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literaila · 2 months

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keeping secrets

gojo satoru x fem!reader

summary: you and satoru avoid each other

warnings: actual fighting, sad everyone, hurt/little comfort (sorry)

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year four.

"did megumi give you a permission slip?" you ask satoru, leaning against the side of the couch, peeking at his phone. "it's for a field trip, but i haven't seen it. he says he set it on the counter."

satoru glances at you. then back, and shakes his head.

"he didn't give you anything to sign?"

"not recently."

you sigh. "i don't think he lost it."

satoru's lip quirks. "you think i'm hiding it?"

"i don't know. did you accidentally eat it?"

his eyes roll. "i have better taste than that."

"well, can you help me look for it?"

satoru sighs, head hanging back for a moment, then he throws his phone down, groaning as he stands up. after he stretches, he half-heartedly moves a pillow, pretending to look under it.

you snort.

but satoru doesn't look back at you, and moves to the table, to look at the stack of papers there.

and, admittedly, things have been a bit off.

you tried to ignore it at first--ignore the way satoru avoided your eyes, or kept himself five feet away from you at all times. you tried to pretend that it wasn't happening. that he wasn't giving you short responses, or only joking with you in dire moments (like when something you say goes over both of the kid's heads and they stare at you weirdly).

honestly, you hadn't even noticed anything was wrong until you'd realized that it'd been a week since he fell asleep with you. since he even bothered to come out of his room after putting the kids to bed. a week since he tried to squeeze you to death, or grossly kissed your cheek.

and... it shouldn't be weird.

no rule says that he has to spend a specific amount of time with you, or cuddle in your bed, or smile at you, or... do anything that your best friend probably shouldnt do.

but it's weird.

it's strange because your relationship with satoru has stayed relatively consistent, an upward slope for the past six years. you've grown closer, but never farther.

and, in the depths of your mind, usually when you're lying awake at night, you recognize that there's one single moment when it switched. that everything changed a specific morning, and you haven't been able to rewind it. to take it all back.

and you could just blame the alcohol for your confession, you probably should.

but then you'd also have to blame your sixteen-year-old self, the girl who'd been attracted to satoru in the first place. the eighteen-year-old who agreed to tie her life to his and take in the kids, or you now, still cursing yourself for falling in love with him.

it's not like satoru made you.

if intoxication is to blame, so is your heart, your soul, for starting all of this in the first place.

you'd decided to not blame anything at all, in the end. everything's fine.

"find anything?" you ask him, a bit cold in the room, feeling that same tension that's been there. those unspoken words, infinite amounts of distance.

you try to ignore it, really.

"just the receipt for tsumiki's violin."

"tsumiki's what?" you ask, blinking at him.

"i didn't tell you about that?"

"satoru, you can't just buy them things on a whim--"

he holds a hand up, stopping you. "she said it was for school," he says, giving you a quick grin. "plus, she's pretty good."

"there's no way she's good."

"you'll see," he says, "when we go to her recital."

"what?"

satoru shrugs, then he turns around, organizing the piles of papers into neat stacks. it almost makes you want to check him for a spider bite, a fever, remnants of poison. no way your satoru is doing that.

not that he's yours. he hasn't been yours in years, hasn't been your anything ever.

"oh, here," he says, eventually, handing you a paper which he already signed--of course--and shaking his head. "museums," he grumbles.

but he doesn't give you the chance to respond, turning to walk down the hall--towards his room--before you can even chide him for forgetting about it.

so, yeah. things are fine.

"where's gojo?" megumi asks, as the two of you walk through the door.

the house is empty without satoru there. colder, dimmer. and, of course, there's no one to irritate the boy right when he walks in.

you try not to wince at the question, or spiral into your own question of 'where's gojo?'

"uh," you lock the door, then unlock it. then lock it again. "he's on another job."

"again?"

you give megumi a bland smile, taking his backpack from him. "guess they think he needs more practice," you say, trying to tease.

it falls flat.

"did he get in trouble?"

"i don't know," you shrug. "probably."

honestly, it's not like you would know anyway. satoru doesn't tell you anything these days.

it's probably what bothers you the most, because if he's not saying anything, then neither can you. you can't ask him what he thinks about tsumiki's new friend, or if megumi should be eating more, or if you're just making everything up, probably going insane--

"when's he going to be back?"

"he said probably tomorrow. maybe the day after if it takes longer. i can't remember where they sent him..."

megumi looks mischievous. his eyes are bright. "so we can make those miso brownies? since he's gone?"

you laugh, ruffling his hair. "sure, when tsumiki gets home."

he nods, satisfied, and turns around. then he looks back at you, eyes trailing over your expression.

megumi looks at you quizzically, like he knows something you don't. "do you miss him?"

you roll your eyes. "do you miss him, megumi?"

he doesn't even think about it. "true," he says, then walks into the kitchen, grabbing something from the fridge.

maybe you miss him, you think, but only a little bit. it's not like he's been gone long.

just, you know, forever.

"hey," you lean against the desk in the office. satoru must be filling out a report, which should make you blink twice, but really it's him being out in the open that surprises you.

most days he goes to hide in his room. he locks his door and makes sure that you wouldn't dare to walk through. that you have no means to interrupt his solitude.

"oh, hey," satoru answers, not bothering to look up at you. his voice is low, familiar, and creates goosebumps on your skin.

seriously, why is it so cold in this house?

"i'm surprised those haven't gone missing yet," you gesture toward the papers, trying to be casual.

he snorts. "yaga said that if i lost them again, i was fired."

"he said that two years ago."

satoru nods, still scribbling. you want more than anything to just see his eyes for a moment, for him to look at you and grin like you're used to.

but you know he won't, so you tap your fingers against the desk. "do you have a second?"

"sure. what's up? megumi do something?"

"no, the kids are fine, i, um--" you pause. it feels ridiculous to have to ask him this, to not know the answer. it feels ridiculous to be nervous around satoru. you haven't felt anxious, or worried about asking him anything since you were sixteen and realized that it didn't matter. "shoko texted me about that work 'meeting' that's happening on friday. do you want to go to that? i just need to know so i can tell her..."

"meeting?"

your smile is teasing, not that he's looking. "i think she meant party."

"on friday?"

"yeah. she said that the booze is free, and i think nanami's going, so i thought..." you hint, not even sure what you mean.

i thought we could talk. i thought we could go together and maybe everything would go back to normal. i thought that we were friends, if anything, and that you cared about me--

satoru hums. "what about the kids?"

"tsumiki has a birthday party that night, and megumi likes the sitter from last time," you wince at your accidental mention of that night. "or he can come, i guess, but he'd probably hate it."

satoru snorts, nodding in agreement. you watch his hands freeze, then resume.

he's thinking the same things you are, you know. he's thinking about how stupid you are, how ridiculous it is to imagine him being in love with you, caring about who you are or how you feel.

you just know it.

"so..." you whisper, after a second. "do you want to go?"

you feel like you're standing on uneven ground. how can this be the only real conversation you've had with satoru this week?

how can you miss him this much when he's literally right there?

"i don't--" satoru makes a face, finally looking toward you. he sets down the pen. "i don't think so. but you can go and i can stay here with megumi," he suggests easily like he's not rejecting you. "we can have a guy's night."

"megumi hates guy's nights."

satoru has a cheeky grin on, but it's half-hearted. barely there.

like a glimpse of him in a peephole, a moment where he's not hiding completely from you.

he doesn't say anything, though. he doesn't even bother to come up with a better excuse.

it's clear as day that he just doesn't want to hang out with you, even in a crowd of people.

"that's okay," you hum, eventually, trying to keep your voice steady. "i don't really--"

"no, you should go. you haven't seen nanami in a while. you can have a night out," he says genuinely, but it sounds more like i need a break from you.

"yeah," you try to laugh. "i--um, okay. if you're sure."

he nods, looking away again. he hasn't touched you in weeks. your skin is almost molding, going completely stale. "i'm sure. we'll order dinner, so you don't have to worry about the brat complaining."

"okay."

"okay," satoru answers, but it doesn't mean anything.

and it's not okay.

the two of them walk through the door, and megumi looks... pleasant. he's got the makings of a smile on his face, a little jump in his step.

it's one of the only times you've seen him look like the ten-year-old he is, instead of someone who's concerned about economic collapse.

it makes you smile a bit, even if just the sight of satoru sends pangs down your chest.

"hey," you say, hand on his head as he lingers by you, eyes meeting yours in greeting. you look to satoru, who's pretending to wipe away a smudge on his glasses. "where were you guys?"

"we were--"

"gojo took me to that old hospital by my school," megumi says, "there were cursed spirits hanging outside. he let me and my divine dogs deal with them," he says this almost excitedly--as excited as megumi gets--and you can see it in his eyes. that little twinkle of pride.

your eyes widen, but you smile, trying to be genuine. it's difficult because you've been lying for weeks. "really?" you ask, trying not to look over at satoru accusingly. "how'd it go?"

"good," megumi, moves to the sink, washing his hands. "they're getting better at scenting them out. it didn't take long."

"that's great."

"megumi didn't need any of my help," satoru adds, giving you a short glance. "he's got good intuition."

megumi looks at satoru with a glare in his eyes, but you can tell that he appreciates the compliment.

you can tell that he's completely fine with this, that the two of them are going to act like it's normal, but you can't.

you try to ignore it when megumi looks between you and satoru, a slight furrow in his brows. he knows something wrong, you know. but you're not going to admit that.

you swallow. "do you have any homework you need to finish, megs?"

"uh..." he pauses. "i think so. reading?"

you smile, hand on his back as you lead him out of the room. "okay, how about you go work on that? i need to talk to satoru real quick."

he nods immediately, looking eager to leave--both the room and the tension.

as soon as he's gone, you turn to satoru, narrowed eyes as you observe him. he's already smiling because he knows that he's in trouble. because he knows that you're angry.

because, even if he hasn't actually spoken to you in weeks, satoru has always read you so well. he's always known what you're going to say before you say it.

but you can't care about it. it doesn't mean anything to him.

“you can’t do that,” you say, almost whispering. “not without asking me.”

“i knew you’d say no.”

you laugh, looking away from him. “exactly.”

“he’s fine,” satoru reassures. he shrugs, because why should he care about your concern? “he did good, and there’s not a scratch on him. i’m sorry for not telling you but—“

“no buts, satoru. you can’t take megumi out on missions like he’s a student. he’s not. and you definitely can’t do it without even telling me," there's a burning in your chest. your head is clouded over with anger.

just looking at him--at his ridiculous smile and stupid perfect face--makes you clench your fists.

how can he stand there and act like you're a team?

“it’s not a big deal. i was there the whole time—and he didn’t need me.”

“i don’t care!”

satoru rolls his eyes, his arms crossed. “i think you’re overreacting.”

“i’m not," you say, trying to get him to look at you--actually look--but he won't. it makes your chest hurt even more. "you’re not telling me things—fine, whatever, keep whatever secrets you want, gojo. don't bother talking to me. but you can’t keep secrets from me about the kids.”

“secrets? i’m not—“

you shake your head, hands in the air, trying to clear all of it away. you want the past month to go away, the past six years. “megumi’s just a kid. he’s ten. he can’t be going on missions, not until he’s ready.”

“i think i’ve already proved how ready he is.”

“well, maybe i'm not ready. he’s a kid.”

“yeah,” satoru says, obviously. he scoffs. “yeah, he’s a kid. but he’s also a jujutsu sorcerer. you can’t separate the two.”

his voice is all-knowing and his stance is firm. you know that you won't convince him otherwise--know that he's right, to some degree, but this isn't about megumi.

this isn't about cursed spirits or jujutsu.

“yes, you can," you say, clenching your jaw. "he doesn’t need to be seeing that shit right now. not until he decides he wants to. practice his technique with him all you want, but you can’t just take him to exorcise a curse with you.”

“like i said, he’s fine.”

“it’s not about that! it’s about you doing something reckless—again—and acting like there aren’t any consequences to your decisions. he’s my son,” you hiss, “he shouldn’t be going anywhere i don’t know about. you shouldn’t be making decisions about him behind my back.”

you shouldn't be pushing me away, you shouldn't be ruining this--

“so you want to lock him up here?" satoru asks, laughing at you. his teeth are sharp and he is still. "you want to take away his ability to defend himself?”

you scoff. “are you kidding? you think me saying i don’t want you to get him killed is equal to me—“

“he was fine. if anything—anything—had been there that megumi couldn’t handle, i would’ve taken care of it. i wasn't going to let anyone touch him. that’s why i was there! and he didn’t even need me," he's boasting, swearing to you--you can feel it as he rolls his eyes at you.

“you know what he needs, satoru? he needs you to treat him like he’s a little boy and not some experiment for you to play with.”

“i would never—“

you cut him off, “bringing him out into the open, where anyone could see him, could hurt him, and making him deal with your cursed spirit is not okay.”

“i didn’t make him deal with anything," satoru swears, chin up.

you snort. the two of you are standing in front of each other, arms crossed, head guarded. your muscles are tense like something is about to attack you. “oh, so he asked you to go?”

“well, no, but—“

“then you made him! you put him up against a monster and treated him like a student, like a 16-year-old, and not your son.”

the words feel nice to say. some version of the truth that's much better than whatever this version is. if satoru won't talk to you, you'll talk for him.

you'll make every assumption, every bad perception (because he's supposed to keep you from worrying, he's supposed to be there to calm you down, to save you from that spiraling). but if he's not going to try, neither will you.

satoru’s eyes grow hard. “what?”

“why can’t you just let him be a kid? why do you have to push him into these things—“

“we talked with megumi about who he is,” satoru grinds, “he knows about the privilege of his strength, and the fact that he has to work to use it—“

“a ten-year-old shouldn’t have to work for anything!”

he laughs at you. you can't see his eyes, but you watch his face as he tries to hide his expression, trying to keep his voice low. the kids are still in the house, so you shouldn't be yelling. but you can't bring it in yourself to really care.

“what do you think the point of him living here was? why do you think we took him in?”

you gape at him. “are you kidding?” you ask. “are you serious? we took him, and tsumiki, in because you’re responsible for killing their father! because they didn’t have anyone else, and that’s your fault.”

“you think i don’t know that?”

“well, i thought you did," you say, stepping away from him. some part of you wants to push him out, make him leave. the other part desperately wants him to stay--to say he's sorry. "but you just said that the only reason megumi is here is so you can teach him! when i agreed to this i thought you were facing the consequences of your actions, doing the right thing for those kids because you could. i thought you wanted to take care of them! to keep them away from our awful, messed up world.”

satoru is staring at you with his jaw clenched.

you continue, without consideration for the consequences of your words. “i didn’t think that you only wanted to keep megumi here so you could train him, like a dog.”

“that’s not what i said.”

you shake your head, a bitter smile on your face. “well it’s what you meant, and clearly you have no regard for his feelings or the way that curses might affect him—“

“don’t act like i did it just to mess with him," he interrupts, harshly. "it’s not a joke. i want him to be strong, i want him to be able to take care of himself—“

“and i want him to have a dad who isn’t so selfish!”

“what?”

“did you even think about it? what about the nightmares he’s going to have?" you wonder, rhetorically. "what about the fact that he’s different—that he’s already struggling to relate to other kids in school? what about him, satoru? why is it only about you?”

what about me? you don't say.

“i didn’t bring him for me—“

“you want a replacement. you want someone else to deal with everything, while you sit back and watch. i know what you’re trying to do—“

“really?" he points at you, the other hand clenched in the air. he's laughing again. "you can read my mind? you’ve already been let in on my plans—“

“don’t you wish that you’d had the opportunity to be just a kid?” you demand. “don’t you want that for megumi?”

he shrugs. “sure. but it’s never going to happen.”

“well, clearly, because you won’t let it.”

“he gets to be a kid every day. god forbid i take him to see one curse, to understand how to use his powers, to protect himself, and you treat me like i wanted to kill him.”

you laugh. your mind is a minefield, and everything he says ruins another part of it.

all you can think about is him, him as a teenager, him with you, telling satoru you love him and him having nothing left to say--

but you scoff again, shoving yourself further away from him. “do you know how many times i’ve wanted to go back to when i was ten and just got to live my life? do you know how often i think about how everything could’ve been different?”

“this isn’t about us."

“yes, it is. it is, satoru, because i didn’t get that chance and neither did you. and you just took away megumi’s chance.”

“i didn’t take anything away," he says, softly, like he's trying to convince himself.

clearly, you've struck a nerve.

“he’s never going to be able to look at the world normally, but he doesn’t need the burden of saving people before he’s even in middle school.”

“why is being strong so bad?” satoru asks you, demanding something more. why am i so bad? “why do you treat it like it’s a curse? like it’s going to hurt him?”

“look at you!” you respond. “look at suguru, and me, and shoko! look at any jujutsu sorcerer and ask them if being strong is worth it—is worth screwing your life over.”

satoru looks taken aback. he steps away from you.

“god, it’s like you think that we’re a different species," you tell him, never having felt like it's more true. "you’re human, satoru. you might be the strongest, but you’re still human, and you still have nightmares like all of the rest of us.”

he shakes his head at you.

“why do you want that for megumi? why push him into this right now?”

“i want him to be able to take care of himself. so that he doesn’t die like our colleagues, so that he doesn’t make the wrong choice like—“

he stops, his voice breaking before he can continue.

and maybe you know what this is really about, but if satoru doesn’t want to tell you how he feels, if he wants to pretend like it doesn’t matter—

fine. you will too.

“it wouldn’t make a difference. he’s already—his life is already messed up.”

satoru looks at you, his eyes ablaze. “don’t you think that if i was him, if i could’ve been stronger, if i could’ve saved all of those people—don’t you think i would do it in an instant? don’t you think i know that because i wasn’t strong enough, people died?”

this is the thing you've feared since you were eighteen, a brand new person responsible for two little lives. you've feared satoru's moral commitment since before you met him. since you saw him destroy a curse in an instant and realized he was different than everyone else.

“megumi isn’t you! he doesn’t need to be taught to take on the responsibility of everyone’s lives—“

“you can’t say that i’m selfish, that i don’t care, and then say that i care too much,” he says, shaking his head, unable to look at you.

he hasn't been able to look you in the eye in weeks.

“you’re both!" you say, almost yelling. "you’re everything. and you don’t think! you haven’t thought for a moment about what megumi might be feeling, who he might want to be—“

“and you have? what about what you want him to be?”

“i want him to be happy! i want him to grow up better than i ever did. i don’t want him chasing a bunch of cursed spirits around on the weekend like it’s a normal thing—“

“it is normal. for us, it’s normal. for him, it’s normal.”

you sigh, a weight on your chest, a burning in your throat. “well, maybe it shouldn’t be.”

you're not going to start crying now. not with satoru watching, not when he gets to know just how much you care.

satoru scoffs. “so you’d just have everyone defend themselves--"

"i don't know how you're arrogant enough to believe that you can save everyone--"

"--you’d just forget that we’re strong for a reason, that we--“

“but you’re never going to be strong enough, satoru. never.”

satoru stares at you. he doesn’t say a thing, doesn’t hesitate, and doesn’t bother to argue.

and after a moment he turns around. you reach your hand out to grab him--hold onto him and keep him here, because this isn't finished, and you're not done with him. you haven't even started.

but you run into a wall. you look down and your hand is dangling idly in front of his arm, stuck in the air.

you can't see satoru's eyes, but you can feel his heart--your heart--as it skips a beat in realization.

but then satoru shakes you off, pushes you infinitely farther away from infinity, and keeps going.

he walks out the door, slamming it shut.

you stand there for a moment, watching. you wait for the door to open again, for satoru to come back, for him to laugh--tell you that everything's fine, that it'll all be fine. that it's okay if you're angry, that he doesn't care.

but after a minute, he doesn't return.

and after another, you have to lean against the counter. your hand burns--but maybe that's just your imagination. you're pretty sure that infinity has no drawbacks, that there's no consequence for touching, for not touching satoru.

pretty sure.

but you still look over your skin, trying to see if he's left some mark. it would be nice to have some evidence of what he's done to you. you clench your fist, but the feeling doesn't go away.

and maybe it's not your hand. maybe it's your chest. maybe it's these weeks of feeling separated, feeling miles apart from him, feeling like it's all your fault that any of this has happened.

you... you can't even remember what you were arguing about.

you feel like a kid again, hiding yourself in your room just so your parents don't have to deal with you. you feel like that little girl who hid in the cupboards, trying to escape the monsters that no one else could see. you feel like that smaller, reckless version of yourself that left home at the first chance, who knew she wasn't allowed back.

are you allowed here? you wonder. is it going to happen again? are these monsters--real and fake--too much for your family to handle again?

you exhale, trying to catch your breath again. none of this feels right, normal, easy.

should you--should you call him? should you wait for him to come back?

is he going to come back?

the slam of the door is still echoing throughout the house when they creep down the hallway, making sure their footsteps are soft, but also loud enough for you to hear.

maybe you've only been standing there, waiting for satoru to turn around, for thirty seconds.

but it feels like an hour.

"mom?" a tiny voice asks, and both of them are turning around the corner, taking hesitant steps towards you.

you have to swallow. you need some water, an icepack maybe, to get rid of the burning feeling in your throat. the telltale signs that you're going to cry--that you've suffered blows to the core, and you can't backtrack now.

but you don't want to cry in front of them. you refuse to. if you didn't want to cry in front of satoru, you won't cry in front of the kids.

so you turn around, swallow again, and fill a glass of water.

you chug it down, wanting it to wash away that feeling, that ache.

you can't say anything just yet because then you'll actually fall apart.

megumi and tsumiki watch you, both of them silent as they wait for your direction. for some solution you should have.

you take a deep breath, then turn, almost faltering when you see the worried look on both of their faces, the concern in their eyes. neither of them should have to worry about this.

god, how could you forget that they were there? that they could hear everything?

how could you make another mistake?

"hey, guys," you say, clearing your throat. you want to be nonchalant, and casual, but you've never been either a day in your life.

"where did gojo go?"

"i, um," you take another sip of water, because that feeling crawls up your throat, makes itself known again. "i think he went on a walk."

"is he okay?" tsumiki asks.

"are you okay?" megumi follows.

"yeah, he's fine. he's good. i--he just needed some space, you know? um... a break."

"from us?"

your eyes widen. "no, no, no. of course not, never you guys. he's... just been busy this week. working a lot. and, i, well, he's good. we're good."

megumi leans on the counter next to you, looking at you very closely. "are you okay?" he repeats.

"i'm good, megs. it's..." you smile. "it's fine. um, did satoru get you anything to eat while you were out? i'm not sure what we've got, but i can make something if you--"

"when is he going to be back?"

you stop, sighing. you shouldn't have taught either of them how to read emotions, or how to eavesdrop. you shouldn't be speaking to anyone, or trusted with anything.

"i'm not sure, buddy. he'll be back when he's ready."

"is he going to stay out all night?" tsumiki asks, worried.

"no, i'm sure--" you stop again. "gojo will be back in time for bed, okay?"

they're both staring at you, waiting for you to say something profound, something to make it actually okay.

but you have nothing. is satoru going to come back? is he going to stay somewhere else? you know he'll exhaust himself just to avoid coming home--

this is why you shouldn't have moved in--

this is why you never should've agreed to this, allowed himself to burrow a hole in your heart, in your soul--

"hey," megumi takes a step towards you. and then, before you can blink the tears out of your eyes, reassure him that it's fine, his arms are around your waist.

he nuzzles his face into your side, squeezing tighter than you thought a little boy could.

theres only a second of this before tsumiki's on your other side, and squeezing just as hard.

your hands fall on both of their backs, and you take a breath that feels more like never breathing again. your lungs won't fill, and your chest is incomplete

but they stand there with you, and eventually, your heart begins to match theirs, and their little hands keep you together.

you can't cry, but you really want to.

satoru's entire body feels different.

he knows what it's lacking, the changes he's made in a short period of time--giving himself no time to acclimate, no pause where he slowly adapts to the differences.

he misses you.

it's been like this before--when suguru left and satoru couldn't bear to look at himself in the mirror, nonetheless you in the eyes--but it's never felt so severe.

because you're right there. you've been there every day, waking him up, making the kids breakfast, laughing when megumi bullies him, smiling at tsumiki's attempts at mediating.

you're there in the morning, in the afternoon, and every night. you're right there for him--and he can't say a word.

he doesn't want this, this thing to be real.

denial is his favorite emotion, and recently, he can't even muster the strength to go through with it.

and now, he feels even more hopeless, lacking, never ever enough.

but he walks through the door because he has nowhere else to go. he has no other home--besides the three of you.

it's dark outside when he comes back, and the door is unlocked, so he knows that you've been waiting. that you had to deal with the aftermath of shouted voices and scared children who he felt lurking behind a wall before he got the chance to think about any of it.

he needs to talk to you. satoru knows that, he really does. but he's not sure what to say.

he could apologize for tonight--could tell you that he won't make any more decisions, that he won't wreck this thing you've built--but it's not enough.

he should probably apologize for the last seven years. for letting himself grow attached to you, and then continue to hold you at arms length. he should probably apologize for being himself, for being less than he could be.

but those words feel too rotten to say aloud.

so, when he walks up to your door, waiting to feel your obvious presence--to see it, like he always does, the wall of cursed energy that you are--he feels like running away again.

you don't even need to know that he's home. satoru could go to bed, and he could probably pretend that nothing happened in the morning and you would follow along.

but he doesn't want to do that. not to you.

and he needs to see you, needs to say something before he figures it all out--should he leave, or stay? should he continue to push you away to protect you? should he tell you all of it?

it doesn't matter, he knows, because he probably won't be able to do any of it.

and for the first time in years, satoru makes sure to knock before he opens your door. just a small repetition of his knuckles, but he might as well be breaking down a tradition.

there's no answer, but he's not waiting, so he creaks the door open, looking for you immediately.

and he sees you, lying in bed.

and he sees your shoulders shaking slightly, with you curled up in the fetal position, and he can hear the sniffle before the door is all the way open.

there's no choice, he knows. he's not going to let you cry yourself to sleep without saying anything. he's not going to leave you alone.

you don't turn around, but satoru knows that you must know he's there. he walks across the floor, sitting at the edge of your bed, waiting for you to turn to him.

and yell, maybe. tell him to leave again. tell him that you don't want to look at him anymore.

but you don't move. your shaking is slightly stifled, and satoru can tell that you're trying to keep your breathing low, to keep him from noticing you cry.

it's foolish, really, because satoru hasn't missed a single detail about you since he was seventeen.

he doesn't say anything, but it's a natural reflex to tap your legs, to stand and slip off his shoes, gently pushing you off of the edge of the bed, towards the middle.

and then he's laying there, curling his limbs around yours, arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you into him.

immediately, there's a release somewhere inside of him. that yearning--that ridiculous need is finally satiated.

satoru swallows. he needs to say something, he knows, but he's not sure what. should he apologize right now? should he tell you that he hates it when you cry--that he never feels more desperate to be more than in moments like this?

should he whisper that he loves you, just to get it off his chest?

but you cough, body shuttering as you relax into him, never pushing him away. and your voice is so small when you say, "you can't leave."

satoru feels the pieces of him crack into even more.

he tries to hold you tighter, but you move in his hold, turning so that you're facing him, and you nuzzle your face into his neck--trying to hide, but making sure that he's there.

your hands cling onto him, leaving marks.

he can feel your tears against his skin, your entire body on overdrive.

"you can't leave," you repeat, voice breaking. satoru feels it against the very outline of his soul.

"okay," he says, quickly. "i won't."

"i can't lose you too."

he pales, body going still. his heart might stop for a moment. "you won't. i'm not going anywhere." he sighs. "i'm sorry."

"i can't--" you're still crying, and you begin to shake again. "i can't do this without you. i won't."

"you don't have to."

"you can't leave, satoru," you say, leaning up to meet his eyes--yours glistening with years full of hurt, a lifetime of secrets and unsaid words. "please don't leave."

"i won't," he repeats, feeling a bit desperate. what can he say to prove to you that he's not like everyone else? that he would trap you within his atoms, if he could? that he would stay in this bed, holding you, even if it meant nothing, forever?

there's nothing, he knows. nothing but the truth. but that doesn't come out--it can't, now. it's not the right time.

so instead, satoru wipes the tears from your face, even though they're replaced immediately, your breath coming in short, short bursts. he wraps his arm around your back, pulling you back to him again.

"i'm sorry," you whisper against his skin, so quietly that he can barely hear it.

"i'm not going anywhere," he answers.

and, just for tonight, it's enough.

he'll fix the rest of it tomorrow.

next part | series masterlist

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kneelingshadowsalome · 10 months

Note

Oh GOD, breeding kink with Ghost but he's actually determined to get his darling pregnant because after everything they've been through together, how much he loves her and vice versa? I could go on but it's just something to think about. I also strongly believe he'd be that kind of girl dad heheh

Couldn't Love You More (Ghost x F!Reader)

Left pic credit: @ vhenan_virabelasan on IG

Word count: 3.7 k

Tags/warnings: Tooth-rotting FLUFF. Mild, soft smut 🔞, crying (from joy), breeding kink (obv), comfort no hurt. All the softness and love.

A/N: Excuse me, more soft!Ghost coming through! I hope you like this take anon 💕

"I'm tired of using those things."

Simon rarely whispers, hardly ever murmurs, and never coos. But this time, his voice is deliberately soft.

You sigh and put the condom package down on the table. This evening had been a nice change, a pampering for your poor, stressed-out nerves. He had done his best to take your mind off work ever since he got home: he took you out for a 3-course dinner – which reminded you of the early days of your dating – and it was all supposed to end in a good stress relief of a fuck.

You'd sent him suggestive texts all morning, knowing he was coming home today. Those messages were extra naughty because you happened to be ovulating, and juicy, and horny as hell.

And you know he has waited for this moment as well. Which is why you can't get your head around why he wants to raise the subject of using other methods of contraception right before you're about to have sex.

Why would he suddenly start complaining when both of you are already naked – practically seconds before you're about to roll down the condom for him?

"You know I've tried, Simon," you sigh again – you don't even bother to disguise the annoyance in your voice. After all, you've tried basically everything to make it more pleasurable for you to make love without the risk of getting knocked up. You hate the rubber between the two of you just as much as he does, if not more. Apparently you need to remind him how the last attempt with the pill went.

"I become a bloated monster," you say, realizing you're pouting only when he laughs.

You absolutely love it when he does: it's a rare thing, even with you. Even after all these years of love and dedication, the warm, husky chuckle at the back of his throat makes your heart flutter and your head feel dizzy.

"That's not what I meant."

"Then what did you mean…?"

The man has a tiny twinkle in his eyes, and the flutter in your heart turns into something heavier, more serious. He looks you up and down as if to weigh whether you're ready to take in what he's about to say.

"How about we just ditch the bloody things?"

Your heart is truly getting it today: it skips a beat or two from what he says. From what he implies.

"But you…” you whisper, still unsure if you're truly discussing the same thing here. “You said that kids are a bad idea."

"They are."

The twinkle in those eyes turns into an amused gleam, the corner of his mouth lifts up a bit from seeing you so shocked.

And Simon never said he didn't want children.

It's just that he has avoided the subject like it's a seasonal flu he doesn't want to catch.

He would make the perfect father: you just know it. Sad to say, but it was one of the main reasons you fell for this man. It's stupid, but it's true: women look for these things. They can tell if a guy would be a good choice for a father. They notice safety, security, the willingness to support and provide.

Biology and instincts be damned, you simply can't deny that Simon is the first man who made you think about what it would be like to have children. And of course the perfect candidate for a father thought that kids were a bad idea…

It seemed like a cruel joke, the way he brushed you off when you first approached him with your shy request. You pussyfooted around the subject, were as delicate as one can be, knowing it might make him uncomfortable.

And it did. It more than just did.

He freaked the fuck out, went to work, and worked himself nearly to death – literally almost got himself killed, and you understood that this was serious. His childhood, his past, the dangers of his work – of course he thought himself unfit for the role.

Infuriatingly, it only made you more convinced that he was the perfect choice. The man was just so fricking responsible.

You barred your mouth shut after that. Instinct told you Simon might just leave if you continued the talk about having kids. Not because he couldn't take it, but because he would want to give you a chance to find someone to raise a family with before it was too late.

It was his view of unconditional love: he was ready to let you go if need be. He would set you free if he suspected it would make you happy.

But then you saw him look at tiny kids – usually the ones that had just learned to walk – with a fleeting longing in his stare. It always turned into a withdrawn sulk, the gaze of a man who has accepted his fate.

He seemed to have the softest spot for little girls, especially when they were laughing and giggling or being unruly rascals, and sometimes flinched when a baby started to cry in the store. He looked a bit distressed for a second, and not because of the noise – but because he couldn't locate the immediate source and go and calm the baby.

That's when you realized he actually wanted kids. The biological clock on this man was ticking just as furiously as yours.

Years passed, and you silently buried your dreams of raising a little family together. He was enough for you, more than enough: you would not break up because of this. No man could ever replace Simon.

But it still hurt. It was like a wound that never healed.

Until this night…

This night, it seemed he would not only cure it but heal it so well it wouldn’t even leave a scar.

You suddenly find yourself under him – his moves are so quick that it's almost like you're teleported there. He sometimes does that: lets you play with him for a while, have your fun on top before reminding you who is in control here.

And this time, he won't even let you play.

"Simon, what are you doing," you sigh with barely concealed exhilaration.

As if you didn't know exactly what he is about to do.

He looks at you with that possessive look he sometimes has when you two have been apart for far too long. And there's something more behind that stare. It tells you that this is serious; this means business. The package you placed on the nightstand remains unopened and, apparently, will be the witness to his mission tonight.

Serves the damn thing right…

You take in the absolute beef of this man: the bulk of pecs above you, the wide, solid middle that nearly swallows you every time you're under him.

You almost disappear between him and the mattress when you two are doing missionary, and it's one of the best feelings in the world. You've wanted to sink your teeth in to those huge, solid shoulders for god knows how many times. Once or twice, you actually did give him a little bite, only a nib, really, during a good pounding – and giggled at the breathless grunt of "Hey" that followed.

The trail of hair, darker in tone compared to the hair on his head, spreads over his abs which rest under a thin layer of fat. The happy trail, as you call it, runs down until it meets the heavy cock that always makes your mouth water like it's your favorite meal.

His hand is weighty, adoring when it comes to rest on your waist – the callous of his palms feels just the right kind of rough as he gives you the softest squeeze and a caress.

And he must know from the wanton looks you gave him all evening that he can just walk right in. Probably knew from those texts already that you've been wet all day long.

You try to spread your legs wider than they can go as he grabs himself to be positioned to your entrance. The fat tip of him feels heavy on your folds as he lazily slides himself up and down your slit, teasing the opening but not going in. It feels heavenly to sense him, all of him, with nothing there between you. There's no lifeless rubber: just his thick velvet meeting your wetness and silk.

The darned man won't even answer your question… Probably knows it's not really a question, just an astonished sigh of love.

"It's…not safe," your head falls back as he pushes the first few inches in – teasing you still by not giving you the full length and thick of him.

"Tired of safe, too," he rumbles softly above you, feeds more of himself in, and you tighten around his cock: receive him with fierce love and yearning. He groans at the sensation – it must feel divine for him, too. It must feel like it's meant to be this way. Now and forever.

You sigh as he starts to move, slow and intense, just the way he knows you like it when there's been too much stress and life has been a bitch. He always makes you feel better, always makes you melt in his arms when you run to him from the unfair, fucked up world.

He's got some bad days too, and that’s when you ruffle his hair, scrub his back in the shower, give him a sloppy little blowjob, or make him his favorite dish, anything to make the tension in those mountains of shoulders disappear.

You two worship each other; there’s no question about that.

"Simon–ah… Truly, are you serious…?"

"Hell yeah."

The idea of him cumming inside you is thrilling enough, but it's not just about that.

You're ovulating, and he's a man in his absolute prime. He reminds you of mountain lions and snow leopards, living their life in harsh conditions and in wandering solitude until… Until the perfect companion comes along. He's simply the most virile male there is; broad, wide, and heavy, always ready when you are.

A man like Simon just cannot be infertile.

His eyes are half-lidded already, and those pale eyelashes make you bite your lip and grab his butt like it would be a life or death situation if he chose to withdraw.

And you know he loves it when you grope his ass and try to assist him with the thrusts.

His little helper, indeed…

"Bloody fucking hell, you feel good…"

His head rolls back, exposing the tendons on his neck, thick, like the rest of him. Everything in this man is thick and broad and good – and fuck – he glides in and out like a dream. Somehow the extra layer of rubber has taken the brunt of his thickness away, but you feel it now, all of it, and it's something you could die for.

He grunts and thrusts, then halts for a while, chuckles all breathless…

"It's gonna be one hell of a show, sweetheart."

He's talking about what comes after. How it will be when there's a new addition and not a crew of two anymore. It brings tears to your eyes to see how he's already thinking about the future – and how he does it with a smile and a pleased chuckle.

"I'm used to sleepless nights," he reminds you softly. "You're not."

Ugh – he's thinking about your well-being when it would only make you the happiest woman on earth to take care of his children. Your children.

"I'll manage," you whisper.

"I know you will."

The tears are so close now; he’s simply the one and only person in this world for whom your love is boundless. It’s endless, overflowing.

He pulls back a little, raises your legs to rest on his shoulders, then crawls forward – he’s about to go deep, and the indecent but insanely sweet position makes you quail from him at first. It’s just too much all of a sudden.

"Wait–"

"The boys said this'll do the trick," he explains, waits until you adjust under and around him.

"The–the boys?"

He had been discussing this with his workmates…?

Discussing which position is the best to help conceive?

"Yeah. Wanna do this properly."

This man might actually be serious… He just might be serious about this, and you still have difficulty grasping it.

"I can't believe you want this," you whisper, still trying to catch your breath on what's happening.

"Believe it or not, it's gonna happen now."

The smallest tear escapes, and you purse your lips, shut them tight to prevent a tiny little bawl from erupting.

"I've always wanted you, Simon," you breathe into the air between you as he starts to make love to you, fill you with intent. "Just you, all these years…"

He rarely whispers, but this time, his voice is the softest hush.

"Right back at ya, darling."

"I–I want to give you… want your kids," you whimper, tears coating your voice as he continues the torture while the sweet, tight love surrounds you both.

"I want a family, Simon," you pant weakly, almost distressed. So urgent, desperate, like the wound is yet to be healed. You've never said those words to him before because you were afraid he might leave.

"Love… fuckin' hell."

He has to stop to catch his breath, to catch the truth. Of course he has known it all along without you telling him, because he simply has those instincts of a wild animal.

But words are powerful… They are magic. And this magic wants itself spelled out.

"I'll give them to you," he promises. "All of it. I swear."

Your eyes drift closed from the full wave of his vow. This mission is a crucial one, then, one of his most important ones. The man loves challenges; he loves when you up the stakes. Perhaps that's what this is about: he doesn't want to be a coward about the thing you both want.

The skulls, the brass and death that always surround him can't take away the fact that he's a lifegiver. No matter what anyone says, men can give life, too. He has already given you so much, and now he's going to give you children.

A few more tears push through, and it's one of the sweetest things in your life: to get fucked by him so good while you're crying from joy.

"Luv. You trust me?"

You open your eyes again, and the sight of him is crystallized through tears. It's the most beautiful thing.

"I trust you," you answer with a shaky breath.

Your trust is even more drugging to him than the tightness of your cunt, it seems. The corner of his eye twitches once, his brows knit together, and a pained look passes in his stare: but it's the sweet kind of pain, just like yours is.

"Feels so good," you whisper, looking up at him with devout love. "So, so good…"

"You're damn right," he sighs, panting with strained, short breaths. "Never felt this good."

He rocks you like you're under the sea, at the bottom of the ocean where the waves are mellow and the seabed is made of the softest sand. You're squeezed between his arms, tightly; he pins you to the bed with his body. The flutter of those pale lashes with every thrust is illegally sweet.

Your lips are bolted shut from the raw sensation, the swelling waves, but when a noise finally erupts, it does so with force.

You know it makes him wild whenever you cry and plead under him. You know it sends him straight to the edge, too: when you moan and tighten around his cock, spread yourself for him to plunder while you're clawing at his back. You were so embarrassed the first time you noticed the red marks on his skin after your little sessions, but he was only pleased and said you should never apologize for that. His body is full of past pain and torture, and still, still, he allows, even wants you to destroy it even more.

"Faster, Simon, please…"

"Yeah, that's it. Beg... Beg for me, love… "

And damn right, he's eating up your wrecked state like it's time for Christmas dinner, and the table is brimming with his favorite food. You're close, so close it would be torture, devastation if he stopped.

"Ya want me to give it to you?" His voice is more rough, more commanding. God, he's close too.

"Yes–give it to me, please–"

Just don't stop, whatever you do, don't stop…

You beg some more, but it's incoherent. Just the way he likes.

Simon–fuck…

There's no reason to it, just ah's and fuck's and love's, all knit together in a sweet, heady mess as you come–

Fuck–!

…the orgasm is so intense it points your toes, makes you wrap around his middle with what little strength you have in your arms and fingers and those tiny little claws. Your nails sink in, somewhere between his shoulder blades: he's so wide you can't quite reach to hug him, but you latch onto him like a drowning person nonetheless.

"Oh–oh fucking god…!"

He comes, right after, buries himself so deep that it stings a little, but you would never, ever complain. He pumps you full, doesn't even move, only arches his back to go even deeper, although he's already buried there to the hilt.

And never has he in all your years together sounded so vulnerable. He usually just grunts and huffs when he comes, but now you get a whole string of words and a fragile, broken pitch. He sounds as if he's near the point of breaking into tears.

It must feel divine to cum inside you instead of a condom, and what's even more, with the intent to fulfill a mission with that shot. Give life.

If you don't get pregnant from this, well… you doubt you ever will.

He's lying on top of you in a heavy, panting heap, sounding like he's just done ten deadlift PRs in a row. You can't help but laugh, breathless, too, and caress him as he comes down from his sex high.

"You can let me go now," you ghost your fingertips up and down his back when he still doesn't move. It's not that you want him to release you, but he's simply too heavy to be lying all over you like this for long periods of time.

"Nah not yet. Gotta make sure..."

He thinks you want him to pull out, and you giggle some more.

"You're crushing me," you laugh. "And we can do this all weekend, silly. If you want to make sure."

His middle contracts with a silent laugh, too.

"Got a fair point there, love."

Finally, he lets you out of the spread. He pulls out, too – that's not necessarily what you wanted, but when he takes you in his arms, you don't complain.

"That was… so nice," you say, suddenly shy. As if this was the first time he wrapped himself around you in a post-coital embrace.

"That was the best."

He's so warm, and the arm around you is heavy, even when lax. Especially when lax. You feel soft and sweet in his hold made of pure strength.

"I'd be surprised if not. You were very determined."

"You think that did it..?"

He's suddenly shy, too. You could swear he has never asked such a fragile question during or after a mission.

"No half-assing with my sweetheart."

One could say he really used his whole ass on this. You know it, because you're the one who spurred him on with weak but eager hands.

"...but I think it would be best to try again tomorrow. Just in case," he suggests, and you can hear the smile. God, that you love him.

"I wouldn't say no to that."

You imagine him waking up to your baby's cry with a sigh and a jaw-dislocating yawn, hushing you back to sleep by telling you it's his turn to go. He would finally locate the source of crying and make it his mission to cradle the little breadcrumb back to sleep, too. You just know Simon would sometimes fall asleep on the sofa while the baby is still in his arms, sound asleep just like their dad.

And you also know the child would make him laugh more. He would have the greatest time hearing all the silly (not to talk about the clever!) things the kid comes up with once it started talking. Simon would listen with a straight face, at first – out of respect – but then he would come to you with an unrestrained smile and a comment: "Did'ya hear what that little thing just said? Unbelievable..."

Whenever the kid had a tricky question, you would send them to Simon. It's decided already. You imagine him explaining things to the child with his steady and calm briefing voice while you're trying to keep your giggle in.

And when the little one was big enough to run around and poke things off the shelves, Simon would embrace you from behind while you're pouring some morning tea and say: "Should we make another one, hmm?"

After all, your little troublemaker would also need a friend to play with...

There's a gigantic, peaceful smile on your face, and Simon should be snoring by now… But he's still awake, and the arm around you draws you closer. He even tucks his hand partly between your body and the mattress. It's the sweetest prison from which you never want to escape.

"What if… What if I get grumpy when I'm pregnant?" You start to chit-chat nonsense while he holds you against a solid chest. You know he will fall asleep soon, and you wish to voice some fragile concerns before he does.

"I'll bring you ice cream to keep you nice and calm," he mutters in the back of your neck, sounding drowsy already.

"What if ice cream won't help?"

"I'll bring you chocolate."

You smile at him having a solution to every problem, no matter how minor.

"You're really not afraid…?"

"Of you being grumpy? Nah I don't think so."

"No," you laugh at him joking around. "Of… changes."

"After all that we've been through? No." He brushes his lips over your neck, and you turn a little to look at him.

"Simon... What made you change your mind?"

He thinks on the answer for a good ten seconds. You know that inward look, which is both a gaze to the past and a shaky, hopeful glimpse to the future.

"Don't wanna die without knowing how our kid would look like. What they would be like."

You swallow past sorrow – it's such a beautiful thing to say that you have to catch your breath for a moment. Then you put your hand over his arm, the one keeping you close to him.

"Guess I got tired of living in fear," he sums up the change of heart, and you have to blink back more tears.

"I'm tired of living in fear, too," you whisper, and he entwines your fingers together. The kiss that follows is like a seal to your change of plans. It's pure hope.

"Could you... Could you say that we'll be fine?" You speak on his lips as softly as you can. You sometimes worry that he's annoyed by your constant need for reassurance, but he sounds as solid as a soldier can be.

"We'll be fine like always. Promise you that."

He doesn't seem to mind: if anything, you could swear that giving you encouragement only makes his chest puff up a little. The man gets satisfaction from you needing him in your life like this.

"Don't worry. I'll take care of us."

You ease fully into his embrace. He has said he'll take care of you many times before, but now your world is changing. It has changed already; you just know it. There's no more you and him, a team of two.

There will be a tiny little breadcrumb too.

#simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley fluff #simon riley smut #ghost x you #simon riley x you #simon riley imagine #soft simon riley #soft ghost #fluff and smut #call of duty #mw2 fluff

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duke-daemon · 3 months

Text

hazbin hotel redesigns wooooooooo

okay so. i'm gonna discuss my thoughts about them n shit, putting under a readmore bc it's gonna get long and rambley. sorry in advance for the shit formatting, i'm on mobile </3

just some general shit about how i would rewrite it. i think the premise of redeeming sinners is entertaining but is executed horribly. i also am a fan of the "heaven isn't great either" idea but again, executed horribly. i'd make the hierarchy of angels more accurate because it's cool as hell and i have autism about it. the characters from hell would swear still (albeit not as much), but the angels would outright refuse to swear or make vulgar jokes ever. this would be partially to further the gap between heaven and hell and make the differences more stark.

hell would also be more like dante's inferno (again because i think its cool). the ars goetia would get a full redesign and would be more prevalent in demonic society.

now for the characters!

---

VAGGIE VALTIEL:

starting off with vaggie, or Valtiel as i've renamed her because let's be honest her original name sucks. Valtiel (Val for short) was an aspiring power angel who wanted to be an exorcist. she looked up to lute and thought the idea of killing demons was really cool and badass. however when she actually was on the field for the first time she discovered how awful this actually was. she tried to help a few demons but lute figured it out and felled her right then and there. the rest of her story is relatively the same. personality wise she's more stoic and less prone to all-out aggression. she still get angry, sure, but it's in a quieter and more menacing way. you DO NOT want to fuck with Valtiel.

CHARLIE:

next up is charlie! i had two ideas for her. the first one (unsettling drawing) has her as a mannequin/doll type demon. lucifer and/or lilith was unable to conceive and as such they built a kid from scratch. she's overall similar to og charlie personality wise, very kind and cheerful despite her unsettling appearance. she struggles with empathy sometimes but really does mean well. her motive for rehabilitating sinners is so they get to see their family again. being able to see heaven from where they are in hell must make them sad, so she wants to help make them happy again!

the second idea for charlie has her as an angel. specifically i casted her as a dominion angel due to their reputation as holy judges. she was once a demon but has been rehabilitated and has risen into angelhood! she now wants to help her former kin do the same and redeem themselves in heaven's gaze. again, similar cheery personality, but a bit more prudish in this rendition

tangent time!

as a side tangent, valtiel and charlie would have a different relationship in this rewrite. their relationship felt shoehorned in in the original show, like it was just there for the hell of it. we didn't see much development between them and it just felt kinda bland. so in my rewrite, charlie and valtiel are amiable exes. they tried dating when valtiel first fell (when charlie was still a demon in the charlie-angel version) but realized their feelings for each other were much more platonic than romantic. they ended things off on good terms, deciding they were much better as friends. they are still besties to this day! later charlie ends up with emily (or 'ellie' as i plan to rename her)

back to the characters

Alastor:

note: i made alastor mixed-race, which could be seen as bad by some due to vivzie saying he's black. however, as many have pointed out, he has no ethnic features whatsoever and i honestly wouldn't be surprised if she said that just to get away with using voodoo symbols (a closed religion) in his imagery/design. like viv, i am incredibly white and have little to no knowledge of voodoo, and even if i did i would not use it for something like this anyways due to the stigma the religion already has and (again) it being a closed practice. as such i removed it from his concept altogether, but made him mixed race (white passing) because.. why not i guess, i forgor my actual reasoning

with that being said...

alastor is by far my favorite of the redesigns and i'm honestly tempted to turn him into a legally distinct oc. i imagine he's somewhat reserved, along the lines of norman bates albeit a bit more extroverted. during his life he was a serial killer with a day job as a radio announcer. he took pleasure in reporting about his own murders on the radio, but that is eventually what got him caught (ie accidentally letting slip info that wasn't released to the public). as a result he was sentenced to death. upon arriving in hell, he quickly rose through the ranks to borderline overlord status and is a feared presence by demons and sinners alike. why is he bothering to assist in the hotel project? who knows... his motives are a mystery, like the rest of what he does

(he isn't actually alastair crowley i just thought the naming convention was ironic. however he may have also dabbled with satanic magic in lifetime..)

Angel Dust:

TW: brief discussion of SA

this is definitely my second favorite redesign. i loooove insect themes and wanted to do more than just Extra Arms, so he now has fucked up legs and a lot of eyes too! story-wise, angel used to be a criminal mastermind, hated by both the mafia and the feds. he was a gentleman thief, arranging massive heists under the cover of night while also partaking in the occasional drag show. he ended up a cocaine addict later in life, which caused his work to become sloppier. eventually he was killed in a heist gone wrong, specifically shot by the police.

i'm not gonna go too in-depth on the SA part of his story, but he is hypersexual due to being assaulted in both his life and afterlife. it would be something he'd be working on in the rewrite. his reason for coming to the hotel in the first place may have even been for help with this trauma. underneath his sultry exterior is a broken guy who really just needs someone to care about him for who he really is and not for what his body can do.

LUTE:

so lute and adam are some of the characters i have the most gripes about. the biggest one being why viv chose adam as the leader of the exorcists in the first place. if she wants a biblical figure tied to demon killing, Archangel Michael is RIGHT THERE, aka the one destined to kill satan during the events of Revelations. if she wants the first human to die, that would be Abel, not Adam. and i kinda doubt abel would want to do the stuff that HH!adam has been doing. if she wants an angel related to torture, Dumah is her guy! an angel that rules over wicked souls and tortures sinners every day except sabbath. so many better options...

with that out of the way, Lute is still the lieutenant of the exorcist, who are a specially chosen group of powers sent to purge hell once a year. think navy seals. she's pretty much the same as in the show, albeit more muscular and visually different from other exorcists (seriously why do they all look exactly the same?????) she's a very repressed lesbian who hasn't had time to work on that due to her duties

i also redesigned the exorcist uniform/armor because those LED purge masks are fugly as hell and their clothes don't even look remotely like armor.

Adam + Final Thoughts

i did start a redesign of adam but got bored of it. regardless, i think he'd be the head of C.H.E.R.U.B. instead of the exorcists. he doesn't want his children to make the same mistakes he and eve did, so together they started C.H.E.R.U.B. to help lost souls stay out of hell

final thoughts uhhhh i'm tired. show sucks, it had so much potential but viv ruined it by being a shitty writer and an even shittier person. the designs are fine i guess but they all look exactly the same and are in desperate need of variety. the humor is dogshit, saying dick and balls and penis over and over and over again doesn't make it any funnier than the first three times you made that joke. anyways that's it, i hope you liked my inane ramblings. gonna go vanish for another forty years or so, adios

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amomentsescape · 1 month

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hello! Are you ok?, I hope so ❤️ (by the way, your writing is wonderful)

I would like to make a request for Yandere Slashers with an S/O who is a mermaid, who usually kills people who dare to invade her lakes, and she kills these people by drowning.

(I'm sorry if there are any writing errors, English is not my first language, and I'm writing this using Google translate)

Slashers with Mermaid! Reader

Yandere! Slashers x Reader

Includes: Freddy, Michael, Jason, Thomas, Bubba, Brahms, Norman, Billy, Stu, Vincent, & Bo

A/N: I'm doing good, thank you <3 I hope you enjoy! (Also, I decided I'm going to remove Lester from the Slasher requests. I'm still very much open to writing for him when specified, but I feel like he doesn't quite fit in with all the other Slashers).

Freddy Krueger

Meeting you was quite literally the best thing to ever happen in his undead life

He likes to team up with you, constantly coming up with different ways you both can contribute to someone's death

You pull them under, and they suddenly wake up in Freddy's world

Your dynamic is pretty ideal too

Whenever you sleep, you can visit him

And he has no issues with popping into your waters just to say hi

He does this quite often, in fact

He is very aware you can take care of yourself, but he still gets worried

You're his

He doesn't trust anyone being around you

Even if your only intention is to kill them immediately

He understands that where you are now is your home, but that won't stop him from doing whatever he can to have you live in his world

He can create the perfect environment for you

Miles and miles of nothing but water if your heart desires

Which hopefully it does

Since he isn't willing to wait much longer

Michael Myers

He never thought creatures like you actually existed

But the moment he saw your strength and darkness, he was immediately drawn in against his better judgment

He visits more often then you think

He's always around, watching

You can feel eyes on you almost 90% of the day, but you never really know where it's coming from

He enjoys watching you swim and just relax

But he especially loves seeing you drag poor souls into the tide with you

There's something so twisted and yet magical about watching you kill

But this fascination is also paired with extreme jealousy

He hates seeing you touch other people

And he almost envies the way they get to be so close to you, even if it means their demise

He hopes to find a way to take you home with him for good one of these times

You told him you loved him, so you'd be happy as long as you're by his side

Right?

Jason Voorhees

Out of all places to meet the love of your life, this one seemed especially unfortunate for Jason

But his feelings for you were strong enough to overrule his fear

He'll sit by the shore with you, hearing you talk and sing old tunes he's never heard before

He loves listening to your stories about the world underneath the current

But this always leaves him with such a deep feeling of sadness

He wants a life where you both can live together and share those memories

But he knows that's nearly impossible

He starts spending more time by the water side than the camp, finding that irresponsible teens like to be by the beach even more than the forest

You lure them in with your beauty and your words, and Jason finishes the job

He'll let you kill too if you really wish to, but he doesn't like the idea of those types of people being so close to you

He barely gets to touch you, so why should they get what he so desperately wants instead?

Thomas Hewitt

In this desert like area of Texas, Thomas has to travel quite far to see you

But the one time he accidentally stumbled upon you, he was smitten

And you surprisingly didn't turn him into another victim like all the others

He was kind to you

And now, he brings you food and stops by as often as he possibly can

You've made him little necklaces out of bones and shells

He wears every single one of them

Your bond only gets stronger each time he comes to see you

But Thomas can only take so much

Why can't you be closer?

He knows the family would love you

And he could make you so happy

His bathtub is big enough for you, he's sure of it

He knows that you won't want to leave your own home for his, but he loves you and knows what will be best for you

He's just got to be patient

Bubba Sawyer

His own family had to go on a search for him after he disappeared for a couple days

But he just couldn't help it

You make him so happy, and the more time he spent with you, the more difficult it became to leave your side

He's tried to jump in a few times to be with you, but you always persuade him out of it

He doesn't know how to swim, and you don't want him to end up like everyone else

That's when he decided that the best option would be to create your very own pond in his backyard!

That way, you could be with each other, and he would never have to say goodbye again

He hasn't told you this idea yet, but he's sure you'd be happy with it

This would also keep you from needing to kill anyone else

You're too beautiful to get your hands dirty

And it's unfair that they get to join you in the water when you won't let him do the same

He can make you super happy with his family, he's sure of it

Brahms Heelshire

He hates this dynamic between you two

He wants you at home with him so you can take care of him, and he can keep you away from everyone else

No one should get to touch you or look at you besides him

He's actually tried to drag you out of the water before, but the prospect of accidentally killing you was enough to make him stop

He never knew he could envy a body of water as much as he does

It gets to hold you, touch you, and be with you at all times

He wants that too, so desperately

Because of you, he's gone from house dweller to nature enthusiast in just a matter of days

Even when you think he's at home, he's stalking around, watching you

He insists it's to keep you safe

In fact, you haven't had to drown anyone in quite a while

And you can thank Brahms for that

The moment he sees a single soul in the area, he drags them off and disposes of them before you even have a chance to see them

He wouldn't dare let you touch another being that isn't him

Norman Bates

It honestly took him a really long time to believe that you were even real

He didn't think mermaids or sirens actually existed, so seeing you for the first time made him pinch himself to make sure this wasn't some weird dream

He also took a while to trust you since he didn't want to fall victim to your treacherous waters

But once he realized you were genuine, he dove straight in all at once

He visits you whenever he can for however long he can muster

Someone needs to run the motel, but God he wishes he could be with you 24/7

He's "jokingly" brought up the idea of you staying at the motel in a pool he could install for you

He just wants to keep an eye on you at all times

He constantly dreams of finding a way to make you human so you two can truly be together

Until you have two feet like him, it will never be enough

Billy Loomis

Doesn't tell a single soul about you

Not even Stu

And it's not because he's embarrassed or wants to see other people

He's honestly just scared that others will either think he's insane or try to capture you

Visits you every day and makes sure to pack his swim trunks so he can join you in the water

Constantly admires you and wants to run his hands along your scales

He just thinks you're all around incredible

But he has this hidden level of anger towards the situation

He wants to walk around town with you, show you off

He wants you to join him on his sprees so you can see just how powerful he can be

And he hates the idea of not having eyes on you at all times

He knows you kill anyone who isn't him, but he doesn't want you getting that close to anyone in general

He spends his nights studying ways to get you to live with him

He'll find a way to have you all to himself, even if it ends up being the death of him

Stu Macher

He actually first met you while you were seducing some poor soul to their death

And Stu was immediately enamored

He comes to see you whenever he can

He sometimes spends the weekend camping out along the shore just so he can spend more time with you

He thinks you're beautiful of course, but he can't help but fantasize what it would be like if you were human like him

You two come from very different worlds, but there's nothing that could keep you away from him

He likes to bring up the idea of mermaids and mythical creatures in casual conversations with people

How they react to it will determine whether they make his hit list

He likes to bring you jewelry and pretty objects from his victims, showing you items that you've never seen before

He talks about how one of these days, he's going to have a house built on the shore so he can be with you

And if you argue against it, he will shut down

The pent up frustration of not getting to sleep next to you every night makes his killings more brutal and his fantasies all the more darker

Vincent Sinclair

Every time he comes to see you, he brings a new portrait or wax figure of you that he made

You flood his dreams and his mind 24/7

He honestly thinks he's under some sort of spell

He doesn't mind that you aren't human like him

He's always felt very different from everyone else, so it's nice for him to have someone he relates to

But his jealousy constantly gets the better of him

Anytime you tell him of some poor soul you drowned, he can't help but feel his blood boil

Even if it ends in their death, he hates the idea of you flirting or seducing these people

The only one who should be receiving that attention is him

Barely sleeps at night

He has snuck to the shore countless time without your knowledge, just watching you and making sure your stories line up with what he observes

Is overall obsessed even more than you know

Bo Sinclair

If anyone saw you together, it would be enough to make them blush

The way you two can constantly flirt back and forth without any hesitation is otherworldly

You could have sworn he must have been a creature like you in a past life

He's so touchy when he's with you, not afraid to get his clothes wet in an effort to just be closer to you

He truly makes you feel accepted as you are and with where you live

But little do you know of his darker nature

He stalks the shore and kills off anyone that trespasses before you even have a chance to get to them

He doesn't need you looking at anyone but him

And he's already been renovating an old abandoned pool in Ambrose for you

You're going to finally be living with him like he's always wanted

You don't know this yet, but he's sure you'll be happy with the idea

It will be a great surprise

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uglyducklingofthe2000s · 2 months

Text

We Keep Allowing This To Happen - F1 Grid

Summary: F2 young talent, signed to get on the grid for 2025 and take the seat Fernando Alonso is leaving in Aston Martin, breaks the entire sports hearts in one fatal race.

Kind of Alonso focused but also very much the rest of the F1 grid are present.

I'm sad right now, and when I'm sad I write sad things. So...character death 🤪. Kind of just writing this for myself.

Warnings: Major character death, race crash, edit: THIS IS VERY SAD - if comments are to be trusted you might end up crying at this fic so proceed with caution

No part 2 requests please

When the news broke on media day in Imola, that y/n was moving up into F1 to take Fernando's seat for 2025 while he moves to Mercedes (ahahahaha prediction? I'd love to see it ngl), the entire grid was beyond excited to see her leading the way for women in the sport to be taken seriously among the rest of the F1 drivers.

"Hey, there she is! You are welcome, I put your name forward and like a wise man, Lawrence listens." Fernando laughs as y/n grins walking through the paddock. "We have been asked only about you."

"I hope you'd kept saying good things." Y/n jokes before seeing Carlos with Max and Lando, her feet rushing a few steps forward. "Carlos!"

"Yeah, we mean nothing." Lando comments only for her to move to him in a hug. "Congratulations, y/n. Don't come in and outdrive the rest of us when you get here."

"Oh right, go easy on you." Y/n nods then moving to Max who holds her especially tightly because the man loves a hug and he's actually very proud of her too. "Basically part of the family already."

"You are part of the family." Carlos states as she is placed back on her feet.

"How are you feeling about the feature race? You got a podium yesterday, right?" Lando asks as they all sort of move to stand out the way of others in the paddock. Though more and more drivers seem to spot y/n and eagerly congratulate her on the news.

"You know if you all really want to support me, you should all come watch the F2 race." Y/n grins making them look at her and for a moment she's sure they'll say no.

"We will make it happen." Fernando confirms for her earning a grin before she moves through them giving fist bumps and a couple a kiss on the cheek before announcing she does actually have to go and get ready for the race.

"And there is all the F1 drivers, gathered on the balcony above none other than y/n y/l/n's pit box. They have all been so vocal about how excited they are to see her in an F1 car. I'm excited to see her in an F1 car too." Alex J comments as the broadcast begins. "It's really great to see them rallying around and just showing such massive support. As far as I know she did ask if they would watch so they've all put media duties on hold to watch the F2 race in solidarity to be there for her which is just...amazing."

"It's incredible. I mean she's already showing her cards of popularity, and we know a lot of those drivers wouldn't bother being there if she didn't have the talent to back up her seat."

Y/n is starting P3 and the group of drivers have positioned themselves to wave at her as she climbs into the car, then cheering loudly when she wavers back giving them a thumbs up eagerly before clapping in applause back at them. They don't need to see under her helmet to know she's smiling and she doesn't need to be right in front of them to see the beaming prideful smiles as they watch her.

Safe to say they really are her top fans.

Once she's strapped in they also seem to go silent, watching the formation lap then waiting for lights out.

Her get away is beautiful but so is P1 and P2s.

It's when her tyre gets clipped just ahead of tamburello that suddenly the true speed of those cars feels all too real, her car is in the gravel at 190mph and not even the rocks slow it down, only leaving the car to dig into it and flip several times, body parts of the car flying of and the tyres swing.

Anyone who was sat down is stood in shock as they watch her car end up back on track, another car smacking into where her body sits, even at the lowered cautious speed, everyone can see it's not a great addition to whatever injuries she's already endured.

Safety car, medical car, ambulances and the red flag all come out while the drivers disappear from their spot of watching. Either too panicked to watch from such a public spot or to demand for information from anyone they can speak to.

It went from everything moving too quickly to things moving impossibly slow. No one could say anything other than she's being air lifted straight to the nearest hospital.

Hours later the F1 race had been delayed.

The drivers had debated going forward with the race in a last minute meeting called with the FIA president.

Y/n had been pronounced dead less than an hour after the crash.

Her body had gone into shock from the injuries and she'd gone into cardiac arrest with no successful resuscitation in the helicopter.

Her body isn't even cold yet.

"We race for y/n." Fernando states having gone through his sadness and now just feeling nothing but anger.

He's angry that it happened. Angry that she's gone. Angry that she will never live the dream she was less than a year away from having tightly within her grasp.

Y/n deserved to live and she deserved to race.

They agree that if anyone does not feel that they can race, then they have the option to not take part.

So 4 hours delayed, the F1 race is finally underway with going ahead.

They'd already kicked fans out of grandstands following y/n's crash and the initial decision for the race to not go forward.

With no preparation of sticker like in previous races, markers write her driver number down and name on their liveries. Helmets have the same treatment.

Then they walk down to the grid. Max carrying her second helmet that was not used in race.

Her family wasn't even there. The F1 drivers and the small F2 team are the people who are there for her as they place her helmet down then following with their own helmets being placed down.

They are each wearing a black band around their biceps, a gesture of death within the sport.

The silence is agonising before the minute of silence to honour her has even begun. There's no words. Nothing that can be said to make it better, nothing that can bring her back and no one wants to try because they know that motorsports is dangerous but it doesn't make it any easier.

"This race, with the greatest of respect to every single driver both in this race and in motorsports every where, is going to be one of the hardest races to go forward. For viewers at home, the drivers are driving in honour of the young talent that is y/n y/l/n, who was due to join them next season in Aston Martin. It's impossible to explain the sort of pain that comes with losing someone like y/n from the sport. She was an irreplaceable personality, one of the kindest and brightest people I've ever met. young and determined, I feel blessed to have known her, as I'm sure many do." Martin states as the drivers move to their cars.

"It is one of the greatest losses of the sport that is for certain and we have missed out on seeing someone who surely would've brought a new life to F1 as she did through each racing series she took part in." Crofty confirms as they await the starting procedure.

The world watches as the drivers try to shake off emotion, blank their minds to focus.

"Max obviously, an impossible win to celebrate with the events that have happened today. How are you feeling?"

It seems a stupid question, Max did try to hide the tears he shed on that podium with Lando and Lewis.

Nobody cheered, only a soft applause. No champagne showers.

"I feel like today was one of the darkest in recent F1 history. On this occasion we cannot blame anyone. It was a racing incident, it was not a matter of track conditions or the skill of the driver. But it was fatal and we lost a life, a friend and someone we had all considered family." Max states then clearing his throat. "We're done here. Thank you."

"Thank you, Max."

A few more drivers come through voicing the ache that's felt across the paddock today.

"Fernando, we are-"

"I don't wish to speak about anything but the race. The race was one of the hardest races I have done, but I think I did well to take top 5. We had some issues with the car, the track temperature was very low, bad for tyres. We will look into data, make sure next race we are performing better." Fernando states saying everything he wants to say before leaving the media pen entirely.

Her funeral was arranged so all drivers who wanted to attend from any of the three formula series could attend between the Monaco and Canada GPs.

Fernando, Charles, Carlos, Pierre, Lando and Max had taken the task of carrying her coffin.

It felt so light and empty. A painful reminder of how young and fragile she was despite her skill in racing making her seem older and her personality making her seem indestructible.

They each were given the opportunity to speak about her. But none of them have the courage to say anything.

Instead they sit feeling hollowed out. The photo of her F2 win in Jeddah less than 3 months ago enlarged and stood beside her coffin.

Even just the happiness from her in that moment radiates from the photo but makes no effect to the mood of the room. Especially as her mother goes up.

"First of all, I want to thank every single driver who came out of their way between races to be here. I know y/n would be just...bragging about it to all of us. She adored each and every one of you, before the race she'd called me to say that she'd asked the F1 grid to watch the race and she was sure that you guys meant it when you all said yes. To know she was so happy in her last race brings me some peace and I will never be able to thank you enough for that. But I also can't apologise enough that you never got to watch her finish that race like she had wanted you all to." Her mum starts making a shaky smile before looking down, tears already dripping from her face as the room almost waits for her to collapse from the weight of her visible grief.

The pause as she tries to regather herself is a patient one, no one even considering to rush the mother.

"Y/n would be making fun of me for what I'm about to say but I think I need to say all this. Y/n was my sun. My universe revolved around her and the world suddenly feels like everything has turned to darkness for me. I wish there was someone to blame, someone to put at fault. But y/n would also never forgive me for doing that even if there was. She was...selfless, perhaps not on track in the car, but outside her soul was one of the few that improved humanity. I might be bias, but I think she would've led her way into F1 and put every other driver to shame, sorry boys." She jokes earning flickers of smiles but no one can put their whole into it. "I hope she goes on to be remembered, to live on in ways that her body can't and I thank anyone who helps me on the mission to make sure that happens."

Heads drop just at the thought of her being forgotten. That she becomes another name in a list of fatalities in motorsport and nothing more.

As her mother steps down Fernando suddenly finds himself up on his feet.

"May I?" He asks with no plan of what he wants to say but knowing her wants to say something.

"Of course, please."

He suddenly finds himself at the front of the room, y/n behind him, the photo of her beside him and the overfilled aisles of people in front of him. All the F1 drivers are red-eyed and look miserable, just like everyone else in the room.

"I knew y/n, I had watched her when she was in the F4 championship and won. She embarrassed the other drivers, but because she was a woman, there was no skipping steps. She spent three years in F3 before a team in F2 got smart and gave her a seat. She was set for an F1 career because she was one of the best and we all knew it. But beyond that, as her mother said she was a glowing diamond in the world and the sport has felt this loss like no other. We will forever be trying to race and drive and live up to the level I know she would've achieved with only a bit-a bit more time." Fernando states feeling his throat begin to tighten before he composes himself again. "I consider myself very lucky to have known her, even luckier to have seen her race and I know I speak for all of us within F1, that we intend to never let her name be forgotten. By any means, she will reach F1 in death as she was taken too soon in life."

Taglist: @namgification @hiireadstuff @jsjcue @geniusalpaca @itsjustkhaos @llando4norris

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nobodyfamousposts · 9 months

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Do you really think all of ML's problems would be fixed if Adrien never existed?

Good heavens, no.

Adrien isn't the problem. He's just a symptom of a much larger issue. That issue being laziness and poor writing that comes in the form of "tell, don't show", plot threads that go nowhere, and lack of character development or plot progression that leads to a setup of "Status Quo Is God". Removing Adrien wouldn't fix all of that. Heck, it wouldn't fix any of that.

I can't fault the writers for replacing Felix with Adrien. Even if I and others could write out a plot with Felix, that's not to say everyone could or that the writers could. It could very well be that Felix as he was in the PV simply didn't work for the setup they had in mind.

...the issue here is that the setup they had in mind seems to require stagnancy. Where Hawk Moth attacks without winning and the heroes fight off the akumas without really trying to track him as the source and the two leads chase each other around in circles without anyone making any headway in either of these battles. Marinette wants to date Adrien. Chat wants to date Ladybug. It's why all her plans to ask him out fail while his attempts to express his feelings aren't taken seriously. And there is no forward movement, whether in their arc or in the fight against Hawk Moth. There wasn't even build or lead up to the two falling in love. They just started out episode one with crushes on each other and remained having crushes on each other until arguably season 5.

But no good story is stagnant. In this setup, characters need to do things and there needs to be a feeling of forward momentum.

Break it down this way: What is Adrien's problem? What is his goal? What is the obstacle to his goal?

Yes, we could say Adrien's dad being a supervillain and a neglectful jerk is Adrien's main problem, but it's not the problem Adrien is actually focused on in the show. Instead, if we could say Adrien has a problem, it would be that he wants to date Ladybug. And his goal is to date Ladybug. And the source of the problem and obstacle to his goal is...Ladybug.

So his problem, his goal, and the obstacle are all the same thing. This ultimately seems to make his problems Ladybug’s fault then because the problem would be solved if she gives in to his wants rather than by any real effort on his part.

Adrien as he is in the show doesn't do anything. And he doesn't need to do anything because he is at his base a character that things are done for. He doesn't have a goal or direction or drive. He just comes out to deal with akumas as needed, flirt with Ladybug when he can, and then be sad because his life is so hard when he doesn't get what he wants. We don't see him doing anything else. We don't see him making friends. We don't see him engaging in school. We don't even really see how he interacts with the classmates he only recently met. Things happen around him, but he is not a driving force in anything in the show.

But Felix in the PV is a very driving character. He had a problem: he's cursed. What does he need to break the curse? A kiss from Ladybug. What are the obstacles to his goal: Ladybug refusing to kiss him and Hawk Moth trying to kill her. How does he get that kiss? By flirting with her and trying to earn her affections while protecting her and making sure she doesn't DIE against an akuma before he gets that special curse-breaking kiss.

It's the start of Felix's journey. His goal and the various obstacles to that goal that make his story interesting and his growth possible. As such, I see him as a character who would progress in his attempts to obtain his goal as well as one who would progress the storyline...which is also accurate of 3D Felix since that's kind of what he's done more in his relatively few appearances than the series has in 5 seasons.

Adrien didn't have to have Felix's personality. He didn't have to have the same goals or level of drive. But he could still have had things where he grows and helps to push the plot forward.

Adrien...

...just started school. He has no friends, knows no one, and is trying to learn the ins and outs of public education. How is he doing in the different setting with teachers instead of tutors? How is he trying to get along with his classmates? Does he experience bullying? Does anyone NOT like him? What is he going through as a new student who had been homeschooled all his life?

...is friends with Chloe. What's it like learning his "only friend" is a bully? How do people respond to this? Does anyone (besides Marinette) fear him or avoid him because if he's friends with Chloe, he must be just like her?

...is a superhero. He could have been spending time learning the history of the ring and trying to develop his powers. Trying to get stronger? Trying to get to know Plagg? What is he experiencing as a highly known model who is also a superhero and having to juggle those dual identities?

...has a dead mom who died of a "mysterious illness". Given that this loss supposedly occurred about a year prior, he could still be mourning her. Maybe trying to learn what happened to her.

...has a neglectful father. How is he trying to interact with his dad? How does he feel about his dad not being around? What is he doing to try to resolve this?

...has a supervillain father. Like, I cannot stress this enough! His dad is a SUPERVILLAIN! His dad is THE SUPERVILLAIN THEY ARE FIGHTING! People were predicting him finding out and joining Gabriel to try and revive his mom! People were living for the eventual heartbreak of when Adrien finds out the truth! Entire AUs, fan arts, and fanfics were born of this very idea! Going into the drama and struggle Adrien would be experiencing being caught between the "right thing" and the girl he loves and his duty vs his father and his mother and his family. HOW CAN THEY JUST IGNORE THIS?!

But we don't get any of that. Instead, we get Adrien...

...just acclimated with no issues in school and automatically friends with everyone. Good for him, I guess. Wish it was that easy for the rest of us.

...doing little besides occasional comments to Chloe as she is completely horrible for five seasons including Chloe stealing from classmates, getting the entire school punished for something she did, stealing a Miraculous, trying to crash a train, and betraying the city to Hawk Moth. But it takes him learning about something she did to Marinette a year ago for him to finally decide enough is enough and drop her as a friend.

...only goes out to deal with akumas as they come but does nothing to try and figure out his powers and history, get stronger, or try to track Hawk Moth.

...just moves on from dead mom. No relevance here aside from wanting to see a movie she was in or making a passing comment about how she got sick. No attempt to find out what happened to her. No questioning what she may have wanted for him.

...is just sad about his neglectful father neglecting him but seems to get over it rather quickly.

...never learns his father is a supervillain. Okay, I take it back. He learns twice and those timelines are erased with no real repercussions other than trauma for Marinette, so it really doesn't feel like they count. The pieces are all there, though! He knows his dad has the grimoire but never questions him about it! Never asks his dad what the deal was with Tibet! No question about how mom died or what is going on with Nathalie or what he's doing with a hidden mechanism in mom's portrait.

Adrien has potential. He has plot threads and aspects that could be used and goals he could have. But the writing does nothing with him, so while he has a number of things he COULD do to move forward and progress as a character or for the plot, nothing comes of it.

And that all boils down to a problem with the writing.

Adrien was chosen over Felix as an "easier" option to keep the story at a standstill so they could drag it out for as long as needed. That doesn't mean it should have been. There were so many paths that could have been taken, but Adrien was given the personality of a wet noodle, so he acts on none of them because that was what the writers wanted out of his character.

#ml salt #adrien salt #ml writers salt #ml spoilers #ml analysis

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nyx-is-missing · 4 months

Text

Graceland too

Clarisse la rue x fem!reader (Athena's kid)

Sumarry: When a certain daughter of Athena felt unappreciated her whole life, someone was there to see her.

Warnings: Sad girl hours, shitty parenthood, hurt/comfort because im no monster and probably other things wich i forgot.

a/n: look who is back!

Demigod.

Half blood.

Half a goddess.

Half a human (?).

And yet, fully a disappointment.

When Athena sent me to my Dad's house, in a golden crib, dressed in pure white dress, glowing, how the myths would expect a demigod to be, then, and only right then i was a gift.

A piece o divine love, something to prove to him, till the end of his life, that at some point, he was good enough for a Goddess.

But days after, immediately, i was just a crying baby, hungry, with a busy father, without a mother, and that only made him remember that, that was it.

He wasnt good enough for her, she wasnt staying, she never even actually even considered, he would never have that kind of honour, only a crying baby he never expected.

I wasnt a gift anymore, it actually felt like i was a insult, everything about me started to enrage him.

And oh, how did he reminded me of that every single day of my existence.

When i got diagnosed with dyslexia all i've heard whas that Athena gave me up to him because i was defective, when i couldnt sit still during classes, and exploded with all the repression i suffered everyday, suddently i was a clock bomb, when my grades where great, i was never rewarded, it was "the least i could do, to make up for the shame that i was".

I was never loved, never wanted, never encouraged, at least not by him.

The very little love i've known in my life, i own to the people who felt pitty of me.

The teachers, the neighbours who have heard the insults, the stray animals who could sense sadness, the very old grandparents who never actually saw me more than twice a year, and the people who worked at a nerby library, who let me stay past closing time, leaving only with the cleaners.

I was 12 when he had enough and sent me to camp, literally the very day school was over.

I came home to my clothes packed and him waiting by the car keys.

Being in camp for the first time, was also the very first time in my life i have ever felt....normal.

Not good, not bad, not great, not terrible, i was one, and that was enough.

I spend that summer being quiet, i sat in the corner, i didnt spoke, i didnt interrupted, i didnt had any ideas, i wasnt good enough to do that, thats what i've been told my whole life, thats my true.

It took a whole new summer for Athena to claim me.

I have always wondered if she was fighting with herself, if she had any problems having to admit that she made a mistake, with me, or with him.

It didn't matter, for the first time i had brothers and sisters, who wanted me, who understood when i wasnt the best, who asked for my graded tests, to put up in the wall.

They understood when i was hard to crack, when i insisted in being quiet, when i wouldnt share my ideas, they understood it all.

I didn't.

Each and every new summer i spent there, all i could ask myself was:

Why could i not be great like all of them?

Why im still afraid?

Why i was still useless?

Im now sixteen and the same questions still were unanswered.

And today i felt worse than ever.

It was my birthday, and i havent got a single letter from him, nothing, nothing.

It felt like he was saying i wasnt worth anything again.

Earlier, i tried to pretend nothing was happening, smiling with my siblings, finally making plans for capture the flag, finally belonging like i promissed i would try to do that year.

My plan was used, it wasnt perfect, but it was used, and surprising myself and the other team, we won.

I could see the other team confused, and Clarisse cussing us to death.

Still i was so happy, for the first time in my life i showed myself, and i worked....partially.

The happiness of victory didnt last much in me, because i saw a new brother of mine almost bursting to tears, he was young and just got claimed a few days ago, he wasnt used to that, and he wasnt supose to get hurt, but the red that painted his arms said otherwise.

I couldnt stare at him without feeling like i failed again.

Why couldnt i be perfect for once?

I took him to infirmary and held his hand while he was getting his stiches, saying sorry all the time.

I tried thinking it was okay, people get hurt, move on.

I had diner, i took a bath, i tried to sleep, i couldnt.

The tears were falling down and i knew i wouldn't be quiet.

So i got up and walked to the cabin's porch, sitting on the last step and letting my head fall to my knees.

Why couldnt i be great?

Why couldnt i be in peace with myself?

Why couldnt my mom bless me?

Why couldnt my dad love me?

Why did he had to be so mean?

I was a kid for fucks sake.

"Are you okay?" I heard someone saying, that made me freeze, that voice was not from any of my sisters, was i crying so hard i woke up someone from other cabin?

"I- yes, sorry i didn't knew i was crying so hard to wake people from other cabins, im sorry"

"You didn't, i was sneaking out to train some more, and saw you, our cabins face each other"

That was...Clarisse?

I wiped my tears and look up, she was staring at me with a almost worried look

"Clarisse?"

"Yes, why are you crying?"

She sat down by my side, dropping a sword in the grass.

"Its nothing really, im fine, you dont need to bothe-"

"No, cut the crap" she stopped me mid sentence "no one ever weeps in the middle of the night out of happiness, you are not fine and im not letting you lie OR leave until you tell me what it is"

We stare at each other, and ill need to thank the night light being bad because i probably look like crap right now, im sure my eyes are red, my nose too, im probably with a very swollen face and id bet all the dracmas i own that my hair its no better than a nest of birds.

"Go on...tell me"

I layed myself in the stairs, looking at the sky, trying to think of a way to tell everything, without sounding crazy

"I dont deserve to be here, Clarisse."

"Here..where?"

"This cabin, i dont deserve to be called daughter of the goddess of wisdom, i dont deserve being here with them, my siblings they are great, more than good, great, they will do great things with themselfs, amazing writers, architects, brilliant musicians, historians, why am i here? Im not even good, why im with the great?"

"Wait wait wait" she made me sit down again and look at her "not even good? What are you talking about? Wasnt the strategy in the last capture the flag yours? Yall won, and if somebody asks me later i've never said this but that was good, some really good strategy, i was almost thinking of asking chiron to switch you teams, you were great, more than that, and now you're here telling me you are not egen good? Are you on drugs?"

"Clarisse you dont need to pretend you care that much, and my plan wasnt all that, my brother got hurt, that wasnt supose to happen, i failed him, if i was good enough he wouldnt even be there"

She had a very confused look on her face, like she really did not knew what i was talking about.

"You're not talking about the little boy you took to the infirmary and that small cut in his forearm are you? Cause that boy was far from almost dying like you are making it sound like-" she looked at my eyes, i didnt needed a mirror to have sure how i was, i've seen myself like that too much to count, everytime my dad said i wasnt good enough, sad, lifeless.

"I failed again Clarisse, im not good enough to be here, im useless, worthless"

She looked at me and did the last thing i tought she would, Clarisse hugged me.

"Dont say that, c'mon, worthless? I've seen you fight, i've seen your plans, you dont talk much but i've heard your ideas, you are far from being useless or worthless, who the fuck told you that?"

"My f- you heard me?" I looked at her, only to see a look i couldnt distinguish "what do you mean?"

She looked at her own feet, then at her sword, reflecting the moonlight.

"You really dont know?" She looks at me "i- well, i've heard you, the same way i see you everyday, thats how i know you like morning walks, sweet green grapes, baked goods...how i know you are probably the only child of Athena who has never read "the art of war", that you walk without looking at peoples faces....its weird, i've seen you so much throughout this years and it feels like this is the first time you are actually seeing me"

"But i've saw you before-"

"Thats not what i was saying, you looked at me many times, but did you ever saw me until today?"

I looked at her blinking, and after a moment of silent i said "you like dark chocolate, and lemon flavoured soda, and sneaking out to train when the harpies take their breaks, by the way you missed that, and you always ask for double the quantity of food you eat, so when you burn it you still can eat enough, by the way i stole that idea-"

She is smilling, big, really big, i think i am too.

Of course i saw Clarisse, who wouldnt, she was strong, brave, beautiful, to me was a wonder she didnt had people running to get her attention.

She got closer to me "does that mean i can-" i stopped her mid sentence again

"Maybe..."

"Im going to make you forget that "im not good enough" nonsense, belive me"

She is smilling while kissing me, and i am too.

#fanfic #lesbian #clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse pjo #pjo series #pjo tv show #clarisse la rue #clarisse x reader

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norrisleclercf1 · 11 months

Text

Age Is A Number

Pairing: Fernando Alonso x Vettel!Reader

Rating: R

Warnings: Age gap (21 year difference), smut, oral (m receiving), face fucking, protective!Fernando, dominant!Fernando I’m sure there is more

Words: 2.9K

Requested: Yes/No

Request: @poisonlily444 Hi!! I was wondering if you could write a fic with Fernando cuz lately I’ve been obsessing over him sm And maybe she’s like toto’s daughter or lance’s sister or smth like that (you pick who she’s related to idrc) and they have been in a secret relationship cuz she’s like 20 but actually he’s very protective with her and stuff Maybe they attend a gala or smth and she goes as his date in a green dress and when asked Abt it Nando is like “yeah she’s really beautiful and hot and she’s also my gf of a year” and everyone loves them after P.S. maybe a bonus scene at the end where they get home in Monaco and it s just pure filth 🤭 i loved how you wrote the sergio one so please please please make nando really possessive and overprotective

A/N: you can see where I lost my focus on this, I hope you’ll all enjoy it and hopefully I can get used to writing without my meds, it here ya gooo ☺️🤭

"I'm sorry, what?"

You want to curl in on yourself as your brother stares at you. He wasn't expecting you to drop this bombshell on him. He didn't think that when you called and told him you were coming home, you'd say to him you had a boyfriend.

Or the fact that your boyfriend is 20 years your senior, older than him. Oh, and that your boyfriend is Fernando Alonso. You rub your eyes and prepare yourself for this conversation. Wanted the earth to swallow you, but this was something you both needed to talk about.

"I'm dating Fernando." You whisper, hanging your head. You've been hiding this relationship for about a year, almost 2 years soon. "As in Fernando Alonso?" Sebastian asks, still not fully understanding. "Yes, as in Fernando Alonso." You groan and spin on your stool, standing as you rub your face.

"No, you're not. Nope. Nuh huh." Sebastian laughs, pulling his hair as he tries to remain calm. "Seb-" "He's TWENTY-ONE YEARS YOUR SENIOR! Fuck, Y/n. He's 6 years older than me! What the hell are you thinking?" Sebastian yells, causing you to flinch as he never raises his voice at you.

"Sebastian......he's good to me." You whisper, not sure how to explain this to him. Fernando was fantastic to you. He didn't play with your feelings, confuse you, or anything like that. When you argue, he makes you both talk and understand one another.

"Y/n, he's known you since you were a kid!" He snaps, and you step back, not wanting to start fighting. "Seb, he only met me a handful of times when I was a kid. It's not like you and Mick." Which only has Sebastian laugh humorously, shaking his head at this whole situation.

"Go home, Y/n." "Sebastian." You sigh, reaching out for your brother, who only steps back. "Let me, let me think this over; go home before we both fight." You blink, trying to keep control of your tears, and gather your things, heading to your apartment.

You're not over-emotional, but you did when it came to your brother. He was someone you looked up to. Sebastian was your world; he made you who you are today. He was more of a parent to you than a brother, so having that conversation with him and how it went. Hurt. Stepping into your apartment, you throw your purse and kick off your shoes before standing in the middle of your living room and crying.

Crying to being hurt. Crying because Sebastian didn't support you. Crying because you didn't know what to feel. You were hurt, angry, sad, and confused. You cover your face, crying as you hear the familiar beeping of the code put in, and then the tinge of spice and mint wraps around you, signaling that Fernando is here. "Princess?" Fernando calls out for you, smiling like a goofball.

He smiles at the bouquet of flowers in his hand, a small gift to make you smile. Not hearing a reply, he steps father into the apartment but stops to take in the mess you left as you came in. "Princess?" He waits for a beat, hears the soft muffled sniffles, sits the flowers down, and moves quickly to your side.

"Y/n? What's wrong? Are you hurt? Where? Princess, look at me." He pulls your hands off your face and sighs, seeing your blotchy face. He steps back and looks you over, ensuring you aren't physically hurt. Seeing that you're okay, he reduces it to emotional or mental. "What's wrong? I can't fix it if you don't tell me what's wrong." His voice is soft. Hearing how soft and the anguish on his face makes you choke on a sob and fall into his arms.

"Okay. It's okay." He pulls you closer, his grip tight. It almost hurts. "He..he.." You gasp out, trying to get the words out, but they're just gasped. "Princess, take a deep breath." You shake your head no, unable to do it. "Yes, you can." Grabbing a hand, he puts it on his chest and takes a deep breath. "With me." He whispers as he does it again. You copy the movement and start to calm down.

If there was Fernando hated most, it was when he couldn't help you. Seeing you in this state was the worst. He couldn't just tell it to fuck off like he'd do to people. Fernando wanted to protect you from everything, but sometimes the things inside you are the one thing he can't protect you from, only watch and help calm you down.

Seeing you calm, he takes a deep breath and tries again. "Okay, what happened?" He asks and sees tears form again, but you take a deep breath and blink them away. "I told Sebastian." Hearing that, the first emotion is anger. The only reason you'd cry like this is because Sebastian is mad.

"He's mad about our age gap." Fernando sighs, rubs his face, and leads you to the kitchen to give you some water. "Of course, he's mad." You scuff and roll your eyes. "That's all you have to say?" Gulping down the water, he hands you. You can see him thinking because if he was in Sebastian's place, he'd react the same way.

At the same time, he knows that what he is doing with you isn't for fun or just to feel young again. He loves you. He wants to get married and have children together. He couldn't say that Sebastian, the fucker would punch without a second thought.

"No, princess. But I understand your brother's worries. He raised you. You're more his daughter than a sister." Fernando pushes off the counter, walks around, and grabs your face, tracing your jawline. "He's protective. Like me." You giggle, knowing just how protective Fernando can get with you. "All he sees right now is me fucking his sister. He doesn't see how much I love her, worship her, or constantly ruin other men for her." He whispers the last part, making you laugh and blush.

He was right. You'd dated a little, but they couldn't give you the type of relationship you craved. They were mainly boys than men, and damn was Fernando, all man. He knew what you needed even when you didn't ask; he was always there, showing how much he loved you.

"You didn't ruin other men for me." You retort, which has your boyfriend leaning back with a smirk. "Really? Maybe I should try harder." He teases, which has you nodding as he leans in to kiss you. He halts when he hears knocking at the door and groans, cussing softly in Spanish.

A smile pulls at your lips as your grumpy boyfriend walks down the hall to the door. Opening the door, he grumbles but stops seeing Sebastian. "Oh, hey." Sebastian just stares at Fernando and sighs, shaking his head. "Don't tell her I was here." Walking away, Fernando curses and yells he's going to get the mail, following after Sebastian. "Hey! Sebastian!" Fernando yells, jogging down the stairs. Grabbing his shoulder, he forces him to face him. "I don't like this." Fernando chokes on a laugh and shakes his head, letting go of his old friend.

"I'm serious about her. She's not some distraction. I want to marry her. I understand the age gap-" Sebastian scuffs at hearing all this and hangs his head. "She's 20. You've lived a life. She's barely lived hers." His voice lowers as people walk past them, paying them no mind. "Don't. She's not a fucking child Sebastian. Y/n is a woman I love and building a life with. So don't you dare diminish her because of age, 'cause she's far more mature than you right now?" Fernando stares down at your brother, refusing to let anyone, including your family, talk down on you.

"Give me time," Sebastian whispers, hating his feeling. "Talk all the fucking time you need. Don't ever, ever talk to her like that again." Turning on the ball of his foot, he stalks back upstairs and into your place.

"Any mail?" "What?" Fernando asks, hearing your question, confused by you asking him that. "Nando, you went to get the mail. Was there any?" He shakes his head and removes his leather jacket showing off that tight white t-shirt underneath. "Hey, do you want to go to this gala with me? It's in Monaco." You turn around, holding the flowers he got you in a vase, and he smiles, seeing the light back in your eyes.

"How come you want me to go?" You weren't going to say yes. It's just that Fernando hated how the media eyes you like candy. Of course, they didn't know the two of you are dating. He despised how they constantly tried to pair you with the other drivers. Wanted nothing more than to show you off as his.

Walking over, he grabs the vase and sits it down before grabbing your chin, keeping eye contact. "When I say this, I fucking mean it. You are mine. You aren't the rumored girlfriend of Charles, Mick, or any fucking else. You're mine. Mine to fuck, love, mark, and show off. If you think for one goddamn second, I'll continue another year of little boys panting after you. You're wrong. Yeah?" You swallow and nod slightly, rubbing your knees, hating how you react to his words. He always got you wet when he showed off possessiveness.

"Okay." You whisper, and soon Fernando smashes your lips together. It then softens as he pulls away. "Good. You have work that day, so we will meet there." You smile, already knowing which dress you are going to wear. He'll lose his goddamn mind.

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Oh, he would bend you over and fuck you hard and good when you both get home. He had no idea you even owned a dress like the one you were wearing. He had expected an elegant dress that covered your skin. Something you'd be comfortable in. Not this.

Stepping out of the car, you thank your driver, who you smile at. Even that simple smile has Fernando wanting to rip the guy's eyes out for even looking at you. For being the center of that smile, not him.

You fix your dress, eyes searching for Fernando before you find him staring at you. You are wearing this stunning emerald green, self-tie plunging halterneck fishtail dress. The bow was light and rested on the back of your shoulders while the strings fell to your mid-thigh giving your back some cover, but if you moved the tie, it'd reveal your whole back. The front has a plunging front that shows off your chest.

Fernando had only seen the back but lost it when you turned to show off the front. He's next to you in quick strides, snatching your hand out of the driver and pulling you close. "The moment we get home, that dress will be off, and you choking on my cock, yes?" Fernando whispers in your ear, having you nod dumbly as he kisses you sweetly and guides you to the entrance.

The moment you two stepped foot in the entrance, you were blinded by cameras and the deafening sound of the shutter of cameras. Fernando places a comforting arm around your waist and directs you through the sea of people. You stop seeing your brother and Hanna as they stare at you both. Hanna smiles brightly, while Sebastian seems skeptical of the two of you.

"Shit, I forgot he'd be here," Fernando whispers in your ear before pressing a kiss to the side of your head. Doing that has the cameras going wild and people screaming. "Y/n! Come take a photo with us!" Hanna yells, and with a slight nudge, you move into your brother's arms. "I'm going to do some interviews; take care of her." Fernando nods at you making Sebastian smile tightly. "I know how to take care of my sister." You sigh and smile, dragging your brother away.

"Fernando! Over here! Fernando!" A reporter yells, and their enthusiasm gets his attention and goes to them first. "Easy there." Fernando grabs the young reporter, who smiles brightly and about falls over when he approaches him. "Thanks! When did you start dating Y/n Vettel? Is there a problem with the age difference?" He rattles off and then blushes, unsure if he overstepped, but the driver laughs.

"She is my girlfriend of almost 2 years, and as of now, the age difference isn't a problem for her family." He jokes, making the others around them laugh. "She is a wonderful person!" The reporter gushes, and the stupid smile on Fernando's face gives him away. "Y/n is the love of my life. She's gorgeous, intelligent, just an energy in my life that I can't live without anymore. She's, just yeah." A blush covers Fernando's face before he laughs and waves goodbye going to find you.

Walking around, he finds you at your designed table, seeing that Hanna and Sebastian are also there, but Sebastian seems to be messing with your heel. "Something wrong, princess?" Fernando asks, making you look up with a smile and blush, having heard everything he said about you. "The strap to my heel broke. Seb is trying to fix it but failing." Sebastian grumbles and steps away. "Fine, you try fixing the damn thing." Sebastian goes back to his seat, and Fernando sits down. He gently lifts your ankle and places it on his lap.

His fingers trail patterns on your ankle, making you squirm but look away, trying to talk to Hanna, who giggles. She loves seeing you in this situation as she loves Fernando and knows he'd care for you. Sebastian just looks ready to die but refuses to admit the way Fernando treats you will reign supreme.

"Here you go, baby." Fernando fixes the strap as you thank him and lean forward, grabbing his jaw and pulling him close as you kiss him slowly. You do pull away to not freak your brother out. Pulling your heel away, you put slight pressure on Fernando's dick, making him jump slightly and eyes narrow at you.

"Careful." He mouths, but you just give a soft smile and carry on for the rest of the night. Until you leave, you tease each other, slightly flirting with other men, and Fernando gives you touches under the table to unsuspecting company.

"We're heading home. See you later?" Fernando asks Sebastian gathering your things and pulling you close, slightly tipsy from the alcohol. "Get her home safe," Sebastian orders kissing your side of the head, watching a lazy smile appear on your face. "I know how to protect her. Later Hanna." With a nod of his head, Sebastian watches you both leave.

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"Fuck!" You moan loudly. Fernando moves fast, slamming you into the wall. "Let me see you, Kitten, fuck, you're probably dripping for me." Fernando rasps, making you whimper and spread your legs. "Wore nothing underneath for you." You whine, hands tangling in those gorgeous locks of his.

"Kitten." He growls, hating that you are so exposed where anyone could see you, but he also dies a little when he was teasing you and could have easily slipped his fingers into you. "M sorry, Daddy. Fuck. You were so close to finding out my secret." Fernando smiles, stands back up, and lifts you up, carrying you to the bedroom.

"Y/n, kitten. You know the rules, baby. What are they?" He asks, undoing his belt, having your mouth water, having always enjoyed this punishment. "Only Daddy comes, not me." You whisper, which has Fernando nod his head to the floor and have you sliding off the bed and onto your knees. The sound of his pants being undone has your heart rate pick up before you take over helping him out of his pants. "Damn." Fernando groans, feeling your hand wrap around his base. With slow strokes, you assess him trying to figure out the best way to take it first, and you lean up and poke your tongue out. Fernando moans feeling your tongue tease him before your lips wrap around the head of his cock. Fingers curl into your hair and pull you forward, making you choke. You take a deep breath and calm yourself. You freeze when you feel Fernando touch your throat, looking down at you.

"Relax your throat." His fingers ghost your neck, and he feels the muscles relax before he positions himself and both hands anchor your head. "I'm going to fuck your throat, okay?" He asks, and you nod, tongue moving slightly before it settles on, tracing a vein on his underside.

"Good girl." He pulled out slowly before moving his hips, testing to make sure he wasn't hurting you in any way. When he feels how relaxed your throat is, he starts to pick up his pace, groaning at how you feel.

You swirl your tongue but also moan, sending small vibrations through him, moving his hips faster as the slight twitch in his balls lets him know he's close. "M gonna come, Kitten. Swallow if you want." He groans, which has you relaxing your throat more as he moans and stills in your throat. You have no problem swallowing as Fernando pulls away, seeing the slight string of spit, and smirks, leaning down and kissing you deeply.

"Now, your turn." You squeal loudly as Fernando lays you down on the bed.

#f1 #formula 1 #f1 fandom #f1 x reader #f1 x y/n #f1 imagine #f1 scenario #formula one #fernando alonso #fernando alonso imagine #fernando imagine #f1 one shot #f1 fanfic #f1 smut #f1 angst

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charlie-lec-stories · 4 months

Text

A lovely mess // CL16

Pairing: Charles Leclerc / Original Female Character

Summary: Four times Charles overreacted to becoming a father and one he actually failed to react. Or Charles being a mess through the best and most scary adventure of his life.

Warnings: None, this is pure wholesomeness.

Author’s Note: This one was inspired by some stories my own dad and uncle told me about the times they had their first children. Yes, some of those stories are based on things my father did when him and my mom were expecting me hahahaha. Rate: PG

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Every man reacts differently to pregnancy, but the most common response is just simply becoming a mess of a human being. And because of that, Charles, for once in his life, could be considerer an average man. He had been exceptional his whole life: excellent student at school, talented in arts, languages and sports, remarkable people skills and loved by everyone. People assumed that he was going to be an exceptional father too, and he knew he was committed to the role since day one, but none of that made the experience less scary. The monegasque had always want kids, he had always pictured himself growing old with a woman he loved and raising a bunch of little humans. When he knocked up his girlfriend he was definitely not planning on becoming a father so soon in his life, but he was happy nonetheless. His history with his girlfriend was kind of complicated too, her family didn't like him much, or more precisely the fact that Charles' job made her travel around the globe, away from her family all the time. He knew that he loved her more than he had ever loved anyone in his life, he knew that every time he pictured himself in the future, that future was shared with her, but it would be a lie if he'd say that the pregnancy didn't complicate things. His in-laws weren't too happy when they found out and Charles' mother was kind of worried about the whole situation. But Charles and his girl loved that little "accident" more than life itself and they actually never cared too much about anyone else's opinions. He convinced his girlfriend to move in with him and she also agreed on keep traveling with him until she ultimately had to stay home for the baby's safety.

"Is six weeks really that bad, Amour? I mean, maybe you're jet lagged or something". Charles nervously wondered from sitting at the bottom of the bed, his girl anxiously pacing around the room.

"That's not how periods work, Charlie". She was trying to stay calm and not bark at him, but that was a difficult task.

"Then let's buy a test and find out". He got up and started walking to the door when she grabbed his arm.

"Wait! You can't just go to a pharmacy and buy a test!". She looked at him like he was insane.

"Why not?". If there was someone humble enough to always forget he's rich and famous, that was Charles.

"Because you're Charles fucking Leclerc, that's why!". She let go of his arm and ran her hand down her face, exasperated. "The press is going to have a field day if you do that".

"Shit, you're right". He sighed and his shoulders sunk. He could see her shaking, scared and stressed and all he wanted to do was give her answers so she could get some peace of mind. "I'm sorry, Amour, I just don't know what to do".

"Let's call Lorenzo, maybe Charlotte can buy it for us".

He watched her take care of everything: call his brother, open the door for him and Charlotte, explain the situation, decide over test brands with his sister in law, drink loads of water, all while he sat on the couch, his mind running faster than he had ever drove his Ferrari. How could she think so clearly even with how scared she was? What would he do if the test was positive? What if she didn't want to keep the baby? Why was he feeling so sad with the mere idea of the test turning up negative? Was he really ready to be a father? There were so many questions and so little answers. He could hear Charlotte walk out the door and his girlfriend go their room, he clearly felt his older brother sit by his side on the couch, but he just couldn't move. Lorenzo said something Charles never caught, too drown inside his own head.

"I really want this baby, Enzo". Was all he let out and his brother just squeezed his shoulder.

Charlotte came back pretty fast, a paper bag with at least five different tests for his girl to do. The older woman explained the younger which ones were more effective so they could compare the results later. The possible future mother lock herself into the bathroom while the other three waited outside. Charles felt like he waited for an eternity before she came out with the five little white sticks. She placed them over a napkin on the coffee table and Lorenzo set the timer. Now, they had to wait again. She was sitting on the same couch he was before, looking at everything but the tests in front of her, so he sat down and took her hand in his, hoping for the contact to be enough to ease her thoughts. He wasn't exactly the epitome of calmness and the sweat that covered his hand made it hard to grip at. She looked at him and smiled, she knew that he was going to be there for them, no matter what, but she was still scared of what he would think, she still needed to know if he really wanted this. Still, she refrained from asking and simply rested her head on his shoulder, searching for comfort on his scent. She had her eyes closed when she suddenly flew to the other side of the couch while Charles' loud yelp filled her ears.

"What the fuck was that?". She looked around, trying to find what could have startled him so much to trow her like that, but all she could see was Charles clumsily trying to grab one of the tests while his feet barely kept him up. She had never seen him so uncoordinated in the two years they had been together. His fingers had a mind of their own and his legs were trembling.

"Two lines, this one has two lines". Charles, who had been quiet and petrified for the past hour, was mumbling like a madman as he showed his brother one of the tests. In the background, the alarm set by Lorenzo started ringing and they all looked down at the coffee table, searching for the lines of truth. Charles grabbed the the tests smiling wide as he showed them to the others. "THEY ALL HAVE TWO LINES". He was hyperventilating, his whole body shaking and Lorenzo couldn't help but let out his loudest laugh as he watched his younger brother loose the little bits of sanity he had. "CAN YOU SEE IT, BABY?!". He shoved the sticks into his girlfriend's face. "It's a baby! We made a baby! Putain de merde! I'm going to be a Papa!".

"Yes, Charlie! I see it!". She said sharing his enthusiasm. But then she saw him go pale really fast. He walked backwards a few steps and Lorenzo caught him from behind before he could fall butt first on the ground.

"Okay, I think you need to process this rollercoaster of emotions while sitting on the couch, Cha". The older Leclerc helped his bother to sit down next to the now confirmed future mama. There, Charles took her hand and smiled, a high-like expression covering his eyes. He may be scared, but he had never been happier.

If Charles' reaction to the pregnancy was that chaotic, it was a sure thing that the following nine months would be as well. Before the first trimester was up, he had already brought another house to move to, where the baby could have their own room and a playroom. He brought every piece of Ferrari merchandizing he could find on the internet, he didn't even care if it was original or not. Was it pretty? Yes. Was it Ferrari? Yes. Then he was buying it. His girlfriend even went to the extent of taking away his cards and threatened with getting rid of wifi to make him stop. He didn't, took her extension in the middle of the night and kept binge-shopping for his baby at 4 am. He brought furniture for the bedroom and the playroom, and then he found his biggest rival till the day. A rival he wanted to beat more than Max Verstappen: a crib. She wasn't even showing and he was already putting a crib together, or let's rephrase it, fighting with the crib and losing pathetically.

"Cela n'a aucun sens". (This makes no sense). He complained while he tried to attach what was supposed to be 'Part B' to 'Part 3.1'. Why there was a part 3.1, he didn't know and was too stress out to try and figure it out. He growled, he literally growled when the whole crib came crushing down in front of him. "Je déteste cette merde". (I hate this shit).

"Charlie? What's wrong? I heard a loud noise". He looked at the mother of his child and all he could feel was embarrassment. "Are you alright?".

"Yes. I'm fine". He answered from the floor, looking at his lap. He wanted to cry, but he also didn't want to upset her.

"Hey, you know you can tell me anything, right?". She sat next to him on the floor and searched for his eyes, but he kept looking away from her. "What is it, Charles?".

"I-". He tried to start talking, but he was cut off by his own sob. She quickly made him turn towards her, looking for injuries, but he seemed to be physically fine. She saw the tears running down his face and did the best she could to wipe the away. Moving to sit on his lap, she threw her arms around his neck and pressed herself flat against him, trying to get as close as she could. He cried on her shoulder, soaking her his hoodie and crushing her with his arms around her waist. They stayed like that for a while, until Charles stopped crying. She scratched his head to calm him down and after some time, he did. In a painfully soft whisper, he admitted his fear to her. "I'm going to be a terrible Papa".

"Don't say that. We both know that's not true". Shushing him, she pulled away and grabbed his face, forcing him to look at her. "Is this about the crib?".

"I've been fighting this crib for four days. Our baby is going to sleep on the floor and it's all my fault". She laughed and for a moment, she regretted it, seeing the hurt in his eyes. She calmed down and pecked his lips.

"Charlie, our baby has barely formed their ears yet, you have more than enough time to figure this out". He didn't look convinced at all.

"But what if I don't?". She smiled at him.

"I know you will. Do you want to know why?". He nodded and she ran her fingers through his hair to move it away from his face, so they could look into each others eyes and make him believe her. "Because you already are the best Papa in the world, Charles".

He won against the crib just in time to catch up with the worst part of the cravings period. They were into the fourth month of pregnancy and the little bump was proudly starting to show. Charles couldn't keep his hands away from it. He was constantly touching the bump, kissing the bump, talking to the bump, even scolding the bump whenever he saw some discomfort tinting his girlfriend's face. In the paddock he practically forced her to go everywhere with him and on interviews he answered every question while looking at her. He insisted on people staying at least ten centimeters away from her and he even took upon himself the task of preparing every meal she ate, just to make sure that it was safe and she didn't get food poisoned. He checked places' and foods' temperatures, chairs' and couches' safety, if her shoes were properly tied (at least 20 times a day), the only thing missing was him wrapping her on bobble wrapping. He safety proofed the every hotel room they stayed in so she wouldn't 'accidentally hit the bump against unknown furniture in the dark'. At some point, she had to put a stop to the madness, specially when Charles' newly-daddy paranoia messed with her cravings.

"Amour, what are you eating?". He asked when he caught her hiding with Lando and Max behind the Red Bull garage, a massive greasy half eaten hot dog on her hands. Lando was opening a mayonnaise sachet with his teeth and Max was feeding her french fries with his bare hands, all three of them sitting on the floor. It wasn't exactly the most sanitary situation, but the fuzzy feeling she felt inside her chest thanks to that hot dog made it all worth it. Charles could swear he had an aneurysm just by the sight of it all. "Where did you get that?".

"Uhm...". Her and Lando looked at Max, waiting for him to answer, since he was the one who brought it.

"Well... It's from a professional, I can assure you that, Charles". The monegasque frowned and Max swallowed, scared, just to find out his mouth was completely dry. He wasn't an easily scared guy, but something about Charles' over-protective-dad mood just terrified him.

"And where's the professional's place? Can you show me?". Max, still sitting on the floor, looked at everything but Charles.

"Oh, you see-".

"It's from the stand outside of the paddock". Lando blurted out, followed by him covering his mouth with both his hands and the three of them heard Charles growl.

"Max did you just feed my pregnant girlfriend a hot dog from a dirty street-stand? YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW IF THE PERSON WASHES THEIR HANDS-"

"They definitely don't, I mean, they don't have where to".

"Lando, you're not helping me, mate". Max advised, not moving his eyes from the fuming Charles above him. Then the pregnant girl decided to intervene.

"Charlie, babe, it's okay. I asked him to buy it for me". Charles then looked at her, his gaze softening a little, but still angry.

"Amour, you know that's not good for you". He walked to her and hooked his arms under hers to help her off the floor.

"But the baby wanted it". Max still followed Charles, afraid of what the future father could do to him for messing with his unborn baby's diet. Lando stayed very still, hoping to make himself invisible. "I was just craving this so bad! And you never let me have this type of food. The baby is fine, I promise".

"Don't do that face, it's not fair". He complained when she gave him her best puppy eyes. She didn't stop, and he finally dropped the attitude. "Okay, maybe we can make some room for a hot dog once in a while. But you have to keep eating healthy, we don't want the little Tifosi to come out malnourished".

"Yay!". She squealed and hugged him tight, the hot dog almost falling from her hand. Charles hugged her back and then directed his gaze towards the other two drivers.

"And you two". Max and Lando looked at him wide-eyed. "This better be the last time you pull off something like this. Did I make myself clear?".

"Yes, sir". Both said at the same time and got up from the floor.

"Okay, go on. And think about what you did". They nodded their heads, Max handing the girl the fries and then walking away with Lando.

"I like you daddy-voice". Charles shrugged at her comment.

"Amour, don't call it that or I won't be able to use it without laughing".

Charles' paranoia got better. He calmed down a little, but then the fear of being a bad father came back. Around the seventh month, already knowing they were having a boy, Charles found himself with insomniac. At the beginning of the pregnancy he was scared of not knowing what to do to take care of a baby's basic needs: bottle feed, change diapers, help him to sleep, and things like that. But as the date of the delivery got closer, Charles' fears shifted to the more existential type. What if he was unable to guide his son through life? What if he failed on teaching him good values and a strong sense of ethics? What if he ended up raising a spoiled kid, arrogant and narcissistic? What if he couldn't make his boy happy? What if his kid hated him? Those questions kept him up at night, turning over and over on the bed, and cold sweat covering his body. He would walk to the baby's room and look at the painting his girlfriend did on the walls, the name 'Jules' written on lilac on a clear sky, over the race track so carefully crafted. What if his son didn't want to race cars? What if he was forcing him to do so when he wasn't even born? Sitting on the rocking chair, he would look out the window, the yachts at the bay clearly visible from there. What if his son didn't like Monaco? What if his son would rather adopt his mother's nationality and culture over his? The dark sky adorned with shinny little dots would look back at him without answers.

"Charlie? Why are you up, love?". He heard his girl's sleepy voice call out to him from the doorway. He smiled at her, his eyes glossy as he fought the tears that wanted to escape.

"Just thinking, Amour. Don't worry". He gave her his best smile, but she could read his real feelings underneath it. "Go back to bed, I'll join you in a minute".

"I think we love each other enough to cut the bullshit, babe". She walked further into the room and stopped in front of him, her big belly at his face's height, and he couldn't help but reach forward and kiss it. "What is it?"

"It's... it's just a lot and it's late. Don't worry, really-"

"Charles, I'm not sleeping until I'm convinced that you're alright". He sighed, and pulled her to his lap. The weight was a little bit more than what he was used to, but he loved that, it made it impossible for him to overlook the fact that his baby was there, with them. He made her rest her back against his chest and rocked he chair, hugging her tight against him and resting his chin over her shoulder. They both looked out of the window and she patiently waited for him to tell her what was going on inside his mind.

"I'm scared. I feel this huge responsibility over Jules". She smiled, loving whenever they talked about their baby using the name they choose for him. "I just want to be a good Papa, but I'm so scared of messing up, of making the wrong choices, of using the wrong words, of leading him in the wrong direction. What if I don't raise him right? If I'm not a good role model?"

"Well, you're not alone in this, Charlie, I'm with you till the end of the line. Like Bucky and Steve. I know that we'll be alright. I just know it". She sounded so sure of herself. He wished he could be that sure about everything.

"How do you do it? How do you manage to always be so sure and composed?". She laughed and he felt the baby kick under his palm, he always kicked when she laughed.

"I've been the least composed person and you know it, Charlie! I break down crying at least five times a day. You've seen that! You're the one who comforts me every time". He laughed softly, that was true, those had been some pretty crazy seven months. A true rollercoaster of emotions. And they still had two more months to go. "I know that we'll be alright because we're already asking ourselves these questions. Because we care about Jules so much that we truly take time to think things through. We are going to be alright because we love our baby and we both know we will always do the best we can for him. We won't let the bad choices from our parents be repeated and we'll make sure to copy the best from them to give to Jules. That's why I'm so sure". She turned to look at him for a moment. "I trust you to be the dad of my baby because I know how great of a human being you are, Charles".

"I love you". He said, feeling a lot better. He kissed her tenderly, and then another kick was felt under his hand. "Thanks for being here for me, Amour".

"Always, just as you had always been for me". She nuzzled her nose against his. Another kick and they both laughed. "Let's go back to bed, Papa".

The two months passed by in a blink. Charles asked Ferrari to give him a leave of absence for the first two races of the season. He wanted to be world champion, but he would rather be there when his son was born. Ferrari let him take his time, but Jules decided to be born at eight and a half months. It seemed like he couldn't wait to meet his parents, because everything happened so fast that Charles had barely had any time to react. They were having lunch at his mother's house, and he was having the best time. His girl looked amazing, all radiant and happy, her belly covered by a cute but comfortable dress, his sisters in law both touching the belly and fighting for godmother duties. Lorenzo and Charlotte were definitely the chosen ones, but they hadn't tell anyone yet, after all both Lorenzo and Charlotte were there for them when they needed them. His mother was showing him little clothes that she had crocheted for Jules and his brothers discussing which one was going to be the 'responsible uncle' and who the 'funcle'. Arthur was definitely unable to be the responsible one, so he was already chosen to be the 'funcle'. Every conversation was cut short when the faint voice of the future mama rang through the air.

"Charlie". Her shaken voice called out, and he turned around to see what she needed. There was a wet patch under her and she was grabbing her belly, a painful expression on her face. "I think my water broke".

"The baby is coming!". Arthur shouted excitedly, but Charles' brain just stopped functioning. He saw everyone running around to grab things, Charlotte and Carla helping his girl out of the house and towards his car, Lorenzo grabbing the baby bag the carried around just in case since the beginning of the last trimester, Arthur pushing him outside and his mother speaking, but he just couldn't move. H was petrified. He felt like his blood pressure had dropped in a second and if it wasn't for Arthur behind him, he would have certainly fallen to the ground. His mother took his car keys out of his pocket and then they pushed him on the back seat, next to his girlfriend. Her hand crushing his brought him back from his outer-body state and he was able to react, turning to face her and running his other hand down her arm, doing his best to sooth her.

"It's okay, mon amour. Breath, breath with me". He instructed her and he started to exaggerate his breathing so she could copy her. She did and that calmed her down enough to count the seconds between one contraction and the next. "That's it, Amour, you're doing so good". He praised her and she smiled a little, her happy expression cut short by another waive of pain. She screamed and cried, sweat covering her forehead and running down her face, mixing with her tears. It was probably the most messy she had ever looked, but he had never seen her as beautiful as in that moment. "I love you so much". He whispered it, but by the squeeze she gave to his hand, he knew for sure she was saying it back. "We're almost there, hung on a little longer".

He almost carried her out of the car and into the hospital the second Arthur parked the car. Then, they found out that she was ready to deliver in that second. Jules didn't want them to keep him waiting, she was brought to the delivery room and Charles was given surgical gown so he could join her. Inside, the whole process was quick, in 30 minutes, Jules was crying on the doctors arms and Charles could feel his heart skip a beat. Wrapped on towel and with the small hat they had for him on, Jules was passed on to his mother, who took him instantly while she cried her eyes out. Charles, still on delay with reality, was trying to process the information. That was his baby, he was finally there, he could finally touch him. The doctor walked to him, placing a hand on his shoulder, Charles couldn't stop looking at his girl and little Jules. He heard a softly "go ahead, meet your boy", and that was enough for him to place a shaking and gentle hand on Jules' head. He ran his thumb over the soft little cheek and the tears started to fall. He felt his girl's hand wipe away his tears and heard her laugh softly. She just found funny that after overreacting about every little thing for the past eight months, Charles was barely able to react that day. He was a mess in that moment, but he was the perfect mess in her eyes. The most extraordinary mess. He finally smiled and reached down to kiss her head, then he looked at Jules.

"I am your Papa, Jules. I love you. I'm so happy to finally meet you".

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I hope you guys liked this one!

#charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc imagines #charles leclerc one shot #charles leclerc x reader

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bountycancelled · 6 months

Text

LOST CAUSE

bada x reader (part 1)

MASTERLIST | NEXT

warnings: none really, it's just kinda sad

content: petnames (only one is used in reference to reader, but a few are mentioned) alcohol mentions (reader drinks away her feels) sad gays and bad gays, unedited becusse I'm lazy, a whole lotta projecting myself onto reader

being bada's best friend would be the death of you, you were calling it right now.

she wasn't a bad friend by any means, quite the opposite actually. from the late night talks that would last until the early mornings before you both passed out, the tiny, sentimental gifts she would randomly get for you without expecting anything in return, to the way she would hold you, god, she was perfect. you loved everything about her.

but, that was the problem, wasn't it? you loved her. and a part of you wants to blame her for making it so easy, falling for her, but you know that would be unfair. not only because she wasn't leading you on or anything, but also because she couldn't do any wrong in your eyes.

everytime your heart fluttered at one of her actions, it would sink just as quickly. she's doing this as a friend, you would always remind yourself. but your not so friendly reminders didn't stop you from hoping. for something more, that one day, miracously, bada would realise that she was in lo–

"what's got you so worried?" you were pulled out of your daily dose of dramatic reality checking by none other than bada. her head was in your lap, she stared up at you with a look that you could only describe as... content. comfortable. and so, so beautiful.

"huh?" you answered, having not heard her clearly, too busy being in your head instead of in the real world, where unfortunately, you belonged.

she raised her arm and pressed on the space between your eyebrows, a small pout on her face. "you're frowning. what's wrong, pretty?"

the nicknames. the fucking. nicknames.

pretty, gorgeous, baby, love, honey. it was things like that made you believe, even if just for a moment, that she knew that you liked her, loved her, and was just toying with you for enjoyment.

you'd feel guilty everytime you had that thought. she wouldn't. not to you, not to anyone, not ever.

"it's nothing, really. I'm just in a mood today." you shrugged, hoping that she would, for your sake, take your half-hearted explanation and leave it there.

she nodded, clearly unconvinced, but moved one nonetheless. "do you still wanna go to the club tonight? we can cancel and spend the night together instead." she offered, lifting her head off of your lap in favour of placing it on your shoulder, waiting for your answer.

"no, we can still go, we'll just come back here together. we've blown off our friends enough times, I'm starting to feel bad." you joked, and once again, the atmosphere was light and airy. with that settled, you both stood up, trying to find something to wear for the nights activities.

you walked into her closet, sprinkled with tops and skirts from your own, almost laughing at the absurdity of the situation. for someone who claimed that being around bada was painful, your personal stamp on her home sure made it hard to believe.

"how's this?" you said for what felt like the 29th time to bada (it was only the third) as you spun around for her, showing off one of your options for the night.

she sat at the edge of the bed, ready to go about 20 minutes before you, as she usually was. her head was tilted back, staring at the ceiling as she waited patiently for you to finally choose something to wear.

you tried not to stare at her neck, which she made easier for you by finally looking at you, tilting her head to the side as she inspected your outfit.

"I was gonna say its looks as good as the other two because you look amazing in anything and everything, but... I like this one. a lot."

the way she looked at you when she said that, with her bottom lip between her teeth, stayed with you as you walked to the club together, hand in hand. did she really have no idea how much she affected you? you weren't sure if you hoped that she didn't, or did.

but you weren't going to think of that tonight. you were going to drink, and dance, and hang out with your friends, and not let bada affect you. if only for just one night.

okay, maybe you had had one too many drinks by now, but you weren't drunk just yet. it was still the normal you, just with a few tweaks. a little less shame here, a little more confidence here, nothing too major.

you were half in minah's lap and half in tatters, singing obnoxiously, almost as loud as the song blasting from the speakers. you weren't even thinking of bada... wait, where the hell was bada?

you squinted your eyes as they darted across the dance floor, hopelessly trying to locate her in the dim lighting of the club. but you didn't have to look for long, because she was headed back to your table, a smile painted on her face.

you stood up, suprisingly not stumbling as you walked up to her, wrapping your arms around her shoulders. "where were you?" you shouted over the music, wearing a curious expression.

she bit her lip excitedly before speaking into your ear, sending involuntary shivers down your spine. damn you and your natural charm, bada.

"I met a girl." you didn't mean for your face to drop in the way that it did, but from the looks of it, bada didn't even notice. if she did, then she didn't mention it.

"she actually wants to come over to my place..." bada trailed off, sending you a pleading look, a certain lust-driven glee shining in her eyes.

"oh." you said flatly before you could stop yourself, moving your arms away from her and crossing them over your chest.

she quickly wrapped her arms around your middle, squeezing while pleading her case in an effort to soften the blow. it doesn't help, not one bit.

"I know we were supposed to have a binging marathon, but please baby? just this once? I'll make it up to you real good, you know I always do." 'because I always let you.' you wanted to add, but you bit your tongue, you weren't feining for a fight with bada right about now.

you sigh, your arms hanging limply by your sides. "okay. I'll just crash at lushers'." you fight the urge to gag as she squeals in excitement, at the prospect of spending the night with someone who isn't you.

she gave you a curious look, most likely sensing your jealousy apprehension, her arms still around you, feeling more suffocating than comforting at that moment.

"...are you sure?" no. I'm not, don't go with her.

you nodded furiously, removing her arms from your frame, and turning her around, pushing her toward the dance floor where she had left her pursuit for the night. "go, she'll think you're blowing her off if you keep talking to me."

"are you actually, super, one hundred percent certain that I can go with her?" she pushed you further, and you knew that she knew that you weren't really all that okay with it.

but what was the point? you could easily sway her into sticking to the original plan, but she would've spent the whole night daydreaming about what could've been with the mysterious girl at the club. you didn't want to deal with that. you were tired of feeling like a second choice.

you wanted her to choose you, because she wanted to choose you. not because you asked her to.

'no, I'm not sure. I don't want you to go with her. I want you to choose me for once. choose me.' you screamed in your own mind, but all that could be seen on the outside was you smiling the best you could at bada, nodding once more before walking back to where the rest of your group sat, downing the drink in front of you.

you didn't know if it was even yours, but it didn't matter to you right now.

minah noticed your sudden change in mood, holding your hand in hers in a silent attempt to comfort you. you squeezed it as means of expressing gratitude, you didn't wanna talk about it.

but, you didn't need to. she knew, and if the downright pitiful looks the rest of the group were throwing your way were anything to go by, it seemed that everyone else knew too.

you wanted to leave, so you left. lusher had no problem going home early with you, she could tell that you weren't in a good headspace. you left with lushers arms around you, half to make sure that you didn't stumble, and half to try to make you feel a little better.

you left with a bitter taste in your mouth, and not from the shitty drinks you were downing.

you left without saying goodbye to bada, which you never did. she waved when she saw you by the door, that big smile still evident even in the dark lighting.

you didn't wave back.

a/n: this wasn't planned, and I wrote it in a day, but I hope you guys like it. also, doing a bada series and and a bada smau at the same time isn't my brightest idea, but fuck it, we ball.

#smau #bada lee #bada lee x oc #bada lee x reader #bada x reader #masterlist #bada lee fanfiction #bada #bada lee fluff #bada lee fanfic #bada lee smut #bada lee x y/n #bada smut

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jester089 · 6 months

Text

Locked away

TADC crew x abstracted reader. But with a twist, you'll have to read to find out what the twist is. Or you can just go to the end I'll write it there for those who want context.

Caine

When you abstracted it was sad but Caine honestly wasn't surprised. You were showing signs for a while after all. He did his best to make fun adventures and distractions but in the end you were lost. He moved on rather quickly I'm sad to say. You aren't the first person he enjoyed the company of to lose their mind. He moved on like always, no real differences showing themselves. That is until the next person that abstracted. He opened up the cellar to get them out of the way only for a non abstracted you to crawl out. You were shivering and had a thousand yard stare. But you were alive! He quickly swoops down and starts making sure your ok. He asks so many questions only to not get any answers. Or even a reaction out of you. It took some time and the others mentioning things for him to realize that you weren't there anymore. You were physically, you were sitting right in front of him as he speaks. But you weren't there mentally, you were gone. With a heavy heart and regret he puts you back in the cellar. It feels wrong to do but he can't just keep your emotionless reactionless body up where everyone can see it. Chance of abstraction 0.5/10

Gangle

Don't do this to the poor sweetheart Watching your glitchy form get put into the cellar like all the others broke her. Just you abstracting was enough to completely change Gangle. She went from not doing ok. To severely depressed and on the verge of giving up. She would mope around and never really interact. Her comedy mask long forgoten and collecting dust in your old room, sitting on your old bed. She visits your room every now and again but can never get past looking at the door. To many memories, to much hurt. When she heard you were ok and not abstracted from Pomni and Ragatha she didn't believe it, she couldn't believe it. But after enough convincing she went to go see you. And they weren't lying. There you were. Sitting on the ground staring at nothing. Second she catches a glimpse of you she sprint and you full speed and glomps you. She wraps around you tight enough to suffocate you, and peppers your face with kisses. She doesn't notice through the tears of joy or lovely feeling of holding you again that you aren't reacting to anything. But once the high of seeing you again wears off she'll realize. Just give her some time to be happy. She just got you back and your already gone again. Caine said you were broken beyond his help. Watching you get forced into the cellar again broke Gangle. Don't worry about the cellar being lonely and cold anymore, she's going to be joining you soon. Chance of abstraction 10/10

Zooble

You were the only one in this colorful hell that she felt close too. That she trusted. And your gone, just like so many before you. But you aren't like all those others. You were special. You mattered to her. She rarely showed up to adventures and rarely talked before. Now you would be lucky to see her outside of her room. Or yours. You just made her feel so complete. Like she isn't a random mess of parts. When she hears that you back she doesn't believe it. She doesn't even go to check because she truly believes the others are just trying to get her out of her room. She doesn't know that you were actually back. But that also means she doesn't have to go through loosing you again. She finds out a week or two later and you did actually come back and feels horrible. You were there, and she didn't even show up. Chance of abstraction 7.5/10

Ragatha

I feel like despite her go lucky and up beat personality she's one of the if not the closest to abstraction. She just doesn't show it cause she is supposed to be the well held together one, the anchor for the others. You were her little ray of sunshine. And not that digital sun outside, just your presence made her feel like she wasn't trapped in a computer. But your not here anymore. You haven't been for a long time. But shhh don't tell her that. When you abstracted Ragatha fell into her delusions. She lives in her memories of the real world, and of you two. When your brought back she doesn't even really react cause in her mind you've been there the whole time. She knows that isn't true. But it's her last chance to not lose herself. She wants to stay strong for you, and for the others. But seeing you in front of her, but it not actually be you. Just a husk of what you once were. Seeing YOU. Actual you being shoved into the cellar breaks her. It can go one of two ways. Either she goes fully delusional, or she abstracts right then and there. Chance of abstraction 8.5/10

Jax

Now Jax is an interesting one as I can see it going one of three ways. 1. He gets 5x more bully like and starts acting like he actually wants the others dead and isn't just doing it cause he finds it funny. 2. Losing you completely changes him. After enough time he is actually able to get over you and improves as a person to honor you. 3. Acts like it doesn't even happen and is the same as before. But if anyone brings you up he either gets violent, depressed, or both. For the sake of this I'm going to go with two as it's the most f#*&$@% up. Jax missed you. He missed you a lot. But he's a tough rabbit and isn't just going to give up cause your gone. That's Gangle's job, The little push over. He mourns losing you for a while but is surprisingly able to get over it. Once he is ready to join the others again he acts differently. He doesn't bully or prank. And any jokes he says are incredibly light hearted. Like he's scared, of what? The others don't know. Ragatha appreciates the change but knows that it only happened because he's been put though a lot of pain. He starts helping on adventures and doing his best to cheer everyone up. But then he sees you again. Sees you in the flesh not in a dream, or a nightmare. He wants so badly to run up to you and give you a big ol hug and take you back to his room for cuddles. But he can see in your eyes and the way your breathing. While that is your body. That isn't you. As he watches Caine put you back in the cellar he starts glitching and holding on to his head like it'll split if he doesn't. But before anyone can comfort him or ask if he's ok he's back up and just as cheerful as ever. From that day on he didn't allow himself to feel anything. Good, bad, neutral. None of it. He loved you. And look where that got him. Chance of abstraction 3/10

Pomni

Yeah this'll end well. Totally. 100% So for Pomni it does kind of depend on how long she's been there. If she's still new it wont affect her as much as she didn't know you that well. If she's been there a while then she's going down with the ship. Her ship. You. Pomni was still pretty new to the circus and the digital world. But with you and Ragatha's constant reassurance and help she got used to it rather quickly. You and Pomni got close enough to start dating getting far enough into it to ask Caine for date nights Be warned, He can and will watch you two go out. But just as she was starting to feel comfortable with this place and happy to be with you, she lost you. She spends most of her time going over every single memory you two had together. And the more she nit picks the more she feels like it's her fault. You had been here so long, you had done so well. Then she showed up. And now your gone and trapped in a dank cellar. But she's still here. If it wasn't for Ragatha she would have joined you in that cellar really soon but she trudged on. She was there. When you got pulled out of that hole. She was there watching you shiver on the floor mumbling about something. She was there when you got put back in. That was it, the final nail in the coffin. Well at least she wont have to suffer so much every day. Chance of abstraction 9.5/10 (The base for this is "your another person trapped in the digital world. And you were dating the character. But then you abstracted. Some how while trapped in that cellar you un-abstracted but you couldn't get out. So being trapped in a pitch black, cold, and wet place broke you mind. Only for you to be pulled out by Caine and break your S/O's mind. At least you two can live in hell together.") (Hope you enjoyed. I wrote this while high off my ass on coffee and sugar. So that's why it's so long.)

xoxo, Jester

#tadc x reader #the amazing digital circus x reader #caine x reader #gangle x reader #zooble x reader #ragatha x reader #jax x reader #pomni x reader #heavy angst #not beta'd #noob author

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thinkingaboutjaedyn · 13 days

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it wasn't me [t.rodman x reader]

prompt: trinity refuses admit to stealing your clothes

author notes: the word for this mini fic is "steal" obviously. i swear this is the most trinity coded fic i have written for her. i'm knocking out a request for more trin fics and helping myself write more, killing two birds with one stone. hope y'all like it 💞

trinity has a problem. actually the right word would be an addiction. she can't stop herself from stealing your clothes. the mix of your perfume and body wash you use rubs off on your clothes, making her heart all happy so can you really blame her? it was a cute habit except for when you needed to actually wear your clothes and half of your closet was gone. still you never stop her, so trinity happily indulges in her you-based addiction.

the only downside of this is the fact trinity does not like admitting it. even if everyone obviously knows it. this isn't even due to a pride thing, the american player just doesn't like to admit it. in her mind technically your clothes are her clothes so is it really stealing?

"baby! have you seen my mickey mouse pajama pants? it's going to be a little chilly and i wanna wear them," you shout out as you look through the closet in your bedroom. trinity comes into the room when she responds, "nope. haven't seen it, babes." she leans against the door frame, watching you look through your closet.

unlike you, trinity was already dressed. it was around ten am and practice started at twelve pm, so you forced her to get up eight to get ready. she groaned the entire time and demanded kisses after she did every part of her routine. you happily obligated every time.

"ugh.." you let out a groan. just deciding to give up on your idea of being extra comfy in your pajama pants and instead grabbing some black sweatpants. at least it matches your white graphic tee and the grey jacket you planned to wear out. you turn, dropping the sweatpants on your bed before coming over to trinity. "are you sure you haven't seen them?" you mumble into her chest after hugging her. trinity straightens up to hug you back properly. swaying a bit as she rests her face against the top of her head.

"nope. i don't even remember you having a pair of mickey mouse pajama pants. maybe you just made that up"

"wow, am i being gaslight right now?" you joke making her laugh loudly. the hug goes on for a long moment before you pull away. "gotta slip on these pants so we can go. i want to stop by that brunch place you like to get breakfast," you move away from the door and go to stand next to your bed.

"what? the spirit cafeteria breakfast food isn't good enough for you anymore?" trinity leans back against the doorframe. a badly hidden smirk on her lips as she watches you near your bed.

"don't you know? when someone gets famous they have higher standards. it comes with the fame," you put on a fake sad tone when saying the last sentence. trinity snorts, rolling her eyes. "oh god, where has my humble girlfriend gone?" she says.

"she's dead," you shrug before glancing at the clock sitting on one of your nightstands, "alright. get out so i can change."

"i can't watch my own girlfriend?"

"sorry, no. that choice expired after the last time we didn't go anywhere," you give her a fake pout before making a shoing gesture. the american player lets out a long groan before moving away from your room. going off into the kitchen to eat up half of your snacks.

it doesn't take long for you to get fully ready. having to also do your hair and find your training kit which somehow ended up in the guest bedroom. trinity and you leave out of the house at 10:40. with you carrying both of y'all bags since trinity claimed her arms hurt. you throw the bags into the back seat before getting into the driver's seat. trinity was already in the passenger seat before you put the bags away. you get ready to drive off, but is stopped by trinity saying, "wait!"

"what?" you look over at her, a confused expression on your face. the american player just smiles, "i have to go grab something. i forgot."

you just shrug when she gets out of the car. five minutes after going into the house, trinity comes back out. the shock on your face can't even be described as you watch trinity walk out of the house in your mickey mouse pajama pants. the one that she specifically said she didn't even knew you had.

trinity gets into the car just like before. snapping in her seat belt before looking over at you, "alright. let's go! i'm still starvinggg."

you give her a blank stare. thinking that would be enough for her to realize the current irony going on, but nope, trinity just looks away from you. focusing on connecting her playlist to the aux. "you know ashley texted me yesterday and she's actually getting along well in north carolina. i never thought i would hear her say that, weird," trinity's face scrunches up in slight disgust before shrugging.

"baby.."

"what?"

"why do you have on my pajama pants? i was looking for those!" you say as you pull out of the driveway. the american player side eyes you before looking out of the window instead of directly at you.

"i don't know what you're talking about," after saying this trinity tries to change the subject, but you aren't letting up. you keep reminding her of the earlier conversation you two had, but trinity denies that it even happens.

you drop the topic at brunch. enjoying the moments of eating nicely made bacon and pancakes while trinity gossips her head off. you try to bring it back up when y'all get back in the car to drive to practice, but trinity still doesn't let up so you drop it.

practice goes by smoothly with trinity annoying you every five minutes. you two go back to your place afterwards and slow down for the rest of the day. it's around ten pm when you bring the topic back up; and it wasn't even your fault.

trinity is in the shower while you're scrolling on twitter. mostly seeing fan tweets and bad jokes when a post about trinity catches your eye. on the tweet is the photo the washington spirit posted on instagram of trin's pre-practice outfit. she's waving in the photo while walking, with you trailing closely behind her. the tweet says the way the pants don't even reach trin's ankles. we all know who pants those are 😭

you immediately send that to trinity's phone. ready to start up the conversation once again after your thoughts were affirmed by some stranger on twitter; thank you to that fan.

#trinity rodman x reader #trinity rodman #uswnt x reader #woso x reader #woso fanfics

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berrieluv · 1 year

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academic rival!Remus Lupin x reader.

oh, the "who did this to you" trope, my beloved.

None of you knew how it started, and if someone ever dares to ask Remus would most likely groan at them, he didn't understood your dynamic.

He felt that nauseous feeling grow in him when you would get a slightly better note than him, even when it was the same note but your assignment got to be praised by the teachers.

You liked it. You needed the motivation and the competition to stay on top. Some people liked Quidditch, others joined the chess team, you and Remus created a rivalry to get through the school days.

Remus and you have never actually be friends. You liked James and Sirius, you thought they were funny, and in any situation you could imagine yourself dating Sirius, you shared a funny dynamic where you both would flirt. But the competition with Remus' took most of your time, it was almost as if he was your actual boyfriend.

Now that you think about it, you spent most of your time with Remus, or thinking about him, or thinking on defeating him. Your thoughts were 80% Remus Lupin and actually just a 20% school.

Now, in the last party before summer vacation, you both thought of taking a rest. No ditching your friends because you were busy studying, no "I can't drink, I have school tomorrow" anymore.

Just you, Remus and a ridiculous amount of butter beer. And of course, a lot of students as well, but Remus felt like it was only you and him right there.

You looked gorgeous. Remus thinks he never had any chance to look at you this way, to think of you as the most beautiful woman in the room. He knew you were pretty, he may hate you but he wasn't blind. He could see why Sirius had a thing for you. But now, in that exact moment, Remus couldn't take his eyes off you.

You were wearing jeans and a revealing blouse. Classy but somehow informal at the same time, Remus thought that maybe the shoes complete the outfit. That and your tide up hair, he wondered how much it took you to style it like that, he knew there was a lot of effort on the way you tried to make your hair look messy. It was a specific kind of messy you liked.

"Hey, Remus!"

He smiled at the girl who sat by his side, he didn't want to be rude, he was a gentleman, but his mind was killing him to turn around and watch you.

The girl in front of him was pretty, she was funny and she could keep up with any topic Remus would mention, she was well spoken and her body behaved in a way that was almost royalty-like, but he couldn't stop thinking about you, standing just a few steps for him, all that would take was to turn around.

"Remus, are you listening to me?"

No, he wasn't.

"No, sorry, love. What was it?"

She never got mad, not when Remus lost the track of the conversation or when he finally looked behind his back. To his misfortune, you weren't there anymore.

A few hours passed, the first girl was now long-forgotten and Remus was just sitting on the couch listening to Dorcas and Marlene talk about something and occasionally turning to ask him as well.

He felt his body on alert mode when he saw you again. It was around 1:00 a.m., if he was counting right, it was around three hours where he spent without seeing you.

Your face looked in panic. Your arms where hugging your body and your hair was in a different way than before, your lipstick also disappeared and he knew that sad smile way too well to ignore that something happened.

He excused himself from the girls and got up, making all the way to you, touching your arm only to feel you flinching at it, he frowned, because yes, you could say were enemies, but Remus has touch you many times, you could say you were used to it, and not once have you flinch.

"Is everything alright?"

"Yes"

But your eyes were filled with tears now and you felt so embarrassed, of what happened and for crying in front of all this people. You hided your face on Remus chest, trying to stop people from seeing you cry, Remus started to move his body a bit so it looked like the two of you were slow dancing, even when the music was nothing like that.

Remus took you upstairs, it was James' home after all, he could do whatever he pleases there.

He sat you on Sirius' couch, in his room and looked at you better, with the lights fully on. There were wounds in your arms, the kind of wounds the nails cause when they're drowning in the skin.

Remus tried to touch your face and you pulled back with an 'ouch', there was no visible marks but he could tell your left cheek was sore comparing to the right one.

"Who did this to you?"

He didn't know why he was so mad – Well, he knew if it was any other girl he could try tot help too –. He didn't know why he wanted to kill, why the Moony part of him felt like waking up when they were so far from the full moon.

You couldn't speak, you didn't knew his name, you only saw a Gryffindor pin in his jacket before he took it off.

"He was blonde" You say with tears in your eyes, not exactly sure why you felt so comforted right there with Remus, you wanted that asshole to suffer. You wanted him to cry, you wanted him to know how it feels to have someone doing things to your body without you wanting them, without you being able to stop it. "He was a Gryffindor"

And it's not like there's only one blonde Gryffindor in Hogwarts, but he knew one that would do exactly something like this.

"Stay here, I don't want you downstairs"

"He didn't... he didn't got far!" You yell before he could exit the door "He just tried, he, he couldn't take off my clothes, completely, he just tried. Nothing happened. I'm overreacting" You said with tears in your eyes, you felt ashamed, you were dirty now.

"More than enough happened" Remus walked away from the door and kneeled in front of you, kissed your knee and looked at you "Now stay here. I don't want you downstairs, alright?"

How could he not know who it was? It was the same blonde Gryffindor who called you 'Remus' little bitch' once, the same man who said out loud in a boys' night at the common room how you were one of the main girls he fantasized about, how he wanted, no, needed, to have you in any way he could.

Remus felt sick at the memory. He remember how the words twisted his stomach back then and he remember doing nothing, one of his Housemates was expressing out loud how he would even come in terms on raping if necessary and he did nothing.

"Remus, I've been looking for you" Sirius says, hanging from his shoulder and walking at Remus' speed once he didn't stop; "Where're we going?"

The boy didn't answer, he couldn't, his tooth were clenching he felt like he could break them at any moment. And the second he saw those blonde hairs and that cocky face he didn't doubt for a moment on throwing the first punch.

Sirius would always tell the story, and he would always mention he swears he has never feel sober up as fast as he did that day.

The alcohol evaporated from his system.

"Mate, what the... what is wrong with you?"

"You know what you did" Remus answers, caressing his fist with his other hand and looking at Tom, ready to kill him at any moment.

"Oh" He chuckled "You mean what I did... to your little girlfriend?"

You were not his girlfriend, but Remus didn't think necessary to point it out now, in fact, he sort of liked the thought of that. He would come to terms with that later.

"She wanted it tho... She was throwing herself at me like a bitch in heat"

And Remus threw another punch. He didn't even think of this one, the only thing he knew is that his hand was already making contact his his face.

Tom fought back, he punched Remus and that's when Sirius thought of getting involve, when that bastard's friends started to go against Remus.

"She was drunk!" He yelled once he felt James pulling him away, Sirius distancing himself from the others once James arrived and yelled at them to stop. "You had no right touching her, she was drunk!"

Lily tried to calm Remus down while James made sure of kick everyone out from the party.

"Remus, relax, alright?" He tried to breath but he couldn't bare to even think of you, scared, begging for it to stop and not feeling strong enough to do something about it, the impotence. "Where is she?"

"Upstairs"

"What if you calm down and go look for her? How does that sound? Spend a bit of time with Y/N, she must be scared and exhausted. She needs you to be there"

He nods, that actually sounded good, just the two of you, lying in Sirius' bed, or you lying in the bed while he's on the floor, maybe just holding hands, he didn't know. He was so confused right now, too many emotions.

Remus walked upstairs and opened the door, you looked at him, worried and ran to inspect his body, he just chuckled.

"I heard the fight" You say, calmly.

"Sorry" He says and you frown "I thought Sirius' room was soundproof"

You shake your head "Why did... why did you get into a fight? You don't fight"

"I've come to realize, that I can only fight when it comes to you. Whether is against you or for you"

"You will fight me?"

"I fight you every single day it's crazy. I spend more time thinking about you than any girl I've like. My relationships don't work because I'm just looking forward the next time I see you in class to see if I did better than you. There's days where the only thing feeding my will to live is our silly competition"

"But will you fight me, tho?" You asked with a smile and curious eyes. "Like you did today"

"I could take you" He simply answer "Not in a fight"

You chuckle and look at him, his hair is messy, even more than it always is, his shirt is missing around three buttons and you can see his chest, his cheek is red and it's starting to turn purple and yet he still looks a weird way of divine.

And you felt brave enough to kiss him. Remus feel like standing on clouds, it was the first time he could confirm he believed in God.

"Does this mean we're not rivals anymore?"

"Don't be silly, Remus. One kiss doesn't erase years of competition. I could mop the dirt with you"

"What about two kisses?"

"I would have to think about it"

#remus lupin imagine #remus lupin fanfic #remus lupin fanfiction #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin fic #remus lupin headcanon #remus lupin kinnie #the marauders imagine #the marauders fic #the marauders fanfiction #the marauders fandom #the marauders fluff #remus lupin fluff

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