
The words are simple, but their meaning strikes deep:
âI know yesterday was hard. Iâm here when youâre ready. Take your time.â
You feel a wave of warmth and gratitude surge through you, but also a familiar pang of guilt. His kindness, his patience â it almost feels too much, yet it's exactly what you need right now. You let out a breath, the tension you didnât even realize you were holding releasing just a little.
Later, when you meet with Seungmin after his practice, your heart feels lighter but still raw. His usual bright, confident demeanor is softened by something deeper today. You catch his eyes and notice the faint hint of uncertainty behind his smile. Heâs waiting for you, allowing you the space you need, just as the note said.
As you both settle into the familiar quiet, the words youâve been holding back finally spill out, soft but genuine.
"Thank you for giving me space," you say, the gratitude in your voice clear. "I needed it, but I donât want you to think I donât appreciate you."
Seungminâs expression softens, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "I just want to make sure you're okay," he replies, his tone sincere. "And if you need me to be closer or farther away, Iâm fine with either. You donât have to do anything until youâre ready."
After a moment of silence you ask âSo⌠how would you feel about being a little closer right now?" Your words trailing off as you look at him, hesitant but hopeful. Your eyes search his, a hint of longing behind the question.
Seungmin's smile widens, though his expression remains gentle, and he shakes his head slowly, his eyes warm with understanding. "I think weâre already close enough," he says, his tone teasing but kind.
Without another word, he opens his arms, and you step into his embrace. The hug is quiet, comforting, and without the pressure of anything more.
I.N
You collapse onto the couch, your phone in hand, feeling a growing sense of isolation. The time passes, and you find yourself scrolling mindlessly through social media, trying to distract yourself from the emotional weight pressing on your chest. Each swipe seems to only deepen the discomfort, the posts making you feel even more alone as the world around you continues on without a care.
Your phone buzzes suddenly, and you glance down at the notification. Itâs from I.N. The message is a simple meme â a picture of a dog wearing glasses with the caption: "Me when I try to act cool, but Iâm actually an emotional mess."
A small chuckle escapes you, your heart lightened just a little by his attempt to cheer you up. Itâs just a silly meme, but somehow, his gesture makes everything feel a bit more manageable.
The phone buzzes again, and you read his next message: "If you ever need to vent, I'm here. You donât have to carry it all alone."
Your fingers hover over the screen for a moment, and you begin typing. "Iâm sorry for earlier⌠I just donât want to drag you down."
Almost instantly, a reply comes: "You could never drag me down. Let me know if you want a hug. Iâm always here for you, okay?" Attached to that message was a GIF of two cartoon animals with big, fluffy arms stretching out in an exaggerated hug.
Your heart softens, the words hitting a place deep inside you that you didnât realize was aching.
Without a second thought, you push yourself off the couch, phone still in hand, and head towards him. When he sees you standing there, his face brightens, and he opens his arms, welcoming you into a warm embrace.
âIâm sorry I pulled away earlier,â you whisper against his chest, the weight of everything from the day slowly melting away as you allow yourself to lean into his comfort.
#stray kids reactions#stray kids#straykids x reader#skz reactions#skz x reader#skz imagines#skz#bang chan#lee know#changbin#hyunjin#han jisung#lee felix#seungmin#i.n#skz x you#skz fluff#skz scenarios#stray kids x you#stray kids x reader
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You awake, groggily, strapped to a metal slab - at least you think it's metal, although it's no metal you've ever seen or felt before - and the light is too dim to make out anything else in the room. It reminds you of the detention hall back in high school, but more round, and-
"That's enough... Susan."
A figure emerges from the gloom - it walks on... six legs, you'd guess, from the patter on the metal surface. It looks almost like a stick bug - like the ones you used to keep as a kid. Your old terrarium wasn't big enough for the four you kept, but you and your parents didn't know any better. Oh, it's your mom's birthday on the 26th, you still haven't gotten her a pres-
"ENOUGH!"
"But I didn't say anyth... Wait. Are you reading my mind?"
The creature chuckles, shockingly without making any noise or moving its mouth... mandibles?
"Yes, they are mandibles, Susan."
Now you understand. It was trying to intimidate you earlier with the whole name thing. What does it want? You suppose you've already asked it. The whole thing reminds you of a story out of Weird Tales. Volume 28. Or was it 27? Maybe-
"Will you pay attention? Xlaxar above... We... are the Yttites. We seek to dominate all life across the uni- Wh- STOP THAT! DISGUSTING!"
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"
"The gall of this troglodytic ape. We seek to... conquer all life across the universe. On behalf of the Grand Emperor, we- Stop. Stop. I know not what this 'God-Emperor' is or the... 'For Tee Kay' from whence it springs but they are not alike, have you heard a single word I've planted in that thick skull of yours?"
"I'm really sorry, I've been off my meds for a while."
"Mrist, communicating with you is like trying to read a dozen datapads at the same time. Yes, mrist is a swear word. No it's not like 'fuck,' it has nothing to do with forni- oh. I suppose it is, then. I-"
It pauses.
"I can feel your... flitting about, are you all like this? ...Six percent... ...Six percent that are diagnosed? No, stop, I don't want to hear about premium healthcare. Healthcare premiums, whatev- STOP! SHUT UP!"
"Look, my brain's just like this, okay? I can't turn it off."
Its face betrays no emotion, but through some sort of empathic link, you sense a creeping dread come upon the creature. It backs out of the room slowly. Sort of like a slapstick routine wh- Oh, it's run off.
---
"Commander. I recommend immediate return of the captive and an emergency condemnation order on the planet."
"What's got you so worked up? You never- oh. Oh dear. Oh yes. Agreed. Get the cognitohazard off my ship, posthaste. And carefully, we don't want to risk backlash... Why did it imagine you with... those?"
"I'm going to visit the psychodoc to flush this experience. I suggest you do the same. Let us never speak of the horror again."
The psychic races of the galaxy thought humans would be easy prey. That is, until they abducted you, an unmedicated ADHD college student.
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â.á
"It's freezing!"
You hear the front door to your apartment shut sharply, and let out a laugh as Joshua begins to huff and puff about the cold weather. Just a week ago, he'd looked out the window with eyes the size of the moon and told you to hurry to look at the pretty snow.
Now, the sound of Joshua's quick footsteps echo towards your place on the couch. It doesn't take long for you to spot him. You can tell he's hastily thrown off his winter clothes: his hair is a mess from his beanie, his hoodie sits crooked on his body from ripping off his jacket, and his socks are halfway off from prying off his boots. In one of his hands he holds a plastic bag, no doubt full of ingredients to make hot chocolate.
"I offered to go get the groceries for you earlier." You remind him.
The two of you had only just gotten out of bed, really. Early in the morning, when the two of you woke up, you both decided that this cold day needed some hot chocolate. Venturing out into the cold kitchen, however, lead you to realize that you didn't have the ingredients. While it was your idea to make hot chocolate, Joshua, ever the gentleman, decided to go get groceries for the both of you. While he went out in the cold, you had been watching TV on the couch and under the comfy blanket his mother had gotten for you for Christmas.
"I'm not going to put you through that torture!" He let out a sigh and sank down into the couch cushions.
Even though the goal of the morning was to make hot chocolate, you ignore the bag of groceries on the ground to tend to your dramatic fiancĂŠ. You scoot over to him, and engulf his sweatpants-clad legs in your blanket - you're even so kind as to put your warm legs on his lap as an extra layer. Joshua's cold hands hold your waist, and you let him. It's the least you can do. When he puts his head on your chest, you understand your cue immediately and start gently stroking his hair.
"You're so strong," you say, on the brink of laughter, "So brave."
"I know." His voice is muffled by your skin.
"I'm so happy you're my future husband."
Your words make him look up, and your grin only grows wider. He smiles back, the sudden reminder of the date set in your calendar enough to make him forget about the freezing weather he just walked through.
"Why don't you just marry me now then?" he asks.
He glances down at your lips, but quickly meets your gaze again. You hadn't realized just how close he had gotten. You move back a little, making Joshua follow you. As he moves, you fall back on the couch and he takes the opportunity to get on top of you.
"Hm? Just marry me now, please," he says again with a giggle. "You're going to make me beg, aren't you?"
"This is just the frostbite talking!" you tell him, and he laughs.
"Then warm me up," he suggests, almost shyly.
You study his face. His flushed cheeks, his smiley eyes, his wide, love-sick grin. You take his face in your hands, warming it up in your palms, and bring him in for a kiss. His lips are cold too, but you don't mind it. Not now, when he's making your heart feel so warm.
You pull away, only enough to speak again. "Better?"
"No... I still want to marry you right this second... think the frostbite is still lingering." He goes in for another kiss, and you give in.
When he pulls away, he sighs and puts his head in the crook of your neck. His entire weight is put on you, and you welcome it by patting his back gently with your hands.
"I don't think I'll ever be cured," he mutters.
"Sorry, hun, we set the date for May," you remind him. "And you won't get to see my dress if you don't wait."
"Hm, that's a pretty good argument." Joshua nods, but it feels more like he's just nuzzling his face further into the crook of your neck. "I hope you know I'm excited."
"I know," you promise him.
"So excited."
"I can tell." You giggle and Joshua gets up from the couch slowly.
He helps you up, and pulls you in for a hug. "Do you want to make hot chocolate now?"
You squeeze him a little tighter, just because you can and because you love him. A part of you is convinced that your little squeeze definitely sent him that message. You pull away enough to look up at him, and he's watching you carefully with enough love to make your friends make fake gagging sounds. The honey-moon phase never seemed to be a phase for the two of you. "I'd love to."
#seventeen#fluff#joshua hong#joshua x reader#joshua x you#joshua x y/n#seventeen x you#seventeen x reader#seventeen imagines#seventeen fanfic#seventeen fluff#svt#syl saysâ
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Code Love
Hyunjin x fem!reader
Warnings: nothing!!
Genre: colleagues to lovers, flufffff
Summary: Hyunjin is a brilliant post doc at the lab where you're perusing your PhD. He is such a sweet and sexy genius, and you are completely in love.
a/n : For all my science/research girlies đ¤
It was another late night at the lab. You were squinting at the test tubes in front of you trying to make sense of the results. But you were struggling to concentrate with the way your heart was pounding.
He was just sitting there, at his workstation, effortlessly spinning a pipette between his long, elegant fingers. Nothing for your dramatic heart to pound like that.
âDid you hear me, Y/N?â Hyunjinâs soft voice cut through your thoughts.
âHuh?â you blinked, attempting to act like you hadnât just been imagining how those fingers would feel on your - never mind.
âI said,â Hyunjin grinned, âyouâre incubating that reaction too long.â
âOh, um, I knew thatâ you fumbled with the timer, cheeks heating up. âTotally knew that. Thanks, Hyunjin.â
âSure, no problem,â he said, eyes sparkling like he enjoyed watching you unravel.
God, why was he like this?
That face? Those lips? And that brain? This was unfair. He had to have some flaw - how can a man be this perfect?
âAre you staying late tonight?â he asked casually, leaning back in his chair.
âI have to,â you mumbled. âThis experiment is dragging on, and I have to submit the report by the end of the week.â
Hyunjin hummed, and said, âOh good, I'll have some company then.â
You could literally see him doodling flowers into his book - he had nothing to do here. But yet every time you had to stay in late, he'd be hanging around too. Just the two of you.
Your brain immediately betrayed you, fueling your wild fantasy where he wasnât staying late for work but because he secretly wanted to spend time alone with you. You were fighting so hard to maintain a shred of professionalism, but it was so hard when he was looking at you like that.
Hyunjin hummed softly under his breath as he continued to doodle, the sound sending tingles down your spine. Of course he was a good singer too. You just didn't understand what the universe even wanted from you anymore.
---
âI swear to God, Ji, if he twirls that pipette one more time, Iâm going to launch myself across the lab bench, and just -â You were sprawled on the sofa in Jisung's apartment, sighing dramatically.
Jisung was your work bestie, working in the lab next door to yours. And he was the only one in the world who knew about your extreme devotion to Hyunjin.
Jisung burst out laughing, as he said, âThis is bad, babe,â
âBad? Jisung, I seriously can't even think when he's around.â you said. âOh my God!!â
âHave you considered just telling him you like him?â Jisung smirked.
âRight, and ruin the perfectly good thing we have going where I pine silently while he ruins me with his brilliance? No, thank you.â
âYouâre hopeless.â
---
The next late-night session happened way too soon, where Hyunjin wandered over to your bench, peering at your data from over your shoulder. He leaned in close, the scent of cologne (or whatever pheromones that he's sending your way) invading your senses - it's simply intoxicating.
âWant me to take a look at that?â he asked, âYou've been spending way too much time on it.â
âYeah,â you muttered, trying not to stutter. âItâs just...a lot of noise in the data.â
âLet me see,â he said, pulling a stool next to you. He reached for the keyboard, and your heart fluttered as his fingers brushed yours.
You wanted to cry. Please don't be so sweet and sexy at the same time, you begged internally. You cursed your body for betraying you with every glance while he explained what he was doing. You could feel the tension in your shoulders as you tried to focus on what he was saying.
Get a grip, Y/N, you reminded yourself. This is professional. Stop fantasizing about this ridiculously hot man whoâs inexplicably obsessed with helping you.
When he finally looked up, you realized youâd been staring at him the whole time.
âWhat?â he asked, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
âNothing... thanks. Youâre really good at this,â you stammered.
He tilted his head, studying you for a moment.
âYouâre good at this too, Y/N. We all have our bad days. Donât sell yourself short.â he said, patting your shoulder gently before standing up.
You felt your heart squeeze at the sincerity in his tone, and you watched as he went back to his own seat.
Stop it. Heâs being nice. Donât read into it. Just focus on the work.
But it was so hard not to read into it. The way he leaned closer when he spoke, the way his fingersa brushed against yours when he passed you something, and the way he was always so soft with you.
Donât think about it. Donât think about it.
âY/N, Iâm begging you. BEGGING. Tell him. I'm sure he's dying to hear it.â Jisung said, smiling at the girl who handed over our coffees at the cafe.
âYou donât get it! I can't risk it, if he's just being nice, then -â
âBabe,â Jisung drawled, âwhat world do you live in?!â
âDonât give me hope, Ji.â you sighed as you walked towards your lab, the early morning breeze cool against your skin.
âHope? The man stays late every time you do, flirts with you nonstop, and compliments you after he does your work for you. At this point, Iâm falling for him,â Jisung said, throwing his hands up. âSeriously, babe, if you donât jump him soon, I might.â
---
The cold room was your least favorite part of the lab. You hated everything about it - the freezing temperature, its claustrophobic size and the damn protein extraction procedure that drained the life out of you.
But here you were, miserably clutching your samples and praying for the nightmare to end soon.
âY/N?â Hyunjinâs voice echoed through the door as it opened, and you turned to see him stepping in.
Great. Now you were cold and flustered.
âHow's the extraction going?â he asked, his tone light as he slipped on his gloves.
âGoing wonderfully,â you muttered, shivering despite your layers.
He grinned, coming closer and watching you work.
âDo you want me to take over?â He asked, making you sigh.
âAnd miss out on the joy of freezing to death? Never,â you joked weakly, and Hyunjin laughed. âYou're too nice, Hyunjin. But I've got this.â
âNice?â he repeated, leaning back slightly but still watching you intently. âYou sure about that?â
You froze, suddenly way too aware of how close he was standing. Was he teasing you? Was this flirting?
âI- I mean, yeah,â you stammered, breaking eye contact. âYouâre always helping me...â
âMaybe I have my reasons.â Hyunjin tilted his head, his smile softening.
Your heart leapt into your throat as you asked, âReasons?â
Before he could answer, the door swung open.
âHow's your favorite experiment going?â Jisung's loud voice floated in. âOh, hi Hyunjin!â
You didn't know if you wanted to strangle Jisung for ruining the moment or hug him for saving you from it.
Hyunjin, ever the sweetheart, just laughed and said, âHi Jisung, I think she's doing just fine,â
âOf course she is,â Jisung said, moving aside for Hyunjin to step out.
âWhat was that?â He asked as soon as Hyunjin left.
âWhat are you doing here?!â you hissed. âWe were getting somewhere, but also, if you hadn't come I would've fainted. Like I feel so dizzy, my gloves are all wet from sweating-â
âY/N,â Jisung said, gripping your shoulders and shaking you lightly. âYou like him. He obviously likes you. The universe is literally freezing you together in this cold room to force you to act. Next time, please -â
It was barely 5 am, and you groaned as you shuffled into the lab, your hair in a messy bun and sleep still stinging your eyes. But the bacterial cultures didnât care about your sleep schedule - or lack thereof.
Throwing on your lab coat and gloves with the grace of a zombie, you started checking the growth plates with bleary eyes.
Youâd barely managed to finish when Jisung strolled in, carrying two steaming cups of coffee.
âMorning, Sleeping Beauty,â he teased, setting a cup in front of you.
âI love you, Ji,â you muttered, taking the first sip and feeling a spark of life return to your body. âI don't know why I wanted to be a scientist.â
Jisung plopped down next to you, snickering, and started scrolling through his phone while you leaned your head against his shoulder. And he rested his head against yours, before placing a quick peck on your temple.
You were starting to fall asleep, when the lab door creaked open.
You both glanced up to see Hyunjin walk in. His cheeks were pink from the cold and he stopped at the door for a second, his eyes fixed on you.
âMorning,â he greeted, and you gave him a small wave, still too sleepy to form words. Jisung returned the greeting, and then left quickly.
You noticed Hyunjinâs smile didnât quite reach his eyes. That's new. He moved to his workstation, setting down his bag and pulling out his laptop.
You sat up straighter, something about Hyunjinâs silence gnawing at you. He didnât even glance your way, which was unusual.
Hyunjin, meanwhile, was battling a whirlwind of emotions. He knew you and Jisung were close friends - youâd mentioned it so many times. But seeing the way your head rested against his shoulder and Jisung had kissed your temple - it just looked way too intimate. Too cosy.
He hated feeling this way, especially when you werenât his to begin with. Still, the disappointment twisted in his chest and he didn't know what to do about it. So he focused on his work.
But no matter how hard he tried, he couldnât stop his gaze from drifting back to you.
---
You let it go on till about noon. But it was killing you - you weren't used to this kind of behavior from Hyunjin and it was starting to stress you out. So summoning your courage, you walked over to Hyunjin and said, âHey,â
He glanced up, his expression neutral as he said, âHey.â
âYou okay?â you asked, trying to keep your tone light. âYou're so...quiet.â
âIâm fine. Just a lot on my mind.â Hyunjin said, giving you a small smile.
âYou sure?â you pressed, feeling a strange pang of hurt.
He nodded, but his smile didnât quite reach his eyes. âYeah. Donât worry about me.â
You stood there for a moment, unsure of what to say. He was being so distant, and it left a strange, hollow ache in your chest. Finally, you gave him a small nod and walked back to your seat, feeling totally crushed by his uncharacteristic coolness.
Hyunjinâs silence stretched into the next day. And the day after that. In fact he hadn't spoken more than a couple of words to you in the past two days. And it hurt so much, considering the fact that you don't even know why he was doing this all of a sudden.
You tried to brush it off at first. Maybe he was just busy, or stressed. But the space he was putting between you felt deliberate, like he was doing this on purpose.
Hyunjin, on the other hand, was crumbling inside. He adored you. And that too for long enough that the thought of losing you was nearly unbearable.
You and Jisung were so close. And you looked so comfortable. He couldn't take it. He wasn't going to let his heart shatter like that.
So, heâd made a decision: if he couldnât have you, heâd rather step back than risk the heartbreak of watching you fall for someone else. Even if it meant burying his feelings.
---
The next morning, you were back in the cold room. Youâd been trying to salvage your protein extraction for hours, but nothing was going right. Your hands were trembling as you loaded yet another sample, and your vision blurred with tears of frustration.
âThis is so stupid,â you whispered to yourself, your voice cracking. âWhy canât anything just go right for once?â
You sniffled, wiping your cheek with your sleeve, as you continued your monologue.
âI just want my Jinnie back. Why does he hate me now? What did I do wrong?â your voice wavered as you spoke through your tears.
What you didn't see was that the cold room door had opened quietly, and Hyunjin had stepped inside. He froze at the sound of your voice, his chest tightening at the sadness in your words.
Your Jinnie?
Your name slipped from his lips, soft and hesitant, âY/N?â
You stiffened, your body freezing and your heart racing as you heard his voice.
âWhat?â you croaked, refusing to turn around, too mortified to meet his eyes.
âWhy are you crying?â Hyunjin asked, taking a step closer.
You shook your head, refusing to face him.
âWhy do you care?â You asked, and it broke his heart to see you wipe your tears.
âPlease don't say that, of course I care-â
âItâs nothing. Just this stupid experiment. And... everything else.â
âY/N,â he said again, his voice firmer now. âPlease. Talk to me.â
You gripped the edge of the table, your knuckles turning white.
âI canât do this anymore, Hyunjin,â you whispered. âI canât keep pretending everythingâs fine when itâs not. You won't even talk to me, and itâs killing me. I just... I just want my Hyunjinnie back. Just stop hurting me like this.â
The silence that followed was deafening. You felt the tears spill over again, your shoulders trembling as you waited for him to say something. Anything.
And then you felt it.
Warmth. His strong arms wrapping around you from behind, his chest pressing against your back as he pulled you into a tight embrace.
You gasped softly, frozen for a moment before leaning into him, your tears falling freely now.
âIâm sorry,â Hyunjin whispered, his voice trembling as he buried his face in your shoulder. âIâm so, so sorry.â
You turned your head slightly, just enough to catch a glimpse of his face.
âWhy are you mad at me?â you asked. âDid I do something wrong?â
âNo,â he said quickly, his hold on you tightening. âIt wasnât you. It was me. I was scared.â
âScared of what?â
âOf losing you,â he admitted, his voice barely audible. âI thought... I thought you and Jisung -â
âJisung?â you repeated, blinking in confusion. âYou know heâs my best friend, Hyunjin. He's like a brother to me.â
âI thought I was protecting myself,â he admitted, his lips close to your ear. âI thought Iâd lose you to Jisung, and I couldnât handle it. But I didnât realize... I didnât realize I was hurting you in the process.â
âI can't believe you never saw me thirsting over you, Hyunjinâ you said, your voice incredulous. âWhat are you even saying?!â
Hyunjin let out a shaky laugh, burying his face into your neck. âGod, Iâm an idiot.â
âYou are,â you sniffled, though your tone was softer now.
He pulled back just enough to turn you around, his hands gently cupping your cheeks.
âI love you, Y/N. Iâve loved you for so long. And I was so scared- â he stopped short as he saw the look on your face.
âYou... you love me?â
âI adore you,â he said, giving you a shy smile.
You let out a breathless laugh, the weight on your chest lifting for the first time in days.
âI love you too, Hyunjin. So damn much.â
His smile widened, and before you could say another word, he asked, âCan I... can I kiss you?â
âYes,â you whispered, and when his lips met yours, it was the most beautiful thing in the world. He kissed you so softly (even though you just wanted to eat him up.)
You both stepped out of the cold room together, the door clicking shut behind you. Your cheeks were flushed, your lips swollen from the kiss, and as you glanced at Hyunjin, you saw he was in no better shape.
You didn't get to take another step forward as the door to your lab opened and Jisung's head popped in.
His eyes flicked between you and Hyunjin and you could hear the gears turning in his head as he tried to piece together what he was seeing. And then he smirked.
You glared at him, because you know that look on his face, and Hyunjin just stood there, his arms crossed and a smile that said âI got what I wanted".
âCongratulations,â Jisung said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. âIâm so happy for you both. But oh my god, you two idiotsâŚâ
The grin on his face was priceless. He was enjoying this way too much.
âI swear, if you donât shut up -â You swatted him on the arm.
Jisung winced dramatically but couldnât hide his laughter.
âWhat? You guys make an adorable couple... but honestly, you both are just so dumb.â
Well, you couldn't agree more.
Tags: @moonchild9350 @velvetmoonlght
#stray kids#skz#hyunjin x reader#hyunjin x y/n#hyunjin x you#hyunjin fluff#hyunjin angst#skz x reader#skz fluff#stray kids x reader#stray kids fluff#hwang hyunjin#hyunjin
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Iâd be lying if I said I didnât log on every day to check for updates to your Trine x Reader series (Skywarp you lil shit đ) but I do hope you continue your writing with Thundercracker and his love of movies.
I definitely will, I enjoy writing them đ Shockwave and Optimus arrived, Skywarp and Thundercracker got delayed
True Romance Pt 12
Seeker Trine x Reader
⢠Thereâs something oddly comforting about feeling all three of them hold onto you. Not demanding anything more than this as you stare up at the sky. Like you just belong here with them and it lifts through you with an ache you donât quite understand. Because Skywarp and Thundercracker are always reaching for you, but Starscreamâs only just started to lose some of his frosty indifference. Watching you more, glancing at you while heâs working to check on where you are, who has you. Gruffly asking if you need anything, his wings fidgeting. Youâd assumed heâd been annoyed at having to look after you, but maybe thatâs just how he is. Wondering if maybe the aloof, distant act is just that- an act.
⢠Aware of his brothers around him, his trine together and at peace, the warmth of you against him, thereâs the uncomfortable realization of how fragile this is. Finding you had been pure chance. You might not have survived the wreck. Might have run towards the Autobots instead of staggering his way. What heâs sure of? Skywarp and Thundercracker are happy and thereâs nothing he wonât do to protect that. âI thought we could all watch a movie together when we go home,â you say, voice soft and hesitant. Asking. And that word, home, rings through him coiling warm about his spark. Because itâs right.
⢠âNot the sappy stuff,â Skywarp mutters, turning his face against your throat and venting. Because if Thundercracker picks, itâll be a love story. Itâs all he wants to watch lately. Since finding you. Feels your fingers brush a wing and he shivers slightly, leaning into the touch, wings flaring. Aware of Star shooting him a look to behave when itâs so hard when you donât know what your soft touch does to him. Tempting him to bite the curve of your shoulder when you absently brush over his sensitive wings. Growling when Thundercracker reaches up to grab your wrist and pull your hand away.
⢠âWings are sensitive,â Thundercracker says, gripping your hand to keep you from accidentally finding any other sensitive spots. Sees your face redden slightly as he rubs a servo against the back of your hand. âLike mesh.â Carefully tugging your hand so your fingertips brush his neck. Shivering despite himself and avoiding Star and Skyâs optics as they stare at him. Judging the little teaching lesson, recognizing that heâd just wanted to feel you touch him.
⢠And everything just sort of shifts even though you have no idea what just happened. Aware of a tension that hadnât been there just a second ago as Thundercracker keeps your hand trapped in his, servos rubbing absently against you like youâd been touching Skywarpâs wings. âI donât care if you touch my wings,â Skywarp grumbles, looping an arm around your neck, face so close to yours you can feel it when he vents, brushing his cheek to yours so your skin prickles with awareness. And then Star is gently pulling Thundercrackerâs hand from yours.
⢠âEveryone keep their hands to themself.â Stiffening when you pull your other hand from his helm, Starscream has to resist the urge to pull it back to him after just saying that. Because he understands Skywarpâs grumpy muttering. Youâre soft and warm. And absolutely off limits. Even if Skywarp is right and you are compatible that way, heâs not interested in the drama of his trine squabbling over you. Which means keeping the other two and himself in line to keep the peace. Resisting the temptation that you pose, something that had never occurred to him might be an issue. Realizing he likes the feel of you against him a bit more than he should.
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#transformers x reader#starscream x reader#idw starscream#skywarp x reader#idw skywarp#thundercracker x reader#idw thundercracker#seeker trine x reader
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ok ok but i need to add to this, because not only do i think itâs reasonable, i think sheâs one hundred percent correct.
i mean sure, it fails to touch on gideon being obviously down bad for harrow and caring for her like hell, but also, harrowâs position within the ninth house has left a HUGE impact on how they relate to each other personally, and gideonâs desire to be wanted by harrow and her desire to be wanted by the ninth writ large are deeply intertwined. gideon herself might make the case that she never did anything for those old crotchety nuns and it was all only for harrow, but yâknow, she undeniably wanted their acceptance her whole life, her last words were âfor the ninth,â and thereâs totally a case to be made that we should take those words at face value.
harrow, like you said, is the sovereign ruler of the ninth. she is addressed repeatedly as âthe ninth houseâ in gtn, because she speaks for the whole of the ninth and symbolically represents the entire house. she also *literally* represents the entire house cause its children all died and left marks on her soul. this means that harrow and harrow alone has the power to determine whether gideon is accepted by/belongs to the ninth house. if every single person in the whole congregation tells her sheâll never be one of them and can go fuck herself, and harrow says âno youâre one of us youâre my cavalier you can claim us as your people,â then sheâs one of them and thatâs that because harrow has the right to speak for and over everyone else. gideon knows sheâs never going to be accepted by 95% of her community. but if harrow affirms her, that becomes irrelevant, so of course she wants harrowâs affirmation all the more.
in other words, âfor the ninthâ meaning âfor queen and countryâ was just as much a factor in gideonâs actions as âfor the ninthâ meaning âfor the love of my life.â she did exactly what would be expected of a cavalier because she was cavalier primary to the ninth and thus had a place in her community. she sacrificed for *her people* because that gave her the right to claim them as such for the first time in her life. having that kind of value was like the whole appeal of the war hero fantasy in the first place. harrow, being so used to thinking of herself as like. a Holy Vessel for the ninth house and its future, obviously picked up on gideonâs care for her and desire for her attention as the reverend daughter much more easily than any feelings about her as an individual. her understanding of gideonâs decisions is incomplete. but that doesnât make that understanding *wrong* since the attraction to her position absolutely exists; she *is* The Arbiter Of Ninth House Acceptance and that *does* matter to gideon.
i think this angle of gideonâs relationship with harrow becomes super clear when you spend a couple seconds looking at kiriona, who gets rejected (in her head anyway) by harrow, instantly takes it as a sign that she no longer has any claim to ninth identity, takes a hard left into remaking herself into someone with no connections to the ninth, renames herself, and then places john gaius in the role of Arbiter Of What Community She Belongs To and starts doing heroic deeds in his name (and by extension, in the name of the first house). she not only considered herself to have lost harrow, but the whole community she was brought up in. she distinctly felt the loss of *their* acceptance all over again in spite of never having had it in the first place and doubled down HARD on pretending she didnât care. gideonâs personal attachments are her sense of patriotism and vice versa. she lives in an empire, so individuals can represent places and peoples. a huge obstacle in her relationship with harrow is the fact that harrow canât be detangled from The Ninth House Tee Em.
so yeah. fuck man. guess everything she did she did for the ninth. whereâs the nearest fence iâm in pain
Was thinking about this line because Harrow what the actual fuck are you talking about, and I realised something.
Not only does Harrow really for real not know that Gideon loves herâin the bullshit context of their lives, this is a reasonable misunderstanding for her to have.
What has Harrow known Gideon's life goals to be since they were children? Hint: There are at least two Harrow is fully aware of.
The first is to be wanted. As much as Gideon hates and wants to escape the Ninth, she also paradoxically craves their acceptance. They're the only community she's ever known. Harrow plays on that desire from the very beginning, mostly by kind of .... well, okay, by negging her about it. Ironically appealing to her sense of loyalty and duty to her house when they both know Gideon never even had that bridge to burn. That kind of thing.
Whether or not she's right, Harrow sincerely believes that acceptance to still be important to Gideon. First flower of my house, the greatest cavalier we have ever produced. You are our triumph. The best of all of us. When Harrow has only seconds left to make amends, she not only banks hard into praising Gideon, she frames it to unambiguously offer Gideon the acceptance she's always been conspicuously denied. Assuring her of her value not just as a person or as a cavalier, but as one of their house, one of their people.
The second thing Harrow knows is that Gideon wants to join the Cohort. Easy, everybody knows that. She's only been telling everyone with ears (and then some) since she was eight years old. It's the bait Harrow dangled to entice her into this mess. She wants to be a hero, to do great deeds like in the comic books. She wants to be a soldier.
Against the backdrop of all that context, Gideon's dying declaration "for the Ninth" starts to sound a hell of a lot more like "for Queen and country." Especially when you remember that Harrow is still the sovereign ruler of the Ninth. From Harrow's vantage point, Gideon could easily be playing the heroic underdog in a war movie. The soldier no one believed in until she threw herself on a grenade to save her squad. The knight errant who proved her chivalry by giving her life in service to her king.
From that perspective, Harrow's line to Ortus makes sense. She's following through on her promise of acceptance, defending Gideon's loyalty to the first Ninth face she sees. She's playing out Gideon's war hero fantasy, where Gideon's act of heroism proved them all wrong about her. In which case Ortus's response, "You are the most worthy heroes the Ninth House could muster. I truly believe that," flows very naturally as a reply. He understands what Harrow is trying to say, and affirms it.
It's not a hero's burial in the Anastasian, but it's the closest thing Harrow has the power to give her. And it's a fucking reasonable interpretation of Gideon's actions that doesn't touch on her feelings for Harrow at all. Fuck me.
#the locked tomb#griddlehark#phronâs locked tomb essays#been too long since iâve hijacked some unfortunate post to scream about these two and all the larger systems touching their relationship#locked tomb spoilers#just realized i have a new mutual who just started the books i should tag spoilers more
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Until the Last Loop: Familiar Faces
(Days spent with them making new memories- a silent attempt at forging a new life before it will be ripped away once more)
Poly mercenaries 141 x princess reader
Part One
The castle breathed with life and the scent of burning tallow, but to you, it might as well have been a tomb. Its towering walls and narrow corridors, carved from cold stone and lined with faded tapestries, had grown too familiar over the cycles- prisons that wore different faces but caged you all the same, and you were the bird locked within it each life, merely with different feather each time.
You sung the same melody, regardless. A melody that would soon be snuffed out.
You moved through the halls like a shadow, your impending doom hanging over you like clock that never stopped ticking until its last moments. Servants parted for you without meeting your gaze, and although whispers followed in your wake, they no longer stung the way they once had. You had long since grown used to the weight of their words, their gazes full of pity and disdain. They had become just another layer of the endless loop, a reflection of your precarious standing with the royal lineage.
But the men- the four who trailed in your footsteps, sent by your father to report all your moves back to him with the excuse of protecting you- were different.
They were a presence you couldnât shake, no matter how many lifetimes passed. Always close, always steady, their shadows filled the empty spaces others left behind. And unlike the others, they werenât afraid to look at you.
In some lives, you despised them. What comfort could four men give you when all you wanted was your fatherâs love? Your peopleâs adoration? Friends your age? None whatsoever.
In other lives, you had been distant. You kept them at armsâ length, unwilling to even converse with them. They were of no use to your desperation to free yourself from this cursed cycle.
Youâve lost count of how many loops youâve gone through. Even now, you do not know how it started; who started it. A cruel curse, thatâs what it was, and you were its constant victim. It was inevitable, so why⌠keep away the only people willing to be near you?
And so this time, you let them close.
Soap was the first to slip past your walls, an unsurprising fact.
It was late when you found yourself sitting in the gardens, the air sharp with the chill of night. The roses were dying, their petals curling inward as frost crept along the edges, and you wondered- just for a moment- how many times you had seen them bloom and wither like this.
Too many times.
You were alone with him; no maid or lady-in-waiting was willing to accompany you, though rather than saying that, they jusy boldly lied and said they had prior arrangements to the king.
The king. Your father. It was always him. You wished heâd hate you a little less, just enough to not rob you of the care youâll always long for like a child stumbling through the cold for a flicker of fire, of warmth.
Wistful dreams.
Soap sat down beside you without invitation, though his presence didnât feel unwelcome. His easy smile was softer in the moonlight, and when he offered you his cloak, you didnât refuse it.
âYou look like youâre waitinâ for somethinâ,â he said, voice low but steady, starting the conversation. By now, theyâve come to understand that you are⌠so different from whatever everyone said of you. You were quiet, your presence squeezed and molded into a tiny nook of the castle so easy to forget.
You didnât answer right away, letting the silence stretch. The words came slower, heavier now- weighted by too many winters and too many deaths.
âI think itâs waiting for me,â you breathed out, fingers brushing the edge of the cloak. The flowers fluttered when a breeze blew by, bending in the directionaway from you; they pitied you, too, for not even theyâd be placed upon your grave once you were dead. â⌠My end, I mean.â
Soap didnât flinch. He didnât try to deny it, either. He did not have any loyalty to the king or keeping his secrets; no mercenary would bother even if theyâd lifk the kingâs hand for his gold and coins.
Snakes, all of them. And yet- they were the ones who got to live, so the last laugh was theirs.
âWell,â he said instead, leaning back on his palms, âif it comes knockinâ, ye just let me know. Iâll handle it.â
You almost smiled. Almost.
Soap didnât leave right after that, like you expected.
He stayed, stretched out beside you on the stone bench like he had nowhere better to be, his broad shoulders relaxed but his eyes sharp as they roamed the shadows pooling in the corners of the garden. The scent of dying roses lingered in the air, sweet and cloying, and you wondered if he noticed the way your hands trembled when you smoothed the cloak over your lap.
If he did, he didnât say anything.
Instead, he tilted his head back and gazed at the stars, his voice softer when he spoke again.
âYe know, my mum used to say the stars are just folk lookinâ down on us,â he said, accent curling thick around the words. âWatchinâ, guidinâ⌠makinâ sure we dinna wander too far off the path.â
You blinked at him. âAnd what if the path leads⌠nowhere?â
Soap turned his head to look at you then, eyes dark. âThen ye make yer own.â
It was such an earnest thing to say, so full of conviction that it made something in your chest twist painfully. You couldnât tell him how many times youâd tried to do just that- tried to fight and claw your way toward a different ending, only to be dragged back to the start again.
Soap didnât know. None of them did.
And yet, as you sat there with his warmth seeping through the cloak and his words lingering in the air like a promise, you found yourself wishing- just for a moment- that he was right.
That you could carve your way out of this nightmare and leave the endless cycle behind.
But that was foolish.
So instead, you leaned back against the bench and let your eyes drift shut, pretending not to notice the way Soapâs hand hovered near the dagger at his side, ready to draw at the first sign of danger.
Pretending you didnât feel safer for it.
Ghost was harder to pin down. He lingered on the edges, silent as your grave, but his presence was impossible to ignore.
When the nightmares came- and they always did, another constant- you found him at your door. He never asked questions, never pried. He simply stood guard, silent, until the trembling stopped.
One night, when sleep refused to come after a day of listening to awful, false whispers of you, you found yourself seated on the rug in front of the hearth, staring into the flames. Ghost leaned against the wall, his mask a stark contrast against the flickering light.
âThey wonât hurt you.â He said suddenly, rough and low.
You didnât look at him. You watched the flickering fire, and was rewarded with whispers of the lives where youâd been burned at the stake. âThey always do.â
âThey wonât.â
And maybe it was foolish, but for once, you almost believed him.
You pulled your knees closer to your chest, eyes fixed on the flames as if they could burn away the memories pressing in from all sides.
Ghost didnât move from his place against the wall. He was a silhouette in the firelight, broad shoulders and sharp angles, the hollow black of his mask turning him into something almost otherworldly.
You didnât ask why he was there. He never explained himself, and you never pushed.
After a while, he broke the silence again.
âTheyâre scared of you.â
His voice was quiet, still rough like gravel, but it cut through the room as sharply as any blade.
You swallowed, your gaze still locked on the fire. You couldnât look away. âNo. They hate me.â
Ghost didnât argue. He let the silence stretch, his eyes never leaving you.
You werenât sure why that bothered you more than words would have.
âTheyâre scared,â he repeated finally, slower this time. Firmer. âAnd scared people do stupid things.â
You let out a short, bitter laugh. âLike cutting off my head?â
Ghost tilted his head, and something about the way he looked at you made your chest tighten.
âThey wonât get the chance, princess.â He said, and there was something cold in his voice that sent a shiver down your spine.
You turned to face him then, finally meeting his gaze. Or at least, what you thought was his gaze beneath the mask. It was impossible to tell, but you felt it- heavy, unflinching.
âYou canât stop it, Ghost.â
Ghost didnât flinch. Didnât waver. âWatch me.â
The words shouldnât have meant anything. They shouldnât have mattered when you already knew how this would end- how it always ended. Those words were treacherous to whatever the king wanted and expected of him.
But as the fire crackled and the shadows danced along the walls, you let yourself believe him. Just for a little while.
Because Ghost wasnât the kind of man who made promises.
And yet, when he spoke, it sounded like one.
⌠yet you knew, not all promises can be kept.
Gaz was gentler than the others. Thoughtful. Attentive in a way that made your chest ache, because it had been so long since anyone had looked at you without seeing the stain on your birthright first and you second.
He helped you practice with a dagger one afternoon, though you both knew it wouldnât be of much use to you. The sharp clang of metal rang out against the training yard walls as he corrected your grip, his hands warm against yours.
When was the last time youâd been held like that?
Far too long ago. Far too many lives ago.
âCareful,â he said, guiding the blade down in a smooth arc. âKeep your stance steady.â
You frowned. âWhat does it matter?â
Gaz tilted his head, eyes searching yours. âYouâre still here, arenât you?â
And wasnât that the cruelest part? That no matter how many times you died, you always woke up again?
You didnât answer, and Gaz didnât press. Instead, he let you lean into him when the weight of it all grew too heavy, when the weight of more than just the training pressed down on you.
Gaz stayed close after that- close enough that you started to notice the small things.
The way his eyes lingered on you just a little longer than they should, watching for signs of exhaustion or the fear you tried so hard to hide. The way his touch was always secure but never overbearing, grounding you without demanding more than you were willing to give.
He made you feel⌠safe.
It was dangerous.
Foolish.
But you let him stay anyway. You stayed with him anyway.
The dagger gleamed in the sunlight as you practiced another strike, the blade slicing cleanly through the air. Gaz nodded approvingly, stepping back just enough to give you space, though his presence was still a solid weight at your side.
âBetter,â he said, his voice warm but firm. âYouâre getting the hang of it, princess. Maybe youâll give us a run of our money, eh?â
You lowered the blade, breathing hard as you wiped the sweat from your brow. You couldnât find it within yourself to be humorous âIâm not sure itâll matter in the end.â
Gaz frowned at that, stepping closer. âDonât say that.â
You almost laughed. Almost. âYou donât understand.â
His hand came up then, gentle as he tilted your chin to face him. The look in his eyes knocked the breath from your lungs- steady and sure, like he was trying to hold you together with sheer force of will.
âMaybe I donât,â he admitted, voice low. âBut I do know this- every time you get back up, it matters.â
You didnât realize you were trembling until his hand dropped to your shoulder, grounding you with the warmth of his touch.
âDonât give up yet, princess,â he murmured, softer now. âNot on yourself.â
It was almost too much. Too kind. Too hopeful.
You wanted to tell him that hope had no place here- not in this endless loop of death and betrayal and grief. Not in this damned castle- but the words wouldnât come, caught in your throat like fish in a net.
So instead, you let him take the dagger from your hands, let him press it back into its sheath before leading you toward the shade of the courtyardâs edge.
And when he sat beside you, close enough that your shoulders brushed, you didnât pull away.
Because for once, it didnât feel like a burden to be seen.
Price was the hardest to read.
He was steady, commanding- his presence filled the room like the smoke of chimneys, lingering long after he was gone. He carried himself like a man who had seen too much and lost too many, and sometimes, when he looked at you, you thought you saw the ghost of something more.
He didnât speak often, but when he did, his words stayed with you.
âDo you ever wonder, princess,â he asked one evening, standing by the window with a wooden cup of mead in his hand. You didnât know how heâd even snuck it in, but you werenât going to snitch. âif weâre all just pieces on your fatherâs board?â
You blinked at him, startled by the sudden question.
âAll the time.â You said.
His gaze lingered on you a moment longer, and there was something unreadable in it.
You wanted to ask what he meant, why the sudden question, but he turned away before you could, leaving you to sit and stew with the thought.
And stew you did.
Because Price wasnât wrong, was he?
You already knew your father had lied- about these mercenaries, their orders, everything.
They werenât here to protect you. Not really.
No knights would take you, no nobles wanted you, and no one in the kingdom would lay down their sword for a bastard-born princess whose only crime was existing. Yet here they were, these hardened men, mercenaries paid in coin and silence, assigned to watch your every move.
Not guard you. Watch you.
Keep you until the day you were dragged to your death once more.
Youâd known it the moment Price first stepped through your door, his eyes sweeping the room like he was cataloging exits instead of protecting them. The others were subtler- Soap with his easy charm, Ghost with his patient silence, Gaz with his careful words- but Price?
Price didnât even try to hide it.
And maybe that was the worst part.
Because he didnât look at you the way others did. He didnât sneer, didnât pity, didnât hate. He looked at you like he was waiting.
Waiting for what?
For you to run? To slip up? To hand him the excuse he needed to drag you before your father in chains, so he could take the money and leave?
The thought made your stomach twist.
Because no matter how much you told yourself it didnât matter- that the loop would end and begin again, and none of this would last- it still sank its claws into you.
And the next time Price caught you watching him from across the room, you didnât look away.
Not at first.
He held your gaze, steady and unreadable, but there was no malice in it- no sharp edges or hidden teeth. Just something quiet. Something that almost felt like understanding.
When you finally turned away, you expected the weight of it to linger, to drag down your shoulders and settle in your chest like an unwelcome puff of smoke.
But it didnât.
Instead, you felt the faintest flicker of warmth- barely there, fleeting as a dying ember- and hated how much you wanted to hold onto it.
Days turned to nights, and the hours slipped away like sand through your fingers. The loop pressed closer with every tick of the clock, and yetâŚ
You didnât feel so alone this time.
They were there- in the quiet moments, in the chaos, in the shadows of your worst fears- and though you knew it wouldnât save you, you still let them stay.
Because this time, you didnât have the strength to keep them away.
This time, you⌠wanted to have fond memories before your death.
Masterlist
I hope everyoneâs been enjoying this so far! Any guesses on why reader is in a time loop and who might be responsible? :3
#noona.writes#this one just escaped me lmao#cod x reader#cod x you#cod#tf 141 x reader#tf 141 x you#tf 141#cod imagines#john price x reader#ghost x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#soap x reader#simon ghost riley x you#ghost x you#poly!141 x reader#gaz x reader#johnny soap mctavish x reader#poly 141 x you#poly 141 x reader#poly!141#poly 141#simon ghost riley imagines#john price x you#johnny soap mctavish x you#soap x you#kyle gaz garrick x you#kyle gaz garrick x reader#gaz x you#kyle gaz x reader
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Mouthwashing Characters Headcanon
How the Crew Takes Care of You on Your Period
Captain Curly
Knows your cycle so well that he starts prepping his monthly Captain Curly Period Kit a week before it starts
The kit includes all hygiene products that you need including painkillers, five of your favorite chocolate bars and the best part: candid photos he had secretly taken of you, each with a note underneath
The notes ranged from awful period puns to sweet compliments. This man knows how to keep you happy, physically and emotionally
Whispers comforting words as you sob over a characterâs death during movie night
Though once, it was about a cockroach getting pancaked on screen
"Babe, that roach? Itâs in a better place nowâcockroach heaven. Endless trash buffets, living its best afterlifeâ
Spoiler: it worked
Checks in on you throughout the day, either with a sweet âHowâs my baby feeling?â text or by dropping into the room for a quick chat, always making sure you feel loved and cared for
He understands how hormones can mess up with your mood and always reassures you that he isn't going anywhere
Co-pilot Jimmy
The man has somehow mastered the art of finding all the right spots to massage when you're doubled over with cramps or just feeling downright miserable
What you donât know is that he once secretly googled âhow to massage girlfriend in painâ (in incognito mode cause his ego won't just let him ask outright)
Big mistake. Huge. He was immediately bombarded with nsfw content, all roleplay, mostly rough
Letâs just say it took half a day, several deep breaths, and a burning face before he stumbled onto an actual helpful website
Ever since then, heâs been sneaking off to âpractice.â But it got a little weird one day
Every time you passed by, heâd be glued to his phone, staring at it with this weirdly intense look, and his free hand squeezing the air at different angles
âUh⌠babe? Are you⌠hallucinating? Maybe some floating breast action?â
âHuh? Whaâno! Unless youâre jealous of the air now, darling. Should I be worried?â
It all paid off when you let out those godly noises he loved, his hands were massaging with just the right pressure and on the right places
To top it off, he even got an essential oil in your favorite scent
Not without drama, thoughâapparently, walking into Bath & Body Works fully hooded and masked with shades doesn't scream 'thoughtful boyfriend'. It screams robber
Mechanic Swansea
The man and his craftsman hands will do anything to make you comfortable
Need a hot compress? Heats up grains, puts it in a sackcloth bag and places it in your lower belly
On days when you feel ugly looking in the mirror? Secretly blurs them slightly with shampoo or soap
Cold hands? Wraps yours in his larger ones
The kids being too loud while you're in a damp mood? He'd play tea parties with them (he was crowned the princess of all dragons)
Before sleeping, he always lay the towel down at your side of the bed whenever you're at the bathroom
Even built you a custom wooden cabinet that dispenses pads and tampons efficiently. Always stocked because he secretly checks it regularly
You have to force him to sit or lay down with you when he would be silently stressing out on what more to do
"Swansea, love, you're all I need right now, just stay here with me"
Nurse Anya
The nurse uses her medical and psychological expertise like a pro, making your period feel a lot less miserable
Meds are always your bestfriend whenever your killer cramps hit and she made sure to always carry all kinds of painkillers and have every dosage for each pain scale you're in
Wincing and doubling down? she's quick to ask
"Scale of 1 to 10?"
Even when sheâs busy, she finds little ways to remind you youâre not alone like leaving sticky notes with doodles of you or your favorite characters in places where youâll find them
After noticing how you loved wrapping your feet in blankets, she got you matching fuzzy socks that you now have to wear whenever sheâs around (because sheâs wearing hers too)
Lovingly strokes your back and hair while you scream at reality show contestants for choosing the dumbest of choices
Very much amused and nods along every time you asked her if you're both witnessing the same stupidity
Intern Daisuke
The boy is sometimes dense but when it comes to you, he sure isn't incompetent
One day, when the bed was way too soft to escape from, you did the only logical thing: text him
"Hey Dai, can you buy me some tampons? forgot to buy some yesterday"
"Be there in 5 babe! (â ăĽâ  ̄â  â Âłâ  ̄â )â ăĽ"
And he meant it
He gave the pharmacist a heart attack by storming in and loudly asking for a box of tampons
Proceeded to grill them on what brands were most likely to leak so he'd avoid them (no shame whatsoever)
Never arrived empty-handed. Along with the tampons, heâll pick up a plushie, a cute keychain, a little hair accessory or literally anything he knows that will let him see your pretty smile
Heâll wrap you both up in comforters, flashdrive loaded with all your comfort movies, from romcoms to horror
The mission? Movie marathon until you're both knocked out
Despite shrieking at every jumpscare, he still kisses your forehead between scenes, like youâre the one who needs reassurance (Spoiler: he needed those forehead kisses more)
a/n: thanks so much for reading! headcanon requests are very much appreciated Ęâ˘â á´Ľâ â˘â Ę
#the crew cares (buttheydramatic)#love language is cramp management#mouthwashing curly#mouthwashing#mouthwashing swansea#mouthwashing anya#mouthwashing curly x reader#curly mouthwashing x reader#mouthwashing daisuke#mouthwashing jimmy#mouthwashing game#mouthwashing wrong organ#wrong organ#mouthwash#mouthwashing x reader#mouthwashing x you#mouthwashing fanfic#jimmy mouthwashing x reader#anya mouthwashing x reader#swansea mouthwashing x reader#daisuke mouthwashing x reader#mouthwashing anya x reader#mouthwashing daisuke x reader#mouthwashing jimmy x reader#mouthwashing swansea x reader#mouthwashing headcanon#mouthwashing fluff#mouthwashing crew x you#mouthwashing crew x y/n
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