#i just need people to dump all my thoughts onto | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jamminvroomvroom · 1 month

Note

I absolutely adore your writing,

For the celebration, could you please do virgin reader first time with Oscar?

sunshine.

op x fem!reader - 4k celebration

in which oscar arrives home to an unexpected guest…

hi hi hi! thank you so much anon, i hope this is what you wanted!! trying to get through requests, loving hearing from you guys! this one is so cute i think, let me know ur thoughts 😚😚

songs to set the mood: fall in love with you by montell fish, fade into you by mazzy star, like real people do by hozier

warnings: 18+!! minors dni!!! smut, fluff, friends to lovers, sleepy baby oscar, teeny tiny bit of angst, mutual pining, r’s first time, swearing

2.9k words

oscar’s exhausted, shoulders sagging beneath the thick material of his mclaren hoodie. he’s glad he left it in his carry on, the miserable london weather not even remotely living up to the warm glow of the middle eastern sun.

he craves his bed, dreamless sleep, entering the code to get into his building and slumping against the cool mirrored wall of the elevator. his eyes droop as the lift travels up, and the ding that sounds when he reaches his floor breathes life back into him.

the double header that kickstarted the season has knackered him, and he longs for alone time and silence to recuperate before he has to deal with the noise of going home and racing in front of a familiar crowd.

his key slides into the lock and he pushes the door open, throwing his bags by the door - he’ll deal with them later. the hoodie is shrugged off and dropped haphazardly on the floor next to the shoes he kicks off. his bed is calling. dazed, he trudges down the hallway, but he’s spooked by a faint sound coming from his bedroom.

as he primes himself to investigate, he hears footsteps, light and quiet against the floorboards. he goes to open his bedroom door, breathing heavy, but he just about jumps out of his skin when it swings open before he gets there. he yelps, and so do you, leaping into the air.

“you scared the shit out of me.” you shout, hand over your thumping heart.

“i scared you? what are you doing here?” oscar bites back, running his hand through his brown locks.

“sorry, sorry, i didn’t mean to be here without your permission but… it’s a long story. i didn’t think you’d be home yet.” you smile apologetically.

“sofa.” oscar mumbles, stalking past his bedroom and towards the living room. “what’s goi- are you wearing my shirt?” he splutters, finally looking at you properly.

your face heats up, and you cross your arms awkwardly.

“um, yeah? god, this is all so embarrassing.” you cover your face, falling onto the sofa. he plonks down beside you.

“tell me what happened.” oscar sighs.

“he dumped me.”

“oh.”

“yeah.”

“why?” oscar asks softly. “ugh, i knew i hated him for a reason.” he wrinkles his nose.

“i don’t know how to explain this without wading into major tmi territory.” your voice is small, quivering slightly.

“you can tell me, love.” he encourages gently.

“he found it weird that i’m, uh, a virgin?” you squeak, your voice raising into a question. oscar goes as red as you are.

“oh. oh.”

“oh god, you’re freaked out too. is there something wrong with me? like, why has this not happened? i thought i was ready with him, but then when it came down to it…” you ramble, trailing off.

“there’s nothing wrong with you.” oscar states, firm and serious. “him, on the other hand.” he shakes his head, disgusted. “he wasn’t good enough for you.” he spits.

“do you mind if i stay here?” you whisper, leaning into his side. “or, keep staying here?” you laugh softly. oscar joins in.

“you know you can always stay here.” he smiles sleepily. you’re just about the only person in the world he can stand right now, and always, actually. “but i need a nap, you coming?”

you nod and follow him to his room. the tv is still on, the one with monica and chandlers wedding playing quietly. oscar smiles. he knows it’s your favourite.

he flops onto his side of the bed, dropping off almost instantly. you watch over him, enamoured and sympathetic, in awe of him and the life he lives. you slip into bed beside him, leaving a respectable distance between you and the aussie.

you pass out right around chandler’s vows.

you stir between two thick arms. pale, warm skin is wrapped around you, oscar’s soft breath fanning your face as he sleeps.

you watch him, scanning each and every mole on his face, trying to ground yourself. you combat the anxiety of being in his arms, choosing to enjoy the moment, while he’s still peaceful. it’s nice to feel wanted, even if he’s unconscious.

for the first time, you’re glad your ex broke up with you, because how does it make sense that you feel safer, more wanted in the arms of your best friend?

“stop staring, ‘m gonna blush.” oscar mumbles, clearing his throat. his eyes are still shut, but he just knows you too well.

oscar opens his eyes slowly, blinking away sleep. you stare at each other, comfortable silence eating away at the palpable tension.

you kiss him.

because why wouldn’t you? it’s oscar, your oscar, and he’s sleepy and cosy and gorgeous, and you’ve waited too fucking long. you can’t resist it any longer, free from the bounds of being someone else’s.

his lips are warm, and he’s startled, but the surprise doesn’t falter him; just as quickly as you kiss him, he’s kissing you back. his large hand finds your face, and the other finds your waist, pulling you closer. you melt into him, impossibly closer than you already were.

he’s gentle with you, tentative but firm and you part your lips, letting him lick into your mouth. his tongue strokes softly over yours and you keen at the sensation. he pushes you onto your back, balancing on his elbow half hovering over you. your hair fans out onto the pillow, his soft fingers running through your strands, pushing them away from your flushed face. oscar pulls away, scanning your face.

“sorry.” you smile up at him, breathless.

“apology very much accepted. i’ve been wondering when that would happen.” he laughs incredulously.

“really?”

“what can i say? i’m irresistible.” he replies dryly, exercising his sense of humour that was a foundation of your friendship.

“yeah. you kinda are.” you giggle bashfully.

and then he’s kissing you again, pressing himself even closer to you. you welcome him in, wrapping your arms around his lean frame, feeling over his shoulders. he’s tense, restrained, groaning into you at the feeling of your hands raking over his back.

“we should stop.” he mumbles, noses bumping. you frown.

“why?”

“because you said earlier, you’re not ready for this and i’m… well, things are gonna get real awkward if we keep going.” he chokes out half a laugh, glancing down at his-

“oh.”

“yeah, i just, i don’t want to make you uncomfortable. we can go slow.”

“osc, i wasn’t ready with him,” you pause, collecting your thoughts. “but you’re not him.”

“i suppose that’s true.” he shrugs.

“then you better do something.”

oscar lays you back, climbing over you completely this time. his trails over your jaw, taking your chin between his fingers.

“are you sure about this? we can stop anytime, just say the words.”

“‘m sure, oscar. i want to do this with you.” you coo, reassuringly.

his lips run over your neck, your collarbone, and he mouths at the collar of the t-shirt that you’re wearing. his t-shirt. his.

“gonna take this off, yeah?” he asks, whispering low, right by your ear.

“yeah, please.” you say, your own hands running under his t-shirt and up his muscular back. he’s relaxed now, no tension between his shoulder blades, and so you push the material up, and he slips it over his head. his warm digits peel your shirt off, too, and you’re warm all over when his eyes trail over your chest.

you’d forgone a bra, ditching it when you’d arrived at his place, and his pupils are blown wide, hazel hues sparkling with desire. his hands slide up your ribcage, thumbing at the underside of your breasts, while he plants open mouthed kisses down your chest. your eyes flutter shut, gasping softly as he skims your nipple.

“oscar.” you breathe, the light whimper sending his blood rushing south.

“does that feel good?” he asks, searching your face for answers.

“more.” you sound strained, desperate, and he aches.

his sucks your nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the swollen bud. he toys with the other one, massaging your breast with his skilful fingers, tweaking and pulling until you’re panting beneath him. he pulls away with a pop, licking over to the other side, deciding to test your limits when he nips delicately at the peak. you moan, bucking your hips, hypersensitive to his every move.

you can feel how hard he is, his grey joggers growing tighter with every passing second.

“want all of you, osc.” you plead.

“need to get you ready for me first, okay honey?” he rubs circles into your sides, warm and calloused. you relax fully, lifting your hips.

oscar mouthed over your belly, peppering sunshine-like kisses down your abdomen until he finds the band of your loose shorts. he mumbles something into you navel about taking them off and you nod, enthusiastic and frantic. you can feel his smile branding your sensitive skin. the material glides down your thighs, pooling at your ankles, and you kick them away. he parts your thighs, making himself comfortable on his belly, and thumbs at the crease of your leg, toying with your panties.

he drags his pointer finger over your covered slit, up and down slowly, applying more pressure every time he brushes over your clit. oscar can see where you’re starting to seep through your panties and he stifles a low groan, anxious to peel the cotton off of your body, the final barrier separating him from you, so he does, pulling them slowly down your legs. he studies your face as he does, keeping his eyes firmly on yours. your lip catches between your teeth, aching as you watch, helpless and wet.

oscar kisses your hip bone, sucking gently until he’s stained it purple, and then his warm breath is fanning your cunt. your eyes squeeze shut.

“look at me, baby. gotta keep your eyes on me.” oscar mutters. your pussy clenches around nothing at the tone of his voice. you pry your eyes open, just about managing to prop yourself up on your elbows. “that’s it, honey. has anyone ever done this to you before?”

you shake your head, no. he smiles to himself, like he knows something you don’t, and dives in.

his tongue works in slow strokes, dragging through your slick with intent, eyes locked with yours. you must look like a deer in headlights, pupils blown, shocked with pleasure when you collapse against the mattress. he wraps his lips around your clit, sucking, tasting, and your legs go weak, splayed open all for him. you whimper as he tugs your clit between his teeth, just enough to graze over the sensitive nerves. it sends your hips flying, bucking wildly against his face.

“osc…” you breathe, squeezing your eyes shut.

“‘m gonna give you some more, is that okay?” he asks, nose bumping your clit.

“yes, please.” you don’t know what more is, but you need it like air.

you feel a finger glide over your sodden flesh, rubbing over your entrance. you sigh out, oh, anticipation and bliss sending white heat down your spine. he circles his finger around your opening, coating it in you, and carefully slides it in, feeling out for any sign of tension or discomfort. when you grind your hips onto the single digit, he knows you’re okay.

it feels good, better than anything you’d ever felt on your own, and you writhe against his bedspread. he thrusts a couple of times, experimenting, seeing what makes you squirm for him the right way, and when his finger curls, hooking deliciously, he knows he’s struck gold. you arch off the bed, searching for more, more, anything.

“another one.” you cry, begging, and oscar’s not one to tease. not yet, anyway.

a second finger joins the lonesome first, and he finds some pace, fucking into you faster. he scissors the digits, stretching you out for him, enjoying the pretty view. he’s achingly hard now, rocking discreetly into the mattress, losing his mind as he watches how you drip around his fingers. he wants another taste of you, addicted already to sweet, salty honey, so he has to finish you off, lap your mess off of his long fingers.

“i think- i think-“ you can’t get the words out, they’re lost on your tongue, but oscar knows what you mean.

“that’s it, baby. so good for me, doing so good. cum for me.” he spurs you on, drawing it out of you.

you let go, crashing biblically, the high sending you to heaven and back, two times over. he grinds his fingers, softer, just enough to help you through it and you chant his name like you’re praying at an alter. you know that you’ll never be over this. your oscar.

“holy shit.” you giggle, smiling lazily as you return to the world of the living. he’s licking his fingers clean; you could black out so easily.

“did you enjoy that?” he punctuates with a kiss to your belly, crawling up your body until he’s hovering over you.

“maybe you should do it again, just so that i can really make sure that i did.” you tease. your hand rakes through his hair, pushing it back off of his face. he’s grinning down at you, eyes fluttering shut. “that was amazing.” you whisper. he’s blushing when he kisses you, and then you are too, when you taste yourself on his tongue.

he moans against your lips, making you pull back. your hand leaves his brown strands, joining your other, which is currently voyaging down his back.

“you’re wearing too many clothes.” you whisper, lips bumping his as your hands slide under the waistband of his sweats. something desperate emits from the back of his throat. you push them over his hips, fisting the thick fabric, eager to have him bare on top of you once and for all. oscar helps, kicking them away, boxers too.

you can feel him, thick and wet between your thighs, his breathing uneven. your nails graze his hip and he jolts, collapsing on top of you, his full weight covering your keening body. he kisses into the crook of your neck, frantic; you need him deep, immediately, his urgent change in form leaving you flushed.

“you want me?” he whispers into your ear, leaving you shivering.

“so bad.” you pant.

“i’ll be gentle.” he promises.

he guides himself through your folds, slippery and warm, all for him. he nudges the head inside of you, hips stuttering at the blinding tightness. you gasp, but he catches it in his mouth, softly moulding his lips to yours as he pushes further. you open up for him, pliant, and when he eventually bottoms out, he holds himself there, letting you adjust.

“oh, fuck.” your eyes roll back, nails leaving crescent marks in his shoulders.

“so good for me, so pretty.” oscar grunts. “say when, baby.” he breathes, rubbing soothing circles into your hip.

“move.”

oscar rolls his hips, rocking you into the mattress. he hooks your knee over his waist, driving himself deeper and deeper with every thrust. you’re boneless, lost to the delectable stretch, to the way his cock seems to touch every part of you that makes you quiver.

“tell me how it feels.” oscar murmurs, grip tightening on your thigh.

“fuck, oscar, it’s so good. ‘m so glad it’s you.” your voice shakes, raw with emotion.

“me fucking too.” he mumbles, increasing his pace ever so slightly.

his thrusts lull into more of a grind, reaching your depths and revelling in the way you only get tighter for him. you’re spilling around him, already so close to meeting your end, and all it takes is the calloused pad of his thumb brushing your bundle of nerves to have you convulsing. you’re somewhere else entirely, on a whole other spiritual plane, utterly and completely his as he fucks you through your second orgasm.

when he spills, white hot and sweat slicked, he gushes endless hushed whines of your name. it sounds perfect when he says it like this, rolling off of his tongue with dire urgency.

his dampened hair falls over his darkened eyes, full of stars and total adoration. you’re smiling sleepily up at him like he’s made of sunshine. you always thought he was, and now you know that he most definitely is.

the most beautiful sunshine man.

“hi.” he whispers.

“hi.” you whisper back.

an intimacy, different to the one you’ve just shared, blossoms between you, encapsulating you here with him endlessly.

“i’m gonna clean you up, ‘n then we’re gonna order food.” he gazes fondly, stroking your hair.

“perfect.” you agree.

“put friends back on, i’m gonna run you a bath.” he begrudgingly stands from the bed, trailing towards the en-suite.

“you’re gonna join me in there, right?” you admire his naked frame as he disappears into the bathroom.

“obviously.” he pokes his head out once more to scoff, and you lay there, grinning like the worlds most lovesick idiot, your thoughts dulled by the sound of running water.

when the bath is full of hot water and too many bubbles, he gets in first, and you sink into the revitalising heat. oscar pulls you close, your back to his chest, kissing over your hairline as you mould yourself against him.

“thank god you broke in.”

oh i’m soft

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lemme know if you wanna be added or removed <3

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wombywoo · 6 months

Text

Ok! I've finally decided to put together a (somewhat) comprehensive tutorial on my latest art~

Please enjoy this little step-by-step 💁‍♀️

First things first--references!

Now I'm not saying you have to go overboard, but I always find that this is a crucial starting point in any art piece I intend on making. Especially if you're a detail freak like me and want to make it as realistic as possible 🙃

As such, your web browser should look like this at any given point:

Since this is a historical piece, it means hours upon hours of meaningless research just to see what color the socks are, but...again. that isn't, strictly, necessary 😅

Once I've compiled all my lovely ref pics, I usually dump them into a big-ass collage ⬇️

(I will end up not using half of these, alas :'D)

Another reference search for background material, and getting to showcase our models of choice for this occasion~

When picking a reference for an actor or model, the main thing I keep in mind (besides prettiness 🤭) is lighting and orientation. Because I already kinda know what pose I'm gonna go with for this piece, I can look for specific angles that might fit the criteria. I should mention that I am a reference hound, and my current COD actor ref folder looks like this:

Also keep in mind, if you're using a ref that you need to flip, make sure you adjust accordingly. This especially applies to clothing, as certain things like pants zippers and belt buckles can be quite specific ☝️

Now that we've spent countless hours googling, it's time to start with a rough sketch:

It doesn't have to be pretty, folks, just a basic guideline of where you want the figures to be.

The next step is to define it more, and I know this looks like that 'how to draw an owl' meme, but I promise--getting from the loose sketch above to below is not that difficult.

Things to keep in mind are--don't go too in-depth with the details, because things are still subject to change at this point. In terms of making a suitable anatomically-correct sketch, I would suggest lots of studying. This doesn't even have to be things like figure drawing, I genuinely look at people around me for inspiration all the time. Familiarize yourself with the human form, and things like weight, proportions, posing will seem a little more feasible.

It's also important at this stage to consider your composition. Remember to flip the canvas frequently to make sure you're not leaning to one side too often. I'm sure something can be said for the spiral fibonacci stuff, which I don't really try to do on purpose, but I think keeping things like symmetry and balance in mind is a good start ✌️

Next step is just blocking in the figures. Standard. No fuss 👍

Now onto the background!

It's frankly hilarious how many people thought I was *hand-drawing* these maps and stuff 😂😂 I cannot even begin to comprehend how insanely difficult that would be. So yeah, we're just taking the lazy copy and paste way out 🤙

I almost always prepare my backgrounds first, and this is mostly to get a general color scheme off the bat. For collage work, it's really just a matter of trial and error, sticking this here, slapping this there, etc. I like to futz around with different overlay options until I've found a nice arrangement. Advice for this is just--go nuts 🤷‍♀️

Next, I add a few color adjustments. I tend to make at least 2 colors pop in an art piece, and low and behold, they usually tend to be red and blue ❤️💙There's something about warm/cool vibes, idk man..

Now we move on to coloring the figures. This is just a basic block and fill, not really defining any of the details yet.

Next, we add some cursory values. Sloppy airbrush works fine, it'll look better soon I promise 🙏

And now--rendering!

I know a lot of beginner artists are intimidated by rendering, and I can totally understand why. It's just one of those things you have to commit to 💪

I've decided to show a brief process of rendering our dear Johnny's face here:

Starting off, I usually rely on the trusty airbrush just to get some color values going. Note--I've kept my sketch layer on top, but feel free to turn it on and off as you work, so as to not be too bound to the sketch. For now, it's just a guideline.

This next stage may look like a huge jump, but it's really just adding more to the foundation. I try to think of it like putting on make-up in a way~ Adding contours, accentuating highlights. This is also where I start adding in more saturation, especially around areas such as ears, nose and lips. Still a bit fuzzy at this point, but that's why we keep adding to it 💪

A boy has appeared! See--now I've removed most of the line layer, and it holds up on its own. I'll admit that in order to achieve this realistic style, you'll need lots and lots of practice and skill, which shouldn't be discouraging! Just motivate yourself with the prospect of getting to look at pretty men for countless hours 🙆‍♀️

I'll probably do a more in-depth explanation about rendering at some point, but let's keep this rolling~

Moving forward is just a process of adding to the figures bit by bit. I do lean towards filling in each section from top to bottom, but you can feel free to pop around to certain parts that appeal to you more. I almost always do the faces first though, because if they end up sucking, I feel less guilty about scrapping it 😂 But no--I think he's pretty enough to proceed 😚

They're coming together now 🙆‍♀️ Another helpful tip--make sure you reuse color. By that, I mean--try to incorporate various colors throughout your piece, using the eyedropper tool to keep a consistent palette. I try to put in bits of red and blue where I can

Here they are fully rendered! Notice I've made a few subtle changes from the sketch, like adjusting the belt buckles because I made a mistake 😬 Hence why you shouldn't put too much stock in your initial sketch~

The next step is more of a stylistic choice, but I usually go over everything with an outline, typically in a bright color like green. Occasionally, I can just use my initial line layer, but for this, I've made a brand new, cleaner line 👍

And the final step is adjusting the color and adding some text:

Tada!! It's done!

All in all, this took me the better part of a week, but I have a lot of free time, so yeah ✌️

I hope you appreciated that little walkthrough~ I know people have been asking me how I do my art, but the truth is--I usually have no clue how to explain myself 😅 So have this half-assed tutorial~

As a bonus, here is a cute (cursed) image of Johnny without his mustache:

A baby, a literal infant child !!! who put this wee bairn on the front lines ??! 😭

Anyway! peace out ✌️

#tutorial #my art #art tutorial #since people have been asking #I remembered to save my process from this latest work~#enjoy 🙆‍♀️

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hairmetal666 · 1 year

Text

Eddie's at a party, lunch box in tow, and he's making a fucking killing.

He sets up shop in the crowded kitchen, but that doesn't stop him from spotting King Steve in the living room. Harrington's face is still fucked up from the fight with Hargrove, and he's tipping a cup almost vertically into his mouth. He's not too surprised when--the next time he spots the jock--he has a can of beer in each fist.

More customers flood up to him, and he can't help but be a little grateful for the distraction. Harrington is one unrequited crush he just can't kick.

Lunch box cleaned out, Eddie heads outside for a smoke. He's fishing his cigarettes out of his jacket pocket when he hears a snuffling sort of shuffle that sends his heart racing.

He edges forward, just enough to make out the heap of a person half-heartedly sitting up against the house. A person in fitted blue jeans, tight polo, and Member's Only jacket; swoop of chestnut hair catching in the flash of fire from Eddie's Zippo.

"Harrington?"

The guy startles, stability wavering, eyes blinking too much. "Munson?"

"You alright, man?" He asks, though he can already tell that Steve is most definitely not.

Steve shrugs. "Why do you care?" It's not mean, sounds genuinely curious.

Eddie gets it. He has no reason on earth to show concern about King Steve. In answer, he taps his boot against Steve's sneaker, giving him a small smile. "Not sure. But I'm here, so..."

"Just needed some air. Clear my head."

"How much have you had to drink?" Eddie asks.

"One or two,"

"Dozen?"

Steve laughs. "You're funny. Has anyone ever told you that?"

"I've heard," Eddie says, can't help but laugh a little too. "Wanna talk about what's going on?"

Eddie thinks that'll be a "no," but then: "Nancy dumped me."

"Yeah, big news."

"Ugh, people are talking about it?" Steve whines. It's really cute and Eddie hates himself for noticing. Hates himself more when Steve loses his balance, tips onto Eddie's shoulder, and Eddie doesn't tip him back.

Eddie can tell that Steve isn't fully with him anymore. He's a little afraid to leave the guy alone, so Eddie talks about the latest Hellfire campaign. Sober Steve Harrington probably has no idea what dnd is, but the drunk version is kind of a rapt audience.

He's just explaining about owlbears when Steve's voice, soft and sad, says "I just want someone to love me, you know?"

The admission renders Eddie speechless for a second, his chest fucking aching for the jock. He says "Oh, Stevie," knows he sounds too sad, is sure of it when Steve's nose wrinkles (it's cute; it's so fucking cute. Eddie hates himself for noticing).

Before he can backtrack, Steve slumps over, body going limp as he passes out. "Jesus H Christ," Eddie barks.

With a heavy sigh, and way too much fondness, Eddie stands. "Let's get you home, sweetheart."

He gathers Harrington up in his arms--dude is heavy--and carries him around to his van.

---

Steve wakes up, head throbbing and tongue fuzzy, with no idea how he got home and into bed. Can't really recall anything after he stumbled outside, aside from talking to Eddie Munson. But maybe that was a dream? Either way, he's home, not really any worse for wear. It's enough to let him forget all about it; what's one drunken party in a life full of them?

That Wednesday, he opens his locker after the final bell, and a Hershey bar falls out. He picks it up, flipping it over to see a note on the foil wrapping, "thought you might need something sweet to cheer you up." It's not signed, and Steve slips it into his backpack, knowing he's got a silly smile on his handsome face.

The little gifts continue to show up once or twice a week. Candy, plastic vending machine toys, sketches of the school grounds, caricatures of classmates and teachers. Sometimes they even come with a note in handwriting he doesn't recognize.

Along with the little treats, he starts seeing Eddie Munson kind of everywhere. And it's not like Steve hadn't seen him before--guy was hard to miss--but he was never around this often. Wasn't around this often and he and Steve had never shared a smile, a quick bob of the head, a quiet hello.

It isn't long before they're talking. Nothing much, nothing serious. Complaining about teachers, about classmates; sharing weekend plans. Only now Steve can't pretend to not notice the way Eddie dimples up when he smiles, the subtle muscles that bunch under the sleeves of his Hellfire Club shirt, the long litheness of his legs. Steve knows he's attracted to other guys, it's just that he didn't realize he'd be attracted to Eddie.

The gifts keep coming. Once, he opens his locker to find a plastic ring fashioned into a golden crown and a note that says, "made me think of you, Stevie." There's something about the "Stevie" that catches deep in his brain, but he can't make it connect to anything.

A few months later, Steve opens his locker and pulls out a drawing. This one--it's of him. He's gazing out into space in a way that managers to be dreamy and wistful. The Steve in the drawing is lovely, and it makes something clench deep in his gut, that someone sees him like this.

Steve tries to be more aware of the people in his surroundings, to figure out who his admirer is. He's not very good at it, even as more sketches of him--all depicting him as a gorgeous, ethereal thing he definitely isn't--show up in his locker. Especially when, so often these days, the person he sees the most is Eddie.

---

The presents in his locker continue into April, and would probably last until the end of the school year, but Steve's got a migraine starting. He keeps aspirin in his locker, gets a hall pass out of English to get some.

When he reaches his locker, though, someone is already there, with the door open. Someone in ripped black jeans, heavy black boots, a black leather jacket, and patch covered denim vest.

"Munson?" He asks. His heart beats so hard it reverberates in his ears, making it hard to hear.

Eddie jumps back, hands fluttering, face flushing bright red. "Ste--Harrington! I--uh--," he's backing up, his hands held out from his body, like he's pushing Steve away even though they aren't touching.

"Were you--?" Steve tries to ask, but the words won't quite come. There's familiar warmth low in his stomach, a twisting that has nothing to do with his impending migraine.

"I wasn't doing anything, I swear," Eddie says. He's breathing hard, eyes too bright, and Steve thinks he might be about to cry, but then the metalhead is turning away, starting to run.

"Eddie, wait!" Steve calls, chasing after him without much thought. "Please!"

Eddie doesn't stop until after they've crashed out one of the side exits, are alone outside.

"It was you? Leaving the--?"

Eddie nods, presses his hands to his eyes. "Sorry, I'm sorry, Harrington. I just--"

"Don't be sorry," Steve begs. "It's been--I liked it."

"Even now that you know they're coming from the freak?" Eddie spits. He still hides his face behind his hands.

"It's sort of been the best part of my year, if I'm being honest."

Only now does the metalhead remove his hands, blink back at Steve, dark eyes wide with shock. "Really?"

"Yeah. It made me feel-- important, I guess? Like, maybe someone saw me as something more than King Steve."

Eddie smiles now, looks down at the pavement. "I just didn't want you to think that you weren't--" he stops then, presses his mouth tight.

"Didn't want me to think what?"

"That you weren't loved, Stevie."

The statement hangs between them, Eddie's face pinking again, as the words wrap their way around Steve's heart. Loved. That he's loved. It clenches at every part of him, and he surrounds himself with the truth of it, what all those little presents were saying without words.

"Eddie, I--" he's overwhelmed by the gesture, the meaning, the reciprocal buzz in his chest, because Eddie Munson, Eddie Munson, loves him, and this fact is turning Steve's world on it's head in the best way.

"I'm sorry, Steve, really. Please don't hate me, or--or--"

"It means so much to me," Steve says, his voice a little broken. He reaches a hand out, slow, telegraphing the movement. "Can I?" He whispers.

Eddie nods, and Steve strokes the skin of his face with his thumb. "Thank you."

The metalhead nods, leaning into Steve's touch, they shift close, until their foreheads meet, until they share the same air. They stand that way for a while, long enough that they hear the bell ringing, and only then does Steve break their quiet. "Eds?"

"Yeah, Stevie?"

"You wanna hangout some time?"

Eddie laughs. "Yeah. I really, really do, sweetheart."

#steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #ficlet #one shot #secret admirer #fluff #a tiny bit of angst #friends to lovers #feelings realization #feelings confession #pining eddie munson #oblivious steve harrington #mutual crushes #high school au #eddie is in love with steve

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grison-in-space · 5 months

Text

Listening to Artificial Condition again, it strikes me how much Murderbot uses empathy reflexively as a survival skill. Look at this bit.

Upon meeting it, ART allows it on board and then announces that it knows that Murderbot is rogue. Then ART threatens to destroy it if it hacks ART's own systems. Murderbot is immediately terrified and shuts down all inputs, gives serious thought to spending the entire three month journey unconscious, and then considers the potential avenues of damage from ART's drones. ART, not realizing why Murderbot had suddenly gone silent, tells it to quit sulking, which understandably pisses off the still-terrified Murderbot. It dumps a bunch of memories of coercive treatment into ART's feed, and ART goes silent.

Then this happens:

Then it said, I’m sorry I frightened you. Okay, well. If you think I trusted that apology, you don’t know Murderbot. Most likely it was playing a game with me. I said, “I don’t want anything from you. I just want to ride to your next destination.” I’d explained that earlier, before it opened the hatch for me, but it was worth repeating. I felt it withdraw back behind its wall. I waited, and let my circulatory system purge the fear-generated chemicals. More time crawled by, and I started to get bored. Sitting here like this was too much like waiting in a cubicle after I’d been activated, waiting for the new clients to take delivery, for the next boring contract. If it was going to destroy me, at least I could get some media in before that happened. I started the new show again, but I was still too upset to enjoy it, so I stopped it and started rewatching an old episode of Rise and Fall of Sanctuary Moon. After three episodes, I was calmer and reluctantly beginning to see the transport’s perspective. A SecUnit could cause it a lot of internal damage if it wasn’t careful, and rogue SecUnits were not exactly known for lying low and avoiding trouble. I hadn’t hurt the last transport I had taken a ride on, but it didn’t know that. I didn’t understand why it had let me aboard, if it really didn’t want to hurt me. I wouldn’t have trusted me, if I was a transport. Maybe it was like me, and it had taken an opportunity because it was there, not because it knew what it wanted.

The thing about Murderbot's survival is that it clearly involves quite a bit of negotiating with other constructs and bots. That's how it talks its way onto cargo hauler bots in the first place. It uses empathy--envisioning the emotional and cognitive context of the individuals it encounters--to work out what different kinds of people want, so that it can offer them fair trades. It also uses empathy to consider what humans might be looking for, so it can practice blending in and hide.

Murderbot would never have survived so long if it wasn't capable of assessing the individual desires of the people--human, bot, and construct--around it. It thinks about ART's probable fears and motivations so that it can consider whether ART is inherently an ongoing threat or a potential ally.

When your survival depends on evading detection, you get really good at assessing perceptual biases so that you can shape yourself to fit into them. People talk about murderbot being radically empathetic as a choice it makes, or as a feature of its personality that makes it a good person. But I think murderbot would be the the first person to tell you that this empathy is part of its threat assessment suite, a skill that was developed out of necessity in order to allow you to survive.

It is also a trait that makes murderbot a good person, of course: it chooses very carefully to try to survive by doing as little harm as possible and by offering things, like media, that buy it access to things it needs. But it started as a survival skill. It's part of hypervigilance.

I think one of the strengths of this series is that so many of the things we love about SecUnit are traits developed for survival in an inherently threatening world. The shape of its mind and heart have been changed by the trauma of its origin--but they don't make murderbot less good for being altered, even if that skill was developed in a traumatic context.

I like that.

#murderbot #empathy as a tool #note that this is not necessarily natural empathy #it's cognitive and only happens when the adrenaline eases off #going to work my way though the existing published series before I dig into my brand new copy of the new one

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cheesiedomino · 2 months

Text

Second chances ꙳ ੭ * ‧

synopsis: your old situationship from many years ago just moved back in town and of course, he has to text you. but it’s not just any normal text — he’s asking you out on a proper date this time. will you give a second chance to Cupid? or will you be left here feeling stupid?

genre: lee minho x fem!reader | exes (??) to lovers wc: 4.6k tags/warnings: fluff, some light angst, slightly suggestive but nothing srs, mild cursing, kissing, small mentions of crying T-T

now playing 🎧: from the start by laufey

[this is part of my valentine’s series where i write a short story for each member surrounding themes of love, newfound romance, relationship hardships & more.]

“Why don’t you give Tinder a try already? I’m sick of hearing you nagging all day about being lonely!” Areum abruptly suggests mid-convo , resting her palm on the side of her face.

As you both casually wait for the food to arrive, you end up on the dreadful topic of dating again. You got into a real heated discussion with her, sitting in a booth at this new restaurant one of your coworker’s recommended. It wasn’t super well known but they wouldn’t stop raving about how delicious their breadsticks were. The place wasn’t too jam packed but definitely had a decent amount of people. What you weren’t anticipating on was seeing dozens of couples here, it kind of threw your whole vibe off since it only reminded you of your current sad relationship status. Maybe you were putting far too much thought into it but everything seemed so highly unfair. Glaring in envy while they all happily rub in your face that they’ve found their forever companion.

Life really can be cruel at times.

“You can’t be for real right now..” you instantly side eye your friend from across the table. Feeling personally triggered whenever she mentions online dating. You refuse to try it, never wanting to partake in such a vain concept where you swipe left and right based solely on looks. “That’s not the same as real romance. I want to meet someone naturally, wanna tell my kids when they grow up how I met their dreamy, hunk of a father in aisle 39 at Whole Foods.”

One could say it’s almost pathetic in a way— this burning desire you harbor within, longing for a pure, quaint, and beautiful love. Constantly catching yourself daydreaming about finding your life partner, the person you’re going to marry and possibly create an eternal family with. That day has yet to come unfortunately, but you still hold onto the thought of you someday meeting the one.

You thought you found them before, but thou shalt not speak thy names out into existence.

“Well, good luck finding ‘real romance’ in the big age of 2024-” Areum snorts in amusement, taking a pause to sip on her mango strawberry lemonade. “I need whatever drugs you’re on that’s making you this delulu so I can fantasize about my knight and shining armor that’s never coming!”

God you hate that word. Delulu. Why are you suddenly “delusional” for wanting a picture perfect romance? It doesn’t need to be perfect per se, but you want to feel adored, swept off your feet and embraced like the true queen you are. Was that too much to ask? Considering the current state of dating in this day and age, it might just be.

“I mean, let’s face it girl. You literally don’t know the first thing about love ___, it’s not all sunshine and rainbows like in the K-dramas y’know! Haven’t you only had like one boyfriend in high school? You barely even dated that guy for a month-”

“That’s because he dumped me to go move to LA and become a dumb YouTuber!” You snapped back, cutting her off to get all the facts straight.

It was hard not to grimace while thinking of such old memories. Dating a Minecraft streamer definitely had to be one of the most embarrassingly cringe choices you’ve ever made.

“Whatever that’s beside the point. What I’m trying to get at here is you don’t have the best track record when it comes to men. Remember that other guy you were seeing before we graduated? I thought y’all would’ve dated for sure but he turned out to be a dickhole just like the rest of ‘em…” Areum shakes her head in disbelief, recalling all those times you’d call in a frenzied panic about things not working out.

“What was his name again? Min… Minwoo? No, that’s not it.. it was definitely Min something.” She attempts on remembering but keeps drawing a blank.

“Minho.” You answer almost instantaneously. His name still rolled off the tongue smooth as velvet.

It felt weird though. Saying it out loud after so many years of blocking it from your immediate vocabulary. A name you thought would never escape your lips again.

“Damn, you really still think about him don’t you?” She dares to ask, knowing how difficult it is for you to even talk about this anymore.

You only respond by nodding slowly, unable to bring yourself to look at her. It was far too intense; bearing the emotions of hurt and guilt from a past fling that meant more to you but nothing to the other. That’s how most of your tragic stories end— always too overly into them while they barely reciprocate any of that energy towards you. The thing is, you thought Minho actually liked you, even so far as wanting to date in the near future. Considering he brought you over his parent’s house (to hook up of course), and though you didn’t meet them you still think that meant something. Most men don’t just bring any woman they’re seeing to their parent’s place without somewhat thinking a potential relationship could happen down the line.

“So that’s why you should download Tinder and start swipin’ on some other cuties! It’ll at least distract you for a bit and get your mind off that asswipe,” Areum pitches her idea once more, “there’s plenty other fish in the sea ___. Not everyone online is some crazy serial killer, plus you clearly don’t seem to be having much luck out in the real world.”

You wanted to jump up from the table and erase that smirk from her face but instead you roll your eyes at that last remark. “I don’t need those shitty dating apps. I’m very capable of finding someone in real life for your information!” You quickly retort as a means to defend yourself. Even though she did have a point, her delivery could’ve been a little bit nicer.

It’s not easy being a hopeless romantic, you can’t help but yearn for that special someone to enter your life and change it for the better. You won’t feel wholly satisfied nor complete until you do. The sad reality of the matter was that you are still painfully single. No one’s interesting enough to cease your attention, let alone go on any actual dates. Areum’s had enough of your bitching and whining though, there’s only so many rants and tirades she can keep listening to about your vicious hatred for men before she loses it completely. Your nonexistent love life has become more of a nuisance as that time of year approaches— Valentine’s Day. A god forsaken holiday you’ve always loathed with a passion. Wanting nothing more than to be one of those girls on the receiving end getting flowers and chocolates. A day full of the utmost joy and pleasant surprises from your loving significant other.

Must be nice..

Speaking of surprises.. The buzzing in your ear echoes from your phone pinging loudly, indefinitely startling you. Grabbing it to check the sudden notification, your eyes go absurdly wide at the contact name displayed on your screen. Blinking numerous times from shock, you stare at your phone in incredulity; making sure your eyes weren’t playing tricks on you.

Lee Minho. The Lee Minho?

What kind of sorcery is being conjured where the instant you bring him up, he somehow texts you after all these years of not speaking? This coincidence was more than unsettling to you. A part of your inner thoughts still believes this is all some elaborate joke being played on you, waiting for a cameraman to pop out of some curtain to announce you’ve just been pranked. But nothing happens, life proceeds as normal. Now you’re left with the most puzzling notification you might’ve ever received.

It was your last year of college and the pressure of your academics along with appeasing your family was getting to you immensely. You needed an escape from all of it, desperately. Which you found through none other than Lee Minho, the boy who worked as a barista at Cozmo’s; this coffee shop you used to frequent a lot. It was a cute, small family-owned establishment and they made the best matcha lattes— in your humble opinion. You’d pick one up almost every day along with a slice of freshly baked cinnamon bread. It started off as only playful banter with him in the beginning, then it lead to more as time went on. One day, as you reached out to pay he blocked your hand from moving any closer, letting you freely walk away without spending a dime. This soon became a regular occurrence, as you’d start seeing Minho outside of work, getting to know more and more about him. You remember so desperately wanting to date back then, pitying your past self for thinking there was even a chance.

‘Maybe he’s just texted the wrong person’ you psyche yourself into thinking, but when you unlock your phone to finally read the message — an uncomfortable lump forms in the pit of your throat.

Minho 🐈:

Hey is this still ___’s number?

You honestly don’t know why you still have his number saved, let alone allowing a whole emoji to be next to it. Though it never was like you to delete anything, no matter how painful it may have been. More lingering questions makes you want to seek out the possible solutions. Why would he text you of all people ? None of this adds up in your mind realistically. Furrowing your brows in concentration, you think of what to say as you draft out a response.

Yes… who’s this?

After a tedious struggle of typing out multiple paragraphs and immediately deleting them, you went over your words a few more times before sending a final reply. It would’ve been strange had you knew exactly who he was off the bat, that’ll just be dead giveaway you still had his contact info saved this whole time. But with that logic, doesn’t that make Minho just as odd for still keeping your number after all this time has passed?

Your phone dings again.

Minho 🐈:

Srsly -_-

Did you really delete my number??

Bet he didn’t see that one coming. He probably thought the moment he texts you, you were gonna kiss up to him like you’ve always done in the past. Mentally giggling to yourself at the image of him getting flustered by you not knowing who he was at first. Feels good to know you knocked his confidence down a peg.

Lol, chillax.. I know it’s you Minho :P

Not even a minute later, a flood of incoming messages appear. Biting your lip out of nervousness, your heart couldn’t stop beating so fast— anxiously checking your phone as the atmosphere around you suddenly gets stuffier.

Minho 🐈:

Better be lucky I didn’t block you after that ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ

Guess who’s back in the city btw. Did ya miss me? ;)

No need to answer that, I already know you did. You should stop by at Cozmo’s again sometime!

Also what’re you up to this week? I need you to clear out all your plans because I’m taking you out on a date.

You always knew Minho was the bold type but this was on another level. The sheer audacity he has to even ask something like this after not reaching out for almost 3 years was more than ballsy on his part. It felt like a surge of butterflies erupting in your stomach, getting lightheaded as you think about seeing him again. He really had an effect on you like no other.

Glancing up from your screen to finally pay attention to Areum again, you assure her everything’s going to be just fine. “Looks like I won’t be needing to download Tinder after all.”

Later on that day you ended up going to Cozmo’s and meeting up with Minho. It never really took much convincing from him to get you to budge, though it was a hell of a lot worse back then. You used to blindly follow along with anything he said just to seek his approval, hoping that eventually he’ll see you as the girl he wants to settle down with. Alas, nothing ever blossomed into something more, and you knew deep down that this was headed nowhere— but that still didn’t stop you from fantasizing about a future with him. Getting lost into deep thought, head heavy in the clouds as you imagine the idea of Minho confessing his undying love for you. You’ll be so caught off guard as he gets down on one knee, looking at you with the entire solar system in eyes while he proposes in the most charming way. It really is pitiful how much you still daydream about a guy who wasn’t your boyfriend but would constantly act like he was, then up and leaves without mentioning a single word about it.

You convinced yourself he ran off with someone else to have a better life with, even hearing through town gossip that he’s moved to South Korea to pursue becoming an idol. Whatever the case may be it still weighed heavily on your mind that he never bothered to tell you anything, even a simple ‘goodbye’ would’ve sufficed the empty hole in your heart. The main reason you agreed on meeting up with Minho was to finally ask, why? Why did he pretend to like you? Why did he act like your boyfriend when he never had intentions on seriously dating? Why was he so good at making you fall so hard for him..?

“You look great.” You subconsciously blurt out, affixed in a daze as you stare in awe at the man in front of you.

It’s been a while since you came here— never able to fully bring yourself to try and go back. Though you knew this place first, and they really did have the best Mactha lattes in the universe. It reminded you too much of him and you sadly had to let it go.

You weren’t proud of it but you did go home quickly to change clothes and redo your makeup. Usually you wouldn’t care but this was the only guy you’ve been consistently crushing on for years, you had to feel good inside and out. Minho was just as gorgeous as you remembered, if not he looked even more ethereal — which seemed impossible in itself already. He’s grown up so beautifully, his facial features became more sharp, especially his jawline which looks so defined and sculpted by the Gods.

Minho lightly chuckles at your timidness, some things just never change. “You look way better.” His lips drew into a faint smirk as he admires your presence.

He meant every word of what he said, you looked really good, and it was making him even more frustrated that so much time has passed. Regretting the way he handled things so many years ago, wishing he could take it all back and do everything differently. Seeing you again made it easier for Minho to suppress the guilt he’s borne for so long. This moment feels like a second chance to make amends for his past mistakes.

You couldn’t help but blush when you hear his compliment, feeling your ears grow hot as you look at the ground. There was a silent pause between you that lasted for what seemed like ages. Weirdly enough the conversation flowed well after he finally broke the awkwardness, the chemistry was overall still there and were able to pick up right where it left off.

“I’m so glad you came ___, I’ve been dying to see you since I got here. I’m surprised you even still responded to my lame ass.”

Minho’s light confession puzzles you. If he really was dying to see you, why’d he wait so long to get in contact with you? To be fair, you don’t know the exact time he came back.

“Oh, is that so? When’d you come back? Also show me pics of Korea, I’ve always wanted to know what it’s like there.” You fondly inquire, leaning against the side of the wall as he’s still behind the counter. He mentioned to you he’s only working part time because his parents would rather mooch off their son for free labor than to hire and pay a new employee.

“Yesterday,” he quickly states before taking out his phone to scroll through his gallery, “guess my sister must’ve told you I went there huh?”

You shook your head, “Nah, I haven’t talked to Elle in a while. She’s tried hitting me up a few times though.. but I found out through Areum ‘cause she was seeing Hoseok back then.”

They were definitely “seeing” each other alright, but mostly in the bedroom. Areum didn’t want anything exclusive with Hoseok and neither did he, it was the perfect friends with benefits situation. Minho and Hoseok were good friends who’ve known each other for a while, so naturally he’d tell Areum everything and overshare at some point.

“Agh, there’s a customer gotta take this. One sec, sorry!” He briefly apologizes before bringing his attention to the new person heading inside. You nod, signaling he’s good to go. “I’ll be waiting over there,” you point to a small wooden table with 2 chairs in a corner.

Once Minho comes back you notice he’s no longer wearing his purple work apron; back in his regular attire now and sporting an oversized dark grey hoodie that was three times too big. He was holding a large cup with green liquid and a paper bag in his hand, that’s when it clicks for you— he still remembers your favorite meal.

He’s grinning the whole time he’s handing you the matcha latte and cinnamon pastry, smiling from ear to ear like a kid on Christmas Day. This was the most you’ve seen him be so enthusiastic about something, even back when you were “with” him you can’t recall him beaming with such energy like this.

“Awh, thank you. I haven’t had either one of these in years!” You wanted to give him the biggest hug but you refrained from doing so, feeling as though it may be too early for that.

“Of course dear, anything for you.”

Why does everything he says have to make you melt from the inside out? It’s not fair! >:(

Glancing down at your yummy beverage, you see a message written on the side of the glass with bold permanent sharpie. Tilting your head to read it, the words are bit jumbled together but you get the gist. You’re almost left speechless after it reads: ‘___, Will you be my valentine?’

Your most dreaded and least favorite holiday is here, yippee! But, there’s a twist on this year’s turn of events; you actually have someone to celebrate this wretched tradition with. You should be excited but all you’re feeling is the sudden urge to vomit as you were nervous out of your mind. This was kind of weird to you, going on a date with your ex boyfriend who was never even your real boyfriend. Looking back on it now you shouldn’t have tolerated a relationship dynamic like that, Minho was clearly taking advantage of your passiveness by not explicitly saying what he wanted. On the contrary, you had no one to blame but yourself, you never spoke up or criticized anything even if it didn’t coincide with your personal morals.

The fact he never took you on an actual date until now speaks volumes, you obviously didn’t have enough self worth back to demand better treatment. It took you years of figuring out what a real, healthy relationship is supposed to be like through trials of therapy and that was an emotional rollercoaster in itself. All your uncertainties soon faded away once you became more secure and knew exactly what you wanted for yourself. It took every ounce of patience and acceptance to unlearn all your bad coping mechanisms and other toxic behaviors that were only stunting your inner growth. You’re happy to be in a position now where you’re able to express wholeheartedly what you deserve, it’s the best feeling ever to feel like you’re in control of your own life.

You spent almost 3 hours getting ready and your bedroom now looked like a war zone. The outfit you chose was super girly, a frilly white dress with pink platform heels— Minho’s going to drool in amazement when he sees you. When you sent Areum photos of you before heading out, she responds right way with a series of hearts and other sweet comments— hyping you up to no end like the best friend she is. She’s also able to help pull you out of your doubtful headspace, when you felt unsure if you could really go through with this she quickly psyched you out of it. Reminding you exactly who you are and why you are the prize, not him. ‘He should be the one who’s nervous, not the other way around’ you assure yourself over and over as a mini ego boost.

His jaw dropped when he spotted you walking up to his car, infatuated by how pretty and perfect you looked in every way possible. It angers him so much to know he took all this for granted, he didn’t appreciate all of you the way he should’ve but now he gets another chance to redo everything and right his wrongs. It’s a lot of pressure but he bravely accepts it, he could never mess up another opportunity like this again. The car ride was fairly silent in the beginning, you were vibing in peace as the only thing you could hear was Minho’s soft indie playlist as background music.

You ultimately chose to be the one to speak first, breaking the ice with a simple inquiry about the date. “So where are we going?” Looking out at the scenery from the window, all you is trees and more trees. If it’s something to do with nature you surely don’t want any parts of it, you’ve never been too fond of the wilderness.

“It’s a surprise, I can’t tell you.” He keeps a tight seal on today’s destination without dropping a single hint, forcing you to go completely blind into this. As he goes back to focus on the road, you sigh anxiously after hearing him refuse to disclose anything.

Did he seriously forget what kind of person you are? Anyone who’s close to you at all knows you’ve never been into those types of things. Ever.

“You know I hate surprises Minho,” you remind him, attempting to pry for more information. Even shooting him a doe eyed look along with poking out your bottom lip, but he doesn’t falter.

He simply nods, “I know but you’ll like this one, just have a little bit of faith me.” Flashing an innocent smile at you, he seems to be overly confident in whatever his plan consists of.

After almost half an hour passes the car finally comes to a stop, you scan the area and instantly notice a sense of familiarity among the place. Across from you was an ice cream parlor you thought didn’t exist anymore. But there it is, still standing with dozens of customers waiting in line. The small shop was famously known for its fish-shaped ice cream cones, you’ve always wanted to visit the place and try it when you were a little from seeing it on TV all the time. When you told Minho about it, you said how your parents would say it was too far but it actually closed down and they didn’t know how to tell you. From time to time you’d still think about that place, but you would’ve never thought they relocated. Being here with Minho brings an indescribable amount of happiness to your spirit.

“I mentioned this place like one time in passing, how’d you even remember?” You wonder in amazement, after all these years he still remembers something as minuscule as this.

“It may not have seemed like it but I paid attention to every little detail you told me ___, all it. Of course I know you don’t like surprises but how else would I have been able to take you here?” He sweetly expresses to you, not wanting to hold back anymore.

You wanted to cry right here, right now. All your emotions came crashing down at once and it’s hard to keep them concealed. A lot has changed within these years, things feel so different with him now, especially with how much he’s matured. You notice how he doesn’t act like the typical fuckboy in his early 20’s anymore, he’s much more interested in getting to know only person — that being you.

“I’ve rehearsed this in my head like a million times and I don’t think I’ll ever say it the right way I want but it’s time I start being as transparent as possible with you…” Minho takes a deep breath before continuing, “I’ve always liked you ___, from the start actually,” he keeps going, “I was just scared, of what I don’t know.. Commitment maybe?”

Slightly looking in another direction, your vision faintly blurs from tears welling up, “I- I honestly don’t know what to say..”

“Then don’t say anything at all, I don’t need you to. I may not know the first thing about how to love someone, but I want to learn all of it with you.” He feels all the remorse of leaving you alone for all these years, unable to process the pain you must’ve endured at him not getting into contact with you. “I’m so sorry ___. For everything, I’m going to make it all better I promise.”

Your eyes subconsciously flutter shut when he comes in contact with you. Connecting in perfect symmetry with your lips to sync together in motion. His gentle hands cupped your face delicately; his touch was so warm and inviting. Your fingers were deeply tangled in his brunette locks, relishing every minute as he tilts his head to capture more of you. He genuinely couldn’t believe he went this long without kissing these luscious lips again. His tongue grazed the bottom of your lip to subtly ask for entry and you comply. Dopamine floods both your senses like a series of fireworks going off, feeling intoxicated by each other’s taste. It was probably that vanilla bean chapstick you always wore— an old favorite of his and is still your go-to flavor of choice. He wanted to savor you in this moment for as long as he could, cherish the fact he has you in his hold again.

“Want to know something funny?” He asks out of nowhere, still smirking from that heated kiss that just happened seconds ago.

“Hm?”

“You’re the reason I ended up coming back here.” Minho states bluntly, no hesitation detected in his voice whatsoever.

You struggle to comprehend anything, overwhelmed by all his sudden confessions. “What do you mean?”

“I mean I never want to leave your side ever again ___. I’m staying here with you, I already made the biggest mistake of losing you once I can’t let the same thing happen twice.” He spoke tenderly from the bottom of his heart, it felt so genuine you couldn’t not believe him.

Going back to rewind time isn’t possible, but “do-over’s” are, and sometimes we’re able to get those second chances to make things right when we get them wrong the first time.

[End <3].

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ponderingmoonlight · 3 months

Text

Sukuna comforting you after a breakup

Pairing: Sukuna x reader

Word Count: 627

Notes: I don't know who needs to read this but somehow I needed to write it inspired by that edit I saw on Instagram a few days ago

Imagine Sukuna laying his eyes on your puny figure sitting on the completely destroyed sidewalk while you cry your heart out in the middle of Shibuya.

“Why the hell are you sitting there crying like a baby?”

“Leave me alone”, you mutter into your hands.

He furrows his eyebrows, body drawing closer to you. Did those words really leave your mouth? Nobody ever dares to talk to him like that. Especially not when you're all alone out here with Gojo being sealed.

“Don’t you know who I am, stupid girl?”

“I don’t give a damn about who you are. Just leave”, you bark at him.

Why? Why on earth did it end like this? You really thought you could make it, that your relationship can be saved if you put the work in it, that you’ll be able to change yourself. But then this call came in, only minutes before you arrived in Shibuya.

“It’s over, (y/n).”

It’s over. How is it supposed to be over when it didn’t even start yet? How is it supposed to be over when your heart still aches for the tender touch of your love, for the smile that haunts you in your dreams, for this one person alone? A new wave of tears swells up your puffy eyes and takes your sight, body still numb in agony. This can’t be true. It shouldn’t have ended like this.

Your heart sinks through your shaky fingertips onto the floor, bleeds out when reality hits you like a wall.

But it definitely is over.

“You’re lucky I’m having a good day.”

His voice is suddenly next to you, forces your eyes to dart up. This is Yuji. No…Just one look into his blank eyes is enough for you to realize that Sukuna himself is sitting next to you, nipping on a coke as if he isn’t the king of curses.

You should be scared. Fuck, you should scream in horror and try to run away. But instead, you just stare at him blankly. Does it even matter what happens to you anymore?

“What is it?”

“What is what?”, you try to avoid his question.

Oh god, as if it isn’t bad enough that you’re sitting here like an idiot while crying your heart out.

“What is all of this about?”

You swallow hard. There is no way out of this, no chance to escape the piercing gaze of his. You will have to tell him the truth.

“I’ve got dumped today”, you mutter.

“Dumped”, he repeats dryly.

“Dumped.”

“And that’s what you’re crying about? Some random guy?”

“It wasn’t just a random guy”, you bite back in a desperate attempt to defend yourself.

No, more like the one you imagined your future with, the one you wanted to adopt a dog or cat with, the one who was supposed to stay. But now all of this is gone in the wind. Your past, your present, your future. Everything went black.

“You know what makes me so damn strong?”

What? You blink away your tears, confusion written on your face. What on earth is he talking about?

“Because you killed countless people, are older than dinosaurs…-“

“Because I never let a love story distract me from my own strength.”

“What are you talking about?”, you huff in response, shaking your head in sheer disbelief.

What is that supposed to mean? You’re not Ryomen Sukuna, you aren’t a special grade sorcerer, you are…A no one, not even able to keep your relationship up. Fuck, you should have worked on yourself like you've promised over and over, shouldn't have started fights over things that wouldn't have changed anyway. You...You are the problem.

“Shouldn’t you be strong on your own as well?”

You have to blink a few times, mind trying to process the meaning of his words. Sukuna throws away the empty cup of coke and gets up, casually straightening his clothes before yanking your chin upwards, forcing you to stare straight into his red eyes.

“You don’t need anyone. Now get your puny self up and stop giving other people that power over you. If I see you crying over that relationship again, I’ll kill you right on the spot. Got it?”

Your heart flutters uncontrollably in your chest, hands shaking by the sheer force of his words. Why does he have to be so damn right? Why…why do you suddenly feel better?

“Got it”, you breathe out, clenching your trembling fingers into a tight fist.

Yeah, you got it.

Tags: @arehzhera @ploylulla @tzubaki @beatrexworld @dazaisdick @hellkaiserinphoenix @lauv4chuuya @shadowfoxey @starlightanyaaa @sindela @kayleegomez @sunshine7queen @magalimachete @mokoartpost @gatitam @idontknow1123 @creative1writings @sanicsmut @mynahx3 @sad-darksoul @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix @chuyasthighs0 @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly @wxwieeee @lovelyluna1 @froufrousnowman @hidazini @tomiokathedepresso @gojosrealwife @coffeeluvr96 @mahi-tamashi @weebotaku21 @chaoticwinnercupcake @lees-chaotic-brain @risuola @sugurulefttesticle @wordskeeper @baku2345 @polarbvnny @ruixrei @bam-bam-bam-bame-blog @lavenderdrxp @localhehecat @alicerhr@kayleegomez @belovedvamp @wifenanami @chilichopsticks @dlwlrmas-world @oikawarz @darkstarlight82 @satoreo @luwumii @tachiharazsstuff @kentocalls @cheesemachine44 @ryva @kenjakusconcubine @baku2345 @komelrebi-san @deezy12299@busyreader17 @4pgletter @okay-it-is-ivy @iluvtoru

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beenbaanbuun · 3 months

Text

misunderstandings w/ san

words - some

genre - fluff/angst with a dash of nsfw but not smut

warnings - horny!san, soft!san, sad!reader, misunderstandings, san in grey sweatpants, mentions of sex, no actual sex/sexual acts, reader speaks in riddles and expects san to understand

it’s no surprise to anyone that san likes to be cosy and comfy

we’ve all seen that fuzzy great sweater that he always wears

that thing looks like it would send me to sleep within seconds of putting it on, but i digress…

another item of clothing he keeps close to his heart is sweat pants, more specifically grey ones

he says they’re just comfy, but you know exactly why he wears them

they cling to his thighs so nicely and leave very little to the imagination

sometimes just seeing him in them is enough to drive you insane

it’s even worse if he takes a shower before putting them on, because 9 times out of 10, that man is not putting underwear on with them

a shirt is also optional… apparently san just doesn’t like the way they feel when his skin is damp

personally, you think san just does it because he knows it drives you crazy

in fact, there’s been more than a few times when you’ve texted san throughout your day at work about how much you miss him

and shown up at the end of the day with him on your couch, just like that; half naked with sopping wet hair

and whilst ‘i miss you’ usually is just code for ‘i’m horny’, sometimes it just means you’re having a bad day and want to hold him close for the rest of the day

either way, you don’t mind showing up to your house with a half naked san on your couch

you’re about to get the best dick of your life, or incredibly soft cuddles

it all depends on your response to his obvious advances, although sometimes he isn’t the best at taking hints

“you’re home,” he opens his arms the moment you walk through the door, as if asking for a hug

you’re more than happy to oblige, dumping your bag on the floor and letting your tired body collapse onto his

it had been a frustrating day to say the least

your coworker had been off so her work had been passed to you, despite the fact that no one person would be able to do all of that by themselves

still, the boss expected it whether you complained or not

saying you were drained was an understatement

as your body connects with san’s, he grunts, but catches you effortlessly

“fucking hell, babe,” he squeezes you gently as he holds you to his chest, “careful, yeah?”

you nod half heartedly into the damp skin of his neck

“you’re naked,” you deadpan, snuggling into his warmth a little

you know what it means, but you haven’t quite decided whether that’s what you want or not

maybe sex would take your mind off the day behind you

or maybe it would overstimulate you and send you spiralling… who’s to know!

“hardly,” he replies, “i have my sweatpants on…”

“and what are the chances of there being something underneath,” you wait for his response, but he stays silent which tells you everything you need to know

not that you need any confirmation; you can feel his hardening dick pressing against your thigh

you decide then and there that no, sex definitely would not be the best option

the thought alone of the ache that would follow is enough to make you decide that you certainly could not handle it right now

“it’s covered, is it not?” he finally says through pouted lips

you sit up fully and look at him with a fed-up expression, hoping he gets the message

you’d never been too good at saying no to people

something along the lines of not wanting to disappoint people

usually you just dropped hints and hoped for the best; san usually understood sooner or later

“it’s rock hard against my leg, san,” you scoff, “i don’t think your sweatpants are going to stop me from feeling that…”

he shrugs with a smirk

“that sounds like a you problem,” he says, which is actually factually incorrect, “maybe you should do something to sort it out…”

you can’t help but sigh at his inability to take any sort of hint

“or maybe, you can take yourself up to the bathroom and get rid of the problem yourself!”

it’s more obvious that the glare you gave him previously

still, the smirk remains as though you’re just teasing him

he shakes his head with a grin

“but you’re literally right here,” he whines, “and the bathroom is all the way upstairs…”

“i’m not in the mood to ache right now, sannie,” you once again, drop a hint that he, once again, completely disregards

in fact your statement makes him smile, clearly happy with what your statement implies about how good he fucks you usually

“i’ll be gentle?”

“san!” you scold, frustrated that your rock-headed boyfriend can’t seem to understand that whether or not he was rough was not the issue here

“i’m just saying,” he puts his hands up defensively

you look down at him with tired eyes, frustrated tears forming in the corners as you grow tired of throwing hint after hint at him

as much as you hated saying ‘no’ so bluntly, you settle on the fact that you might have to

“san,” you start, taking a deep sigh to calm your nerves, “i’m trying to tell you that i don’t want to have sex right now.”

you have to force yourself to look at him

even though you know that he’ll be more than fine with that fact, you can’t help but feel a little guilty about it

and when you look up at him, you can’t help not notice that his face falls a little

not that he’s upset at you not wanting sex, he’s just upset that he clearly misread the situation

and maybe he feels a little (a lot) guilty for pushing so hard when, now that he thinks back on it, you actually weren’t that interested

“oh, baby,” he mumbles softly as he moves his hands to rest against your thighs that sit either side of hips, “bad kind of ‘i miss you’, huh?”

you nod

“the bad kind,” you respond with a shrug, as if you’re trying to pass it off as nothing

but of course, gentleman san would never let that happen

because your emotions are never nothing

“you should’ve told me straight away,” he scolds gently, “or maybe i should’ve asked…” he frowns, “either way, if i’d have known i’d never have pushed so hard… you know that, right?”

you nod ever so slightly

of course you should’ve told him straight away, but again, saying no is hard for you and the ever present fear of disappointment hangs over your head like a rain cloud

and while you were positive that nothing you did could ever disappoint san, there was still something in the back of your brain that told you otherwise

“of course i know that, sannie,” you pout, “but you know me…”

“hm, i do know you,” he mutters as he rubs gentle circles into your thighs, “and i know how scary saying no is, but it’s just me.”

just san… it’s just san

you nod, understanding exactly what he means

there’s no external judgement, or any judgement at all for that matter, because it’s just san

and san doesn’t care about these things

san just wants to make you happy and if sex wouldn’t make you happy, then san would happy live with blue balls for the night

you nod again, more enthusiastic this time

“it’s just you,” you give him a small smile, which he returns without even a second passing

“there’s that pretty smile,” he coos before shifting his hands to your waist and tugging you gently until you’re lay flat against his chest once more

and you’re happy to just lie there in silence as san trails his fingers up and down your spine to soothe you

he’s not asked about your day yet, and he probably won’t for a while, content to sit in silence and love you for now

and you’re content too

very content

#ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez oneshot #ateez fluff #ateez fic #ateez headcanons #ateez smut #san fic #san oneshot #san fluff #san x reader #ateez angst #san smut #san angst

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honeytonedhottie · 4 months

Text

how to isolate and grow⋆.ೃ࿔*:･💶

quick disclaimer : when i say "isolate" i dont mean the negative connotation of self isolation where you push everyone away, i mean the laying back and rly focusing and tapping into urself BY yourself.

accessibility : limit people's accessibility to you, or narrow down how many people you allow to access you. ur energy is SACRED ur time is a privilege. its important that ur no longer looking for outlets in people.

during this time of stepping back and being super picky with how and who u spend ur time with its the perfect opportunity to separate urself from the toxicity that some people in ur life might bring. in that same breath, its easier said for friends then it is for family members because when u think isolation ur probably thinking of being a home-body which is a part of it. but if ur home is whats making u sick then try and spend time AWAY of the home to do whatever u need to do.

self awareness and responsibility : take a moment and be truly objective with urself. practice having the difficult conversations with urself. u know ur goals, but are u the person that can have those goals? and if not, how can u get to become that person.

this is also the time to address things that you've been sweeping under the rug. address anything thats starting to become a problem and address bigger problems in ur life. we wanna be able to take responsibility for ourselves and PROBLEM SOLVE. be super clear on what u wanna focus on during ur self isolation period and WHY you are choosing to do this.

find a mentor : find someone who resonates with you, whether it be online or in person, who is living the life that YOU wanna live or living a life similar to one that u wanna live. u dont have to have just one mentor, it can be multiple mentors for different aspects of ur life that u wanna improve. ur mentors dont even need to know you honestly, just someone u look up to

detox ur brain : mental diet. mindset is EVERYTHING as you know if you've been consuming my content lately. everything and i mean EVERYTHING begins in the brain. the thoughts that u think today will be what u experience tomorrow. speak to urself nicely, throw away old thoughts that dont align with ur dreams and replace them with positive ones thru repetition, fixed attention and practice

do brain dumps before u go to bed, its good to get out all of the thoughts in ur head before u go to sleep, out of ur brain and onto a piece of paper or something else in general. it doesn't have to be in a negative connotation either, write down ideas that pass thru ur head, goals, inspirations etc.

clean out : anything that u tend to cling to, whether its devices, drugs, drinking etc. practice fasting from it. it doesn't have to be extreme, just taking a break from it REGULARLY will improve it so much. an analogy i like to use for gradual change like this is with a rubber band. if u stretch the rubber band as far as it can go too quickly then it'll break, however if u gradually stretch the rubber band little by little, you can stretch it super far and it won't break.

experimentation : while ur self isolating this is the perfect opportunity to experiment with ur physical. dye ur hair a color that you've always been wanting it to. grow ur hair a couple inches, take extra good care of ur skin, experiment with different clothing styles. become ur own MUSE.

with that being said i wish everyone luck and blessings as you isolate and grow 🫶🏽

#self concept #advice #it girl #becoming that girl #self care #self love #that girl #it girl energy #dream girl #dream life #dream girl tips #girl blogger #hyperfemininity #self development #self improvement #self growth #self reflection #honeytonedhottie

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bellaxgiornata · 7 months

Text

Under the Weather

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader Word Count: 2.2k

Summary: Despite the fact that he's coming down with a cold, Matt refuses to heed your advice on staying inside instead of running around Hell's Kitchen in the freezing autumn rain. In the morning, you're left with an even sicker, more stubborn Devil.

Warnings/tags: 18+; Nothing but fluff and a stubborn, flirty Devil

a/n: Yet another little fluffy fic for Mandy's Sweater Weather Challenge by the lovely @she-likesorchids! Can you tell I had to make sure all my boys got a fic? This one was for the prompt "Let's just stay in bed." Feedback is always appreciated!

Finally finished with the after dinner cleanup, you washed your hands in the kitchen sink, the pounding of the rain outside the apartment a persistent backdrop to the evening. As you turned off the faucet and reached over to grab the towel from the nearby hook, you heard the bedroom door slide open. Glancing up from your place at the sink as you dried your hands, you spotted Matt exiting the bedroom dressed in his black suit, his black mask on his head but not yet pulled down over his face. You frowned at the sight of him, eyes focusing back on the windows covered in rainfall as the light from the billboard across the street flooded through them, coating the living room in a dark blue.

Focusing back on Matt, you hung up the towel before you began to make your way through the kitchen towards him. You noticed how he'd stopped mid-step on his way to the stairs leading to the roof access as you walked, his head shifting over his shoulder towards you.

"Matt," you said, tone lightly chastising.

It didn’t escape your notice how he'd instantly stiffened at the sound of your voice. You could also tell by the way his shoulders were slightly slumped forward and the faint red tinge visible on his nose that he still felt a bit under the weather. But of course, Matthew being Matthew, he apparently was still planning to go out. You should have known as much.

"Maybe you should stay in tonight," you suggested carefully, eyeing the thin material of his shirt as the rain only continued to dump onto the roof of the apartment. "You know, like we talked about earlier? At dinner?"

He turned fully towards you, straightening his back as his sightless gaze landed on your chest. His eyes narrowed a bit and you knew he was about to pretend the big bad Devil wasn't sick, but the faint sniffle from his stuffed up nose ruined whatever effect he thought he was about to have on you.

“I’m fine, sweetheart," he told you.

His voice was a little distorted because of the congestion and you scoffed immediately. Crossing your arms over your chest, you quirked a brow at him.

"You're sick, Matt," you pointed out. "You need rest. You said yourself earlier that nothing was going on tonight in Hell’s Kitchen. So stay in and take care of yourself. You'll be no help to anyone in the city if something actually happens and you're even sicker."

Matt shook his head at you, that stubborn expression still on his face. Of course he wasn't going to listen. He was going to ignore what he needed to do for himself for the sake of the people of Hell’s Kitchen, and as much as you loved and admired that about him, he really needed to learn one of these days that he was still only human. He needed to take care of himself.

But getting that through his head was damn near impossible.

"I don't get sick," he countered, voice still noticeably off. "I’m completely fine, sweetheart. I'm just going out for a bit to keep an eye on things. You don't need to wait up for me."

“Matt, it’s barely above freezing outside right now!” you exclaimed, throwing a hand towards the living room window. “And it’s raining . Ten degrees less and that would be snow right now! What you're wearing isn't even remotely warm. You’re going to make yourself incredibly sick if you go running around rooftops tonight dressed in that !”

Matt’s lips drew into a devilish smirk, a smug expression overtaking his features. The look might have had the desired effect on you if he hadn’t sniffled loudly yet again, his red nose scrunching up as he did.

“You like this suit,” he countered.

“No,” you said, holding up a hand as you corrected him. “I like how you look in this suit, Matt. I absolutely hate how little protection it offers for knives, baseball bats, and cold weather. There’s a massive difference.”

“I’ll be just fine,” he assured you.

Matt reached a hand up, pulling his mask down until it covered his face, leaving only his lips and chin visible. The gesture was meant to end the conversation, you were aware of that. Sighing in exasperation, you rolled your eyes at him. You knew damn well he was going to be miserable come morning.

“We all know you’re just going to do what you want anyway,” you grumbled, crossing the rest of the way over towards him. “Just be careful, okay? I don’t need you bleeding out and sick later.”

“I’m not sick,” he countered immediately.

“Mhmm,” you hummed out, leaning over to plant a kiss on his cheek, just below the black fabric of his mask. “Sure you’re not, babe. I’ll remember that when you’re clinging to me tomorrow and complaining about how awful you feel.”

You could tell by the way his lips pursed and the fabric had shifted along his face that he was shooting you an irritated look. The corner of your own mouth quirked up into a smirk. You’d seen Matt sick a couple of times before and he was always absolutely desperate for physical comfort–though you figured with his heightened senses, being sick felt a whole lot worse to him. And you figured it probably muted his usual ability to navigate the world as he was used to, especially with a stuffed up nose affecting his sense of smell.

“I do not get clingy ,” he disagreed with obvious distaste.

“Whatever you say, Matty,” you replied, lightly patting him on the arm.

You turned, making your way over towards the leather couch. If Matt was going to run around outside in the equivalent of tissue paper while he was sick, you were going to relax and watch some television while being smart and not going outside in the freezing autumn rain.

“I do not get clingy!” he stated again.

Abruptly he turned, storming his way over towards the staircase. You settled into the cushions of the couch with a shake of your head.

“Alright, you don’t get clingy when you’re sick,” you told him.

As you picked up the television remote from the coffee table, you saw Matt had paused yet again at the sound of your voice. Head turning just over his shoulder, cocked a bit to the side, you didn’t miss the deep frown spreading over his lips.

“You didn’t mean that,” he pointed out, tapping a gloved hand to his ear. “I could hear your heart.”

Rolling your eyes playfully at him, you flashed him a grin before you focused on the television across the room. “Of course I didn’t,” you told him, turning on the TV. “Because you do get clingy when you’re sick.”

Matt rumbled out a noise of frustration, stalking his way up the stairs and towards the roof access without another word. He obviously knew he wasn’t winning this argument with you. You began scanning through the channels, looking for a fall baking show to watch as he pulled the door open, the sound of the rain outside briefly louder until the door closed with a sharp clang after him. Shaking your head again, you finally settled on what you were looking for.

“You’re going to be so miserable in the morning,” you muttered under your breath, aware he could still hear you.

°•°•°•°•°•°

Something ice cold landed on your bare stomach and your eyes immediately snapped open, the chill pulling you straight from your sleep. A miserable, muffled groan met your ears over the sound of light rain pattering outside as your barely conscious mind tried to quickly piece everything together.

You were in bed with Matt curled up against the back of you. Apparently it was his icy cold hand on your stomach that had woken you. He shifted behind you, his frigid hand on your bare stomach drawing you further towards him just before he buried his face against the back of your neck. You shivered at how cold he felt against you–Matt was usually a furnace who kept you warm.

“Matt, you’re freezing,” you whispered, trying to glance over your shoulder at him.

“I know,” he groaned, pulling himself in tighter to the back of you. “You’re so warm, though.”

You frowned immediately at the thick, congested sound of his voice. He sounded far worse than he had last night. And that was the only thing keeping you from your usual reaction to Matt’s nearly naked body wrapped so tight around yours.

“You’re sick,” you pointed out.

He groaned again, shaking his head against the back of your neck. “Don’t say it,” he begged, his voice almost a whine. "Don't even say it, sweetheart."

Sighing at his plea for you to not rub the consequences of his actions in his face, your hand dropped down to cover the one he had on your stomach. You did your best attempting to warm it up, rubbing your hand back and forth across his large one. Matt hummed out a pleased noise in response, the sound quite nasally.

“Fine, but you’re sick, Matt,” you pointed out. “I need to take your temperature. See what medicine we still have in the apartment for you to take because I might need to run to the store." You paused when he pitifully moaned in protest at that. "And you’re not going into the office to help Foggy with that thing this morning. I’ll call him myself. Him and Karen can handle things on their own. You need rest.”

“Only if you stay with me,” he murmured, his arm tightening around your waist. “You’re so warm and comfortable. Don't want you to go. Let's just stay in bed .”

Clearing your throat, you pitched your voice lower as you grinned and said, “I’m not clingy, sweetheart.”

Matt groaned again, burying his face further into your neck. “ Not funny,” he muttered.

“Maybe to you,” you countered, still grinning, “but I think it’s quite pertinent.” Patting the back of his hand that was holding you firmly to the front of himself, you said, "I need to get up, Matty. Need to call Fog for you and find the thermometer. And check the medicine cabinet to see what we have. Maybe make us both some hot tea while I'm up."

You felt the way he shook his head once again against you, muttering out a noise of disagreement. He began shifting behind you in the bed, soon tossing one of his legs over the top of both of yours. It was so easy to forget how muscular and powerful Matt was sometimes because you were so used to seeing him walking around the apartment in barely anything most of the time, his muscles often on display. But his single leg was solid and heavy , easily trapping you beneath the weight of it as he refused to release his hold on you and let you up.

" Matt !" you laughed out, reaching your hand down to playfully swat his thigh. "I'm trying to help you!"

"No. Don't want it," he muttered, words muffled against your skin. " Mine ," his congested voice nearly purred as he curled possessively around you.

Your eyes widened in surprise, another little laugh falling out of you. That was new.

"Matt, I at least need to call Fog and get your temperature–you're positively freezing," you told him. "Let me help you. Please?"

He grumbled discontentedly in response, not making any attempt to move. You shifted as best as you could in his restricting embrace, trying to get a look at him.

" Please ?" you tried again, drawing the word out.

It was a moment before he released a resigned sigh beside your ear, his warm breath brushing over your shoulder a sharp contrast to his cold skin pressed against you.

"Will you come back to bed after?" he asked. "Stay with me?"

"If that's what you want, I can stay with you for a bit longer this morning," you relented. "But only after I get all of that done."

Matt hummed out a noise of disagreement, shaking his head. "Uh uh," he mumbled. "I'll give you ten minutes."

You laughed once again, unable to help yourself. "Excuse me? You'll give me ten minutes?" you asked him. "What happens if I take longer than that?"

Gradually he drew his thick thigh from off the top of you, his cold hand retreating from your stomach soon after. Your brows briefly furrowed before he gave your ass a light, unexpected smack. Instantly your eyes widened in shock at the gesture.

"The Devil will bring you back to bed," he warned.

That familiar dark, gravelly tone of his was hard to miss, even with how congested he sounded. A jolt of something shot through you at his threat, the hair on the back of your neck raising. Matt rumbled out a noise behind you in response to your body's reaction.

"Better hurry," he teased. "Time is running out, sweetheart."

Tossing the covers off of yourself, you climbed out of bed and grabbed your phone from the nightstand. Though as you headed to the bathroom to check the medicine cabinet and grab the thermometer, you admittedly found yourself curious about what a sick Devil might do to you if you took too long.

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock fluff #mandy's sweater weather challenge #matt murdock #daredevil

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secretagentsociety · 1 year

Text

loves makes people crazy

yandere dragon X madly in love reader

Here's another idea,a yandere dragon like all powerful and scary the villager is scared of him,the king is scared of him,the Wizards and pretty much everyone and their grandmother is scared of him but then there's you,you different breed of a human decides to see him for the first time and say "yes that's my hubby" and the rest is history

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

• people often called you crazy, dilusional and others not so nice insults for being still not being married despite hitting the big 2 0 that and also rejecting the local lords and basically anyone who tries to court you

• now just because people say it doesn't mean you HAVE to follow it yk?oh but you did you played their little fantasy of you being crazy so perfectly people were honestly scared for your mental well being,why?you may ask

• well it's because when khum first arrived at the village (I say first but it's really his 100th time terrorising the village) you decide to whisper something that some people might have heard "he's perfect" you said eyes filled with hearts watching him scaring the sht out of the locals

• honestly you're staring so much he could feel you boring holes into his head,curious he looked around for whoever it is that dared to stare at him for so long and BAM! He saw you,at first he thought you're staring at him in contempt or anger maybe both but then you sigh lovingly and waved at him a fools smile placed upon your face

• he had to look around and points at himself just to made sure he even mouthed "m-me? you're talking to me?!" But you blowing him a kiss and winking made it pretty clear it was him,well let's say after that he couldn't help but think about you "what an odd human" he thought

• "oh my god haven't you heard?! The dragons visit has been so frequent lately our village can't keep affording the rebuilding cost!" One of the villagers said,you aren't paying attention but just hearing him coming back more and more made your heart flutter "I know it's a blessing" you sighed melting into the seat as you remembered the first time he talks to you

•well it happened,khum stood Infront of you folding his hand,what is his plans anyway?kidnapping a human all of a sudden,a weird one at that,"human,do you have a name?" He said

• "you can call me yours,and I'll call you mine" you said "how about the name....treasure?no too basic maybe clove?nah um.....oh darling?" he said tilting his head,khum never thought one day he'd witness a human visibly explode and faint but here we was

• it was a rocky start to the relationship,well...rocky as in everything was so perfect it's scary, here's the recap,on day five of your kidnappings you've opened up to how the villagers had been treating you(not that it's hard to make you open up,all he had to do was give you food and call you pet names while stroking your head and bam! you're dumping your entire trauma onto him) and oh boy was he not happy

• now despite everything he's still a classy dragon,he ofcourse had hoarse of treasure but he also had a pretty nice castle he may or may not seize from a royal you don't have to know that tho so moving on,and with a huge castle come servants and with those come soldiers who needs to maintain security,not that he needs any but you know he likes to have thing's completed and that including the castles needs

• now when his subordinates first saw you absolutely gushing on how cute he was they were absolutely shocked,because one he literally look like a demon ripping out people's heart and two this isn't some flower field it's a grusome battle scene yet you couldn't help but blush when his shirt got torn off,you even closed your eyes to savor the moment after a while

• khum really can't understand your fixation on him,is it like his love for you?but even then he acknowledges your weird behaviour but you literally looked at him as if he was a god,not that he minds,he gotta admit that day he kinda wore a shirt that's a couple of size down so when he does some movements that needs intents flexibility his shirt would rip off in some cool cinematic style,it worked,it worked too well

• so apparently his stamina had their limits he'd come to know it last Night after the battle,oh but the details won't be necessary,oh but don't be fooled if he were to actually try you'd be the one to pass out

• now is he dilusional?nope he knows full well that it's not healthy but does he care?nope he's a powerful dragon,are you dilusional?maybe?...idk...probably....yes?.... Well he is cute so I'll give you that

• he is possesive, but it's really hard to show possesive when the person he loved won't look at other people,you will talk to people normally but once he entered your line of sight the other people can forget ever having a conversation with you

• now for the big question does this technically make you a yandere? maybe..yes.

•i feel the need to say he is 100% taller than you, I'm sorry but it's just the rules 乁⁠(⁠ ⁠•⁠_⁠•⁠ ⁠)⁠ㄏ

• yes he has two pp lets move on now

• he had a way of marking you so other beasts knows to back the fuck off it's called biting,the first night you ever discover the chamber of secrets together(wink wink nudge nudge)he bit down on your neck,it leaves a pretty little flower mark that's imbued with his power it's very very very tiny teeny I cannot stress enough how tiny it is so it's safe

• now if you EVER even say someone else is cute then oh boi oh my,now I have established that he is jealous have I?,no?well too bad because he is,and his jealousy doesn't play nice,he will rip out the heart and torture the person over and over and over each time reviving them again and again and put a curse of Resurrection on them only to leave them in a forest of ravaging beasts that has lost their minds to be feasted upon and tortured until he sees them having suffered enough. ಠ⁠︵⁠ಠ Moral of the story? don't just don't say anyone is cute (yes not even babies) (he won't like k.o them but he will like curse them or sum sht )

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

on that note good night people

#yandere dragon #Yandere X reader #tw yandere #yandere monster x reader #Yandere dragon X reader #yandere x yandere #yandere oc x reader #yandere x willing reader #Dear god why is tagging so frustrating?#monster fic

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nonexistent-introvert · 11 months

Text

Anomaly

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x f!reader

Word Count: 2k

Content: angst, idrk what’s gg on either, fights, you’re a Spider-Man too

A/N: post ATSV dump, I fell into the black hole known as Miguel O’Hara, I just needed to write this so it’s probably a mess 😵‍💫 I’m also posting this on my phone so- grammarly isn’t here to save me

Miguel stared at the footage of the new spiderman on his various screens. An headache making him all the more annoyed. There was barely any information on this person, the only thing he knew about them was the fact that they were an anomaly. Someone who wasn’t supposed to become a spiderman.

“Miguel! We brought them in.” Jess called out to him. Miguel turned his head, his eyes stared at the spiderman that has been causing him an headache for the past week as his platform descended.

The sound of machinery filled the place. There was an palpable tension in the air but what he didn’t expect was the sound of webs. His spidey senses tingled but it was already too late as you had swung yourself onto the platform. Gasps erupted from below, no one has ever dared to do that. “What do you think you’re doing?” Miguel spoke, authority in his voice. Mildly taken aback that you were able to act faster than his spidey senses could alert him. “You really should do something better with this.” You gestured to the platform that the both of you were standing on that was still in the process of descending. Your eyes scanned the screens before you, “If this is your dimension, technology is definitely much more advanced than… this.” You pointed out, mentioning the futuristic dimension the headquarters was located at. The rate of the machinery descending was too slow for anyone’s liking.

Miguel pinched the bridge of his nose, annoyance and anger filling him. “Just- who exactly are you?” He seethed. “Shouldn’t you know that? Judging by all this.” Your fingers danced across the screens with no care in the world, watching the various footages of you. Miguel slapped your hands away from the screens, “Take your mask off.” He raised his voice, a bunch of the spiderman shuddered in fear. You simply laughed, leaning back. “You haven’t even introduced yourself.” Miguel’s blood was boiling by now, “I’m Miguel O’Hara” Lyla was on one of the screens, watching the interaction with an amused look. It has been decades since anyone eveen dared challenge the stoic and unfunny spiderman.

“Wasn’t so hard was it?” You grinned, introducing your name to him. He froze at your name, quickly recovering his composure, there were plenty of people out there with the same name.

You pulled out a headpiece and Miguel watched as the nanotech retract to reveal a familiar face. A charming smile on your face while he just stared in disbelief.

“Everyone, out.” He ordered. Despite a few protests, everyone left. “Oh, am I that special?” You teased, waving to the spidermen who were leaving. Miguel couldn’t help but stare, you weren’t suppose to be here, he wasn’t supposed to see you ever again. However, you seem totally oblivious to his inner turmoil.

When you looked at him again, the playful look in your eye faltered. You pursed your lips, staring at the platform you were standing on. “Are you really-” Miguel started, his eyes softening.

“In the flesh. You got quite the set up here.” You remarked. Miguel shook his head, turning away from you. “I caused this. I dragged you into this mess.”

“Don’t flatter yourself. I figured this out on my own.” You gestured to the suit you were wearing. “Because I saved you! Because I couldn’t bring myself to let you die. It is the whole reason you’re standing here as an anomaly!” Miguel shouted, he shouldn’t have interfered. He was supposed to minimise contact with anyone from other dimensions, he let himself get too close to you.

==================================

Every thought in Miguel’s head screamed at him to stop returning to you. He was supposed to be in his office at the headquarters, making sure that the multiverse is stable. However, he kept finding excuses after excuses to return to your dimension. To see you again, to laugh and talk to you.

“Oh you’re back.” You greeted upon returning to your home, putting your work bag down. Miguel smiled at you, “Missed you.” He admitted with a soft smile as he let you fall into his arms. You knew Miguel was lying to you, lying to you that he was a scientist at Alchemax. Even if it was once his job, you knew it wasn’t anymore. The long and sudden disappearances, he was practically a ghost and a figment of your imagination. While you lied in his embrace and listened to his voice, you couldn’t bring yourself to question him about it.

“Is there something wrong?” Miguel asked, noticing how you kept spacing out. Your usual cheery and playful tone missing. “I-” You stirred in his arms. “You’re not really a scientist at Alchemax are you?” Miguel kept his face blank, “Why?” he should have known better to underestimate you, to think that you would believe in the white lie he told you.

You pulled yourself away from him. “Never mind” you brushed your own doubt off, you didn’t want to ruin anything. Miguel tightened his hold on you, to stop you from distancing yourself, both metaphorically and literally. “I’m not.” He confessed. His eyes scanning yours for a reaction.

The watch that he wore started beeping. You sighed, “You’re not from around here” Finally putting the pieces together. “I’m sorry amor.” He apologised, rushing off.

If Miguel knew that would be the last time he saw you. He would have let the world burn just to spend the time with you.

“No!” He exclaimed. The flames engulfed the building and everything in it. The same building he had just left you in, the building that he visited everytime to see you, the building that was your home. Miguel eyes scanned the civilians that were evacuated from the building for you to no avail. Adrenaline coursed through his veins, one clear goal in mind, that he needed to find you. The voices of the civilians panicking, praying for their loved ones filled his ears, then he picked up on the sound of your name. He cursed when they said that you had ran back in to help others.

The building collapsed on itself, Miguel ignored everything. The rubble that was falling only increased his anxiety. He almost cried when he saw you unconscious on the floor.

“Second and third degree burns. Over-inhalation of smoke.” Lyla listed. He was bent over your body, doing anything he could. “There isn’t much hope.” Lyla ended, Miguel would have screamed at her if he wasn’t so focused on rescuriating you.

“No,no,no!” He chanted, his fingers finding your weak pulse. Miguel was at a loss, he couldn’t lose you. “Lyla. Give me the drug.” Lyla eyes widened, “She’s collateral damage Miguel. Saving her will cause the multiverse to-“ “I know that!” Miguel screamed, he knew he was putting everything on the line by saving you. However he couldn’t bring himself to just walk away, to just let you die.

Miguel continued to watch you from afar after he saved you with the drug. He watched as you were accompanied to the hospital and made sure that your condition was stable. Then he made the vow to himself.

The vow that he will no longer break any of the rules he had set for himself. He will not let anyone of a different dimension close to him, he will not risk the multiverse. Miguel O’Hara will not see you again no matter what happens.

He should have known that your stubborn personality would have brought you here to him.

==============

“Being a Spider-Man means people close to you will die. It’s a curse and a responsibility.” Miguel told you. You scoffed at him, “I’m not new to this. I went for so long without you ever noticing my existence. Even when you did, you never knew my identity.” Miguel ran his hands through his hair, “Lyla, check up on what’s her canon event.” “On it!” Lyla chirped. You shook your head, “about that. I think I got lucky.” Miguel glared at you, his mouth opened to scold you for what you just uttered.

“It has already happened. Her canon event has already occured.” Lyla announced. You nodded with your hands on your hips. “What?” Miguel eyes widened.

“My canon event was losing you.” You announced . Miguel’s jaw dropped, that was the reason why he couldn’t track your story, because it had already happened. “I’m lucky because I didn’t lose you for good it seems.” You pointed at him.

“You could have lived a perfectly normal life.” Miguel’s voice became significantly softer. “I would have been dead.” You pointed out. “If you never met me, you could have led a simple life without having to put yourself in danger. Maybe even a family.” The thought of you having a family brought a bittersweet taste to his mouth. You would be a fantastic mother but the thought of you being with someone else was a reality he didn’t want to hear about.

“My life wouldn’t be complete without you.” Miguel stood up to his full height. “You don’t know that.” He snapped.

“We were a mistake. We never should have even met.” Miguel breathed.

Those words hung in the air, suffocating the both of you. You put your hands on your hips, squaring your shoulders and clenching your jaw. You looked at the costume and the symbol you wore on your chest. “The whole reason I’m here is because I’m an anomaly right?” You started. Miguel kept quiet, pressing on the various screens. “Then right your mistakes Miguel. Get rid of me, or whatever you do to anomalies.” You challenged, stepping closer to him.

Miguel remained silent with his back facing you. His fists were clenched on the counter. Miguel was the whole reason you even became a spiderman. You studied quantum physics, tried your very best to be able to come up with something so that you could see him again. Then you figured out a way to become like him, to save lives. It was all to see him again. However, meeting him now. It was a dream come true but why did it seem more like a nightmare?

“Lyla, send her home.” Miguel muttered. “After all the trouble?” Lyla asked, she knew how many nights Miguel had spent just tracking and studying you, to understand your timeline and story. You stepped forward, putting your hand on his shoulder. Miguel was quick enough to turn around, one touch from you and he would never let you go again. “So you’re just going to live the rest of your life being guilty that you dragged me into being spiderman while upholding whatever stupid promise you made about not seeing me again?” You were on the verge of tears, after everything and Miguel didn’t even want to see you. “Yes. I will accept you are spiderman but I will not allow myself to indulge in your company again. I will not repeat my mistake.”

“Mistake of what?” You asked exasperatedly, closing your eyes to calm yourself down. You will not shed tears in front of him. Anger burned in Miguel’s eyes, “I almost caused you to die! You were suppose to die in that fire and it would be because I was there, because you are someone close to me. I will not allow that to happen. Then, you became spiderman too, putting yourself out there in danger and endangering everyone you care about. You don’t understand what you had gotten yourself into.” Miguel emphasised.

“I’m going to die no matter what Miguel! I’m not immortal. I will die in that fire regardless if I met you or not. I could have died after you left me regardless if I had become Spider-Man. I could die tomorrow for all I know!” You tried to knock some logic into Miguel.

Silence fell between the both of you. You shifted your weight from one foot to another,chuckling lightly. “For a Spider-Man, you are a coward, Miguel O’Hara.” You spat.

“There is no happily ever after for us, don’t you get it? Let’s just cut our losses here, let’s not tempt fate.” Miguel insisted, a pained look on his face. You smiled sadly at him, “It was nice seeing you O’Hara.” He stared as you walked off his platform.

“I did miss you, I will miss you.” Miguel admitted, finally getting it off his chest.

“Not enough apparently.”

You waved, turning your back against him and putting your mask back on.

#miguel o’hara x reader #miguel ohara #miguel o'hara #across the spiderverse #miguel x reader #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o’hara x you

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hyperfixat · 3 months

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hbd to me!!!!!!! here’s a vent fic i wrote a few months ago so proceed with caution; reader attempted suicide, reader continues to have suicidal thoughts/attempts, reader seeks harm onto themself (both from external sources and self inflicted), reader is depressed!!! be sure to evaluate your mental state before reading this fic :3. this also contains a scene that i felt compelled to write for some reason involving assisted hygiene: idk i felt that needed a little acknowledgment..

ik its my birthday fic and it proably should be happy, but theres a bit of hurt comfort to this that i love and i polished it up to share so that hopefully u like it too.. again heed my warnings^

also final note; formatted on my pc, sprry if its funky

The first thing you feel upon waking up is disappointment. This… you rub your face with your hands. You can’t do anything right, you sigh. Waking up is a clear sign of a failure as to your plans.

Although you frown as you observe your surroundings, this isn’t where you would be if someone had caught you attempting to take your life. You wouldn’t be dumped in the middle of a sunny field. This isn’t a hospital or ward, in fact there’s no sign of any modern buildings from where you sit.

Just where are you…?

You use shaky arms to lift yourself up, and begin to attempt to find a way home. Or for something to just kill you.

What luck, you realize morbidly, you spawned on a plateau, and that’s all you allow yourself to think before breaking into a sprint and running both to and over the edge.

You hit the plains with a crack and you wheeze out a pained groan. Before you can lift yourself up to try again or seek help or check for any witnesses, you feel your body fade away. It’s a weightless feeling as you sink into the earth of Teyvat.

There is not much pain, not as much as you had hoped or expected. In ways this is a pro, for you are a coward in the face of pain no matter deserved or otherwise.

You fade, but not into the hold of death, at least you don’t think this is death, rather you fade from your spot crumpled on the ground into a sitting position firmly in the arms of an Anemo Statue of Seven. The marble orb of Barbatos’ lookalike stops you from falling out of the statue’s arms and you heave a sigh.

How unfortunate. It seems you cannot permanently die here. Though… what if it was a fluke…? With another bone deep sigh you fall to the ground and walk back to the ledge and stare down at the fifty foot drop.

Before you work up the courage to take the plunge a high, excited voice calls out for you. You flinch, opening your eyes to see a youthful bard dressed in Mondstatian green, holding his hands out for you. Venti is sprinting towards you and you take a step back nervously. He seems to recognize you… but how could that be?

His face falls as you back away and his sprint slows when he’s a few yards away from being able to reach out to you. Venti calls your name again. He falters, the smile adorning his face slips.

“Wait…” his voice wavers. “What are you doing, Divine One?”

Why did he call you that…? Is it some Mondstat greeting of sorts? You can’t kill yourself in front of him and retraumatize the poor guy, so you allow him to get closer to you, and you don’t stop him when he sweeps his lythe form down into a kneeling bow.

“Hello.” You greet, unsure of how one is supposed to act when approached by a fictional character.

Venti lifts his gaze from the ground up to your face, looking downright awestruck.

“I, we, have long awaited your descent, Divine One, it is an honor to have you grace the lands of Freedom with your presence first.”

Uh-oh. He seems to have confused you with someone else, because you are certainly no one special and definitely not any sort of divine. How are you gonna break that to him without too much embarrassment on either of your parts?

“Please, come with me to the city, I’m certain the people will be delighted to host the one who shaped the world.” His voice is high with a musical lilt, and it’s hard to decline him.

“I’m sorry,” your voice comes out dry, and you realize you’re terribly dehydrated. “I think there’s been a mistake. I’m not whoever you think I am.”

You take a step back, backing yourself up the hill onto higher ground.

“Whatever do you mean, Divine One? Your presence is unmistakable.”

You shake your head, stepping further away from the Archon. Venti reaches his hand out to grasp at the bottom hem of your pajama pants. “Please! I’ve waited so long for you.” He falls onto his knees to beg.

Fuck, his eyes are so pretty when he pleads. You don’t want to risk angering whatever God he’s mistaking you with, though, “Venti….”

The blue-green sky of his eyes turns to the color of the ocean as tears well up in his waterline. His whole body shivers when you utter his chosen name. “I can keep it a secret from the public. Surely only Archons and those blessed with a Vision will be able to sense you. We can keep it quiet, please, Divine One, I beg of you.”

“I’m not this Divine One you speak of,” you kneel and place a hand on his hat. Venti’s eyes search yours with confusion. As he lifts his head, your hand presses into the curve of his skull, making him lean harder into your touch.

“Th-That’s okay, please just stay in Mondstadt for a night, that’s all I wish.” He doesn’t believe you, that’s clear, but he seems so eager to appease you.

You pause, looking away from the pathetically begging archon. His hands clench on your pant fabric.

“Okay. Just for the night.” You hope no one else from Mondsat is as strange as Venti is…

“I don’t have any way to pay for this,” you smile at Diluc, placing a hand on the side of the glass to push it back across the counter.

“I wouldn’t dream of making you pay, please drink all you wish. Let me know if it isn’t to your taste.”

“Does that apply to their guide as well, Master Diluc?”

“No.”

“A shame,” Venti sighs, taking a deep drink from his glass.

You have to hand it to Venti, he is a good guide. He’s quick to shut down any vision holder you come across with a quick whisper in their ear, and he truly knows Mondstadt in and out.

The bell above the door jingles as it swings open, and you glance behind you in time to see Rosaria come strolling in with a timid Barbara clutching the back of her cathedral robes. She must not visit the Angel’s Share much, seeing as the hydro-user looks around with quick, nervous eyes. When her eyes land on you they widen comically, her small hand darting out to steady herself on Rosaria’s forearm.

—

“Farewell, my Divinity,” “Safe travels, Divine One,” and “May the wind bless your travels, Your Grace,” follow your retreating form as you make the hike to Dragonspine.

Honestly you aren’t certain where you’re heading. If the other nations treat you the same as Mondstadt, that's a no-go. You won’t know unless you go, though. Maybe you should head the same route the Traveler would. That would mean Dragonspine is your next destination.

Who will you meet there? Albedo…? He’s the only one you can think of that stays there.

As you begin the trek you realize; he’s a research-type dude, you hesitate to say scientist, but he does experiments and such. Perhaps, you can make use of yourself by giving your body up to him to work on. Surely an undying body would greatly interest the research of life?

After a surprisingly simple search you find him and present your proposition.

“Absolutely not,” Albedo dismisses you without thought. He doesn’t even bother to spare you a look. “That is blasphemy of the highest order, I’d suggest giving that attitude up sooner rather than later.”

You flinch back at the words, taking a step back into the chill of Dragonspine.

“I can offer you sanctuary here if you seek it, but I will not harm you.”

“That’s…” not at all what you want. “That’s very kind of you to offer, but I must decline.”

His haunting blue eyes follow you down the snowy path to Liyue. Once you are far too away to hear, he states calmly, “safe travels.”

As you walk down the icy paths lining the gravel streets you think… Albedo had rejected you just like that. What’s the next step?

You might as well stop by Liyue Harbor, maybe meet some characters before… before maybe heading to Sumeru?

Ahhah! It hits you then, the harbinger introduced in Sumeru: Il Dottore. If Albedo had reservations, then Dottore would have none.

Even still, Liyue is a harbor. You’re sure to find a way to Snezhnaya from there.

You almost get to the docks without drawing any attention to yourself. Almost.

Your mistake laid in the fact that you passed the Golden House, the weekly Childe Boss fight. In your defense you didn’t actually think he’d be in there. And it’s not like you even went in, only going up the steps and around for a detour.

And it was a quick route until a strangled gasp came from behind you, making you spin around in alarm. There, Tartaglia stood, with pupils nearly the size of his gray-blue eyes, staring, completely enraptured by your visage. Your knees buckle and you make to sprint, but your body is no match for a Fatui Harbinger.

In retrospect you’re not entirely sure what drove you to run, perhaps some fight or flight instinct buried inside of you.

His long hand wraps around your forearm, tugging you to a stop, you face him, and your face must portray your panic clearly because Tartaglia’s twists into sorrowful sympathy.

“My Divinity… it is an honor to meet you in the flesh.”

“Let go.” He does, promptly so.

“I’m sorry, I got ahead of myself. May I ask where you are headed, and if you are in need of company?”

“No. Thank you, Childe.”

His face shifts into a serious look, nodding. “Do you need an escort to Liyue then? Is that where you’re heading?”

“No. I know where I’m going, and I much prefer to go alone.” It’s not entirely false, you know where you’re headed, just not how.

“Well… be safe, okay? I hope to see you again.”

“I will.” The lie comes out and you cringe, because its delivery falls flat and its so obviously untrue.

“Does Mr Zhongli know you’re here? Surely you’re here to see Morax?” He strolls to your other side, offering a hand to lead you to the city. You ignore the hand.

“Goodbye, Tartaglia.”

“I can’t let you leave alone in good conscience…. You don’t seem well. Let me lead you to the harbor at least.”

Since he is as unmoving as stone, you let him take you to the main city, managing to ditch him before more people can know about your presence.

The boats docked at Liyue Harbor are hopeful. “Where is this ship headed?” you ask one of the dock workers. They look up at your voice before glancing at the ship they’re loading up with lumber.

“Snezhnaya.” They say glancing up at the grand vessel. “Why? Where’re you tryna go, friend?”

“Snezhnaya. How much does the fare cost, one way?”

—

“News of your travels have reached Snezhnaya, Divine One.” Dottore starts, fixing his posture from a lean on a surgical table to something more proper. You shake your head, the weariness you’ve accumulated on your journey weighing down on you. You’re finally where you deserve to be.

“I’m not the Divine One you speak of, Dottore.”

“Hm? Do you think so little of my intelligence? Your presence is unmistakable.”

“No, it’s not that. But I’m not. I’m just a regular person. And I came to you for a reason.”

“Oh? The Creator themself, seeking me out? It’s an honor,” the doctor bows to you, smirking at you from beneath his beaklike mask.

“I need you to hurt me.”

“What?” He pulls himself up with a startled question. “I’m afraid I misheard you, Divine One.”

“I can’t die, Dottore. I’m giving myself to you, you…” you heave a sigh as you explain your reasoning. “You could make use of me. I’m not whoever you think I am, please just take me. I don’t care what you do to me.”

“You’re… giving yourself to me?”

“Yes.”

“Do you know what happens to my… patients?”

“Yes, that's why I’m here. I can’t die, I imagine I would make a good test subject.”

“Is this a test?” Dottore seems to be speaking to himself more than anything. He pushes away from the table and paces to the back room of the lab, muttering madly to himself as he does so. The door swings open with a loud screeching and you catch sight of multiple mops of blue hair and masks.

His Segments.

You can hear a conversation ongoing between all of the parts of Zandik, it seems he doesn’t want to be rash and take you in too hastily. You can understand his (their?) hesitancy; if a god offered themselves up to you, you would surely think it was a trap. But you aren’t a god, so it should be a no brainer for him. How often does he get consenting test subjects?

It seems this absurd idea of you being a higher power has infiltrated Snezhnaya as well, which is… not good. Everyone is saying you’re more than what you are, you can’t be a god, you barely consider yourself a human.

An older, completely unmasked Segment sticks his head out of the door, frowning once he makes eye contact with you. There’s gray leaking from his roots into the teal of Dottore’s hair, and visible aging lines on his face; crows feet and tension on his cheekbones. Glowing red eyes narrow upon meeting your own, mouth pulling into a tight line.

A younger segment, smaller in size and stature, with a nearly full face mask, only showing part of his mouth. You think that is the one that the Fandom surrounding him dubbed Webttore. You usually see pictures of him with a wide, jagged-tooth smile, but, like his older part, he looks solemn.

You wonder just how many Segments Il Dottore has, because you can still hear an entire conversation going on without the two.

The conversation seems to be dying down, not ending without a few red eyes peeking out from behind the door at you. It’s surreal seeing so many versions of the same person at once; the youthful ones, eyes wide, and the older ones with wrinkles built with time and age, all at the same moment in time.

Eventually though, they do seem to come to a verdict: the Omega segment, the one you met upon walking into his lab, exits, closing the door behind him with a click that resonates through the room.

His answer is a simple word. “No.”

Your heart drops and stomach sinks at the rejection, and based on il Dottore’s reaction it must show. “Why?” your voice is small and sounds foreign to your own ears.

“I cannot forsake the true god in such a way, whether you acknowledge it or not, you have that power.”

All the turmoil and hardships it took to get here come crashing down, the light at the end of the tunnel is rejecting you. You hadn’t known this was something that could happen, your… your savior, the one you were looking for is telling you no. He won’t lay a finger on you, and it’s tearing you apart. This was the only thing that kept you from burying yourself in the deep forest of Sumeru and letting yourself rot.

“Oh.” It’s shaky and you nod, trying to take it maturely. “I see.” Your voice is warbling like you're on the verge of tears. Blinking rapidly to dispel the water from your eyes, you lower your head and make to scamper out of the lab.

Dottore lets out a heavy sigh, and his leather gloves wrap around your wrist.

“Wait.” You nervously glance up at his mask.

“You said you would ‘give yourself to me,’ no?”

Your heart pounds heavily in your chest, “yes.” Has he suddenly changed his mind? You shouldn't get your hopes up.

“I will take you. I doubt you will appreciate my intentions, but if I were to own you, you wouldn’t be able to complain. After all, you will have done it to yourself.”

You don’t know what those words mean, but the stinging rejection welling up in your eyes turns to relief. “Thank you,” he doesn’t stop you from dashing to his side and wrapping your arms around his waist. You press your face into his abdomen, letting his clothes soak up your tears. A hesitant hand rubs over your spine, an effort to soothe you.

You pull yourself together, sucking in a deep breath of the sterile lab air.

“Alright,” Dottore says after he deems you put together enough. “Come.” His hand covers your wrist, gently tugging you behind him. You aren’t sure where he is leading you, as he takes you out of the lab. The halls are tall and gorgeously crafted, intermittent with intricate moldings on the wall.

It’s a small room you find yourself in, but it is infinitely better than the wilderness. The size is comparable to an average hotel room. Dottore instructs you to sit and stay on the bed, which you do obediently. Nerves swirl inside of you, as to where he has gone and what he will bring back with - when he will return, if at all.

Il Dottore knows. While he is not well versed on human, much less godly, psychology, he can tell you’re depressed when you first stumbled your way into his workstation. Besides, he’d be hard pressed to deny the rumors from various agents that had been located in places you’d traveled through.

With a small caddy in his hands Dottore kneels next to the nightstand and places a hand on your shoulder to force you to lay down. “Arm.” Is what he prompts for you to let him maneuver your arm to lay open and flat over the edge of the bed.

The scent of alcohol alerts you to the sanitary wipe before you feel the chill of it. You keep your eyes trained on the ceiling as you feel the slight pinch of a needle and a clicking as an IV is deposited into your arm. Out of the corner of your eye you see Dottore set up a drip, but you don’t bother to ask what it is, the excitement of the day catching up with you.

Il Dottore eventually leaves the room in silence after pushing an odd vial of liquid into the drip, not bothering to look behind him as he closes the door and leaves with confident strides.

Although it’s entirely possible it’s simply the Placebo Effect, as the drip spreads throughout your veins you can feel your eyes getting heavier and heavier. Before long you can no longer keep them open and slip into a dreamless sleep.

You wake up to a Mirror Maiden tidying up the nightstand next to you. You observe her work, wondering how she can manage to navigate with the blind pulled over her eyes. She startles when she catches your eyes on her, though returns back to work, quietly disposing of the used needles from earlier. You wonder what The Doctor has injected you with; wonder if he added more of whatever it is while you were unconscious.

There’s a brisk, impatient knock on the door and the Maiden straightens up, taking hold of everything to discard and striding over to change positions with Tartaglia behind the door.

You stay flat on your back, looking at the ginger in mild surprise. Last you saw him he was in Liyue and set to stay for quite a while. Had he heard you gave yourself away to Il Dottore? Is he here to plead for you to change your mind?

But to your bemusement he stays quiet, walking over to and kneeling next to your bed. Instead of speaking he merely rests his head on the nightstand, dull blue eyes gazing at you sadly, yet reverently.

You’re unsure of how long you look up at the ceiling, doing your best to ignore Tartaglia’s eyes on you. His gaze is unwavering, and eventually, you turn your head to the side, meeting his eyes.

“I’m sorry for my behavior in Liyue. I was too excited to see you, and my manners deserted me.”

“It’s okay.” You croak, throat dry from sleep. “I was dismissive as well.”

Dottore doesn’t bother to knock when he comes in.

“I see you’re awake and seem to have found a stray harbinger.”

Tartaglia doesn’t react to his entrance, merely moving to the far end of the bed, laying his head on the covers near your feet. You realize someone has drapped a plain, solid color duvet over your body when you slept.

“Are you feeling anything out of the ordinary?” Dottore asks, checking the emptied IV bag. He unclips it and pulls a fresh one from his lab coat pocket.

You take the moment to assess (how do you spell it) your body. In all honesty you’re feeling much better, the hydration from the drip really made a difference.

“I feel hydrated.”

Dottore hums, he sounds disinterested. “How’s your appetite? Can you stomach anything for me?” He clips a new bag onto the pole, screwing it into your IV’s tube. “Stand if you can.”

Dottore’s eyes watch you intensely behind his mask, observing how you tremble when you put a leg onto the floor. “Childe, help them and follow me.”

Tartaglia scrambles to steady your arm as you fully get out of the bed, wrapping the one without the needle in it around his shoulder to support you. You stiffen, but aren’t in any position to be able to get around without him, not with the emptiness of your stomach and the way black fades into your vision when you stand. “Get them to the restroom, take care of their needs. I will return with what they will eat.”

“Come on, I got you,” Tartaglia assures as he leads you to the ensuite restroom. It’s nothing too fancy; simply a sink, shower, and toilet.

You eye the toilet, realizing how long it’s been since you’ve relieved yourself. A shower would also be nice…

“Allow me to assist you, Divine One,” Tartaglia remains stoic and respectful as he shimmies your pants and underwear down your legs, letting you support yourself on his broad shoulders as you step out of the pant holes. After making sure you get to the toilet safely he turns around and starts the shower faucet.

The sound of the water helps you get over your pee shyness and by the time Tartaglia finishes soaking and preparing a cloth for you, you’ve finished and are ready to bathe.

With weak arms you gather the hem of your shirt in your hands and remove the remainder of your clothes.

Tartaglia helps you get clean with warm, respectful touches, passing you the cloth for you to clean more intimate areas, before helping you out of the shower and wrapping a large, soft towel around your body. It’s huge, covering the top of your bust to well past mid-calf, looping around your body almost twice. He tucks the towel tightly with practiced precision.

“Il Dottore will be back soon, I’ll help you get dressed before he returns. Do you have any material preferences?”

—

You sit up in bed, feeling marginally better than the day before. The day after that, and the day after that all proceed in a similar fashion; each time you feel just a little bit better. More clear headed, a better appetite, less like a corpse walking.

Only after Dottore deems you well enough to remove the IV do you get your suspicions that it was more than just the proper nutrition making you feel better. He still stops by your room twice a day for some shots; he encouraged you to choose where he would deposit them (when you said into your brain or through your chest, it did not amuse him). It feels suspiciously like the antidepressants you’ve been on before.

It only further confuses you, though. Does he want you in a proper state of mind for something? He has no reason other than unfounded faith to help you, you don’t like it. It’s … uncomfortable receiving this type of care, knowing it’s only because they think you're better than who you really are.

The food they feed you, the clothes they dress you in, it's all much more than you deserve.

“What are you doing to me?”

“Pardon?” Dottore sets the syringe down with a metallic click. Through his mask you can feel his gaze on you.

“You’re… you’re trying to— to…” the words fail you.

“Mitigate your depressive symptoms? Yes, I am. What of it?” Il Dottore picks the syringe back up, pushing the knob back before stabbing it into the vial in his hand. He pulls the liquid up with ease before removing the needle and pushing to remove the excess air in the syringe.

“Why?”

“Hm? Why would I not?” He flicks the syringe and some liquid flies from the point of the needle.

“If I were anyone else you wouldn’t be doing this.”

“Indeed.”

“Haven’t you realized by now that I’m not who you think I am? That I’m just a normal human in a horrible situation of being unable to die?”

“That is not so. Your skin cultures and biopsy results do not share that conclusion. Even if you continue to deny your god-hood, it changes nothing. I know for certain who you are, and you will remain in my care until you utilize your divine right to revoke such.”

Biopsy? When on Earth — Teyvat? — did that happen? But there’s more important things to discuss with him for now, not that you care how or when it happened. You’re more surprised you never noticed, that’s all.

“You’re wrong!” You wail, tears finally coming for the first time in a while. You had thrown your head back to speak, but now you collapse in on yourself with your head between your arms and legs. It’s humid, but saves you from having to look at the doctor and his unreadable bird mask.

“Oh my,” you hear Dottore murmur, then he sets his medical supplies to the side and places a hand on your shoulder. He remains there while you sob, when finally the lack of speech seems to reach the boiling point, he heaves a sigh. “If it is of any consolation, if it were to come to my attention that you are not in any way godly or divine, I would treat you the same. I’ve put far too much care into you to just toss you aside..”

That consoles you, if only a little, damn the drugs making you want to continue life to see the future. But you broke the dam of tears, and it’ll take a while for them to stop; you need to cry out everything that led you here….

Your… attempt that put you in Teyvat, the one you tried right after arrival, the false death, all the eyes and praise that aren’t meant for you. It’s dysphoric.

The lurches of your body with your cries, stitches your sides and you sniffle harder into the crevice your body makes, the moisture of the confined body space blending in with your tears.

“There now,” Dottore says, quieter as you get so as well. “Perhaps some more rest will do you good. I’ll be at the ready whenever you wake.”

#verified hyperfixat post #genshin impact x reader #sagau #genshin comfort #genshin x reader #genshin x you #dottore x reader #dottore #dottore fanfic #il dottore x reader #childe sagau #venti #genshin isekai #sagau isekai #genshin impact isekai #hurt comfort #heed the warnings

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bestpigeon · 2 months

Text

Vox x male reader unfamiliar feelings..

Vox x male reader.

Warnings: swearing, kissing, aggression, strangling.

Words: 1.6k

Thought I'd do some Vox for a change

———————————————————————————————————————

I've been safely working at the Hazbin Hotel. Charlie's been more than kind. She let me stay for free, knowing my struggles. Though despite the face that I've got her help, Vox can still make me appear into thin air if needed. I'm still trapped. A worthless demon like me binded to a powerful overlord called Vox. I was relaxing in my hotel room. I suddenly felt myself black out for a moment. Like I was fading away.

This feeling was familiar, and I wasn't surprised one bit when I opened my eyes to see Vox. Great, what does he need now.

"Vox." I say in a stern tone. I was clearly not happy with his presence.

"Ah, where the FUCK have you been!?" He says as he lunges up in his chair in anger. His screen glitches as he shouts into my face. He's slightly taller, so I have to rotate my head to look up at him.

I hesitate to answer. I mean, if he knew I was in his enemies' hotel? He would absolutely murder me. "Away." i say simply. I didn't intent of telling him my where abouts any time soon.

His face only glitches more in anger. His fists clench as he grabs my neck and pulls me close to him. So my face is inches away from his. "Answer my FUCKING QUESTION" he says shouting once again. His screen glitches when he's angry. I choke and feel tears prickle in my eyes. He was gripping my throat with intense strength. I flinch as he lifts his other hand to my shoulder and claws at it.

"I- just at a..f-friends house!-" i say. I could barely breathe since he was gripping intently at my throat. He squints his eyes at me and stays silent for a while. He rolls his eyes before dropping me onto the floor.

I fall to the floor. I'm a thump. I groan and gasp for air while grasping my now purple neck. Vox speaks again. I feel a familiar chain appear at my neck. I look up at Vox with watery eyes.

"Don't forget who owns you, sweetheart. You dont want to fuck with me!" He says before the chain disintegrates into thin air. My head falls and I wiped the tears on my face before Vox had a chance to notice them. He'd probably make fun of me for being so pathetic. "Yes.. sir." I say in almost a whisper. I felt so pathetic under Vox. He rolls his eyes and snickers. He then walks out of the office, leaving me on the floor.

I slowly catch my breath and rise from the floor. I rub at my still bruised neck before I fo some paperwork. I have a little desk at the back of Voxs office. It's a little space where I can do paperwork. Im assuming the reason why he called me here was to do his shit work. I haven't seen him for about 2 months now. Normally, he would summon me at least once a week.

I sat down and automatically saw a pile of papers dumped onto my desk. I sigh and slump onto the wooden chair. I grab a few papers and start signing and writing some random shit on them. Vox told me to just sign everything. I mean, he doesn't really care. If he can't be fucked to go to a meeting then he would just cancel it, with no feeling of shame at all.

After what feels like hours, I've finally completed half the stacks of paper. I rub my neck again since it's sore. I continue to pick out papers and sigh away. I didn't bother reading them. Why would I? Suddenly, Vox enters his office again. I don't move at all. I don't even bother looking at him. I just lean onto my knuckle and repetitively write Voxs name over and over again. I see Voxs flat-screened head rotate and glare at me. I don't move again, and he just sits onto his chair. He straps the wires to the back of his head and does whatever shit he usually does.

I felt so tired, overwhelmed, and bored. All this dumb paperwork. I mean, I know this guy is famous and all, but still. People can't care that much about him. I mean, I don't. He's not too bad, I guess. Sometimes he's nice sometimes he's not. His mood mainly depends on Valentino. If Val pisses him off, then he would lash out of everyone. It's not entirely his fault. Valentinos a bitch and Vox gets stressed easily. I somewhat understand. But sometimes it's too much.

I rub my worn-out eyes and groan. I hold back a yawn before I lean against the back of my chair. Vox glares at me again, and I turn to make eye contact with him. The silent communication is cut off when I look away. His eyes were different than usual. Some different emotions he's never expressed for me before. Sympathy, maybe? Could be.

I sigh and lean on both my hands. I lean against the table and drift away into a deep slumber. I didn't mean to. Though the activities I did with Charlie earlier and all this paper work.

Vox turns and notices I was asleep. He holds back a smile and approaches my sleeping body. He taps my shoulder to justify that I was actually asleep. He slowly and carefully picks me up, bridal style, and relocates me. He walks towards a door in the corner of his office and walks through it. His bedroom.

He delicately puts me down and tucks me into the bed. He smiled down at me before writing on a piece of paper he found scattered on his desk. He then leaves. He quietly shuts the door and leaves.

Hours later, I awake finally. I have slept for a while. I was clearly sleep deprived. I sit up and look around the room, confused. Where the fuck was I? I quickly went to run out the room when I noticed a ink covered peice of paper. I pick it up and read it.

"Morning, or whenever you wake up. I just wanted to say sorry earlier. I didn't mean to treat you that way. I had a bad day and took it out on you. Let's talk."

From Vox

I couldn't help but smile. That was sweet. Well, the bare minimum, but for Vox, this was a big step. He never shows sympathy or any fucks for his minions. This actually meant something. My head flies up to the door as someone slowly starts opening it. I see Vox glare into the room to see if I was asleep. He enters when he sees me.

"Oh. Mornin'.. um. Are you doing okay?" He says quietly. He approaches the bed and lifts my chin before looking at my neck. I blush and glare at his pretty but flat face.

"Since when are you nice?" I say somewhat teasingly and somewhat truthful. I mean, I'm right. He's never nice.

"Yeah, yeah, shut up." He says as he rolls his eyes with sass. I chuckle slightly and smile up at him. He's been nice, well, in his own way.

"The letter, let's chat," He says. I have no time to deny before he sits on the bed beside me.

"So. Val has been a little fucking asshole. I mean, the idiot thinks he can boss me around like I'm his boy toy, and -" He stops talking for a moment. "Never mind. Um. But I've been.. pissed off lately. So I lashed out on you." He says. He seemed genuine. His normally loud dementure not present. I nod. I somewhat forgive him. My neck still hurts but he's trying. Which makes it count.

"Yeah so. Sorry for being a bitch. Asshole I don't know. I um. I guess I just find you different from the other fucks." I chuckle at that. Though he's calm whenever he talks about someone else he grits his teeth.

"You find me different? How?" I question. I generally was confused. How was I different? I assumed he meant because I'm not an overlord. I'm weaker then everyone else he knows. Anyone that's not Velvet or Valentino is under him. Though I could be wrong. Because I've never met this Vox before.

"I guess I uh.. feel different with you. The others fucking stress me out. You dont- as much." He says. Adding a snarcky comment on the end. Of course. Why wouldn't he?

"How.. surprisingly charming." I say. He rolls his eyes and looks away. He thinks of what to say before turning to look at me.

"Oh fuck you. Really. But I feel different with you. Fuck knows what that means." He says as he leans back slightly. I smirk and glare at him.

"Aww you have a little crush on me Vox?~" I say teasingly. His screen turns a lighter and brighter blue. I pull playfully at his bowtie all while having complete eye contact.

"Oh fuck you asshole- I'm trying to be nice yknow?" I smile at that and move my hands away from his bowtie. I look into hi alluring red eyes. They're actually quite beutiful.

"Yeah. I appreciate it though. Your not too bad." I say. He smiles at that. Oh that smile. He normally just smirks but that soft smile is so fucking attractive. I grab his bowtie again and peck the side of his screen. "I'll see you tomorrow, Vox." I say before getting up and leaving.

Vox was left dumbfounded. You just kissed him? Why? Why did he like it? His screen blanked out and read; 'warning, emotion overload.'

Let's just say, Vox's day got better. Way better

#hazbin hotel #romance #hazbin hotel x male reader #hazbin hotel x reader #male y/n #hazbin vox #hazbin hotel vox #vox #vox x reader

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