—

you rarely call price by his first name. it's usually just a very cheery cap! or a stoic price when you need to remind him of the objective, but whenever you do call him john—you tried jonathan once as a joke, and the piercing stare he gave you made that the first and last time—it's warm, earnest. you almost seem shy uttering it, judging by the softness of your voice, but he calms your nerves with a fond look and an affectionate squeeze on the back of your neck.

getting the privilege of calling soap by his first name, let alone johnny, was an accomplishment in itself. you noticed how ghost was the only one who called him johnny, and so you took that as a sign to never refer to him as anything other than his ridiculous callsign and occasionally an incredulous bloody hell, mactavish, whenever he says something outrageous.

until you did slip up one night, but soap didn't seem to mind too much. he quite liked how his first name sounded in your voice, and when he offered you to call him johnny instead, which you mumbled under your breath to test it out, his surprised expression morphed into a genuine smile, one so pretty a rush of energy zipped through you. now, he won't let you call him anything except johnny—pretty much threatens you.

gaz was the first one on the team who allowed you to call him by his first name. hearing you mumble a tired morning, kyle or a warning but unserious kylie... when he's being a little shit makes his day a little brighter. you'd think the two of you were good mates with many years of friendship under your belts with the way you mock and poke at each other—especially when he lets you get away with calling him the most ridiculous pet names, like pookie, of all things.

while you seem to maintain good relations with your team, close ones even, there's just one person who stumps you. one big, enigmatic bastard who gives you creepy looks and speaks in nothing but cryptic language.

it honestly feels like your lieutenant dislikes you; no wonder you're still stuck with calling him by his callsign.

(poor ghost has been waiting for weeks for those plush lips of yours to utter his name. not ghost, not lieutenant or sir, but simon.

it's getting painful how oblivious you are to his attempts at giving you the green light to use his first name; the hard stare he gives you after hearing yet another formal greeting fall from your lips only seems to make you straighten up even more, and the annoyance radiating off of him every time you call him ghost scares you further away from him.

you're so formal with him, and he doesn't know what else to do—he just wants to be called a cute stupid nickname, too.)

Service Dog Johnny Headcanons:

Johnny is a service dog to Reader as well

Why Simon chose Reader

Why Simon only 🖐️ 🍆 with Johnny there

Johnny/Reader kink dynamic

Pre-sex briefing

Why Johnny thinks he’s unlovable

Why Johnny and Simon joke about sex with each other

Why Simon doesn’t touch himself with Reader

Simon/Johnny romantic differences

Johnny's Love

Johnny’s motivation and beliefs about the situation

The first time Simon told Reader about his trauma

Simon’s support system

Simon’s trauma makes it hard to keep up sometimes

Simon getting jealous

Johnny is okay

Who’s getting cast aside?

Missing piece of the pentagram

Simon’s house

What Simon whispered to Johnny

Rough sex between Simon and Reader

Catching feelings

Ghost is a war criminal

Service Dog Johnny Drabbles/Bonus Scenes

"First time she ever showed me--"

Being silly with Bob

Cigarettes

Simon therapy

Pet names

Girlfriend

Johnny POV Part 1 (Laney)

Johnny POV Part 2 (Falling for her)

Johnny POV Part 3 (Family Day)

Johnny POV Part 4 (Rehab)

Johnny POV Part 5 (You’re a good person)

Johnny POV Part 6 (Just a graze)

Johnny POV Part 7 (Ghost in the bedroom)

Johnny POV Part 8 (Crafts)

Johnny POV Part 9 (Baby)

Johnny POV part 10 - Johnny comes over

Johnny POV Part 11 (Tinder)

Johnny POV Part 12 (Rookie)

Simon POV Part 1 (No bra)

Simon POV Part 2 (butterfly in the garden)

Simon POV Part 3 (help me help you)

Simon POV Part 4 (BJ)

Simon POV Part 5 (Shoelace)

⬅️ Back to Service Dog Johnny main page

Omg requests are open-

Can I get a scenario of Xiao x reader, who is super insecure about themselves, and one day after a particularly harsh comment from Xiao they just start crying? They know it’s just how he talks, but they can’t help but feel like he doesn’t even like them sometimes...with lots of fluff at the end if possible pls. ;’)

Ty so much!! I LOVE ❤️ your blog!! I hope you have a great day :3

𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: xiao x gn!reader

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: harsh words from xiao, insecurities, not proofread

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒: thank u for the request! and honestly this is so possible w xiao :( he's very blunt :( but he means well!!

xiao knows you're insecure

... kinda

it's one of those things that have been buried deep within his mind. he's not going to think about how you stare at yourself in disappointment, or how you seem to hate the sound of your own voice

it's not that he's cold, he's just unaware. unaware of the true depth and meaning of the word 'insecure'

an example is, right now. right now, after he merely responded like how he did to all mortals, you were crying. and a part of him hates the sight of your tears, yet at the same time, he's confused

why? why are you crying? he can't seem to tell, so when he stretches his hand out and you recoil, it's when xiao realizes

oh.

the problem is him.

"[Name]...?" Xiao called your name weakly—no, wait, not weakly... hoarsely.

The adeptus was dumbfounded. Why were you crying? The peculiars of mankind would forever confuse him, and this instance was another one of them.

And then he watched. He watched as you hid away from his gaze, refusing to accept his touch as if he were a searing hot pan.

xiao bites his tongue and walks away. he concludes that if you do not want to speak to him, then he will not force you

to him, the action was necessary and logical. to him, it is a good moment to cool down and look around

but to you. to you and your wounded heart, you and your growing anxiousness—that was goodbye. xiao has had enough of you, after all, he has much more to worry about than someone like you. someone who was weak compared to his strength

oh, how xiao was so utterly oblivious to "the peculiars of mankind"

so after a few hours, xiao returns. he returns... no different from how he was before. he's a stubborn yaksha after all, a little patrol will not somehow make him realize his wrongdoings

imagine his utter shock when the door to your room is still locked, and there's no sign of you emerging

hm.

so he knocks. three times. three times before huffing and turning away

fine. if you didn't want to see him, so be it!

and like the stubborn man he is, he leaves to go finish his adeptus duties

Xiao heaved out a sigh of relief once he saw you at the balcony of Wangshu Inn. Concluding, 'they're finally done crying', he approached you cautiously before standing right beside you.

"Xiao?" You noticed his presence instantly, and the adeptus couldn't help but recoil once his name left your lips.

Countless of times has he told you 'whenever the world caves in, call me. I'll be there', yet this insignificant moment, this brief time where he wished his name was the last thing that slipped from your mouth, Xiao had realized:

'I messed up.'

The way you spoke his name made him retract because of the dying storm that seemed to cascade from your throat. Like your anger was bubbling in place of your sadness, a thunderous crash and bang.

"... Do you even love me?" You spoke without a reply, as if you didn't care about what meaningless fodder would trickle from his mouth.

xiao pauses, his urge to reprimand you for such a question skyrocketing

did he love you? definitely! did you think he'd return if he didn't? did you think he'd come knocking at your door, asking—begging for you to open up?

and all of this inner turmoil is stuff xiao suffers from alone. he's used to suffering alone, and this, this is not any different

"of course i do," he says with the most sincerity possible, as if he were making a vow or a contract to rex lapis during the archon war

"it doesn't really feel like it," you look at him with a gaze that'd break his spirit if it weren't for him being battle-worn

and this. this insignificant moment is the moment xiao realizes how deep your scars go. how you too had been suffering with your own inner turmoil, just as he

for someone like xiao, saying sorry isn't easy. he has many things to be sorry for, but he does not utter such words so carelessly

"i'm sorry," he whispers to you, to the night sky, to liyue and to the spirits of old

he knows these two words will not earn your forgiveness, they should never. so encased within that 'meaningless' sentence, xiao promises:

i will never hurt you like this again.

that is his contract. his long overdue contract.

meow meow meow

are u mad at me do u hate me do am i annoying did i do something wrong are u tired of me are u mad at me do u hate me do u still like me am i boring are u mad at me do u hate me

Gaz being Gaz

society of brilliance ft. veritas ratio

in which you come home and soothe veritas and his insecurities in a shared bath—which consists of you making a society just for the two of you. luckily, it’s more than enough to ease his troubled mind

contains: gender neutral reader ; non sexual nudity ; shared baths ; slight references to veritas character story iii ; reverse comfort ; veritas is not taking his lack of invitation to genius society lightly :( ; i invite you all to join my nous hate club

veritas doesn’t greet you when you come home. you’d be disappointed any other time, but the glow of light under the cracks through the bathroom door tells you precisely why he’s not there to greet you—you can’t help but be endeared.

so you pad into the bathroom, grinning softly as his head lifts from resting against the edge of the bathtub, eyes opening to glance over your figure.

they brighten a bit when they take in the view of you.

“no book?” you raise a brow, mildly shocked.

“is it hard to believe i’d like to relax without reading?” he closes his eyes again, relaxing once more as he listens to you shed your clothing.

“well, i suppose not,” you chuckle, “but you’re a bit…”

“go on,” he presses dryly, “finish your thought.”

“a bit uptight. i don’t know if you can relax without reading something or another.”

it’s cheeky, the way you bite your lip and suppress a grin, watching as he rolls his eyes (but he could never hope to hide the fondness in them, even if he tried). you reach over one the last of your clothes drop to the floor, hand cupping his cheek as he sighs and melts into your palm.

“well, i certainly won’t be relaxing now that your presence is here to disrupt my peace,” he quips, letting a smug grin of his own stretch over his cheeks as you huff.

“long day?” you murmur, tracing your thumb along his skin soothingly as he hums, pressing closer into your touch, “it must be if you couldn’t wait long enough to greet me.”

“my apologies darling,” he says quietly. you frown a little, tracing the darkening circles under his eyes as your thumb travels higher across his face. “i’m afraid my mind was a bit occupied.”

“oh veritas.”

it’s delicate, the way you say his name. fragile, like he’s one moment from sinking into the water from the weight of his mind, unable to resurface for a breath of air. veritas has been different since accepting the invitation from the ipc—a bit more defeated, perhaps. a lot more distracted.

you pull your hand away, much to his displeasure, waving it to gesture him forward in the tub as he looks at you with creases building in his forehead.

“but—”

“don’t argue for once, you difficult man,” you scold, “just do as i say.”

“how commanding,” comes his reply in a half-hearted scoff. he listens nonetheless, inching forward so you can sit yourself behind him, sinking into the warm water as you collect him in your arms and pull him to lean against your chest.

he relaxes instantly. more than he could before your arrival, like the presence of you makes breathing easier, more simple. in and out, inhale and exhale. his chest rises and falls under your hand, slow circles smoothing over the firm muscle as his head falls back against your shoulder.

veritas doesn’t let you hold him often—he prefers the weight of you in his arms, but sometimes it’s nice when you take on his weight, too. when his mind is heavy and loaded with the endless thoughts of his. and you like it too, the feeling of him pressing into you, the feeling of him settled into your hold as you keep him afloat.

you break the silence first, pressing a kiss into his head as you whisper, “care to enlighten me what’s going on in that head of yours?”

“are you sure you can handle it? i have a rather advanced thought process,” he teases.

“i’d say your mind is regressed,” you snort, squeezing the rubber duck floating in the water a small distance away.

you can practically see his pout even if it’s not in your line of sight as he clicks his teeth and says in an offended tone, “being intelligent doesn’t mean i have to deny myself of a few simple joys.”

“aren’t i the only joy you need?” you bat your lashes, kissing the back of his neck as he chuckles.

“i suppose you are sufficient enough, yes.”

“just sufficient?” you gasp, biting his shoulder playfully as he shakes against you with soft laughter. “if you don’t love me, just say that.”

“there you go again,” he hums in amusement, shaking his head as he tilts his head and eyes you with an endeared glint in his eyes, “always so theatric over the most trivial of causes.”

“someone has to keep things interesting. your idea of fun is picking apart a student’s thesis.”

“i enable them to grow,” he corrects, thoroughly unimpressed as he purses his lips and gives you a dry look. “it’s a favor, really.”

“i don’t know what to do with you. too smart for your own good.”

he sighs, slumping against your figure as he quietly mumbles, “perhaps not smart enough.”

you frown, the edges of your mouth curling in an unhappy twist downwards as you process his words. veritas is undoubtedly brilliant—you’d never thought he’d question the fact. of course, he’s tried time and time again to catch the gaze of nous, and of course, you’ve always known there’s a lingering air of self deprecation at his lack of success.

but you never thought him to doubt himself—not of his capabilities, not of his brilliance. his brilliance is the most beautiful thing about him, you think. he’s so quick to understand things—like how to figure you out like it’s easy and simple. how to love you in ways you didn’t even know you want to be loved. how to read you before you understand your own mind.

he’s so bright, so willing to share his light so you can glow too, unwilling to see you as a mere dimness beside him.

you tighten your arms around him, nuzzling your nose into his cheek as you press sweet, feathery kisses to his skin.

“if you consider yourself not smart enough, i fear for what you think of my intelligence.”

“i think you’re brilliant,” he says instantly, “there’s no doubt.”

“then why doubt yourself?”

he’s silent. you know the answer, even if he doesn’t want to say it. because if not smart enough to be acknowledged by the aeon he’s dedicated his aspirations to, the aeon that stands to represent the very purpose of his existence, the aeon that signifies the embodiment of wisdom itself—how can he consider himself enough?

how can you consider him enough? he wants to ask, but the words never form on his tongue, caught in his throat in a lump he can’t even swallow down. it’s stuck, persistently lodged and silencing him as he lays limply in your arms.

“oh, veritas,” you say with so much gentleness, he sighs shakily at the sound of his name from your tongue. so sweet, so pleasant—like it’s dipped his honey from the comb. “you are far too capable for it to be a cause for question.”

“am i?” he chuckles dryly, lips tugging ruefully into a painful smile, “perhaps i’d have reached my goals then, wouldn’t i?”

“perhaps it’s not your intelligence that separates you from the genius society,” you murmur thoughtfully, combing wet fingers through his hair, scratching tenderly at his scalp as he shivers at your touch.

“then, pray tell, what would it be, darling?” he asks, indulging you.

“your compassion, maybe. you’re of the few geniuses that don’t forget what it means to be human. i don’t think a machine declared as the face of intelligence has the capacity to understand that.”

“you shouldn’t speak of the divine like that,” he snorts.

“nobody is as divine as me,” you reply with a giggle, earning a tender squeeze at your thigh as he smiles at you with a roll of his eyes.

“is that so?”

“you don’t agree?”

he turns, kissing the pout off of your lips as he whispers, “oh, i do. i certainly do—you’re of the most divinest of beings in all of the cosmos. a truly magnificent…piece of work.”

“i’ll ignore that last part just for today,” you say pointedly. you peck his lips again, and again, and when he settles deeper into your chest, relaxing against your body, you tighten your hold around him. “but i hereby declare you an honorary member of the society of brilliance—”

he cuts you off with a short. you whine, slapping his arm in protest as he stifles his laughs.

“and just how many members are in this society?”

“currently two,” you glare, “but it’s at risk of becoming one if you mock it any further. it’s a very serious organization.”

“sorry, sorry. it won’t happen again,” he poorly fights back a grin. (and he could never hope to successfully hide a smile around your presence, he’s sure such a feat is impossible. you write joy on his features as easy as pen on paper).

“it better not. this society is far more sophisticated than that child’s play of an organization…society for geniuses, was it?”

“genius society,” he correct, playing along.

“oh yes,” you nod, pretending to snap in recognition, “that’s the one. such an undignified group of individuals. a shame—they had potential. it’s a good thing we’re not like them.”

“a relief indeed,” he smiles.

it’s so raw, so real, so pure, he can’t help but twist in your arms and press his lips to you, hoping to physically share the joy of you evident in the curl of his mouth. the dimple in his cheek. the crinkles of his eyes.

you’ve written yourself into every part of him, so seamlessly intwined with his body and mind, it’s difficult to doubt himself. because to doubt himself is to doubt you, and veritas could never hope to doubt you. not when you’re so divine, so bright and beautiful, so precious.

a wonder to society.

he’s lucky to be acknowledged by such brilliance.

“you’re the most capable man i know,” you whisper against his lips. he hums in satisfaction as you peck them gently before adding, “i have very high standards, you know.”

“i’m relieved i’ve met them. my greatest achievement to date.”

“i’m glad you’re wise enough to realize as such.”

“is my spot in your exclusive society secured then?”

“hmm. i’ll think about it—you’re still on thin ice.”

if nous has 0 haters im dead. anyway. veritas, i love you i love you i love you i love you i love you i love you. did i mention i love you

let my man into genius society!!!! he belongs there more than anyone else!!!!! actually tbh he’s too good for that group of ppl (i say this but ruan mei is my gf sorry queen ur the exception)

Waterwork “Sit in water”

Gaz is in the 141. Not könig or keegan. Its gaz. Price, ghost, soap and Gaz. Pleaseeee understand this bc i swear im going insane listening to people talk about konig in the 141.

I love The Golden Girls.