#i do wonder if i should get a darker wig
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actually changed my mind im gonna do laundry then sort my dolls first bc i realized a lot in my box (lady + kate / the jo copy / miriam unfortunately) will be given makeovers so why would i keep them with the rest of my dolls up here …. itll clear up space and help me prioritize what i need to take downstairs
#the one im nervous abt is miriam bc i was sooooo happy when i got her even if she was looking a bit rough bc i can never find black dolls at#thrift stores#*black porcelain dolls i mean lol#but in my excitement i ignored the fact she was like an ashy grey and its soooo bad so im wondering since its already bad if i can experimen#with painting the porcelain with acrylics or even using pastels….just to get her darker#and also she has dreads which will be sooooo fun to figure out how to do with yarn im so serious if it goes well shell be so gorgeous#everyone else will prob be fine tho im wondering if i should replace kate and ladys wigs to match the brunette of red …. things to consider
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I just think that Rachel and Nico should be killed via crossdressing Percy wearing a Sexy Skimpy Halloween Costume. Write a drabble if you agree :3
I agree. I absolutely agree!
Thank you for the prompt 💖💖💖
He always liked doing it. Borrowing his mother's makeup, dresses and shoes - not that there were that many -, dressing up and drawing shaky lines around his eyes that made him resemble more to a panda than to the pretty girls and women he saw on the streets.
With Gabe, it was something shameful, something he had taken a great care of that the man would never see. He didn't know for sure, but he always suspected that if the man would have seen him like that, he wouldn't have survived. No monster was as dangerous to him as that man had been.
But with Gabe out of the picture, his mom in a better place and Paul being a decent guy with an eagerness in him to bond with Percy no matter what craziness he would throw at him, Percy felt safe.
Now, he had quite the collection he had formed piece by piece by the small pocket money he received from the odd jobs he did for the people around him.
He even asked his mom to help with how to do his makeup better - it was a difficult conversation, but it became an awesome mother-son bonding day, with Estelle there to clap her tiny hands and giggle and babble at how pretty her mom and her brother looked.
And then-
It was finally time to reveal at least a part of his secret. Maybe not that he liked to dress up and feel pretty from time to time, but definitely to show his best assets in a Halloween costume, to get what he wanted.
He started with the foundation first, then the powder, the blush, to soften his already more pretty than handsome features, into something more feminine. He would never admit it, but with makeup, he looked almost identical to Persephone. Those cursed godly not-genetics…
Eyeliner, mascara and lipstick (not bright red but darker, matching the tone of his skin), and he was ready to look at himself in the mirror. He wished he could have longer hair, but he knew it would just irritate the fuck out of him in his daily tasks, so wig it was; at least he had experience in how to fix it so it looked natural.
Everything was perfect, his lean, swimmer built just helped with selling the pretty damsel in distress, innocent victim look. He was quite sure the two he had in hisind would not be able to resist. Even under his dress, he had lace panties and matching stockings. He felt so pretty - no way his preys would be able to resist him.
He was clean, moisturized and shaved everywhere. His tiny dress hugged him the right places and hid him where he didn't want to be seen.
With a last touch of glitter and sparkles (that would hopefully end up smeared all over his targets at the end of the night), and Percy in the slutty vampire food outfit was ready to go.
He was cautiously sure he would attract the right vampires to chomp on him; he knew what he was doing. He planned for this for months.
That night, that Halloween, he was going to get what he wanted for more than he would dare to admit.
He was going to get Nico di Angelo and Rachel Elizabeth Dare.
One last glance at the mirror, taking deep breaths and trying not to second guess himself, he turned around and with confident strides, he left his cabin, to join the party outside.
Glancing around, he almost froze as he caught the sight of Nico and Rachel, talking with Annabeth and the others, as they were probably waiting for him to finally get ready. They didn't see him yet, but as he walked closer and closer, more eyes started to linger on him. People were glancing at him, boys especially, staring at his legs, complimenting on how pretty he looked. He let his eyes drop a little, trying not to blush at the attention. He was afraid they were going to laugh at him, but this… this acceptance did wonders to his self-confidence.
Halfway to his friends, he realized that all of them were watching him, very closely. Rachel was muttering something to Nico, who replied something back, but the two vampires never tore their eyes off of him. It was a little intimidating.
It was also very, very, very hot.
The look in their eyes burnt him, their gazes almost caressed him as they took in his outfit and the skin that dress left uncovered.
When he reached them, there were deafening catcalls and admiring words, but all Percy could focus on was the twin look of hunger on Rachel's and Nico's eyes. It made Percy blush. He hoped they wouldn't change their minds about sharing, because he wanted Nico and Rachel like he never wanted anybody before.
There was a tense silence for a moment, before Rachel's eyes met with his, smiling.
"Wow. Percy, you look… you look amazing. Absolutely edible."
Nico let out a weird, almost choking noise, and nodded, "Gods, you are so pretty!"
"Beautiful."
"Gorgeous."
"Stunning!"
The compliments just kept coming from the two of them.
Percy wasn't sure how much pinker a human face can get before it exploded in a bloody mess, but it seemed he could blush a bit more. Hearing those compliments, seeing the effect he had on his hopefully partners, it was a heady feeling.
"Get a room you three!" Laughed Grover, patting Percy's back with his huge hand, making him stumble because of the unexpected weight. He didn't fall, however, as two pairs of arms immediately moved to stop him.
It was good. Great, in fact! But feeling their hands on him, made the shimmering arousal so much more painful.
He wanted them. Plain and simple.
Getting back his balance, he turned around. "Coming?" he threw back over his shoulder, and left, not waiting for an answer.
They would follow him.
(At least he hoped so.)
#percy jackson#nico di angelo#nicercy#percico#rachel elizabeth dare#perachel#nico x percy x rachel#pjo#pjoverse#pjo ficlet#halloween prompts
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╔══•.·.☆.·.♥︎.·.☆.·.•══╗
scum of the earth
╚══•.·.☆.·.♥︎.·.☆.·.•══╝
ʚ Naoya Zen'in x chubby fem reader ɞ
Part 1 ♥︎ Part 2 ♥︎ Part 3 ♥︎ Part 4 ♥︎ Part 5
❥ Word count: 12.9k
❥ CW: chubby fem reader, blatant fatphobia (i.e. name calling, insults, just all around horrible behavior), angst, mild violence (somebody gets punched), drinking (i.e. getting drunk), vomiting, mentions of suicide, lots of communication, smut, face sitting, somewhat dom reader near the end
❥ A/N: heyyyy bitchessssss aldklajfla hope yall're doing well 💕 welp! It's finally here! It's much longer than i thought it would be but im happy with how it turned out. I hope you all enjoy it as well :) thank you for being patient and sticking with me on this journey. I'm very grateful for all your support and kind words about this series 💕
You were tougher than you looked.
Naoya thought you would crack pretty quick, forty minutes, an hour tops. But there you were across the room, laughing along with his aunts, his little cousins running around and stopping by your side every so often. He watched you lean down and let them whisper something in your ear, taking a long drink when you smiled and looked back at them, telling them something in response. The scene would've usually tugged at his heart strings, made him want to put a baby in you and start a family of your own, but right now it made him sick. You shouldn't be over there: you should be by his side, giggling at his jokes and leaning in when he'd whisper gossip to you. You should've been next to him so he could wrap his arm around you, pull your chair closer to his, maybe move his hand down to your ass and squeeze. He could practically hear you whine in protest, pushing on his chest and pouting, complaining about him being so handsy when people were around–
"Are you listening?"
Naoya sighed, tipping back his glass of whiskey before glancing at the woman beside him. She was the daughter of some big-wig his father had invited, blonde and thin, her spray tan a bit darker than it should be. He was pretty sure her tits were fake too, but he wasn't certain.
"No, not really. What did you say?" She scoffed, leaning towards him, her breasts pressing against the fabric of her chest. Wasn't her outfit a bit too revealing for a black tie event? You were dressed much better than her, more mature, stunning–
"I was saying that I was going to go to Belize next month but Daddy is telling me that I can't go until I act more 'responsible' but like I've already found a super cute bikini and I invited all my friends–"
God, he didn't care, he didn't fucking care. This was quite possibly the last thing he wanted to be doing, listening to some ditzy twig talk about her stupid vacation. He wanted to be beside you, wanted to talk to you. He was still staring at you, wondering if you had considered this a vacation before you got mad at him, if this was something you'd want to do again when you weren't so angry, once you'd forgiven him. Maybe he could take you on a trip to Bora Bora to apologize, lavish you with gifts and enough attention to make you sick. He'd love to see you in a slutty lil swimsuit, something small and tight that squeezed you just right. Maybe he could get a private beach so he could keep you away from the lingering gazes of other men. Plus, he could always take your swimsuit off himself on that isolated shore and–
"Oh my God, you're not listening!" Naoya sighed and rolled his eyes, standing up and giving the girl a fake smile.
"Sorry, hun. Gotta go take a piss. Go find somebody else to talk to."
She scoffed as he walked away, mouth hung open in shock, but he didn't care. He moved around the tables and crowd, barely paying attention to the busy dance floor. His eyes were on you, on the curve of your back as you leaned forward on the table, smiling brightly as you typed away on your phone. You were alone, Keiko and Keiya off doing who knows what, so Naoya took the opportunity to pull out the seat next to you and sit down. You glanced up, frowning once you saw him, tensing as you looked back at your phone.
"So… you gonna ignore me all night? Or are we gonna act like adults and talk through this?"
"I have nothing to say to you," you spoke flatly, not peeling your eyes from your phone. Naoya pushed down his frustration, stifling the urge to yell and demand your full attention.
"Look, I'm sorry, okay? I didn't think it would hurt you. I should've talked to you before introducing you to my dad." You didn't say anything, still typing on your phone, making him anxious. "I said I'm sorry."
"I heard you." He waited for you to continue, but when you didn't say anything else, he instinctively filled the space.
"Look, I'm sorry, I really am. Just let me make it up to you, okay? We can go away somewhere and just relax for a couple days, shit, we could leave for a couple weeks if you want, I don't care, just–"
"I don't want to be around you anymore, Naoya. I deserve better."
"Babe, please–"
"Please don't call me babe anymore. I don't wanna talk to you." You took a deep breath, grabbing your champagne glass and taking a sip. "I will be civil to you for the rest of this trip but I don't want anything to do with you once we get home." Oh, he didn't like that answer one bit. Desperate times.
"And what if I don't let you go home, huh? What if I just cancel your ticket and force you to stay?"
"Keiya said she would help me out if I needed anything." Shit.
"Oh, yeah? What else is Keiya gonna do for ya? She gonna take you shopping? Make you her sugar baby? Eat your pussy?"
"Y/N!!" Naoya stopped when his little cousins ran up to the other side of you, grabbing your dress and patting your leg. "They said they would do-do the chicken dance if-if-if enough people asked–"
"We wanna do the chicken dance with you!"
"Can you ask them pretty please? We wanna dance the chicken dance!" Your laugh was light and glittery, sweet as nectar, and Naoya found his anger melting at the sound. How could someone have him wrapped around their finger with just a giggle?
"Alright, alright, I'll go ask them. Are your mom and aunt gonna ask too?"
"Uh-huh!"
"Yep!"
"Okay, then let's all go ask together. I'm sure they'll play it if we ask nice enough." The twins cheered, bouncing as you stood up. Naoya quickly reached out, wrapping his hand around your wrist, making you look back at him confused.
"I'm not done talking." Your eyes darkened and you gave him a look he had never seen before: one of absolute indifference.
"I am." Your gaze did not falter as you shook him off, glaring at him before reaching for his cousins' hands, smiling down at them. "Let's go, ladies." You walked off without another word, not looking back, not giving any indication that he even existed to you. He felt his hands twitch as he watched you walk off. He bit at his lower lip, chewing it into oblivion as he looked down at his whiskey glass, mind racing.
Okay, she doesn't want to talk. That's fine. Two can play at that game. You can ignore her too. She'll be back at some point. But as his eyes trailed back up to you—as he saw how you smiled brightly at people you had just met—a small voice in his head arose.
She's not going to come back.
Okay, maybe she won't come back right away, but you can make it up to her. You've won plenty of women over after much worse actions. Maybe you could send her flowers or do one of those stupid grand gestures that they do in romance movies, show up to her job and get on your knees, beg her to forgive you. You can put on a show if it means getting her back.
As if that would make her forgive you. She's never shown interest in those things before; why would she start now? Naoya watched you across the reception room, leg bouncing as he saw his aunt Keiya lean towards you and whisper something in your ear. He felt his stomach churn when you tossed your head back and gave a heartfelt laugh. See? She doesn't need you. She never did. Why would she choose you over the dozens of other people who would treat her so much better?
She doesn't have dozens of people lining up to date her–
How do you know?
Oh, God. He didn't know. He didn't know at all. There was so much uncertainty around you—your past, your goals—did he even know what your favorite color was? What was your last name again? Did you even have parents? You two never talked about your families…
A large hand clapped onto Naoya's back, almost launching him into the table. He choked on his drink, stifling a cough as a boisterous laugh sounded beside him.
"Jeez, looks like somebody can't handle his liquor."
God damn it all.
"The fuck do you want, Naotake?" The elder Zen'in whistled, leaning down to get a better look at Naoya.
"Damn, who shit in your cereal this morning? Can't even give a polite 'hello' to your big brother?" Naoya gulped down his whiskey, sending his brother a glare.
"Maybe I would greet my brothers if they were worth my time."
"Just as cold as usual, I see. But seriously, how have you been? Haven't seen you since Ogi's wedding and that was years ago." Naoya kept quiet, staring at you from across the hall, watching you sway lazily with one of his little cousins in your arms, their cheek squished against your shoulder. His brother hummed, putting his hand on Naoya's shoulder. "Girl trouble?"
"Fuck off." Naotake gave a laugh, patting his shoulder.
"C'mon. Let's get you a refill." Naoya glanced down at his glass, sighing when he realized it was empty save for a bit of leftover ice. He begrudgingly stood up, pausing when his head spun for a moment, quickly recovering before walking to the bar with Naotake.
"Whiskey Sour or Old Fashioned?"
"Just straight."
"Shit, really? You must really be having a hard time." Naoya wanted to make a snide comment back, but his right temple pounded uncomfortably, leaving him mute. His brother didn't seem to care: he ordered a whiskey on the rocks for Naoya and a highball for himself, pushing a five dollar bill towards the bartender.
"So," he started, pushing the far-too-filled glass of whiskey to his brother, leaning against the bar, "what's her name?" Naoya stayed silent, contemplating his empty glass before pushing it away, grabbing the full one and tossing it back.
"Y/N."
"Pretty. How'd ya meet her?" Another chug, one that weighed heavy in the back of his throat, making his mouth sticky.
"She's my neighbor."
"Cute. So, you flirt with her by the mailboxes one day and make your move, or did it take time to ask her out?" Naoya's head felt heavy, like there were too many thoughts spinning around in his skull, weighing him down.
"We're not dating." The words came out without much thought, but the implication behind them left a hard pit in his stomach. Oh, God, is this how you felt when he had just called you his neighbor, indicating that you were nothing more? Did you feel just as sick and worthless as he did right now?
"Not dating? So why did you bring her?" Why did he bring you? Why did he whine and complain when you first said that you didn't want to come? Why did he insist that you spend time with him in a far away place?
"I… well, I wanted her to come."
"I understand that, but why?"
"Why are you interrogating me? Is it a crime to bring a plus one that you're not dating?" Naotake held up a hand in surrender.
"Hey, I didn't say anything like that. I'm just confused as to why you brought along a girl that you're not dating. Dating isn't really your style in the first place so I'm lost."
Dating really wasn't his style, for a multitude of reasons. Strict rules and a lack of a caring motherly figure in his childhood home: he just wasn't raised to love like that. Naoya had always considered himself a bachelor, going from woman to woman, enjoying them until he had his fill and then leaving them without any consideration for how they would feel waking up in an empty bed. He never liked the thought of dating, of being tied down to just one person, worried about the endless list of risks. He probably took that after his father, one of the many things he would inherit in his lifetime.
But then you came along, plump and beaming and filled to the brim with a sincerity he wasn't used to. He knew very well how fake people were in his world, singing his praises of how wonderful he was, the best Zen'in son, the clear heir to his father's empire. He was used to the exaggerations and the brown-nosing from strangers and friends in hopes that he would sprinkle a bit of his wealth onto them, blessing them with a fraction of his destined fortune. He knew how to sniff it out, how to play the game so he could trail people along as long as he liked until he grew bored and left them behind. He could taste the tracest amount of saccharine; he had grown accustomed to its flavor, to its artificial taste.
You, on the other hand, were pure sugarcane, sweet and honest and real despite how artificial the rest of the world was. It was refreshing, in a frightening way. Is that why he bullied you in the beginning, treating you like absolute garbage? Was he just so unused to genuine kindness that it made him build his walls even higher, turning him cruel and defensive and downright bitter?
"So, you're not dating but you brought your neighbor along with you anyways. Are yall fucking or something?" Naoya paused when his drink reached his lips, shrugging and downing the last of it, putting his glass on the counter and signaling for the bartender to refill it.
"I guess."
"Well, you are or you aren't, but if you brought her along then I assume you're at least fucking." Naoya pulled his newly filled glass back to him, swallowing down some phlegm building in the back of his throat. "Okay, then let me ask you this: does she matter to you?"
What kind of question was that? Of course you did. You mattered more than people he knew since kindergarten, more than friends and family who only cared about him because his presence alone had benefits. And that didn't even scratch the surface of all the bullshit expectations he had to live up to. You mattered so, so much; why couldn't you see that? Did one word really mean that much to you? Would being his girlfriend really have solved the inevitable downfall of your relationship? You would've left him sooner or later: either he would get bored or you would realize, just like today, that you deserved better. Why tie you down with a label when you would free yourself from it eventually? You both knew that he was trash; if it wasn't for his dad's money and influence, nobody would give him a second glance.
"To be honest, if you are fucking her, I'm surprised. She doesn't seem like she fits your standards."
"What?" he snapped at Naotake, glaring at him through the haze of booze coursing through him. Naoya's brother shrugged, staring straight ahead.
"I mean, she's kinda pretty, but not really hot. You always went after the hot girls so I'm just shocked that you went after a… big girl like her, ya know?"
No, he didn't know. What the fuck was his brother talking about? Not hot? Jesus, how blind could he be? You were absolutely radiant tonight; Naoya wasn't sure if he'd ever seen you so beautiful before. You looked like an angel, absolutely glowing under the hall's chandeliers, and this idiot had the audacity to say you weren't hot.
"If you don't see how hot she is then that's your problem."
"Ooo, someone's getting defensive. You sure you aren't dating?"
"Fuck off."
"Alright, alright," he mumbled, turning around to lean his back against the bar. "I'm just confused, I guess. I mean, you've always been an ass man so I can kind of see why you chose her—" how dare he look at you "—but I can't see the appeal of the rest of her."
"Naotake. If I want your opinion, I'll ask for it."
"Sure, but you know me. I like to give my opinion regardless!" He let out a hearty laugh, but Naoya didn't see what was so funny. He didn't see why his pathetic elder brother would laugh about something like this. "But seriously, Naoya, a fat girl? I just… I don't know, man, she's not ugly but she'd look a hell of a lot better if she cut the carbs and worked out once in a while."
Oh, that made his blood boil, which was odd since Naoya would've said something similar not even a year ago. But it was different coming from a stranger, from a nobody that didn't know the first thing about you. He'd never know how soft the wide expanse of your skin was or how sweetly you keened when someone squeezed your tummy while pounding your perfect cunt or how your round cheeks felt when he cupped your face and you smiled. He was just spouting ignorance at this point. Regardless, it pissed Naoya off.
"Like her face is pretty and all, and sure her tits look good, but Jesus, you can see her belly pushing up against her dress and shit. It looks gross. If you are fucking her, you must do it from the back all the time so you don't have to see it."
God, is this how Naoya used to talk? Was it the booze making him realize how terrible this all sounded? Considering all the horrible things he once said about your body before he knew you, no wonder you were so willing to drop him the minute he fucked up.
"I mean, credit where credit is due, she's got a nice rack on her. Bet her areolas look like bologna slices, huh?"
Naoya downed the last of his drink, setting it on the counter with a thud. He was getting tired of this, getting sick of hearing his stupid, worthless brother go on and on about you, talking about you like you were nothing more than a toy to be used and discarded.
You have no right to complain. You treated her the exact same way.
"To be honest with you, if you're not dating then I may take her for a spin. At least then I could find out what all the fuss is about with a whale like her–"
It all happened so fast. The wind-up, the followthrough, his older brother falling to the floor and grabbing his cheek. Naoya hadn't even fully processed that he had punched Naotake until his hand started to throb, blood rushing to the point of contact.
He was breathing heavily, eyes glazed as he stared at his brother, not blinking until one of his distant family members rushed over to help him up off the ground. Naoya inhaled sharply, head spinning as he looked up at the reception. Not many had noticed what just occurred, but it was enough to make him shrink in on himself. He could see his father's disapproving glare across the room, his bimbo of a receptionist sitting on his lap, clinging to him tightly. Naoya's eyes struggled to scan the attendees, eventually settling on you. You were staring right back, eyes wide in shock or fear, your hands holding his cousin's head towards your shoulder so she couldn't see the events that were unfolding.
His stomach twisted horribly as he struggled to swallow. He turned his back on the crowd, looking up at the nervous bartender. He leaned against the bar, pulling out his wallet from his back pocket.
"Gimme the bottle."
"S-Sir… I'm not sure if —" Naoya reached out quickly, grabbing the poor man by the collar, pulling his face close.
"The bottle." The bartender gulped, grabbing the nearby bottle of whiskey and putting it up on the counter. Naoya released him, tossing him a bill of unknown value before snatching the bottle, rushing out of the reception.
Stupid stupid stupid, he repeated as he trudged to the elevators, pulling the cork lid off and drinking straight from the bottle. He hit the wrong floor at first, but corrected himself after focusing on the numbered buttons for far too long. The elevator made him woozy, but he made it out alive, wobbling down the hall as he gulped down too much whiskey. Hopefully he'd feel better after a short shower and some sleep. Maybe he wouldn't be so miserable in the morning.
No. Who was he kidding? He deserved to feel this shitty, to drown his sorrows in alcohol until he blacked out. What better punishment than misery for the scum of the Earth?
"Are you sure you wanna go alone, hun? We can send one of his uncles up with ya."
"No, I'll be fine."
"Alright… I'm just worried he'll get violent with you too." You paused, contemplating her words.
"I'll be alright. I can take care of myself." Keiya gave you a sympathetic smile, holding out her hands to take Mai. You transferred the sleeping girl to her aunt's shoulder, rubbing her back soothingly before smiling at her. "Thank you for looking out for me tonight. I really appreciate all of it."
"No problem, hun. If you need anything—anything at all—you've got my number, okay?" You nodded, giving the woman one more side hug before pulling away, waving at Keiko before leaving the reception. It was a short trip to the elevator and up to your floor: you didn't see Naoya anywhere along the way, assuming he would be in your shared room having a temper tantrum of sorts. A part of you didn't want to check on him, wanted to make him wallow in misery for a while, but you were better than that. You still cared about him despite it all. You'd made a strong emotional connection with him; you couldn't get rid of those feelings within a couple hours, despite how badly you wished you could.
You were shifting through your clutch to find your key card, looking up and slowing down once you reached your room. There was Naoya, sitting on the floor with his back against the wall, head slumped to one side and eyes closed. There was an empty bottle of whiskey beside him, his jacket on the other side, bow tie unraveled and resting around his neck.
"You look like shit," you muttered mostly to yourself, shaking your head as you took in the pathetic display in front of you. Naoya peeked at you with one eye, soon closing it and slumping back.
"F'rgo ma card." You shook your head, snorting softly.
"And after all the nagging you did to make sure I had mine." You leaned down to pick up the empty bottle and his coat, shaking his shoulder. "C'mon, asshole. Let's get you in bed." He groaned, slouching even further towards the ground.
"Don' wanna."
"Although I would love to leave you out here as a way of revenge, I'd feel bad. Get up." Naoya huffed, giving a weak attempt at resisting your hand tugging at his upper arm. He got to his knees eventually, pausing for quite a while before getting up on his feet with your help. He wobbled and you struggled to steady him, but he found his footing and was able to stand while you unlocked the door. You pushed it open with your foot, keeping an arm around his waist as you guided him inside.
"Jesus, Naoya, what am I going to do with you?" He huffed, leaning too much of his weight onto you.
"Where's Y/N?" Oh, wonderful, he didn't realize who you were. You weren't sure if that made things better or worse.
"I don't know," you lied, dropping his coat and the empty glass bottle on the table near the door. He grumbled something incoherent, leaning further into you, making you groan. "Naoya! Come on, this is ridiculous, you gotta get up!"
"Wan' Y/N… where is she?"
"Jesus Christ," you lifted Naoya's chin, forcing his dazed expression to point to you. "I'm here, see? I'm right here." He blinked groggily, struggling to straighten up and stand on his own. Once he did, he cupped your face, squinting at you, pushing your chubby cheeks together.
"Y/N?" he slurred. You sighed, nodding into his hands. He sucked in a breath, his eyes softening considerably before he pulled you to him, burying his face into your hair. "Oh, baby, I missed you. Missed you so much."
You relaxed yourself as best you could in his grasp, letting him squeeze you tightly. It was better to let him do as he pleased while he was drunk; the last thing you wanted was for him to stumble and get hurt if you tried to push him away. You pat his shoulder, letting him breathe in your scent.
"Ma sweet baby, ma pretty girl. I missed you so much, beautiful." You braced yourself for his eventual wandering hands, expecting him to reach down and squeeze your ass as best he could in his drunken state, but his hands didn't move. His arms stayed wrapped around your shoulders, one hand bracing the back of your head, keeping you secure. You weren't sure how long you had stood there before he pulled back.
"My sweet girl," he muttered, leaning down to press a sloppy kiss on your lips. It was lazy and uncoordinated, wet and messy. You kept your mouth sealed shut, face twisting at the strong smell of alcohol suffocating your senses. Maybe you should just push him off, maybe call for somebody to come take care of him so you wouldn't have to deal with this—
You didn't have time to decide. Just a moment later, Naoya pulled away, staring blankly for a minute before releasing you and rushing into the bathroom. You heard the toilet seat open followed by the sound of him gagging, apparently throwing up. You cringed, grateful that he at least didn't release his stomach contents on you. You sighed, kicking off your heels, moving to your suitcase.
You entered the bathroom with a glass of water and a headband, cautiously moving to Naoya's side. He was keeled over the toilet, his head hanging over the bowl. He spit out some phlegm, heaving a bit and breathing heavily.
"Here," you cooed, gently stretching the headband over his skull, slowly pulling it so his hair was held back. "There. At least your hair is out of the way." He didn't respond when you pulled away. You moved to a shelf holding towels, grabbing a washcloth and going to the sink. You drowned it in cold water, wringing it out before going back to Naoya. You pressed the washcloth on the back of his neck, brushing aside a few hairs with your free hand.
"I wish I was dead," Naoya blubbered, his mouth covered in a layer of saliva, a string of spit leading into the toilet.
"No, you don't," you replied, moving the washcloth to his forehead, pressing the cool towel against him. "You're just drunk and you don't feel good."
"Nobody would care." He leaned further against the toilet, arms hugging the bowl. "Y/N wouldn't care. She'd be happier." Ah, so he forgot who you were again.
"No, she wouldn't." You wiped his mouth, cleaning off the spit, standing up and walking back to the sink.
"Yeah… she would. She hates me. Ev'rybody hates me."
"No, they don't." Where was this coming from? Naoya was the most narcissistic, egotistical jerk you had ever met. Suddenly he was depressed? It doesn't add up, you thought, going back to where he kneeled.
"Ev'rythin would be better if I was dead," he babbled, sighing when you laid the cool washcloth on the back of his neck. "Wanna jump off a buildin."
"Don't talk like that," you whispered, rubbing his back. He grew silent, suddenly hunching further over the bowl and throwing up some more. You winced, turning away slightly as he upchucked, spitting out the last of it.
"'m a piece a shit." Well, you couldn't argue with that. "I miss her sho, shooo much. I wanna kiss 'er." He leaned back on one hand, almost falling over as he reached for his phone in his back pocket. He fumbled with it, slowly pressing against the screen before lying down on the floor, letting the phone fall beside him. You could faintly hear your phone buzzing in the next room, vibrating in your clutch bag. Was he really calling you? You waited to find out.
You could hear your voicemail play on his phone, making him moan pathetically. He weakly kicked his foot, a sad attempt at a temper tantrum. The tone beeped and Naoya turned his head towards his phone.
"Y/N," he whined, drawing out your name. "'m sorry. Please don' hate me. I miss you, wantchu so bad. Please come back, I love you sho much. So shooooo much."
You felt your heart clench at the gloomy display in front of you. Why did this have to happen now when he was drunk and sad? Why couldn't he have declared his love for you when he was sober, when he was coherent, when he could look into your eyes and mean every word? He was only saying these things because he was upset and lonely and drowning in alcohol. It was disappointing, leaving your stomach in knots as he continued to babble on to his cell phone.
"I can't do this," you whispered, sluggishly leaving the room. You reached behind you to unzip your dress, tugging it off, letting it fall to the floor and stepping out of it. You crouched beside your luggage, grabbing your sleep shirt… the one Naoya had given you weeks ago. Your pride told you to toss it aside and choose something else, but it was soft and smelled good. It had made you feel safe and secure on the hard nights you spent alone, when Naoya wasn't around to hold you tight and make all those dumb insecurities disappear. You snuggled the fabric for a moment, breathing it in, heart aching.
"It's not fair…" you mumbled, feeling tears prick at your eyes. "Of all the assholes to fall for… why'd it have to be you?"
Naoya awoke with a pounding headache. He could feel his heartbeat behind his eyes, his stomach churning as he gained consciousness. Shit, he thought with a groan, bringing his hand to his head, squeezing the bridge of his nose. What happened last night? He hadn't drank like that in ages, the last time being a huge frat party celebrating some sport's team. He reached around, fumbling on the nightstand until he found his phone. He squinted as he looked at the time, groaning when he saw that it was barely past five am. He put his phone back down, reaching behind him, searching for you–
Wait. Naoya inhaled sharply, hurrying to turn on the nightstand lamp, turning around to see the empty space beside him. His heart beat faster as he grabbed his phone, swallowing when he didn't see any message from you. He dialed your number, sitting up as the phone started to ring. He heard a faint vibrating, making him furrow his brow. He looked at your side once again, seeing your phone on the nightstand. What the–
He heard the toilet flush. He waited, watching light shine out of the bathroom before flickering away. You walked around the corner, rubbing your eyes, squinting at him. The two of you stared at each other for a moment before Naoya realized he was still calling your phone. He hung up, setting his phone down and looking back at you.
"I… I didn't know where you were." You sniffed, shrugging and trudging tiredly to your side of the bed.
"'m here," you mumbled, pulling back the covers and plopping down on the bed, sighing as you snuggled into your pillow. He gazed at your back, his heart clenching terribly.
"Are you still mad at me?" He waited for a response, watching you all the while, swallowing when you didn't answer. "Look, I know I messed up and I'm so sorry, Y/N. Please let me make it up to you."
Still nothing. The silence was consuming him, suffocating him, dragging him down into the abyss where he worried he could never crawl out. He cautiously laid down behind you, slowly inching closer to your back.
"Please, Y/N," he pleaded again, hesitantly reaching out to fiddle with your loose nightshirt. It was a gift from him yet you still chose to wear it: that meant something, right? If you really hated him, you wouldn't have bothered to put it on. You would've tossed it aside but you were wearing it. It had to be a good sign… right?
"Y/N," he whispered again, itching for a response, for some kind of acknowledgement. God, this was like when Toji visited all over again, when you ignored him as best you could for almost two weeks straight. He couldn't stand that silence, that distance from you. It was worse now that you were right here beside him, within his reach and yet miles away.
"Please talk to me." He could feel it now, that terrible bubbling in his throat, shooting towards his eyes and making them burn. Fuck fuck fuck–
"Please say something," it was barely a breath, so soft you could've mistaken it for a breeze, but there was a crack you heard that made your eyes open wide. You listened, confirming your suspicions before you sat up quickly, turning on the lamp beside you before looking back at Naoya.
"Are you crying?" He froze, his face flushed a brilliant scarlet as he sunk under the covers quickly. You didn't let him hide for long, tugging at the sheets and exposing him to your gaze, causing him to shrink and huddle into the t-shirt you helped him into last night. "Naoya," you called, putting a hand on his arm just for him to curl further into himself, trying his best to avoid your touch. "Naoya… Naoya, look at me."
"Mm-mm," he mumbled, shaking his head under his clothes. You sighed, feeling how his skin was burning, hands trembling slightly as they covered his face. You placed your hands on top of his, gently coaxing them away.
"Don't hide from me." He didn't move as you laid down beside him again, just a few inches away from him. His hands were twitching slightly, a result of him trying to control his involuntary shaking. You rubbed your thumbs against them, trying to soothe him. You stayed quiet as you reached for the hem of his shirt, tugging it down slowly. Naoya was tense as you moved, eyes squeezed shut as his face was exposed. You could see tears staining his rosy cheeks, his lower lip tugged between his teeth.
"Naoya… why are you crying?" He shook his head, turning onto his stomach to bury his face in his pillow.
"'m not." God, he was such a terrible liar. Even when you could clearly see the truth, he still insisted on putting up a front.
"Why are you crying, Naoya?"
"Fuck off, 'm not cryin'," he grumbled turning from his stomach to his other side, his back to you. Seriously?
"Why do you do this?" Naoya sniffled, glancing over his shoulder at you.
"...What?"
"This," you gestured towards him, pushing yourself up into a seated position. "Acting all sad and pretending you want me and then pushing me away." Naoya frowned, turning onto his back and wiping at his face.
"I'm not pretending to want you—"
"Seriously? That's the part you're worried about? Not the 'pushing me away' bit?" He huffed, propping himself up on his elbows to face you better, his depression morphing into rage.
"I'm not pushing you away—"
"You're so delusional—"
"What?" You scoffed, shaking your head and crossing your legs, leaning over to rest your elbows on your knees.
"Fine, well, regardless, you get all huffy and puffy when shit doesn't go your way but the minute I'm upset with something, suddenly it's 'you're overreacting' and 'why are you so upset', as if my feelings aren't as valid as yours."
Naoya paused, brow furrowed. Did he do that? He couldn't remember ever doing it, but he wasn't exactly reliable when it came to recollecting how he's hurt people. It really shouldn't have surprised him that he didn't remember anything you claimed he did. He slowly sat up, contemplating your accusations.
"I… I never said your feelings weren't valid."
"You didn't need to." Your voice was laced with venom, thick and wet and oh so sad. "It's how you act, Naoya. You're allowed to get angry or upset whenever you want, but when I do it…" You drifted off, letting the silence consume the two of you before shrugging hopelessly. "It feels like my feelings don't matter to you."
"What are you talking about?" he spoke softly, scooching closer to you. "Your feelings do matter—"
"Since when?" you snapped, whipping around to glare at him. "From the moment we met, you rarely considered my feelings on things." You held up your hand, hooking your index finger on your opposite pinky. "You insulted me for months, acting like the shittiest neighbor ever, making all kinds of noise. You basically forced yourself on me the first time we fucked, and after that you practically manipulated me into being friends with benefits." You lowered your hands as you turned away, picking at the skin around your nails as you continued. "Then once I finally think you're becoming a better person, you go back to being yourself once Toji shows up. And then you treat me like shit again and get upset when I don't want to be around you anymore. And then you force yourself onto me again. Do you see a pattern here?"
Yes, he did, but not because he wanted to. Have you always disapproved of his actions? Did you truly dislike how he's treated you? He knew he was crass and rude at times, but he thought you still accepted him at the end of the day. How blind he had been…
"I… I didn't…"
"Every time I think I'm done with you, you bring out the best in yourself and make me forgive you. You make me fall for you over and over again and it's making me nauseous."
Now that… that caught his attention.
"You…" He paused, licking his lips. "You fell for me?" Silence again, absolutely deafening.
"... Yeah. And I hate it." Fuck, that hurt to hear. You fiddled with your fingers, smoothing out the skin as you spoke. "I don't want to like you. You're such an asshole most of the time but then when we're alone you get all soft and sweet and make me feel like I'm the only girl in the world who matters. It's so fucking infuriating." Naoya scoffed, almost chuckling, moving to sit beside you as his knuckles brushed your arm.
"Babe, you are the only girl in the world who matters to me—"
"See?" you snapped, yanking your arm out of his reach, making him flinch. "You're doing it again! Making me feel bad for ever disliking you and trying to win my favor…" Naoya opened his mouth to speak, soon closing it shut and biting his tongue. Silence settled over the two of you again, like a warm blanket, heavy and suffocating.
"I feel like," you started, wringing your hands, "like I'm the only one who's honest about their feelings. Like I'm the only one who says how they truly feel." He furrowed his brow, trying not to glare at you out of the corner of his eye.
"What are you implying?" You huffed, turning back to him.
"Oh, come on, Naoya. You've hid your feelings long enough."
"What—"
He shut up when you grabbed your phone, watching curiously as you tapped away at it, increasing the volume. He blushed when he heard his voice ring out.
"Y/N! 'm sorry. Please don' hate me. I miss you, wantchu so bad. Please come back, I love you sho much. So shooo—"
"I—T-Turn that off!" he stuttered, reaching for your phone, attempting to pull it away and shut it off. You kept it out of his reach, getting up on your knees and holding your phone over his head.
"Why? This is how you really feel, right? Or were you lying last night to make me like you again—"
"I wasn't lying—"
"So you do like me?"
"I…"
Naoya curled in on himself, looking down at his hands. He rubbed his fingertips a bit, chewing his bottom lip incessantly. You waited patiently for him to continue, to give some kind of explanation for his behavior recently. Instead, he sighed loudly, mumbling a curse under his breath as he lowered himself to the bed, staring up at the ceiling. You relaxed, turning off the voicemail he sent you last night, sinking down to the bed with him. It felt oddly calming laying beside him like that. Despite your anger and frustration at his actions, it was still nice to be alone with him, to see him for who he truly was.
"You remember when you didn't talk to me for, like, two weeks? Back when Toji visited?" He glanced over at you, inhaling sharply when you nodded. He swallowed hard, tucking his chin to watch his hands fumble with each other. "Seeing you doing so well without me pissed me off. I wanted you to be miserable. I wanted you to be sad and angry. I wanted you to want me back, but… but you were fine." His hands squeezed each other hard, rubbing dangerously rough, almost cutting off circulation. "You didn't need me around. You didn't need me before we started fucking and you don't need me now. There's nothing keeping you with me. You're doing just fine on your own. I don't… I don't add anything to the relationship. I might as well be dead weight. You don't need me."
You scrunched your face up, propping your head up and resting your cheek against your palm.
"How long have you felt like this?" you whispered, feeling surprisingly tender considering who you were talking to.
"Since you ghosted me, when Toji was around." He clenched his jaw, looking back up at the ceiling. "And it… I mean, it hasn't gone away. I know you could ghost me again any day now. And I wouldn't blame you, I don't think. You'd be better off without me." You frowned. Where was this coming from? Was this really the narcissist that acted all lovey-dovey and then left you hanging so many times? It felt so unlike him, so raw and open. You weren't sure how you felt about it yet.
"Why do you say that?" you asked quietly.
"Oh, come on, Y/N," he practically groaned, looking at you before motioning towards himself. "Look at me. I'm a spoiled rich kid, I've never had to work a day in my life. My only redeeming quality is my money and even then that doesn't fix every situation… I know you feel the same."
"Naoya, I—"
"I don't blame you. I mean," he sighed loudly, running a hand over his face, "it fucking sucks, but it's not like you're wrong for thinking that. If I died today, it's not like it would change anything. The world would keep spinning, my family would be fine. You'd be fine. But just the thought of you not talking to me anymore makes me wish I was dead. If you were gone forever? Shit, I don't know what I'd do. Probably become an alcoholic like my dad. Who knows?"
You could feel your heart breaking, the sharp pang of sorrow flowing through you. This wasn't the Naoya you had met so many months ago, who had insulted you and made you feel worthless. You were hesitant to say that this was the real Naoya, the one whose walls were broken down and he was laid bare, unprotected and vulnerable. Raw, pure, honest.
"Naoya… I had no idea you felt this way…" He shrugged.
"You shouldn't have to. It's not your fault. I'm just stupid and selfish—"
"Hey—"
"—honestly, sometimes I think everyone would be better off without me—"
"Stop."
Your hand found his chest, pressing down, urging him to stop. He tensed under your touch, but he didn't try to push you away. He sniffed, clearing his throat, a single tear falling past his lashes and moving down his temple. If you hadn't been staring, you would've never noticed it. You laid down beside him again, your hand beginning to draw circles on his sternum.
"Is this really how you feel?"
"... yeah…"
"Why didn't you ever tell me?"
"I… I don't know. I thought you might come to your senses and leave me sooner." You sighed, resting your cheek against his shoulder, frustrated in a dozen different ways.
"We could've talked about this, Naoya."
"Yeah, yeah, I know, I just… I don't know." You gave a half smile at his awkward wording, tapping his chest lightly.
"You're not very good at communicating your feelings." Naoya scoffed, his arm slipping around you, gentle but secure. You didn't push him away, feeling strangely safe under his sturdy limb.
"Yeah, well, it's not like I got any practice as a kid." You hummed.
"Was your childhood really that bad?"
"No… I mean…" Naoya sighed, his hand beginning to rub circles on your back, soft and soothing. "I got everything I wanted. I didn't have to worry about the same shit as other kids, but I never had a mom and my dad was never around. I was pretty much raised by tutors and governesses and shit."
No mother? You propped yourself up just a bit, tucking your chin into his chest, gazing at him curiously.
"What happened to your mom?" He shrugged, the motion making you shift a bit, but his arm kept you securely against him. You were surprised that you found it comfortable.
"I don't know. She left when I was a baby, when I was less than a year old. She wasn't happy with her life and so she just got up and left one day. I don't remember anything about her. Apparently I have her eyes."
She must have had very pretty eyes, is what you instinctually wanted to say, but you kept your lips pursed together, absorbing his words.
"...I'm sorry you had to go through that, Naoya." Another shrug, a lopsided smile to try and ease your worries.
"Eh… it's whatever. I've been over it for years."
A lull fell over the two of you, weighing you down. It wasn't uncomfortable like it was before, at least not to you. Your mind was racing with the information Naoya had just disclosed to you. His past didn't excuse his actions, but it explained it a bit. It made sense that he was closed off and defensive, the fear of abandonment settled deep within his amygdala, dictating his actions before he could even process the situation he was in. It was a natural fight or flight response: he'd been so used to fighting that his normal response to anything was to act defensive. At least then he could try and avoid being hurt.
"Look… if you're gonna leave me, please just rip the bandaid off now and—"
"Shhhh." Your head found his chest, cheek squished against his bicep as you tried to think. Naoya hurt you, as he did many times, and he apologized just like he had all those other times in the past. You knew he could very well hurt you again—that's what his pattern of behavior was suggesting. You knew that he could very likely make you cry and feel miserable, treat you like shit, beat you down again and again until you were a shell of your former self.
You should break up with him for good. You should leave him. This is what he deserves. He deserves to be miserable. He deserves to feel like shit. He's an awful human being and he doesn't deserve to be happy. He doesn't deserve you.
And yet…
"Are you sorry for all the times you've ever hurt me?" you asked, breaking the silence between you.
"Yes," Naoya replied instantly, his arm holding you close, snuggling you to him. You lifted your head, staring at him intensely, making him wince under your gaze.
"Are you really sorry?"
"...Yes." Your eyes narrowed.
"You hesitated."
"Well, shit, I'm just trying to figure out where you're gonna go with this. Like, what's the point—"
"Shush." He quieted, watching you sit up beside him. You glanced at a random point in the room, looking back at him seriously.
"If you admit that you love me, I'll accept your apology."
Oh, that got his attention. Naoya perked up far more than you anticipated, his skeptical scowl disappearing as he propped himself on his elbows.
"Really? You mean it?" he asked, his voice light and hopeful. It made your stomach flip in the best way. Damn him for being so cute.
"Yeah, I do." Naoya paused, licking his lips as he silently weighed his options. He chewed his bottom lip for a moment, his face getting redder the longer time passed. He suddenly cleared his throat, lifting his gaze so he could look at you.
"I… I, um… I love you…" You leaned towards him, tilting your head.
"And you mean it?"
"Yes."
"With your whole heart?"
"Yes." Your heart started to pound, that familiar lightheadedness from the beginning of your relationship rearing its head.
"You're sure—" Naoya groaned, rolling his eyes.
"Jesus, yes! Yes, I mean it."
He was frustrated, clearly, but that blush was still there, pink cheeks glowing under the soft light of the bedside lamp. You let his words settle in the air, a hint of a smile playing at your lips as a thought developed in your brilliant brain.
"Hmm… say it again." He blinked owlishly.
"Huh?"
"Say you love me again." He blushed harder, his face turning scarlet, creeping down towards his neck and the tips of his ears.
"Jeez, seriously, Y/N?"
"Mm-hm." You leaned further towards him, foreheads almost touching, forcing him to look at you. "I won't accept your apology unless you do."
"Jeez…" His face was a beautiful crimson, reminding you of fresh strawberries. You would've bitten into him if you weren't trying to teach him a lesson. "I… I love you." The words came out soft, anxious, nervous that you would reject him anyways. You hummed, looking up at the ceiling, pretending to think for a moment.
"Alright. I accept your apology." Naoya exhaled loudly, body relaxing as he felt victory overcome him.
"Finally—"
"But!" you interrupted, raising your finger and tapping his nose. "That doesn't mean I forgive you." Shock, disbelief, then agitation.
"What?! Why not?"
"I just don't. I won't forgive you unless you tell me that you love me more." Naoya groaned, falling back onto the sheets.
"Jesus fucking Christ—"
"Come on, Naoya," you cooed, swinging your leg over his hips, straddling him. He watched with wide eyes as you pressed yourself into his chest, cutely pouting down at him. "Don't you love me, bubby? Don't you wanna make me happy?" The nickname was what really made him flustered, his cock stirring at the feeling of your body pushed into his. He swallowed his arousal, trying his best to scowl at you.
"You're insufferable—"
"But you love me—"
"Jeez, yes!" he practically shouted, hands cupping your cheeks and forcing the two of you to keep eye contact. "Yes, I love you. I love you, okay?" His words made you quiver, a shiver rolling down your back and through your limbs as his words settled in. He sighed as he let you go, slumping back into the bed. "Are we done? Are you happy?"
"Hmmm… I guess so… but—" You wiggled your hips against him, making him sputter as you rubbed against his growing erection. "—just because I forgive you doesn't mean I'll keep dating you."
"Y/N, I swear to God, if you keep—"
You cut him off with a kiss, soft lips pressing into him as his words died out. He moaned quietly, arms wrapping around you and holding you snuggly against him. You could feel any anger left inside you fizzling out, the only heat left behind emanating from your core. You pulled away when he licked at his lips, leaving him hazy and disappointed that he couldn't deepen the kiss. You cupped his face, stroking his cheeks with your thumbs.
"Tell me you love me one more time and I'll stay." You saw his eyes glimmer with hope, and it shouldn't have made you as happy as it did. His hand found yours, squeezing it tight, worried you would disappear.
"You mean it? You won't go?"
"No, I won't, but only if you say it—"
"I love you," he said without hesitation, eyes sincere as he pressed his forehead to yours, noses kissing. "I love you so much, Y/N… please don't go…" It felt good to see him like this, desperate for you and your love. You wanted to see more of him like this in the future; you wanted to break down those walls completely so that this was the only part of him left.
"Alright, I guess I'll stay," you teased, arms slipping around his neck, "but only because it's too hard starting a new relationship." Naoya rolled his eyes, but he couldn't hide the grateful smile on his face.
"You're the most annoying woman I've ever met." You giggled, brushing your nose against his.
"But you still love me." You heard a vague 'shut up' as he pressed his lips back into yours, kissing you tenderly, lovingly. He rarely gave these kinds of kisses, usually hungry or holding back just a bit, but you were glad to find that he was relaxing with you, as if he finally felt safe with you. You sucked his bottom lip lightly, making him sigh and pull back, brushing your cheek as he gazed deeply into your eyes.
"I'm really sorry, Y/N." You could hear the sorrow laced in his tone, not completely obvious but still there. You sighed, giving a small peck to the side of his mouth.
"I know." He huffed, squeezing your waist.
"I'm serious," he insisted, hugging you tighter. You hummed, pushing yourself up to get a better look at him.
"Yeah?" you chirped, hands running over his pecks. You ground your hips down on him, smiling when you heard the strangled groan he let out. "Then prove it. Show me how sorry you are."
You heard him sigh shakily before he sat up, capturing your lips with his. His hands found the pulp of your waist, squeezing a bit too hard. Maybe he didn't believe this was really happening, maybe he was trying to ground himself back to reality so he could accept that you were here with him. Whatever it was, it didn't faze him for long. His hands were already crawling up your nightshirt, palms flattening against your soft stomach.
"I missed you," he mumbled against your lips, kneading your flesh as he climbed up your torso. "Missed you so much."
"It was—ah—it wasn't even a whole day—"
"I don't care," he breathed, sighing shakily when he cupped your breasts and gave them a squeeze. "I thought—shit—thought I would never see you again. Thought you'd disappear on me and move away or somethin." You couldn't stop yourself from snickering, hands tangling in his hair.
"Oh my god, Naoya, it wasn't even a few hours—"
"You say that like it matters." He tugged up your shirt, tucking it over your breasts and cursing silently. "I get upset when you're gone for twenty minutes."
"Do you—ah!" He took a nipple in his mouth, sucking feverishly as he fondled the other, hurried and anxious. "Do… Do you really mean that?" you breathed.
"Yeah," he sighed, tongue swirling around your hardened nipple before taking it in his mouth again. He sucked it a moment longer before releasing it with a wet pop. "I hate how much I miss you. Makes me feel like a sissy."
"But it's cute," you whined, guiding him to the other nipple, gasping when he nibbled at the soft bud. "I like hearing you say those things. Wish you'd be more honest with me." He scoffed against your skin, pulling back to gaze up at you, a trail of spit left behind.
"You're just teasin' me—"
"I'm not," you insisted, grinding against him needily, panting already. "I wanna hear those things. I wanna know how much you like me. It makes me feel special." Naoya paused, licking at his lips as he mindlessly played with your tits.
"Yeah? You… you like when I talk about this stuff?"
"Mm-hm." You pulled away just to tug your shirt over your head and toss it aside, pressing your bare chest against him. You slipped a hand between the two of you, grinding your palm into his cock, making him hiss in a breath. "Tell me more."
"Shit." Naoya guided you to sit flush against his thigh, urging you to grind your hips against his leg. "I-I think about you all the time, ya know that? It feels like—oh God—like I'm going crazy."
"Yeah? Whaddya think about?"
"Fuck, I—I don't know. Anything, everything. You're so pretty I wanna throw up. Your eyes, your hair, your lips—fuck, I love your lips—" His hand snuck down into your shorts, breath hitching when he discovered that you weren't wearing underwear.
"That all? You only think about how I look?"
"No, I—fuck—I-I think about all of you. How smart you are, how you make me laugh—you're so nice, ya know that? Do you have any idea how sweet you are? God, I feel like I could get a fuckin cavity just thinkin bout you." He cursed when you whined, gawking at how your hips bucked into his hand, begging for more.
"More, t-tell me more, baby."
"Shit, uh—" Naoya struggled to come up with something to say, too focused on how this was getting you off, how just his words alone were making your cunt weep into his hand. "I-I hate when other people look at ya. I hate when they talk about you or eye you up, especially when I'm right there. Makes me wanna fuck you right in front of em, let em know that you're all mine, nobody else's—fuck, c'mere—" He grabbed the back of your neck, smashing his lips into yours and moaning loudly. You keened, arching your body into him, hopelessly humping his hand and grinding your clit against his palm. You could already feel your orgasm building, that delicious heat coursing through your veins coming straight from your cunt. You probably could cum from this alone, but Naoya pulled his hand away before you could attempt to do that. You whined when he let you go.
"Shh, don't worry, princess. I'm gonna take care of ya." He tugged roughly at your shorts, almost throwing you off of him trying to get them off. He squeezed your thighs once he tossed the shorts to the floor, falling back to the bed and pulling on your hips. "C'mon. Want you to sit on my face." You froze, blinking down at him.
"Your… your face?" Naoya hummed in confirmation, trying to guide you up his chest again, but you didn't budge. "I—w-wait, we've never—I-I've never—"
"Never what?" he almost snapped, clearly impatient to get you on top of him. He watched you sputter, hands wringing each other, eyes looking anywhere but at him. He blinked, staring at you for a moment before his eyes narrowed. "You've never—have you ever sat on someone's face, baby?" You felt your cheeks burn hot, body curling in on itself, desperate to hide.
"I… I mean…" You couldn't come up with an answer, and Naoya groaned after a moment.
"You've never sat on anyone's face, baby? Am I the first one?" You huffed, covering your face with your hands, struggling to hide your embarrassment. It felt worse when Naoya practically moaned at your flustered state, grabbing you and forcing you to move up his body. "Fuck, that's so hot, so fucking hot. Gonna be the first one to have you like this, the only one, shit—"
"Naoya, w-wait, hold on—"
"Don't make me wait, baby, I'm so fucking hard right now. Just wanna taste ya, just want you on my face, c'mon—" You tried to reason, to put some distance between you so you could talk about this, but all you could do was gasp as he kissed up your thighs and nosed your clit. Your breath hitched when he moaned beneath you, tongue darting out to lick you from entrance to clit, sucking the hardening bud into his mouth.
"Mmm, fuck, baby," he groaned, pulling back to gaze up at you. "Taste so good, ya know that?" You squeaked, covering your face with your hands.
"Shut up. You're embarrassing."
"C'mon, princess." He pressed a kiss to your upper pussy, nuzzling the fatty mass, smirking into your skin. "You were so eager about me talking earlier, but now you're actin all shy? What happened?"
"That—you weren't in this position before—"
"And? You look better from this angle, anyways—"
"Naoya—"
"—but it'd be a lot better if you weren't hovering." You tensed, glancing at him from between your fingers.
"I… I'm not hovering."
"Oh yeah? Then how come I gotta crane my neck just to taste you? Gonna have to go to the chiropractor if you keep this up."
"Naoya!"
"Aw, c'mon, baby." His hands ran up your sides, squeezing your tits momentarily before pulling your hands away from your face. "You know I'm only teasin' ya, but I'm serious. When I tell ya to sit on my face, I mean—" He tugged your hips down suddenly, making you lose balance and land flush against him. "—sit on my face."
The whine that left you was so pornagraphic, needy and lewd, making Naoya groan in response. He didn't waste any time, flattening his tongue against your chubby pussy lips, slipping past them to lap at your clit. You mewled, breath hitching, hips trembling, struggling not to dart away from his touch. It's not like you really could if you tried: Naoya had a death grip on your waist, forcing you to stay planted on his face.
"Tastiest—fuck—pussy ever," he groaned, his words mumbled into your cunt. His eyes bore into you, fierce and hungry. "Never gonna get over how good you taste. Don't wanna taste anybody's pussy for the rest of my life but my girl's."
"Y-Yeah?"
"Yeah." His tongue pushed into your entrance and wiggled around, strong hands keeping you from squirming out of his grasp. The slurping sounds he made were absolutely obscene—you'd be mortified if anyone could hear the two of you. It was all so overwhelming—his tongue, his strong grip, the way his nose kept bumping on your clit—that you couldn't take much more attention. You hiccupped as you grasped at his hair, tugging harshly so he released your clit from his swollen lips.
"Shit—what—"
"I need your dick," you interrupted, hoping he couldn't hear the waver in your voice. His pupils widened, but his brows were still furrowed as he licked his lips.
"I'm not done yet—"
"Pleeeeaase, Naoya," you whined, grazing your fingernails along his scalp, making him shiver. "I'm tired of waiting. Want it now." His cheeks turned scarlet, mouth quirking into a smile. You knew just what to say to get your way.
"Oh yeah? You want this fat cock, baby? Want me to stuff you full?"
"Mm-hm," you agreed in a high pitched tone, lip jutted out as you nodded. "Want you deep inside me, baby. Wanna feel you in my tummy."
"Fuck." Naoya dove back into your cunt, sucking your clit hard for a few more seconds before letting go, loosening his grip on you. "Lay down for me, baby. Gonna make you feel so good." You flopped onto the bed quickly, grateful that you wouldn't have to stay in such a compromising position any longer.
Naoya hurriedly pulled his shirt over his head, tossing it onto the floor before moving onto his shorts. He struggled to shimmy them off, eventually kicking them to the floor before sighing with relief. He turned on his side, grabbing your hips and turning you to face him.
"Lay on your side, like this. And—" he grabbed your thigh, lifting your leg and draping it over his waist, "—keep your leg up here." You scoffed, surveying the position he had you in.
"What're you up to?"
"The fuck you mean?" He hooked your knee over his elbow, grabbing his cock and running the head through your folds, hissing at how warm you were compared to him.
"I mean… w-why are we like this? Like what's with this position?"
"What's wrong? Can't a guy try new positions?" He aligned himself with your entrance, pushing in slowly, sighing shakily as he moved forward.
"I-I guess, but—ah—it's just so random, y'know?"
"It's not random, I—" His hips met yours and he huffed, his breath hitting your face, eyes unable to meet yours. "I just… I dunno, I just wanna do it like this, okay? Wanna be… romantic or whatever. Wanna make love to you." You could feel your heart pound in your chest, eyes searching his crimson face, waiting for the punchline. When none came, you cupped his cheeks, making him look at you.
"Then go on. Make love to me."
That was all he needed. He pulled back slowly, rocking his hips forward, trying to keep his breathing steady as he got used to the feel of you. In truth, he'd never get used to you. Your cunt was always so soft and inviting, warm and wet and molded to his shape. It was like putting on a glove that felt like a second skin, like it belonged there, like there was no reason for it to be removed ever again. He wished he could stay inside you like that forever, keeping himself warm in your perfect pussy. He didn't even need to cum, didn't even need to be hard: he just wanted to be connected to you like that, so close together that you could crawl into each other's skin.
God, he sounded like such a simp.
"Mmm." Your soft moan broke him out of his trance, eyes flickering over your face, taking you in. Eyes hooded, lip bitten between your teeth—you were a vision. "It feels good, Naoya."
"Y-Yeah?" he replied, suddenly nervous, eager to please. "You… You like when I go slow?"
"Mm-hmm," you moaned, leaning forward to capture his lips with yours. He sighed dreamily into the kiss, eyes crossing ever so slightly when you sucked on his bottom lip. He swallowed a groan, struggling to slip his hand between the two of you and keep thrusting languidly at the same time.
"Mmm—f-feel so good, princess," he hummed, searching for your clit. You keened when his thumb brushed over it and he slowed his movements, focusing on the sensitive spot. His thrusts turned shallow, the head of his cock dragging over that spongy mass inside you, hitting it with just the right amount of pressure over and over.
"Shit, Naoya! Fuck, j-just like that, baby. Just—oooh—just like that." Your hips twitched, soon grinding forward towards him, meeting his thrusts. Your gyrating only increased your pleasure, fingers carding through his hair, tugging at the base. You giggled when you earned a groan in response, gasping when he bucked into you hard, still slow but suddenly forceful.
"Fuck—n-need you to cum, baby. Need to feel you cum on my cock."
"Yeah? You close already?" you teased, prepared for him to bark something back at you. But he didn't do that: instead, he just bit down on his lip, eyebrows furrowed as his hand sped up, concentrating on getting you to cum first. "Ahh—o-oh my god, you are—"
"Sh-Shut up, okay? Can't—fuck—can't help it, alright?" You moaned louder, wrapping your arms around his neck and bucking your hips into him faster.
"Fuck, that's so hot, baby. You gonna cum in me? Hm? Wanna cum inside your girlfriend?" You felt his cock throb at that, Naoya's hips stuttering at your words.
"Shit—d-don't say that—"
"Why not, babe? Does hearing me say stuff like that make you wanna cum?"
"You can't just—oof!" You suddenly pushed him onto his back, following him and landing on his chest. He was still inside you as you sat up, eyes wide as you continued grinding into him without a care in the world.
"C'mon, Naoya. Cum for me. Wanna feel you fill me up when I cum." Naoya swallowed hard but nodded, fingers frantically rubbing your clit as you thrust your hips into his. Your movements allowed you to keep hitting your g-spot, sending sparks through you as you chased your high.
"Shit—babe—this was supposed to be about you—" Your moan cut him off, eyes flittering over your hunched frame. The sun was starting to rise, the bright rays beaming in through the curtains. You looked like an angel in the growing golden light, your sweaty skin glowing. You were panting above him, moans and gasps growing in pitch by the second, your hips moving faster, more desperately until—
"Oh fuck!" you whined, head tossed back as you came. Your cunt pulsated around him, squeezing him so tight he thought he would pass out. He was already close before, but feeling you cum around him was sending him straight for the edge. Just a few more thrusts and—
"Shit—I-I love you, Naoya."
It felt like he had been punched in the gut. His body caved in on itself as the air left his lungs. He gasped, desperate for air as his balls emptied inside you. He grabbed your hips, urging you to keep grinding yourself on his cock, helping him ride out his high.
"Jesus fuck—ohmygod, fuck, baby, love you, I love you, love youuu—"
You stared in awe as he shuddered beneath you, eyes squeezed shut, teeth gritted shut as he choked on his groans. You slowed your hips, your orgasm fading as he started coming down from his peak. He was panting heavily, lips bitten raw, body flushed from exertion. You smoothed your hands over his chest, coaxing him to breathe steadily and calm down.
"Holy—sh-shit—I—"
You shushed him, leaning down to kiss him tenderly. He returned your kiss happily, sighing as your lips melded together. His hands moved to cup your cheeks, large palms cradling your face as he kissed you. Your hearts began to settle as you peppered kisses over each other, soft chaste pecks that you thought only existed in movies. Naoya slumped back to the bed, sighing and wrapping his arms around you, pulling you down to your side with him.
"Jesus," he mumbled, nosing at your hair lovingly. "Don't think I've ever cum that hard before." You giggled, nuzzling into his neck.
"Or that fast—"
"Hey," he said sternly, giving your thigh a light slap as a warning. "Ain't my fault."
"Hmm. My pussy's just too good, huh?" Another slap, this time to your ass, making you jolt and laugh louder.
"You're such a smartass. You're lucky I love you or else I'd make you sleep on the floor." You let out an exaggerated gasp, pulling back, pretending to be shocked.
"Rude! I'm an angel and you know it." He merely rolled his eyes, kissing you for the thousandth time that morning. You welcomed it, legs wrapping around him, tangling themselves with his own limbs. Naoya released your lips, keeping his face close, breathing shallowly.
"Can you say it back?" You blinked.
"Say what back?" He huffed, squeezing his arms around you tighter.
"You know…" You stared at him as his cheeks turned a rosy pink, realization dawning on you with each passing moment. You kissed his nose, pressing your forehead to his, hands cradling his head and neck.
"I love you too, Naoya." He relaxed with that, sighing and burying himself into your chest. You pet his hair, chin tucked on top of his head, your breaths synchronizing as time passed.
"I'm sorry," he mumbled a little while later, barely a whisper. His voice was surprisingly fragile, as if he could fall apart at any moment, as if he still didn't believe you forgave him.
"I know," you whispered back, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. You didn't point out how he inhaled shakily or how his arms tightened their hold around you. You just laid there with him, warming his cock and combing your fingers through his hair. "I know."
"You got everything?" You hummed in acknowledgement, nodding your head. Naoya arched his brow, staring down at you. "You sure? Once we leave, we're not coming back."
"I'm sure, Naoya. Do you have everything?"
"Yes."
"You're sure?" Your tone made him pause, his brow furrowing as he glanced around the room. He couldn't find anything, so he pat his pockets, frowning after a moment. He opened his mouth to speak, closing it once you raised your hand and presented his phone.
"You minx," he snarled lightheartedly, snatching his phone from you and shoving it in his back pocket. "What else did you steal from me?"
"I didn't steal anything, bubby. I grabbed it so you wouldn't forget it."
"Yeah, whatever. You ready to go or what?" You giggled and nodded, taking his outstretched hand and following him out of the suite and down the hall. The elevator ride was fairly quiet, three other people joining you on the ride down. The two of you stayed at the back, hands intertwined, Naoya's thumb rubbing into you, grounding himself. He hesitated once you got to the lobby, but after a quick glance out of the elevator—confirming his father wasn't there—he walked out with you, hand in hand. You were almost at the exit when he slowed down, squeezing your hand to get your attention.
"I gotta do something real quick. Wait here."
"Wha—" Naoya put down his suitcase quickly, walking off to a nearby seating area in the lobby. You stared curiously as he walked up to someone sitting down. Once she turned around, you realized that it was Keiya. You watched as he bowed to her, staying still for a few moments. You couldn't see their expressions very well from where you were, and you definitely couldn't hear them, so your curiosity began to eat away at you. You waited patiently, only left alone for a minute or two before Naoya bowed again, walking back to you with his hands in his pockets. He reached you soon enough, grabbing his suitcase before taking your hand, guiding you out of the building.
"What was that all about?" you asked as soon as the doors behind you closed. He seemed to have not heard you so you shook his arm, grabbing his attention.
"Hm? Oh! It—um—it was nothing."
"Come on, Naoya," you huffed, pushing yourself into his side. "We need to start communicating better. How else are we gonna build a healthy relationship?" Naoya scoffed, rolling his eyes, but he couldn't say no when you pouted like that.
"Fine… I was…" He took a deep breath, avoiding your gaze. "I apologized for how I acted yesterday… and how I've acted in the past… That was all."
Something bloomed inside you—hope, perhaps?—and you grinned wide, hugging his arm tightly.
"Aww, Naoya! That's so mature of you! Who knew you could apologize without being forced to?"
"Oh, shut up—"
"No, I'm serious! I'm very proud of you, bub! So proud of my handsome boyfriend." He huffed but his face burned just a bit, his cheeks bright.
"Jeez, calm down. How do you have so much energy? We've been up since, like, five." You shrugged, releasing his arm just to take his hand again, swinging your arms lazily as you waited for a cab to pick you up to take you to the airport. Naoya stared at you from the corner of his eye for a bit, quietly bringing your hand to his mouth and kissing the back of it. You glanced at him, giving him a sweet smile, the kind that always made him melt.
"...I love you," he mumbled quietly, hesitantly, the words still a bit foreign on his tongue. Your smile grew and you leaned in towards him, kissing him on the cheek.
"Love you too, Naoya."
#naoya zenin#naoya zen'in#smut#chubby reader#chubby fem reader#naoya zenin x chubby reader#naoya zen'in x reader#naoya zenin x reader#fem reader#☀️ fics#☀️ scum of the earth au
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Costume Updates: 2023 West End Cast Change
A few notes before I start:
- Kayleigh McKnight (Seymour) is currently injured. Gabriella Stylianou (alt A/S) is temporarily performing in her place, including in the preview footage.
- As a general rule of thumb, Six has slowly been standardizing the costumes for both US and UK. Most of that has been changes to the UK system/style to make them more in line with the US changes initially made for Broadway (a few changes have made their way to the US from the UK though). There's been a steady rollout of updates over the period post-lockdowns, but with this cast change most of the major holdouts have been changed at once. I'll get to that in a moment.
- Obviously it's very early in the run and we haven't seen all the costumes yet, particularly for alts. I'll continue to update as we do.
Costumes (credits below)
- Nikki Bentley's Aragon costume has had a few construction changes to be more in line with the US costumes. No major design differences, though. Not sure on maker yet.
- Thảo Therése Nguyễn has the darker green which has been standardized for the last few UK casts. Not sure on maker yet.
- Gabriella was previously with Norwegian Cruise Lines as part of Bliss 2.0, but as expected she did get a new costume. Her corset is in the US style/design rather than the UK style (info here, here). I'm not sure who made it and very much wondering if the corset only could be a US-make, but don't have enough information yet to know if that could be the case. I'm also waiting to see what Kayleigh's looks like.
- Reca Oakley (Cleves) is another former NCL queen, but as expected she also did get a new costume. It was made by Paul Aspinall.
- Inez Budd's Howard skirt has been changed to the US-style construction. This has smaller panels (rather than the old NCL/UK style; post here). However, unlike the US skirts, the vertical stud lines still go all the way to the bottom hem. Per usual, it was made by Ella Dancewear.
- Janiq Charles is a standard Parr style, made by Ashleigh Cherry Costumes per usual.
- Otherwise, the costumes seem to be in line with all recent UK standardization.
- The alts' costumes should match the changes made for these principals.
Wigs/HMU
- Nikki Bentley has an auburn tone with a side part and doesn't seem to have bleached/ombre highlights. Curled bob, a little longer than some we've seen in the past. It's a full wig.
- Thảo has dark roots with a silvery-toned bleached wig. It's a long wig rather than some of the recent bobs. It's a full wig.
- Gabriella has a side part and darker, honey blonde tone. It's pretty mid-range for Seymour wigs but is shorter than some of the recent UK. It's a full wig.
- Janiq Charles has the curls pulled over to the side. It's a full wig.
- Otherwise, the principal wigs are pretty standard.
- No pictures of Naomi Alade in costume yet, but I am expecting her to have braids for all or most of her roles.
- We've also seen quite a bit of the makeup so far, which I'll make a post about in the coming days.
Boots
@lightleckrereins already made posts about a lot of this (here, here) but for easy access:
- The cast seems to be standardized to a shorter heel than prior casts, like the shorter heel Chlöe Hart and Natalie Pilkington both got later in the 22-23 UK Tour run.
- They've introduced the double height boots that the US productions have had for a few years now (explanation of the difference here). However, they're still sticking to the regular UK-style boot body with crystals rather than switching to the US-style lattice and studs. Right now it looks like Nikki Bentley (Aragon) and Janiq Charles (Parr) have the double height, while Reca Oakley (Cleves) has the regular Cleves thigh highs and everyone else seems to have regular single height. Of course, that post includes Gabriella Stylianou rather than Kayleigh McKnight so no good look at Kayleigh or other alts yet.
- All the boots seem to have interchangeable straps. We first saw these with the US and then UK alts - it allows them to have one pair of boots with a monochrome silver heel and then just trade out their straps depending on which costume they're wearing. This is the first time we've seen that for principals; Sofia talked more about why this change might be happening in the post I linked at the start of this section.
Alt costumes
- We've seen a silver alt costume in progress that should be for Meg Dixon-Brasil. (Made by Paul Aspinall per usual)
- We've also seen part of a pink alt costume. It could feasibly be either Natalie Pilkington's or it could be one for Hannah Lowther. Judging from Hannah's makeup, she does seem to have their standard makeup pieces for pink alt.
- Naomi Alade has orange palette and glitter, so she presumably has the orange alt costume.
- We still don't know what costume Natalie Pilkington will have. She has her old principal Seymour/Parr and pink alt system from the 2022-23 UK Tour, and during the 2021-22 UK Tour she had a black alt costume that was a mishmash of old and new pieces. I'm expecting that she'll wear a black alt costume (either entirely or mostly new), but it's possible that she reuses her old pink alt instead (it has been a while since she's worn black alt and most of it was already old). I talked in more depth about some of those possibilities here.
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First row for each queen: junka_0.0
Second row for each queen: elliexboleyn (Nikki and Reca), cassie.zhao_ (Thảo), mattstacel (Gabriella, Janiq), Georgia.ccooper (Inez),
Boots: crystalledbyjane
#six the musical#six costumes#six west end#nikki bentley#thao therese nguyen#gabriella stylianou#reca oakley#inez budd#janiq charles#kayleigh mcknight#naomi alade#hannah lowther#meg dixon brasil#natalie pilkington#catherine of aragon six#alternate costumes#six boots#six wigs#anne boleyn six#Jane Seymour six#Anna of Cleves six#katherine howard six#catherine parr six
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Internet is interesting place. So many content to discover and many interesting articles to read. Although internet is supposed to be fun and entertaining place for most of the time it's actually not what we think it is. If you search for too long you may find some things that well you wish you didn't see. From creepy videos to disturbing things that people are doing down to the most uncanny and not worth seeing things none thought can exist. In today's post we're going to look at 5 disturbing and shocking internet videos and sites that you might want to avoid. Heads up for disturbing content and violent moments.
Without any further problems let's begin.
Disturbing videos found on YouTube
1. I Feel Fantastic:
I feel fantastic is rather unique video and experience on its own. To this day I can't properly explain what was this video about and why was it made. The video itself was uploaded in 2009 by YouTube user Creepyblog and it contains what we can assume as scary singing robot that wears wig and human clothes. To say that video is creepy on its own isn't enough but it gives me weird unsettling feeling that I can't explain. It's just that song and whole image of this robot. I was never a fan of human looking robot and every time I saw something like as a kid I was crying and begging my mom to turn off TV or whatever was playing at the moment. Some people say that this video was put together by serial killer who used his victims clothes to dress up robot but as it turned out later creator of this disturbing video was John Bergeron who stated that he only made this video because of his creepy robot fascination.
2. Don't hug me I'm scared.
Well my childhood was interesting that's for sure. From early age I was staying home alone so of course I had to get my first phone so my mom wouldn't be worried. My first experience with internet was when I was around 7 and started going to school. It was time when I loved watching my little pony and cartoons. Typical stuff 7 years old would watch. Then of course by the time passed I got mt first phone with internet and tragedy happened. I was so excited that I'm finally having my own phone like my friends that I didn't even realize how bad it can be sometimes. My parents weren't paying much attention to what I was doing on my phone. I was casually surfing from one video to another until i found it. Don't hug me I'm scared is collection of six short videos. It may look adorable at first as the style of characters is similar to Sesame Street or Muppets show but as you go further into the video it gets darker and more violent. In each of episode main characters suffer terrible things. With times of cannibalism or suffering by old age it's really hard not to say that it was traumatic for some of us. Sometimes you may think that all that violence is pointless but it actually made me wonder why would anyone do that? Why would anyone want to scare kids so badly. I may be bit overreacting here but it was one kind experience as a kid.
3. Blank Room Soup
Blank Room Soup was one of many choices I wanted to use for this post. Even though it might seem like pretty decent material for my post there's still something that made me wonder if I should put it here. The video is very uncanny and it gives vibes of what I think is torture. In the video we see man eating what we might assume as soup with long wooden spoon. He's eating rather fast and like he was scared. We hear him either crying or laughing. We then see two oversized pop doll. It seems that these two figures are trying to comfort crying man who is well still eating his soup. To say that video is giving me creepy, uncanny vibe is not enough. I have urge to find out more about this video but everything that i read is already enough.
4.Ghost car
Yep my least favourite childhood trauma. I think most of people have seen this scary car comercial. First it's just peaceful video of white car driving down the road and then when you think nothing is going to happen. Bam! Jumpscare right at your face. All you going to think about is that creepy ghost of lady that just Jumpscared you. I don't think there's futher context to this video. It's just there to scare you and that's all.
5. Dining Room Or There Is Nothing
Well here's cherry on top. Another out of context creepy video that will scare you for nights but won't bring anything else to your life. The video starts with creepy mannequin that looks like ghost of women who speaks backwards and then her head falls into bowl of soup.
That's all. Thank you.
Hey you thought im done didn't you? Ha! Not yet. I wish to say that creepy videos are over but now it's time for creepy, disgusting, disturbing and completely out of context Internet sites, video games and possibly more.
This is interesting photo. If anyone has context for it i will be very grateful. Now let's go back to our creepy internet.
Creepy internet websites
1. There's a website that shows you plane crash and people final moments. Pretty creepy and kinda sad because its not fun to see people die in horrible thing like plane crash.
2. Death Date is well Intresting and creepy website to visit because it shows you Date and time of your death. Fun right?
3.Scary For Kids
As the name implies, Scary for Kids is a website designed to scare children, but I am sure that some of its offerings may also cause considerable frights for certain adults.
This creepy website contains scary bedtime stories, including a vast collection of movies, videos, games, and several other whatnots. Its content compilation is very creepy, and as mentioned earlier, capable of scaring both kids and adults, too
4.Homicide Monitor
Homicide Monitor is one of the scariest and most dangerous websites ever created. This creepy website features a map showing all murder cases happening on earth. It provides visitors scary information, which often varies yearly, about homicide incidents that occurred in recent times. It also includes a drop-down menu where you can choose any nation to know the exact murder cases that occurred there
5.Housecreep
Housecreep features real-life and fictional crimes with places they actually occurred. Essentially, this scary website includes a comprehensive list of houses with gruesome stories that either happened in real life or were assumed to have happened. Content featured in Housecreep includes murders, hauntings, unexplained deaths, etc
Creepy internet games
I don't think im going to describe them just put names and end this post:
1. Sad Satan
2. Hong Kong 97- Image of dead body
3.Utahonotatari 2- Warning and spoiler- there is a glitch of dead body possibly at the end of the game
4. RapeLay
5. Ao Oni
That's all. Thanks.
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From Ur post about wasted potential in media... What r some of your fav examples of this ^__^
hi anon!
so when i made this post i was thinking about supernatural. other stories that are still rotting my brain even though they ended years ago and i really should be over it by now include (but aren’t limited to) the magnus archives, game of thrones, naruto, and pirates of the caribbean. all of these are stories i love(d) but they either ended badly or have some massive but easily fixable flaws which is why they drive me insane.
the short(ish) version: (disclaimer that this is only my opinion which is of course objectively correct and should be taken as gospel)
supernatural went on for too long, ended badly, and only ever scratched the surface of everything it could’ve been
the magnus archives seasons 1-4 are damn near perfect and season 5 is… there.
game of thrones season 8. (do i even need to say anything about this one!?)
naruto suffers because of kishimoto’s misogyny and because the wrong characters die/survive
pirates of the caribbean should’ve been a trilogy and we all know elizabeth should’ve ended up a pirate
the unreasonably long and extremely spoilery version under the cut (you have been warned)
supernatural: by tumblr standards i’m downright normal about spn but i did watch every episode at least once and i was obsessed with it as a teen so i’m not really one to talk. i’m following someone who’s just now getting into it and who has some very good takes (specifically about dean and john), and i’m being dragged back into the fandom kicking and screaming…
ANYWAY
supernatural starts out as a monster of the week thing but then the plot thickens and you’ve got angels and demons and lucifer and the end of the fucking world and even though the later seasons have their moments, i’m a “supernatural should’ve ended with season 5” truther.
and don’t even get me started on the winchesters. it’s like… you have a deliciously fucked up family dynamic, including codependency, incest-subtext, and two brothers who would end the world for each other. god as an absentee father-figure who will not save you. free will. characters that have witnessed history. an angel who almost stepped on the first fish crawling out of the sea, who dragged a man out of hell and fell for him in every sense of the word. the humanity of the monstrous. the inhumanity of the divine. magic. americana. mythology. empty roads and neon signs and dilapidated motels. Death who tells dean that he will reap god when the time comes. i know i’m not being particularly coherent but no one can tell me that what we actually got was the best they could do when they had ALL THIS to work with. and the fandom gets it. the fic and meta writers get it. i’ve seen so many transcendent takes by supernatural girlies whose third eye is wide fucking open. i know it’s possible. supernatural’s problem is that it was written by straight us-american men and aired on the cw. in conclusion, make it darker and grittier and let dean say fuck.
that being said, even though it was garbage storytelling, i will never forget the wonderful night of mass hysteria that was the 5th of november, and i almost choked laughing when i saw dean get nailed by a vampire clown and sam in the shittiest wig imaginable. probably not the intended audience reaction though. (you’re better off just ignoring that 15.20 happened at all)
the magnus archives (season 5): oh boy where do i even begin? i rarely talk about this anymore because it just makes me so angry and i’m not having any fun. i like to pretend that season 5 doesn’t exist which works excellently because while the first 4 seasons are a cohesive narrative whole, season 5 feels like it’s tacked on at the end. (“do i like this story more if i just ignore the ending happened” is a very good question to ask yourself regarding the quality of a finale).
the magnus archives season 5 has several problems, some of which don’t even concern the narrative but are instead fuckery related to the story. i’ll get those out of the way first.
first of all, the fandom is the most vile cesspit of people with no media comprehension i’ve ever had the misfortune to be in. among such hits as “why is Bad Person treated with sympathy” and “why is the horror podcast about horror and not about gay shipping”, what bothers me most are the headcanons treated as law.
i’ve personally witnessed takes like “daisy is bad representation for butch lesbians” (daisy is not canonically a lesbian or butch. the fandom made that up), and “jon is brown therefore xyz portrayal is racist” (again, jon’s skin color is never mentioned. him being brown is just the most popular HEADcanon). why am i telling you this in this already way too long post? this might be conjecture but i really believe that if the fandom wasn’t so godawful, the story could’ve been better. the creators caved to fandom pressure. this is one of the best examples of why there needs to be a boundary between audience and creator and why the fandom should have absolutely NO say whatsoever when it comes to what happens in the story.
the other thing that’s a bit meta and not in the story per se are the promises the creators made. jonny sims said two things:
1. the story will end in tragedy: it didn’t. the ending was ambiguous and i wanted it to leave me devastated the way the s4 finale did. instead it left me indifferent and vaguely confused.
2. there will be no romance and if there is, it’s not going to be the focus of the story: so that was a fucking lie. season 5 is nothing but jonmartin shoved into your face for 40 episodes. a lot of aros, aces and people who were there for the horror and not for the shipping were understandably disappointed
now, as for the actual story ,i’m a “jon should’ve had a corruption arc” truther. (here's a thing i did). i think it would fit with his character development since he’s been getting more monstrous with every season. elias has been manipulating jon into becoming an avatar of the Beholding and ending the world, and jon hates him for it. jon kills elias and takes his place and if they just stuck with that, with elias being destroyed by the god he created and jon ascending to be the fucked up evil king of a ruined world. fuck, it would’ve been so good. it would’ve been so delicious i’m going insane every time i think about it. this is the secret good season 5 that lives in my head.
instead they went with parallel universes, which is a concept that you probably shouldn’t introduce 3 episodes before the ending. it’s not a bad concept at all. they could’ve done it justice. but making parallel fucking universes the thing on which your finale hinges even though you’ve barely introduced them? yeah i’m gonna go ahead and call that an ass pull. it turns out that the Web has been manipulating everyone blah blah who cares the important part is this: the Web wins. the Web gets what it wants and this could’ve worked if it was framed and presented to us LIKE A TRAGEDY. it’s not. it’s presented like a bittersweet ending. the morality of the finale is extremely protagonist-centric (and by season 5 i started to hate everyone except jon). the protagonists decide to release the Fears, dooming a potentially infinite number of people to a life of horror, but fuck those guys, right? the important thing is that the protagonists are okay. i’m going to fight jonny sims in a parking lot.
one last thing. jonmartin fucking sucks. but it doesn’t have to. jon and martin don’t know each other. they’re completely incompatible. they’re together out of guilt and circumstance. they’re dysfunctional and they’re very realistically dysfunctional. i personally ship jonelias. don’t worry this is not about a shipping war, but one thing i’ve noticed is that jonelias is fucked up in an “i’ve made you a monster and then a god. i’ve used you to bring about the apocalypse” kind of way which i’m guessing not many people have personal experience with. jonmartin is fucked up in a “we’re not communicating and we’re only together because neither of us wants to be alone” way. that’s relatable. hell, that’s depressingly common. jon doesn’t love martin, he just wants to cling to his humanity. martin doesn’t love jon, he loves the idea of jon. THAT’S POTENTIAL! take that and work with it. what did they do instead? gave me a pairing of two people who absolutely should not be together, shoved it into my face for dozens of episodes, and then portrayed jealousy and miscommunication like something cute and romantic. literally what the fuck are they on.
game of thrones: *deeep sigh* ok there are about a billion 3hour video essays detailing everything wrong with season 8 but the main things for me are:
jon is a targaryen. he’s azor ahai. his is the song of ice and fire. and NONE OF THAT FUCKING MATTERS OH MY GOD AT LEAST LET JON DO SOMETHING LITERALLY ANYTHING EXCEPT STANDING AROUND REPEATING THE SAME TWO LINES AD NAUSEAM.
daenerys descent into madness and villainy could’ve been great if it had been properly set up instead of done in a minute (this is not an exaggeration. her character goes from “slightly mentally unstable” to “war criminal putting a city of innocent people to the torch” in ONE minute. i counted.)
i read the books and euron greyjoy is so fucking cool in the books. i don’t know who the fuck that other guy is but it certainly ain’t him.
arya killing the night king and bran becoming king. i wish i could say something funny or insightful but i genuinely have no words.
naruto: it’s been a while since i watched naruto. i’ve seen plenty of male writers being shitty but i’ve never seen misogyny drag a story down quite this much. personally, i’m done making excuses for this shit. if you can’t write women, you’re a bad writer. period.
the problem with naruto is that the women are literally just... there. doing absolutely fuck all and being generally useless. this is not even a matter of social justice, this is a matter of storytelling. even if you’re the biggest macho dudebro around you’ll have to admit that one third of your cast standing around and being incompetent doesn’t make for a very interesting story, does it now?
and then there’s the matter of madara being nerfed in favor of kaguya. yeah… that one was an ass pull.
but what bothers me most is that the wrong characters die or don’t die respectively. some examples:
hinata should’ve died (instead of “almost died”) when pain attacked konoha. it would’ve made her sacrifice more meaningful and she would’ve come back one way or another. in my opinion she should’ve stayed dead for good because her arc was mostly done by that point and she doesn’t really do much after that except cheer on naruto (see misogyny above)
when madara fought the five kage, he almost killed all of them. keyword almost. i get that tsunade is a good healer but that fight would’ve been more meaningful if someone (literally any ONE of the kage) had actually died.
gai should’ve died. listen, you can’t build up the 8th gate as this super special technique that you can do only once because it costs your life and then not have gai die. it cheapens the entire thing. what was the fucking point?
neji should’ve LIVED. a monumental part of his character arc was realizing that he’s worth just as much as the main family and that he doesn’t have to be subservient to hinata. and then he sacrifices himself for hinata. yeah that felt like one step forward two steps back.
in conclusion: kishimoto needs to drink his respect women juice and learn when to kill characters and when to let them live.
pirates of the caribbean: i tend to ignore that part 4 and 5 even exist. please let the franchise die i am begging.
i don’t have that many examples of wasted potential but you can’t tell me that PIRATE KING elizabeth swann would stay on land being a good housewife. fuck no.
so yeah. i’m done. thank you for asking, this was a lot of fun to answer and i hope you enjoyed Do You Love The Color Of My Incoherent Ramblings
#i think one of the biggest sources of wasted potential is telling the audience something but showing them something else#you can often guess what the narrative wants you to think#and how something is framed/presented by the narrative is just as important as what actually happens#if something fucked up happens then i want the narrative to either acknowledge it's fucked up#or (much better) stay neutral and let me make up my own mind#but don't give me something fucked up and then act like it's Good and Righteous
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A photo of my dressing gown cosplay from Youmacon this year! It was my first time with my new Christine wig and, regardless of it having been worn all day AND the day before with the wedding dress, those curls held up perfectly.
#my cosplays#phantom of the opera#poto#christine daae#dressing gown#i do wonder if i should get a darker wig#this is the only photo where i'm not totally sure about the color
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Too Late: Adrien (Commission for miner249er)
Chapter 5 of the commission for @miner249er !
Previous Work
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The Seine became a comfort spot for Adrien after everything happened, his original comfort spot had been the top of the Eiffel Tower but with his ring gone, that wasn’t an option. Actually many places weren’t on his list of options any more due to his ring being gone and due to his identity as both Adrien Agreste: Teen Model and Heart Throb, as well as Adrien Agreste: Possible Accomplice to Hawkmoth and Mayura, and the possible face behind the cat mask, Chat Noir, became “known” after the whole Protector incident. Paris’s last akuma, and Adrien’s last normal day, last peaceful moment. He had been naïve before and hadn't even known it. He had tried too hard to get past the rose-tinted glasses his father basically prescribed he wore everyday and when he thought he had gotten rid of those he was too blind to notice the rose-tinted contact lenses he himself put in willingly every day after.
But those contacts had been dried and ripped and tossed in the trash. Now he couldn’t even take a simple walk without wearing a wig, clothes he never considered wearing before and some he knew his father wouldn’t approve of so there were some silver linings, and he would slightly contour his face and thank his old makeup artists for teaching him some makeup skills he could do himself. Plus it helped that he had been doing research on cosplaying and what it took to look like other people, tip number one was contouring your face, and that’s just what he did when he wanted to leave the house and have some alone time. True alone time, not supervised alone time with Simon, aka Gorilla, and not alone time at a distance with his mom, which he was so grateful to have back, but with the rumors surrounding his father and Nathalie and the way she came back on live TV, their alone time happened together.
It was wonderful to have his mother back, but it did not dull his pain. Not even her hugs or her kisses or her sweet words could pull him from the edge of his guilt-ridden thoughts. Every day, every damn day, he would think how this all was his fault. Maybe if he had been a better son, a better model, a better something, maybe his father wouldn’t have abused the Butterfly Miraculous the way he did. Maybe Gabriel, because even Adrien had to admit that the man was severely lacking in that department and had in a very long time, would have trusted him and told him what was going on. Then, perhaps, Adrien could have convinced his Father not to get Nathalie involved and to maybe let Ladybug help or even the Guardian. If Gabriel had just let his son in like Adrien had craved for so long, then maybe all this pain and anger wouldn’t be bleeding out of each and every pore of everyone in Paris.
Maybe then the Protector wouldn’t have had to...well, protect like she felt she had to. Adrien had never thought Marinette to be a scary girl, in fact, ‘Marinette’ and ‘scary’ in the same sentence seemed like something out of a parallel universe if anything. In his memories, because that’s all he had left of the girl, those and a broken arm and finger, Marinette Dupain-Cheng had always been happy and sweet and determined and so much more. Or, that was what he thought, that’s all he observed. He never took her sorrow or hurt seriously and it was that thought that had been plaguing him night and day ever since she went missing.
Her disappearance wasn’t the only ‘big’ thing that had happened in the honestly short amount of time he and his class encountered The Protector, he refused to call that akuma Marinette, there was just no way she thought of him and their classmates like that. There was no way. The only conclusion he could come to was that Gabriel had more control over the akuma than usual. Maybe even twisted her feelings into something darker. It has happened before...he’s sure of it. From what he knows about the Butterfly Miraculous, which was really not a lot even with his small crash course with Master Fu after he tried to make sense of everything, the Butterfly can enhance emotions. Who’s to say that he couldn’t twist those emotions? I mean...even Master Fu said he was tainting the Miraculous in ways that even he couldn’t predict. Maybe all that misuse could have changed it.
This could have been avoided . Was another constant thought that hung before him seemingly as a reminder. This should have been avoided.
Anger, no fury, overtook him but he managed to not let it out in a scream, or worse physically on something. He no longer had his usual outlet when his emotions got too big or too much, so he did the only thing he could remember his father teaching him. Mask it. Hide it all beneath a mask of indifference. Before he had hated it, hated the way Gabriel had sounded almost proud of the lesson he was giving his son, like it was one of his single most important pieces of fatherly advice he could bestow upon Adrien. Now though? Now it actually came in handy and Adrien loathed it, everything about it, but if he made a scene out in the open, it wouldn’t matter if he had a disguise on or not. People would stare, people would talk, people would try to help and he just could not handle any of that.
“We could all use you right now M’Lady…” He muttered to the air and himself, a part of him hoping that in some way the message would reach the girl he was thinking of.
That was another thing that was bringing him migraines if he thought too much about it, which he did, constantly. He didn’t just have to come to terms with the fact that one of his best friends had gotten akumatized and promptly went missing after said akumatization, or the fact Gabriel Agreste and Nathalie Sancoeur were basically determined to be the villains Hawkmoth and Mayura by public opinion and “coincidences” that looked an awful lot like proof, there was also the fact his mother literally rose from the grave...or from her coma that Adrien had no idea about, but to top everything off was the very real fact that Protector, Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Multimouse, was actually Paris’s beloved heroine Ladybug. His mind was still trying to make it make sense. To make it all make sense. But it was that last bit that was still throwing him for a loop.
He just couldn’t seem to fuse the identities together. Both girls held importance in his life, just in different ways. There were so many memories that were thrown at him that were practically begging him to see, see how the two were actually one and the same. There was just this other part of him that refused to see it, refused to acknowledge it, because, and it was a bit embarrassing to admit even to just himself, he was mad that he had declared that he would know Ladybug anywhere. Adrien had even convinced himself that he would absolutely be able to know who she was beneath the mask if he had just seen her. Turns out he had seen her out of the mask more often than in and it hurt.
To make matters worse, if anything could even be worse , he bitterly thought as he kicked a stray stone, he was pretty sure his class knew or at least suspected he was Chat Noir after their shared Protector experience. Yet none of them said anything, there were no new rumors floating about, there were no news coverage about him in particular other than how Paris was sending his mother and him their prayers, others were not as nice and speculated they were both involved in his villainy. The biggest thing though was that no one was reaching out to him to talk about what happened, to talk about his injury and the fact that the akuma took his ring so openly in front of people, they reached out...just not for any of that. They gave their sympathy, their curiosity, their anger, but none of them asked him about being Chat Noir and it was killing him having to wait for the other shoe to drop.
If it even drops.
Adrien sighed harshly and burrowed deeper into the hoodie he had slipped on before he had snuck out of his house. While aimlessly walking he spotted a bench and promptly slumped onto it. One hand idly picked at the chipped paint of the bench while the other clutched his hoodie above his heart. It hurt. It hurt enough to make him cry and well, he was alone so why not just cry? The guilt, the shame, the anger, the loneliness, all of it had turned into some blob of a creature that took hold of his heart and squeezed. He had to close his eyes, he didn’t know why, but it felt like it was one of the only ways to get comfort. Again, he was proved wrong as he began to remember The Day of The Last Akuma as all of Paris had taken to calling it, Adrien referred to it as the day he failed Marinette.
________________________________________
Adrien winced as Marinette had taken hold of both his hands in hers, the gesture would have been sweet if it weren’t for the pressure. “ Save it. I don’t want your superficial pity. You Adrien Agreste are the biggest liar I know next to Lila. You knew she was lying. You knew she was lying from the start seeing how Ladybug told you herself that Lila and her were not friends. Oh yeah I know about that, in the park, or how about when Lila was akumatized to be the Chameleon, which by the way Lila very unoriginal and I’m fairly certain you were akumatized on purpose but hey what proof do I have right? And she pretended to be you because she didn’t like what you had to say about her lying. Yet you still didn’t tell your so called friends about her, because you don’t care about anyone but yourself! I learned that the hard way. I believed you when you said we were in this together and that if we both knew then that was enough and that we should take the moral highroad. What a joke ! I am truly disgusted with myself for ever thinking I was in love with you. ”
His hands hurt but that was nothing compared to his heart when Marinette had finished her speech, but the hurt was outweighed by his confusion. Looking around he could tell that their classmates were not expecting Marinette’s words to him. Some were probably still reeling from her harsh words about them but all eyes were on him and Marinette, and they were wide, whether it be in hurt, horror, shock, or all of the above. It seemed like the stares didn’t bother Marinette in the least, but they sure were getting to Adrien. “ W-What? You love me? ”
The hollow laugh he had gotten in reply was like a stab to the heart, he could feel Plagg scratching at his shirt from inside his white overshirt, he knew he had to get out of there so he could transform but Marinette still had a grip on him. “ Men. Of course that’s the only thing you focus on. If you actually listened to me and were a decent human being for once in your pathetic sad model life, you would have noticed that I said, was . I was in love with you, but after everything? You’re nothing but an obstacle in my way. ”
“ Mari please- ,” Adrien tried to reason with her as he tugged at his hands gently to see if there was any slack, again he winced in pain when Marinette tightened her hold, her gaze never wavering from him. The fury in her eyes could practically melt him.
“ That is not my name! If I did go by that name again you would not get to call me that anyways, nicknames are a privilege, they are shared between friends. Last I checked, we’re not friends, maybe we never were to begin with, and that goes for all of you too! ” Marinette hissed out sharply as she finally tore her gaze away from Adrien and looked at their classmates, their friends. It was the first time since this whole situation started that Adrien felt he could breathe despite the fact his hands were in an iron-clad like clutch. He didn’t have the heart to look in the eyes of everyone to see how they took Marinette’s words.
“ Marinette, this isn’t you! You need to fight the akuma, it’s making you say these things I know it is! But if you just calm down and fight it I know Ladybug and Chat Noir will be here to save the day. ” Adrien rambled away, and if he had been paying attention, he would have seen the way Marinette’s spine had straightened, how the atmosphere and temperature felt like it had dropped, and the way her calm fury took a turn. No he missed that all in favor of trying to see if one of his friends would agree with him and help him calm Marinette down long enough for him to sneak out and transform so Chat Noir could heroically swoop in to save the day.
“ Did he say akuma? ” He heard Rose semi-whisper to Juleka who merely nodded in confusion.
“ Marinette doesn’t look like an akuma though …” Nathaniel mumbled meekly.
“ Have you sheep learned nothing? There is more to people than what meets the eye.” Marinette sing-songed, and it was brief, so painfully brief but enough to draw scared gasps from everyone in the class, Marinette’s eyes had flashed from their normal cheerful blue to a darker almost violet color and the whites of her eyes turned purple. Everyone scurried back, even Mlle Bustier, all except Adrien who was still caught in her grip near the doorway that they were now blocking, and Lila who was just staring at Marinette in interest and poorly acted out fear from her seat that used to be Marinette’s. Everyone was calling out to her and telling her to run to them but the girl continued to sit there “frozen” in fear. “ And it seems like you are finally opening yours. ”
“ Oh Marinette how did this happen to you? I thought you were better than this? To get akumatized over me and showing everyone your true nature! Don’t worry guys my best friend Ladybug will be here soon to rescue us. ” Lila gushed out, not catching the wary glances that some were giving her.
“ Oh Delilah, do shut up. ” Marinette harshly mocked in response, Lila looked as though she had been smacked, everyone else was confused, Adrien included. “ What? Oh you guys didn’t know? Liar Rossi’s real name is Delilah, so let’s add that to the growing list of wrongdoings of one Delilah ‘Lila’ Rossi .”
Adrien breathed a sigh of relief when Marinette released his left arm, only to freeze when he felt her grab his right forearm with one hand, and his right hand with the other. Her fingers were so close to his ring, his heart was racing and he could feel Plagg stiffen in panic as well. “ Stop. Marinette. I’m begging you. This isn’t the way to deal with things, this will only make everything worse! ”
Marinette’s attention was torn from Lila to him and Adrien felt like he couldn’t breathe, he was sweating, and he felt like anything he did or said next would give him away as Chat Noir but he had to do something. Master Fu trusted him with this. Ladybug probably trusted him with this too, sure Fu hadn’t told him why she was gone but maybe this was a test or something? Maybe this wasn’t as bad as it seemed. Hopefully this wasn’t as serious as Fu made it out to be, because if it was he was not doing good. At all. “ Worse? No Agreste, I’m making things better. I’m protecting the people of Paris one last time from all of you, but especially from Rossi. Her lies harm people, her very being brings harm upon anyone she meets, and will continue to do so if someone doesn’t stop her. If someone doesn’t protect them from her. Since you couldn’t have a spine and keep one simple promise to be in this together with me, I have become what I needed to be and what Paris temporarily needs me to be just for today. I am its protector, I am The Protector.”
The pressure around his arm increased and he could do nothing but gasp in pain and try to pull away even as he was forced on his knees due to the pain. It was at this point that Lila got up and edged back, seeming to finally understand the danger she was in. The danger she unleashed. Marinette, no, the akuma, the Protector didn’t even spare her a glance as she added more and more pressure. The pain had distracted him from what she was doing at the same time, taking his ring. He hadn’t even noticed when finally a SNAP! rung out in the classroom and a scream could be heard. It took him a while to realize it was his own till he was cradling his limp arm to his chest and crying. He could hear the others shouting and screaming, he couldn’t see their faces through his tears. “ Here’s another lie Delilah told, and it’s fairly recent, but Ladybug and Chat Noir will not be coming to the rescue this time.”
Adrien tried to pull himself together when he no longer felt the weight of his ring, a thought struck him and it only strengthened his resolve to pull himself together despite the pain. There was no doubt that The Protector took his ring, he just hoped his classmates were more focused on his arm breaking than the ring being taken since he was almost certain that the akuma was doing nothing to hide what she took. Which meant if the class wasn’t looking at him they possibly saw Plagg being sucked back into the ring. He heard more than saw the gasps and the panic that followed, but what confused him was the sound of glass breaking-a window most likely-and the presence of the akuma leaving from beside him. He felt people swarm him and ask him questions but all he could focus on was the pain.
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He wiped the tears that the memory brought and stood back up to resume his walk. Eventually he found himself at the Tom & Sabine Boulangerie and he just had to go inside, he had to apologize to Tom and Sabine, he had to. It was his fault their daughter was missing. So he took in a deep breath and made his way up to their apartment, it took him longer to gather courage to knock but he did eventually do that. When the door was opened, the pit of guilt in stomach grew at the sight of Tom Dupain who looked like he hadn’t gotten a good night’s rest in weeks, nor had he taken the time shave, his beard taking Adrien back to when he had been akumatized into Papa Garou. Beside him, the always put-together Sabine Cheng had bags under her eyes, she was wearing what was obviously one of Tom’s t-shirts and it looked like she hadn’t brushed her hair that morning. He took one look at them and broke down in a fresh wave of tears.
“I’m so sorry!”
Next Chapter
#revolt of the akuma#ml salt fic#miraculous ladybug#miraculous tales of ladybug and chat noir#adrien agreste#adrien salt#adrien agreste salt#him realizing that he made mistakes#slight adrien redemption#he's working on it#marinette dupain cheng#akumanette#akuma marinette#akuma class#lila rossi salt#lila rossi exposed#tom dupain#sabine cheng#emilie agreste#gabriel agreste#gabriel agreste salt#nathalie sancoeur#hawkmoth#mayura#chat noir#mlb plagg#plagg#angst#hurt#hurt no comfort folks
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She’s My Kind Of Girl
AN: this started as an idea of the lovely @bskarsgardlove92‘s and i kind of just rolled with it! i hope you enjoy, and as always, feedback is welcomed and appreciated!
synopsis: Alex dresses in drag to attend a costume party with his girl, as one half of Swedish superband, ABBA! Absolute fluff ensues!
“Though you may hail from a long and distinguished line of inexplicably talented thespians, I know you well enough by now to recognize when you're not telling me something.”
Alexander passed a serviette over the front of his mouth and swallowed back a bite of salmon, cocking an eyebrow in amusement. “I beg your pardon?”
She sipped deeply from her glass of chilled wine, and cocked her head to the side, eyeing him. “Don’t play coy with me, Alex. You were on the line with Eija when I came into the kitchen. That glint in your eyes says so much and then nothing at all in equal measure.”
“One could almost say that you know me too well, kid.”
"Almost," She grinned around the delicate rim of her glass. “Now spill it, Skarsgård.”
Alexander leaned back against the oak chair, dangling a long arm over the back of it. “Dad’s seventieth birthday is next month. Eija’s hosting a party back home for him, and she wants us to be there.”
She thought fondly of Alexander’s father often; he had been one of the first faces of his family that she’d had the privilege of meeting when her and Alexander had started taking things a little more seriously. Where her own father figure had been virtually non-existent most of the time, she was blessed to have such a wonderful father-in-law in Stellan. He was such an integral part of their lives that the thought of not returning home to Sweden to celebrate him was almost too much to bear.
“I’ll look into flights tomorrow morning. What kind of get together is it? I would imagine knowing Eija as I do, that she's got something wonderful up her sleeve?”
Alexander's lips curved up into a devilish smirk and he cocked his head to the side.
“She's hosting a costume party.”
There it was…
“God, I can only imagine the ideas that beautiful mind of yours has already dreamed up.”
Alexander tipped the rest of his wine into his mouth, his blue eyes glittering mischievously in the low light from the dining room lamp. “Hm, you know how much dad loves ABBA…”
It was the precise tone of his voice that she reckoned prepared her for what was coming next. “Oh boy,” She giggled under her breath.
“Well, I propose that we go as Björn and Agnetha.”
She mulled the thought of it over in her head, and then an idea swam into her mind's eye that caused a smirk similar to her other half's to tug the edges of her lips skyward. “I'll do it on one condition, my love.”
His eyebrow lifted in intrigue. “I'm all ears.”
“I will do it if I can be the Björn to your Agnetha.”
His laughter- utterly loud and booming, filled every square space of their home with a warm and joyous sound. When it subsided, he leveled his gaze with hers and she noticed immediately, the blush that had risen to the apples his cheeks. After a moment, he nodded his head finitely. “You've got yourself a deal, kid.”
*
She glanced at the watch face beneath the bell sleeve of her silver, sequined blouse, and sighed heavily. “C'mon dancing queen, we haven’t got all night…” Alexander emerged from the bathroom door a moment later, a blonde, perfectly styled wig fell below the cups of a filled-out bra.
“I must say,” He reached toward her to tousle the brunette wig atop of her head, a smirk in place on his features. “Silver and forest green sequins do wonders for you, kid. Or should I say- Björn.”
“Oh hush,” She giggled. “I can hardly imagine the outfit you’ve conjured up for this evening." They gazed at each other in silence for a moment before she gestured to her vanity. "Shall I do your makeup?”
Alexander shifted from foot to foot. “If you wouldn't mind,” He murmured.
She stood on tiptoes to twirl strands of blonde hair around her finger. “It would be an honour, Agnetha.”
She followed Alexander to the vanity next to their bay window and turned on the lamp so that it illuminated his face perfectly. Pulling up a photo of Agnetha on her phone for reference, she set to work. “She sometimes likes to wear bold colours on her eyes, so that’s the look we’re going for this evening.” She started the process by moisturizing and priming his face, opting out of a foundation, and using a tinted moisturizer instead. “Alright, close your eyes for me, my love.” He did as he was told, and she allowed herself a moment to admire how breathtaking he truly was. After a couple of seconds of searching, she found a palette that was made up of different shades of purple and applied a muted lavender hue over both of his lids. Wanting to go a little darker, she blended a violet shade into his creases and stood back to admire her handiwork. Nearly done, she decided to go dramatic on the eyeliner, but when she reached for her favourite tube of mascara, Alexander faltered.
“I don’t need… falsies?”
She blanched. “Alex, I don’t know if you’ve ever noticed, but your natural eyelashes are beautiful,” She took his face in her hands and gently turned it to the side, gesturing to his left eye. “Look how long and healthy they are. I think I have some cheap lashes lying around somewhere if you really want them, but I think a few coats of mascara will do wonderfully.”
He reached up to press his lips to the underside of her jaw, shaking his head. “No, I trust you.”
She kissed the tip of his nose and got back to work. “You’ve done magnificent so far. I’m just about finished…” She glanced around for her mauve pink lipstick, held a hand beneath his chin and applied the colour to his lips. “Alright, rub your lips together for me please.” She watched him do as she asked. “Now pat them together, as if you were smacking them.” She waited. “Alright, for the finishing touch,” She reached for her bottle of setting spray, told him to close his eyes, and let the mist settle over his face. “You my love, are finished and ready for the evening.
He leaned forward to inspect her handiwork closely, and a large smile grew on his face. “You’ve done a wonderful job, kid.”
She nodded towards the washroom door. “Go on then, Chiquitita. The party awaits.”
“You and your ABBA puns, huh?” Alexander smirked, before closing the door behind him.
“Oh, you ain’t seen nothing yet. Just wait until your brothers get a hold of us.” She snickered. While she waited for Alexander to wrap up, she began lacing up the white platform boots she had found weeks ago. They added an extra four inches to her height, and she fought back a giggle as she sipped the last remnants of her pre-game cocktail.
Ten minutes elapsed, and she began to feel the familiar tug of inebriation deep in her belly. Suddenly, Alexander cleared his throat. “I’m coming out. Are you ready?”
“I’ve literally never been more ready in my life.” She deadpanned.
Alexander emerged from the washroom, and all she could do was gape at his figure as he stood poised in the doorway. Lord knows where, but he had managed to find a hot pink jumpsuit with a silver-sequined trim around the neckline and a heart-shaped cutout that showed off his adorable, trim bellybutton perfectly. He donned glossy, white boots on his feet that only added to his seemingly immense height. “Well, what do you think?” He asked, dubiously.
She swallowed hard. “I have lots of feelings about it actually… but our car is here, and your father awaits.” She held her arm out for him to take. “Shall we go, my beautiful Agnetha?”
Alexander accepted her arm gratefully and bent down to press a kiss to her cheek. “Lead the way, Björn.”
“What are your brothers going as?” She asked, as they slid into the backseat of the sedan.
“Uh, I think Bill and his family said that they were going as Disney characters. Gustaf and Valter are going as Top Gun’s Maverick and Goose, respectively,” He paused so that they could share a laugh at that. “And I’m not sure yet what Sam and his family are doing.”
She scratched contemptuously at the back of her head. “I hate this wig already.”
Alexander snorted into his drink. “But it looks so good on you… the way it kind of frames your face in that ‘the 70’s called and they want their hair back’ kind of way…”
She rolled her eyes. “It’s the heart-shaped bellybutton window for me.”
Alexander guffawed loudly. “Oh really? We're playing that game? Well then, it’s the extra four or five inches that you’re wearing but you still don’t reach past my sternum, for me.”
They rounded the corner to Stellan’s street, and laughter bubbled up out of her mouth like a song. “It’s the fact that you look better than most women I know, for me.” This sent Alexander into such a frenzy that she paid the driver herself. “Alright, Agnetha, I have a dream and it involves you exiting this vehicle tonight,” She nudged his back to get him out of the open car door. “Let's go, girlfriend.” They ambled up the pathway hand-in-hand and stood giggling in front of Stellan’s door. Roaring laughter and bits and pieces of broken Swedish and English conversation could be heard from inside as her finger hovered above the doorbell. “You ready?”
Alexander nodded, finitely. “Go on then,”
She rang the bell and waited for what felt like years, before the door flung open and Eija greeted them in a demure, feline costume. Her face was disbelieving at first, but then her painted-on whiskers twitched; she cracked and laughter roared from her belly in happy waves. When she could speak again, she shook her head gleefully. “Come in, come in you two. What an honour to have one half of the world’s greatest band with us!” She ushered them into Stellan’s lively home, the scent of a freshly-cooked feast hung tantalizing in the air, and made her mouth water hungrily. “Just wait until papa sees you!” She clapped her hands merrily, pulling them into the adjacent living room.
Their entrance caused mass hysteria; pure laugher on a level that was hard to fathom. Gustaf approached them first, a pair of sunglasses sat perched atop his head, and he was sporting a mustache. Clad in a pair of army-green coveralls, the badge on his chest simply read, ‘Gus.’ “I have to say that when Alex first told me what the two of you were planning, this was not what I had in mind…” He scratched absentmindedly at the bridge of his nose, his smile wry. “But you two absolutely knocked it out of the park. Well done, brother.” He belly laughed, and wrapped an arm around Alex’s shoulders, and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “I can’t wait until dad sees you.”
Valter appeared before them next, clad in the exact same costume as Gustaf accept that his badge read, ‘Maverick’, and he had on over his blue eyes, a pair of mirrored Rayban aviators. “Mamma Mia, Agnetha! Such lovely bosoms you have!”
A hand appeared out of the abyss and sneaked its way toward Alexander’s ample breasts, but the younger Skarsgård's plan was foiled before he could get there with Alexander slapping it away just in the nick of time. “Touch them and die, Valter.” He beamed, devilishly.
Valter's grin was sheepish. “My apologies Agnetha- Björn.”
She tossed a wink his way. “Turns out she can take care of herself just fine.”
“Alright, alright, where are they?” Stellan’s achingly familiar voice- unmistakable anywhere, boomed throughout the room. When he caught sight of them, he stood stock-still and tilted his head back, his rolling laughter loud and genuine. It caused pleasant goosebumps to rise in waves over her arms, and she couldn’t help but laugh along with him. “This is it,” He announced. “I couldn’t dare to ask for another thing after this. My eldest boy and his love coming in drag as Agnetha and Björn? This is seventy, folks!” He closed the distance between them to wrap them both in a crushing bear hug. When he pulled away, his eyes were glittering brightly beneath the low light of the many lamps scattered around the living room. “How unbelievably wonderful it is to see you both here.” He kissed both of their cheeks over again, his smile wide and utterly contagious. “On a totally unrelated note- that you and Björn here have similar situations happening… ehm, up top, is really quite miraculous, isn’t it?”
Alexander rolled his azure eyes, laughing loudly at that. “Happy birthday, dad.”
“And what a wonderful birthday it turned out to be. Come, come. We have much to discuss.”
The night carried on in much the same fashion; drinks were had (and spilt), laughter was shared, pictures were taken- and all the while, she just felt unimaginably blessed to be a part of it all. Closer towards the evening’s finish, she felt Alexander’s hand tighten around her own, and she knew then, without a shadow of a doubt that this was her family. This was where she belonged.
#literal ICONS#who doesn't love little ABBA??#alexander skarsgard#alexander skarsgard x reader#alexander skarsgard imagine#alexander skarsgard oneshot#alexander skarsgard drabble#drabble#writing#fluff#alex sstuff
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Designated Command Strips
Erik Stevens x Black PlusSized Reader
Another #supersizedfic mini short. For @goddessofthundathighs. Inspired by this video. Enjoy!
Two story homes lined the street with different varieties of cars sitting in their driveways. Children played in the yard with each other as some littered into the street. Moving aside once they seen your car about to pass through. You waved back to the two little girls that happened to be Erik’s neighbors, smiling at how cute they were.
Speaking of Erik, he stood on the porch as you pulled up. He took a step forward into the first wooden step with both hands in the pockets of his sweats. The dri-fit shirt he wore hugged his torso, showing off those toned arms of his. His smile appeared once you stepped from the car, locking your car doors behind you out of habit.
“Waiting outside for me to pull up?” You smirked, adjusting your overnight bag on your shoulder. “Oh you like me, like me.” He chuckled, catching your hand as you attempted to pass him to get in the house.
You went back to him as he pulled you closer, watching the grin he had widen. “Damn right. I be missing my baby.” He lifted your chin gently with his finger, pressing two kisses to your lips before a real one. Ugh, he has the softest kisses. “Fine ass.. come on.” His head motioned to the door before he led your half-dazed body into the house.
The aroma is what woke you from your trance. “Ooo, what’s that smell?” You looked to the kitchen, slipping your hand from his to follow your nose. The soft thud of your bag hitting the seat of the dining room chair was barely heard beneath his laugh. Reaching the stove, you peeked into the oven. Moaning at the smell that hit you full force. “My favorite? Maybe I should taste test it..”
He chuckled, moving you from the stove. Ignoring your faux pout, no matter how cute it was. “Dinner will be done soon, baby. But first...” He brought you to the dining room again, moving aside to reveal the surprise on the table. A large shopping bag from some new black owned luxury store you’d brought up a few times over the past weeks. It was lime green with a darker green ribbon as straps. The name of the brand was written in a pretty, gold calligraphy font across the front.
You squinted at the gift, wondering what could be inside the large bag. He read the look with ease since you’d always do it when he surprised you with a gift. Dismissing when you told him that he was going to spoil you rotten. “I know, I know. But I looked into it and I thought you’d be fly in it.” He picked up the bag, holding it out to you. Excited to see your reaction.
You couldn’t fight the smile that tainted your lips, opening the bag and moving the gift paper that hid the purchases inside. “Hold on.. Erik!” The squeal surprised him, making him laugh once you did a little dance. “I love it! How did you know I wanted this set? And you got them in different colors? With matching bags?” You held up the outfits, putting them against you to look at it.
He smiled, feeling warm inside from your happiness. You always made him feel warm and fuzzy which might explain why he liked being around you. “I might have got me some too so we can match.” His hand rubbed the back of his neck as he gave a chuckle. You laughed, walking up to him once you sat your outfits aside.
“Thank you, baby.” You wrapped your arms around him, looking up to him through your lashes. His hands instinctively went to your backside as he mumbled a ‘anything for my baby’. “How long you been hiding this? Was it here last night?”
He nodded to that, licking his lips. “It came in yesterday morning, but I packed it last night before you came through. I was going to give it to you then but we got a little occupied.” You almost hummed at the flashback. “..then I thought about after breakfast, but you rushed outta here so fast.”
You let out a cackle. “Because you was about to have me late for work with your breakfast. I barely made it on time.” Making your way back to the gift on the table, you heard him reply ‘breakfast is the most important meal of the day’. “Of course it is, Stevens.. Imma go put these up and be back down in five.”
He nodded again, holding up five fingers. “Five minutes, thickems. You get to six and imma be up there to get you myself.” You grinned, assuring him that you’d be down in the time you’d given. He disappeared into the kitchen after another quick peck to your lips.
You jogged up the steps, making it down the hallway to his room. Nudging the door open with your foot, your duffel bag went to its designated spot on the gaming chair in the corner of the room. The air smelled faintly of him and you took a deep breath. That man always smelt good.
Your bare feet padded across the floor to his closet. Deciding to sit your bag at the top of the walk in. Without looking, you flipped on the light and took another look into the bag to admire the fabric of the outfits. A smile graced your lips for what felt like the hundredth time before you looked up. You halted, looking up to the sight before you.
"Erik Stevens. I know good and damn well.." Your laughter erupted from the bedroom, catching his attention. He perked at the sound of your voice before he left the food he was checking on to come to you. Moments later he entered into the room with a confused raise of his brow. Standing on your tip toes, you reached up to grab your wig from its new designated command strip. "With your hats? Really?"
He leaned against the door frame, shrugging shyly. "I take care of my hats, and I didn't mind keeping yours safe with my collection."
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Taglist
@sisterwifeudaku @kumkaniudaku @wawakanda-btch @theunsweetenedtruth @marvelmaree @chaneajoyyy @wakanda-inspired @princesskillmonger @liviy00 @xsweetdellzx @muse-of-mbaku @killmongerdispussy @thehomierobbstark @princessstevens @killmongerthiskoochie @cecereads209 @beautifullmelodyxx @soufcakmistress @melodyofmbaku
#black panther#erik stevens#black reader#erik x reader#black panther killmonger#erik killmonger#killmonger imagine#oneshot#supersizedfic
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Dad Snipe AU (because I can)
Okay, listen. Just...just give me a second to explain myself, okay? Great, thanks.
So I love parental All Might stories, and stories where Aizawa becomes a dadzawa for his problem child (which leads to Present Mic also becoming a paternal figure for Izuku, which is a blessed idea), and all of those. But you know what I love even more?
If all of that happens, but Izuku’s dad is actually Snipe. Yes, Snipe.
Let me explain the story in my head, because it’s a doozy.
-So, to start, let me explain how I got the idea. It’s simple, really- canon hasn’t given me a reason not to get the idea. I mean, we’ve yet to find out Snipe’s real name, so it’s fair game to call him Hisashi Midoriya until Horikoshi himself rips this idea out of my cold, hopefully not dead hands.
-We also never see his face, and the dreadlocks could either 1. Be a wig or 2. Just be his hair, but the blue-ish shade is what caused the darker coloration for Izuku’s hair. Who knows anymore, the world these heroes live in is a really weird one.
-Now, Snipe may not breathe fire, but shhh. Maybe Inko was lying to the doctor or something, because if she said, “My husband can control the trajectory of any and all of the bullets he shoots”, well, that could’ve given away the identity of her husband! Maybe the Midoriya family doesn’t want to broadcast who Hisashi is.
-Also, having a father with such a Quirk could explain why Izuku is Quirkless (or, in this case, potentially ‘Quirkless’). It’s not like Inko would just let little Izuku play with a gun to see if he could shoot as well as his dad, or anything! So boom, the little joint test is enough, brush it aside, Dad!Snipe explanation over.
Got it? Great! Now, onto the bullshit story idea I came up with, or as I like to call it:
How Snipe Accidentally Ghosted his Family for a Decade, because He is Too Goddamn Dumb Sometimes.
Buckle up folks, and hold your horses a little tighter, because we’re going for a ride.
-So Snipe goes to Texas when Izuku is just a small boy, just barely a toddler. He’s really serious about his whole cowboy aesthetic, and pulls an All Might by working abroad for what he plans to be a few years, but might become five or six if he finds a good agency to work with in the meanwhile.
-Lo and behold, he does!! Nice, nice, Snipe relays the message to his dear wife Inko, lets her know that he’ll be gone for a while- but it’s okay, he plans to call her every chance he gets, make sure she’s doing well with their little boy, and life will be good.
-Things, uh...don’t go as planned.
-Snipe blames it all on a snake. A goddamn snake that decided to hide in his goddamn boot. There was a snake in his boot, what was he expected to do?
Probably not throwing his phone at the thing, breaking it, but uh...Snipe panicked. A lot.
-No problem, right? He’s a Pro Hero, he makes plenty of money, he can just get a new phone, plug in his old number, and all of that stuff. Easy as can be.
-Haha...no.
-Because Snipe is a fool. A fool who can’t remember any of his passwords for his phone, or the answers to any backup questions.
-He’s a great hero, he’s excellent at marksmanship...but the man just can’t remember these things to save his life.
-He can’t even remember his wife’s phone number to call her about it (and beg for the passwords because he just can not manage to recall them)
-Snipe is just glad that Inko is the one who set up his bank accounts so he’d automatically send money to their shared account, or else he’d feel awful.
-Figuring that the best thing to do in this situation is to just keep on truckin’ along, Snipe continues working at the Texas agency until it’s time for him to head back home.
But the fun doesn’t stop here, because…
-By the time Snipe yeehaws his way back to Japan, that man realizes that he can’t even recall what his address was.
-He ends up working at Yuuei, because he was aimlessly wandering around, trying to find Musutafu.
-By the time Nedzu finds him, he’s so embarrassed that he just...can’t bring himself to admit that he forgot literally everything he needed to get back to his house.
-The conversation for the job starts a little like this…
Nedzu: Why were you wandering around Yuuei for over forty minutes?
Snipe, unwilling to admit that he couldn’t remember if he had to go east or west to reach his house: I saw a little doggie. Very cute.
Nedzu: That was probably me, but I digress.
(For the record, Snipe had to go south to start his route home…)
-Some good news: After working at Yuuei for a few years, he finally sees his boy again!!
-Some bad news: it's the USJ attack
-Snipe bursts into the USJ, sees that green haired silhouette and just knows it is his boy, even if it’s been somewhere around a decade since he saw his little sprout and his boy is now stronger and taller.
Snipe, seeing Shigaraki about to hit his child: Villain, you just yeed your last haw
Snipe: shoots Shigaraki in the hand.
-After USJ, we have more fun, with some lovely dialogue I came up with like:
Snipe, sitting with Aizawa: So, hypothetically of course, if I was to say something like, I don’t know… ‘You’re in charge of my long lost child, who I couldn’t get in contact with ‘cause I couldn’t remember mah wife’s phone number’...how would you recommend starting the conversation with him?
Aizawa, mummified, tired, and already realizing that this child is the problem childTM: I need a drink.
Snipe, a fool: Are...are ya sure I should start off with that?
-Despite this totally hypothetical conversation, it isn’t until finals that Snipe brings it up.
-Nedzu pits Snipe against Izuku and Todoroki, and it’s beautiful.
-Snipe pulls an ‘I am your father’ moment like in Star Wars, both Izuku and Todoroki promptly flip their shit.
Snipe: Izuku, I am your father.
Izuku: I thought you were dead!
Todoroki: I thought you were All Might’s child!
-Needless to say, the fight ends quickly, because Izuku goes a little feral.
Izuku, pinning Snipe to the ground: What excuse do you have for ghosting mom for years, huh?
Snipe, sobbing: I forgot my phone number!
-Izuku drags Snipe back to the house once finals are over.
-Inko...isn’t even surprised when she hears what happened.
-She just sighs and goes, “Do I need to tattoo my number onto you, Hisashi?”
-Snipe wonders if it’s worth the potential security risk, he doesn’t want her getting tracked down and hurt after all.
-There’s a long conversation about microchipping Snipe, so if he disappears again, Izuku can just hunt him down and drag him back home again.
-And voila! Snipe is reunited with his family, the dad fluff can commence.
Snipe: I’mma give him a gun.
Inko, tired: At least he’ll be hurting others instead of himself for once.
-1-A is horrified.
Their precious green bean, wielding a gun?!?!?!?
-It’s made worse when he’s a natural at it, just going feral and having fun with his dad.
-Finally, because I promised more parental figures along with actual, biological Snipe, please consider:
-All Might getting upset because Snipe is stealing ‘his boy’.
Aizawa, trying to be reasonable: All Might, Midoriya is literally Snipe’s child.
All Might, petulantly: But...but he’s my boy.
-For extra humor, make Aizawa also feel like the problem child is his problem child for extra parental jealousy.
-Need more chaos??? Yamada thought he and Aizawa were adopting Izuku for some reason.
Don’t ask how Yamada came to this conclusion, but he is heartbroken when he finds out his almost completed adoption forms were for nothing.
Yamada, sadly: I thought Inko was his older sister...and he didn’t even have a dad!
-Just...Izuku having a dumbass dad and the other potential dads being put off by the realization that Snipe, Snipe, gets actual Dad Rights but somehow lost contact for like...10 entire years.
-Okay rant over, bye.
#bnha au#parental snipe#parental all might#dadzawa#dadmic#parental everyone tbh#snipe is izuku's dad#bnhaven#i went feral and have no regrets
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Reaction to Dying Hair For Comeback: Twice x Reader
Request: twice reaction to the 10th member who is also their gf dying her hair for the first time for a comeback?
Nayeon
You had never dyed your hair in the entirety of being in Twice. Your fans strongly preferred you keep your hair natural. They loved the dark brown wavy hair you had and always told you that. So when you had to bleach it blonde then dye it lavender, you were beyond worried. Nayeon promised you fans would love it and that if you didn’t like it you could always dye it back after promotions.
“You’ll look beautiful Jagiya, don’t worry they’ll love it as much as I do”
Jeongyeon
Jeongyeon decided to come with you when you went to get your hair dyed for the first time for a comeback. You thought it was for support and it mostly was, but there was a small part of her that just wanted to take pictures of you in foils. She’d send a picture of your foil covered hair to the Twice group chat saying how you looked like an alien.
“Can I throw you over my shoulder and pretend I stole you from Area 51?”
Momo
Momo knew how much you valued your curls. In your contract you personally told the company that you wouldn’t sign unless you had control over your curly hair. So when you come back to the dorm with a dusty rose colored mane, she was shocked. She couldn’t believe how beautiful and different it was from your old black hair. She just couldn’t look away.
“Oh my god Y/N! It looks so good come closer so I can see!!”
Sana
For this comeback you were given a choice of what color your hair would be. However, during the first year of Twice you promised Sana that she could choose your hair color when it came time to dye it. Years passed and you never had to, fans simply loved your natural hair color. So when Sana was able to pick out a color she couldn’t decide. She’d sit for hours scrolling through fan edits of your hair to see which ones she liked best.
“How about pink? No purple! Red! Blonde?....No I got it! SILVER!!!”
Jihyo
Jihyo knew you were not excited about getting your hair dyed for comeback. For the past few years you’ve gotten away with wigs and extensions to substitute for dying your hair. But this time the company insisted you get the real deal. Jihyo would be there telling you it wasn’t as bad as seemed.
“It’ll be fine just relax”
Mina
Mina hasn’t dyed her hair as much as her other members for sure. So she understands why you’re worried about possible hair loss or damage. When you come back to the dorm in tears because the ends of your hair are partially fried, she wouldn’t hesitate to help you fix it. She’d patiently trim away the little split ends and angel knotted hairs. Thus, leaving you with a slightly shorter but very cute hairstyle.
“See my love? It’s good as new.”
Dahyun
Dahyun has dyed her hair so many times everyone wonders how she still has hair, let alone a scalp. Your girlfriend knows how easily it can be to damage your long curly hair. This was the reason why you never really dyed your hair as well. When your company told you you were to go platinum blonde you damn near passed out. However Dahyun came to your rescue and said you two should switch hair colors. She claimed she’d look better platinum blonde and you a honey brown. You were extremely grateful she was willing to do such a thing.
“I told you I always have your back jagi”
Chaeyoung
Chaeyoung has tried all types of cuts and colors with her hair. So she had no trouble helping you find cute styles that complemented your new color. She didn’t hesitate to do this when you came to her in tears because you hated your new dark purple locks. She’d look at you and grow shy when you smiled at her in satisfaction.
“Yahhh don’t look at me like this. You’re too pretty!”
Tzuyu
Tzuyu hasn’t had her hair dyed many times and when she did it was always more of the darker colors. She didn’t exactly know what to tell you when you came to her panicked because you had to dye your hair sky blue for this comeback. She’d tell you it’s be ok even though she was unsure of her own advice. However when you came to her the next day, sky blue tresses flowing down your back, she was relieved. She’d make you pose so she could take picture of you to post.
“Pose for me! You look so pretty Y/N-ah!!”
#kpop imagines#kpop scenarios#kpop fluff#twice fluff#twice scenarios#twice imagine#twice reactions#twice nayeon#twice jeongyeon#twice momo#twice sana#twice jihyo#twice mina#twice dahyun#twice chaeyoung#twice tzuyu
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I feel bad for makin yall wait for pt 5 of scum of the earth so here's a little peek to hold you over 💕
You were tougher than you looked.
Naoya thought you would crack pretty quick, forty minutes, an hour tops. But there you were across the room, laughing along with his aunts, his little cousins running around and stopping by your side every so often. He watched you lean down and let them whisper something in your ear, taking a long drink when you smiled and looked back at them, telling them something in response. The scene would've usually tugged at his heart strings, made him want to put a baby in you and start a family of your own, but right now it made him sick. You shouldn't be over there: you should be by his side, giggling at his jokes and leaning in when he'd whisper gossip to you. You should've been next to him so he could wrap his arm around you, pull your chair closer to his, maybe move his hand down to your ass and squeeze. He could practically hear you whine in protest, pushing on his chest and pouting, complaining about him being so handsy when people were around–
"Are you listening?"
Naoya sighed, tipping back his glass of whiskey before glancing at the woman beside him. She was the daughter of some big-wig his father had invited, blonde and thin, her spray tan a bit darker than it should be. He was pretty sure her tits were fake too, but he wasn't certain.
"No, not really. What did you say?" She scoffed, leaning towards him, her breasts pressing against the fabric of her chest. Wasn't her outfit a bit too revealing for a black tie event? You were dressed much better than her, more mature, stunning–
"I was saying that I was going to go to Belize next month but Daddy is telling me that I can't go until I act more 'responsible' but like I've already found a super cute bikini and I invited all my friends–"
God, he didn't care, he didn't fucking care. This was quite possibly the last thing he wanted to be doing, listening to some ditzy twig talk about her stupid vacation. He wanted to be beside you, wanted to talk to you. He was still staring at you, wondering if you considered this a vacation before you got mad at him, if this was something you'd want to do again when you weren't so angry, once you'd forgiven him. Maybe he could take you on a trip to Bora Bora to apologize, lavish you with gifts and enough attention to make you sick. He'd love to see you in a slutty lil swimsuit, something small and tight that squeezed you just right. Maybe he could get a private beach so he could keep you away from the lingering gazes of other men. Plus, he could always take your swimsuit off himself on that isolated shore and–
"Oh my God, you're not listening!" Naoya sighed and rolled his eyes, standing up and giving the girl a fake smile.
"Sorry, hun. Gotta go take a piss. Go find somebody else to talk to."
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Gillian Anderson Sunday Times Interview Transcript
There is a moment in the second series of Netflix’s Sex Education when Gillian Anderson’s character, Jean, sighs a deep resigned sigh as she is lying in bed one morning and spots the messy pile of small change her latest lover, Jakob, has left on her bedside table.
It’s my favourite moment of this uplifting show about the tangled love lives of British secondary school teens that manages to appeal to both parents and adolescents alike. Anderson plays the outrageously inappropriate sex therapist Jean Milburn, a stylish, confident single mother.
The sight of those coins will resonate with any woman of Anderson’s age and stage of life (she is 51), whatever kind of relationship they are in.These pennies, a symbol of how untidy life gets and the constant imposing presence of someone else even when they aren’t in the room, represent for Jean the gradual realisation that the excitement of a new love soon becomes tempered by the boring bits.
For those of us who have been married a while, the coins are perhaps the equivalent of the dull domesticity of picking up the shirt always dropped on the floor or the wet towels you always end up refolding after your teens have left them near but not on the bathroom radiator. Anderson and I chat about this a lot when we meet to talk about the second series of Sex Education, given that we are both working mothers in our early fifties.
The actress, who is most recognised for her role as Scully in The X-Files, is twice divorced and has three children, Piper, 25, Oscar, 13, Felix, 11, all of whom live with her in London. Her partner of three years is the playwright, screenwriter and creator of The Crown, Peter Morgan, himself a father of five.
In person Anderson is chatty and witty, aloof and friendly at the same time, a peculiarly feline trait that I often encounter in driven, confident women who have reached midlife. Tell me about Jakob and the coins, I say, what is it like starting a new relationship in your forties, compared with your twenties?
“It’s very different,” she says. “I think you are more fully formed, especially if you have taken time out of previous relationships to find yourself.
“Early on after the break-up of my last relationship and before my current one, somebody encouraged me to write a list of needs and wants in a future partner. Needs are non-negotiable. If you go on a date with someone and realise they won’t meet, say, three of those needs, then they are not the person for you. It may last as a relationship, but it won’t make you happy. Wants are easier, not more frivolous per se, but easier to deliver. Doing this made it clear to me going forward who would be good for me in a relationship.
“And there is a new creativity nowadays to what a relationship should look like, too. For instance, my partner and I don’t live together. If we did, that would be the end of us. It works so well as it is, it feels so special when we do come together. And when I am with my kids, I can be completely there for them. It’s exciting. We choose when to be together. There is nothing locking us in, nothing that brings up that fear of ‘Oh gosh, I can’t leave because what will happen to the house, how will we separate?’. I start to miss the person I want to be with, which is a lovely feeling. And it is so huge for me to be able to see a pair of trousers left lying on the floor at my partner’s house and to step over them and not feel it is my job to do something about it!”
I’ve never interviewed a celebrity who, even though she is wearing heels (little pointy white boots) is still shorter than me (I’m barely 5ft 2in), but Anderson is tiny. This is only important to note, I think, because her roles since Dana Scully have been so big and so powerful: Blanche in A Street Car Named Desire and Margo Channing in All About Eve on stage; Lady Mountbatten in the film Viceroy’s House; Stella Gibson in The Fall; and now Jean Milburn.
I wonder if she is perhaps filed under “tricky, unpredictable, charismatic, spiky, intelligent and fearless woman” in the casting director’s directory of suitable roles. After all, her next part is going to be Margaret Thatcher (in The Crown). And when she arrives for our chat in the closed Chinese restaurant of a central London hotel, she apologises for the sticky mess in her hair caused by wearing the Iron Lady’s wig the previous day. Her nails are manicured pale pink like Thatcher’s too.
“She had a condition that meant two fingers of each hand would curl around — Reagan had it too — so it affected her gestures and she would wear lots of rings and bracelets to distract. But she kept her nails long, which is how I have to keep them now,” Anderson says. She is fascinated by Thatcher, concluding, after studying her childhood, that “nobody ever existed like her. She was unique.”
Anderson might be unique herself, and despite giving many interviews (three last year), I see that she has been smart and managed to remain a bit of an enigma. When I listen back to the tape, she is very good at general talk, but not so hot on specifics.
She spent her early years in north London with her American parents before going back to Michigan for high school. She was a teenage punk plagued by panic attacks that have continued to trouble her over the years, particularly during her intense work schedule on The X-Files. She went into therapy at 14, then became world famous at 25, and had her first child at 26 (the same age her parents had her, before going on to have her two siblings 12 years later). She split up with her first husband three years after that.
In 2011 she endured the death of her brother, Aaron, aged 30, from a brain tumour, which she rarely discusses. She is an impressive activist, campaigning for a variety of issues including women’s rights in Afghanistan, Burma, South Africa, Uganda and South America. There are 10 charities she has worked with listed on her website, and in 2017 she co-wrote We: A Manifesto for Women Everywhere, a well-received book of advice for women. She has also designed two small fashion collections for Winser London, which include some gorgeous silky blouses. I found I had three in my wardrobe without knowing they were hers.
She is a Bafta nominee and Golden Globe winner, and Neil Gaiman, who cast her in the TV series of his book American Gods, said: “She is in this strange place where everything exists in the shadow of Scully, yet she is bigger and better than that.”
When I listen to her 2003 Desert Island Discs, though, she tells a darker story. In between Radiohead and Jeff Buckley, she talks of troubled mental health that she has worked ferociously hard to improve. She has been in therapy for more than 30 years.
Anderson tells me she has been teetotal since her early twenties and despite some mild probing on my part is reluctant to elaborate on exactly why. I understand. She has soon-to-be teenage children who don’t need to know about any of the “dangerous things” she has done, as she described them to Sue Lawley.
I’m fascinated by Anderson and can see why she was the perfect person to cast as the quirky, funny therapist Jean in Sex Education, which really hits its stride in the second series. While still a comedy at heart, the subject matter tackled by its fantastic young cast is revelatory. Sex Education is one of the first productions to hire an intimacy director to make the young actors feel comfortable and process what they were doing, often naked in front of multiple cameras, to be happy and authentic about what they did and feel they had input.
Anal sex, drugs, masturbation, STDs and nudity feature graphically in this show, which I would advise all parents and teens to watch, though not at the same time — only Jean would do that. When I interview Anderson I have yet to see the finale, but Jean’s journey is that of many women in the middle of their lives after divorce with teenage children.
“There’s a grief, isn’t there?” Anderson says as we discuss the menopause. “I haven’t quite got to the place where I don’t have my eggs, but your body is going to mourn that, isn’t it? I remember the very last time I breastfed and it was heartbreaking. I wept and wept through it.
“And I know people who describe particularly difficult periods at home without realising they are describing their mothers going through the menopause.
“We’re all at the point where we’re kicking off just as our teenage children are kicking off. I was looking at some home videos of Piper when she was three and wondering where all my patience came from in my twenties. I have forgotten that version of me.”
She says she doesn’t feel quite ready for her two boys to become teenagers, but sometimes Jean slips into their conversations at home.
“I find myself saying something embarrassing at the dinner table and I don’t know if it is me or if Jean has given me the licence to say that. Maybe I have always been that way, though. Some of what she shares is too much information. I wouldn’t share it, even with my eldest in her twenties. But my son came home after having a sex education class and I completely clammed up. I couldn’t bring myself to continue the conversation. I just let it die. I really don’t know why.”
Over the years Anderson has tried to schedule her roles to fit in with her children, but like many of us who have devoted much of our time to careers, she still lives with nagging doubts about doing the right thing.
How did you deal with a small child while filming back-to-back episodes of The X-Files for 16 hours a day, I ask, especially when you decided to go it alone as a mum. “I missed her, really so much. Those moments when you see a small child in the street when you are apart from yours and the conversation just drops, it’s hard. She was on a plane a lot when she was six and we moved production to the West Coast. I justified that, I mean it was selfish on my part. I just could not imagine being away from her for long periods of time.
“I became obsessed with schedules, and I still am because of that time. I would plan and colour-code everything, make a series of propositions about schedules so I could see her, and the show would either reject or accept them.
“With the boys the longest I have been away from them was during the two X-Files movies, but again I would be travelling constantly to see them.”
I ask her if she regrets working so hard. “Not yet,” she says. “I have a feeling that will come. I definitely feel like on a level I do regret Piper flying back [to her dad, when she was six] as an unaccompanied minor.” We sit in silence for a bit, mulling over the thought.
“But there’s another version of my life where I could have worked less, had a smaller life and been more present as a parent. I could have chosen that, that could happen. But sometimes it feels like why would you, if you keep getting work as an actor, doing things you dreamt of doing and being offered incredible roles at this age, while paying the bills, and you still get to see them a huge percentage of the time and they witness a mother enjoying her work?”
She has talked to her daughter about it, but says Piper is not yet at the place where the lightbulb goes on and she realises Mum was still up at 6am the days she faced 16 hours of work to be with her, or those days we all have when we are still on the edge of the sports pitch, despite the demands of a job.
But Anderson is an all-or-nothing personality. She tells me she is either on a healthy eating plan, meditating and working out or hiding like a hermit at home eating chocolate. She has been plagued by frozen shoulders all her life, leading to months of pain-filled insomnia and cortisone injections.
“My default position is sedentary,” she tells me when I ask about her meditating and yoga right now. “I like being in bed in my PJs. When I’m working, like right now, I seem to exist mostly on chocolate. Then I go through a stage when I feel dreadful and I review it all and start a food plan, torture myself counting shots of milk and all that.
“In the cycle of all or nothing, I am in the nothing phase right now. It has gone on for quite some time, but I think I am better to be around. I was having lunch with my daughter and we were just, you know, eating, not asking for stuff without oils or sugar, and she said, ‘It’s so much better when you are not in that place.’ ”
I’ve enjoyed my hour with Anderson; she is likeable and thoughtful. I sort of hope we’ll meet again one day. It’s unlikely she’ll read the interview; she has said before that she rarely does. So what do I think as I walk away from her? I’m impressed by her curious nature and, obviously, her sense of style, a blueprint for us all at this stage of life, but mostly I’m inspired by her strong sense of self. It has obviously taken quite a bit of work for her to get there, but from what I can see, it has been worth it.
@GillianA
Sex Education series 2 is available on Netflix from Friday
Hair: James Rowe at Bryant Artists. Make-up: Mary Greenwell at Premier Hair and Make-up. Nails: Saffron Goddard at Saint Luke using Sisley Hand Care
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i could make you want me (pt.2)
Fandom: Persona 5
Pairing: Akira/Akechi
Tags: #persona 5 royal spoilers, #pining, #crossdressing, #kissing, #light roleplay, #akechi rank 3 spoilers
Words: 2.6k
Summary: It's Akechi's turn and oh boy, nothing could have prepared Akira for this.
Notes: Part 1
i could make you want me
Never has Akira imagined Akechi’s promise on dressing him up would look like this. The fabric is firm to the touch, midnight black leather that hugs his body tightly in the right places and leaves little to the imagination. He’s almost put a run in the stockings, their feeling on his skin completely foreign but not unpleasant. At least the pressure of gloves is something familiar, even though they reach just a little above his elbows.
He tugs at them, making sure they’re staying in place. Now only the wig is left.
“Do I even want to know where you got that from?” he asks, lowering his head so he can put on the wig. It fits a little too well, from the colour to how unruly curls stick to all sides, and Akira tries to imagine Akechi standing in front of a wig shop and thinking of Akira’s hair. It makes his toes curl.
“I can’t just simply give out my contacts,” Akechi says. He’s sitting on Akira’s bed (deliberately, Akira wants to add because he did offer the couch first), one leg over the other, a finger against his chin like he’s inspecting the new exotic exhibit in a museum rather than looking at a dude crossdressing. “Oh, and don’t forget the footwear. Only that makes the outfit complete, you know.”
Akira feels the corners of his mouth twitch. Who is he to decline a request like that. Doesn’t mean he can’t make up his own rules though. So he turns around, and bends over to pick them up.
He hears Akechi’s sharp inhale. That’s 1:0 for Akira. He’d probably be happier about it if he wasn’t busy wondering how Akechi got his shoe size right.
“Okay, done.” Akira turns around, showing off the whole outfit. “Not what I expected when you said you’d dress me up as you, but I’m not complaining.” His hands run down his skirt, straightening the little creases until it falls like a smooth, black waterfall over his hips. Maybe next time they need the girls wrapping someone around their finger in the Metaverse for infiltration purposes, he should volunteer and see how far he can come.
“You…” Akechi’s voice is low, bringing Akira’s thoughts back to the present. “You handle this far better than I expected.”
“You thought I’d get embarrassed?” Akira cocks his head to one side, unable to stop his lips crooking into a grin. He moves closer to the bed, carefully swaying his hips left and right. He shouldn’t have bothered, for Akechi’s eyes are glued to his feet and the knee-high boots he’s wearing. Slowly his hand falls from his face, and instead his arms come up across his chest, hands trying to hold onto the fabric of his jacket so tight his knuckles turn white.
“I surely did not expect you to handle heels that well. Do you have experience?”
Now it’s Akira’s momentum staggering. He stops right in front of Akechi and imagines sinking down on his knees, pushing Akechi’s legs apart so they both can finally focus on anything different than interrogating each other and use their mouths for something more fun.
“I am skilled in a lot of things,” he says, slightly bending down so he’s at eye level with the detective.
Akechi’s eyes slowly roam from his feet over his chest up to his face. “Are you now.” He doesn’t sound impressed.
“Want me to show you?”
Akechi’s expression remains passive for a moment; only furrows his eyebrows. Akira now knows it means he’s mentally putting every possible outcome into neat categories to find out which is the best. In the end, he settles on a polished TV smile, blinding and unbearably fake. “There is something missing though.”
Akira raises an eyebrow. “I feel nothing that you’ll say will add to this outfit.”
“Then you sure won’t mind me proving my point.” He doesn’t wait for a reply and rummages in his jacket pockets for a moment, pulling out a little cylinder object. It glints golden in the dim light, the bottom part a luscious red.
All Akira can manage is, “Oh.”
“If you’ll excuse me.” Akechi catches Akira’s jaw, digging his thumb into his chin and what would Akira give to have him gloveless. The cap comes off with a soft pop. Akira can’t help but shudder when the soft tip of the lipstick meets his lips without Akechi batting an eyelash. There’s no hesitation, only intense concentration on his part as he applies the colour on Akira, the crimson red just a shade darker than the gloves he’s wearing in the Metaverse.
He summons all his self-restrain to not run his tongue over his lips—an almost impossible task with Akechi’s eyes focused on his mouth.
“Almost done.” Akechi’s voice is barely a whisper, thick with something that Akira wishes is arousal. “Just ... a little off here.” His gloved thumb drags over the lowest part of Akira’s bottom lip, correcting where the lipstick has smudged onto his skin, and something in Akira dies inside, making breathing too hard; restraining himself too cruel.
“There we go.” Akechi’s fingers disappear, but Akira’s skin still burns where they touched him. “Perfect.”
And then he slants his mouth down over Akira’s, a hand raking through his ink-black hair and finding home at the back of his nape where they close into a fist to hold him right there. Not that Akira had any intention of moving away. He allows Akechi to devour his mouth, tasting his teeth and tongue and everything inside until they’re both breathless and gasping for air—two boys drowning in pleasure with only their lips against each other as the rescue rope.
“Detective,” Akira breathes against Akechi’s red lips, looking up into hazel eyes with pupils blown wide black with pleasure. “I see frequenting with a delinquent has made you quite bold. Do you think you can just do whatever you want and go unpunished?”
A little huff escapes his lips, warming Akira’s cheeks. “I didn’t make you wear this because I’m into roleplay, Kurusu,” he says, quickly uncrossing his legs and spreading them when Akira nudges them open with his knee so he can step in between.
“A little too late for that, don’t you think?” He catches Akechi’s hands when they make their way up Akira’s legs and under the hem of his skirt, firmly pressing against his thighs. If his lips look this pretty smudged red, Akira is confident he himself isn’t looking bad either.
Akechi rolls his eyes, his hands going slack in Akira’s grip. “Fine. Officer. What would you have me do?” His voice is dry enough to turn the plant inside Akira’s room crisp and dead.
Akira gives his wrist a little squeeze. “Now we’re talking.”
**
“I can’t believe you make me do this.”
Akira really shouldn’t get such a kick out of hearing the embarrassment in Akechi’s voice, but he’s learnt a few new things about himself today and what is one tiny kink more on a list he hopes he’ll find time to explore.
“And don’t forget to wipe behind the counter as well,” Akira says, his legs crossed at his ankles with a magazine on his thighs as he slouches in a booth, watching Akechi clean Leblanc. Sure, this could have gone somewhere completely different, but Akira relishes in the sight of sleeves pushed up to elbows and sweat glistening on a slender neck. “Boss is really strict when it comes to that place.”
Akechi throws him a nasty glare, looking ready to strangle Akira with his bare hands. Still not in the kinky way.
They’ll get there someday.
#philliamwrites#ao3#fanfiction#persona 5#p5#persona 5 royal#p5r#shuake#goro akechi#akira kurusu#ren amamiya#persona 5 joker#p5 joker
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Home
||Gigi Goode Imagine||
Pairing: Gigi Goode (Samuel Steven Geggie) x fem!Reader
Word Count: 1,483
Warnings: None
Requested: Yes! Thank you @itscaramelcotton for the request 💕 I hope you like it
“i absolutely adore Gigi, and loved your imagine on her! If it’s not tọo much to ask, could i ask for another imagine with her that’s yery flirty/fluffy. The reader and Gigi obviously have a crush on each other and one of the other season 12 queens cuts the bullshit between them? Only of course if you’re not too busy, it’s so wonderful that you take requests, thank you love:)”
_______
The distance had honestly killed you. When Sam had gone away to film drag race as his Gigi Goode persona, you felt lonelier than you’ve ever felt before in your life. You couldn’t call or text, you couldn’t write a letter or even go out to see him. Each day he was gone you felt like you were slowly being eaten from the inside out. You loved Sam… more than you’d care to admit, and definitely more than you’d ever admit to him as his friend. Ah yes, unrequited love at its finest. But it didn’t bother you so much, just as long as you were able to keep him in your life, you’d happily stay just friends. Now, this isn’t to say that you’re some sort of love sick puppy pining over him, because that was not the case at all… Sam just understood you in a way that nobody else has, and that has made all the difference. You respected him for who he was, and that was why you cared so much about him. Never in your friendship had you ever felt uncomfortable or disrespected. Yes, the two of you fought on occasion due to differences of opinion, like the right wig to wear for one of his looks or what the best dessert to order at Applebees, but you both easily caved for the other and apologized.
This is where the difference lied between what you felt for him. You and Sam had been friends for years, since the two of you were in high school. The bond you had was unbreakable, hell, you even followed him out to California from your hometown in Illinois. Being around Sam made you feel content with life, and that was why you loved him.
Being alone in your shared L.A. apartment was quickly becoming easier as the weeks drew on, causing your nerves from his absence to dissipate, and your excitement for his return to take over. Then finally it came… the day you were able to see him again. Luckily for you, since the show was filmed in the same city you and Sam lived in, the producers at least allowed you to pick him up from the hotel him and the other queens were staying at… well, after a bit of forceful persuasion on your part. After all, why waste money on an uber when you could easily go and get him?
Your body was shaking in anticipation the entire drive to the hotel, glad that you were finally able to see Sam again after the course of so many weeks alone. As soon as you pulled up to the building, seeing him waiting outside the doors with all of his bags, your mind and heart went into overdrive. You only just put your car into park before flinging your door open and lunging yourself at his tall and lean frame.
“Sam!” You exclaimed as you encased your arms around his neck. Taking a deep breath in, his intoxicating scent sent a warm feeling throughout your body. He smelled the same as you remembered, musky with strong hints of freshly laundered cotton. It was refreshing to say the least, especially after having spent so much time apart. You heard a deep and shocked gasp from the boy before his arms firmly wrapped themselves around your midsection and gently braced your back, thankfully anchoring you in place since the stretch of your shorter frame reaching up to him on your tippy toes was quite the awkward position to stay in by yourself. “Y/N” he breathed out, sounding somewhat relieved, tightening his grip even more than before, all while burrowing his face into the side of your neck. The embrace felt different from every other time you and Sam had hugged. As his breath lightly tickled your neck you couldn’t help but to shiver, the embrace feeling more intimate than anything you’ve felt before.
A firm and audible cough from beside you quickly made you realize the spectacle you must have created, so you almost as quickly let go of Sam and took a step back. Sheepishly looking towards the source you saw the smirking face of a larger man with skin the colour of hot cocoa. “Well, well, well, Miss Goode… you didn’t tell us you had a girlfriend!” He teased, making Sam chuckle softly. You looked up at him to see his reaction to it all, and this was quite honestly the first time you’d ever seen that look cross his face… a look of uncertainty… but an uncertainty for what? Clearing his throat he then began to speak, “Widow, this is my friend Y/N” the darker man chuckled, smirk still on his face, as he extended his hand out towards you. You took it and gave it a shake as he introduced himself as Widow Von'Du, another contestant on the show.
After the somewhat awkward introductions you all started to talk about basically anything, but when Widow’s uber pulled up to take him to the airport it signaled that you and Sam should probably go too. Before Window got into the car he turned to the two of you standing there “Gigi, if you don’t snatch that girl up like a thousand dolla’ weave someone else will… ain’t nothing worse than having the one thing you want most snatched right from you.” A smirk once again graced his dark chocolate features before he got into the car and it drove off.
The two of you stood there in a somewhat stunned silence, neither knowing what to say after hearing Widow’s parting words. Sam was the first to break the silence, “I think you’d be worth more than $1000…” his soft mumbling made you turn to look at him, but he was already staring at you. With a soft sigh he reached his hand out and smoothed down the hair in your head, a comforting gesture that Sam regularly did to you when he was reminiscing. “What do you mean?” You asked him, his and Widow’s words sending a flurry through your mind. His hand stopped as it reached your neck, fingers still laced withing your locks. Your eyes locked with Sam’s as you both stood there, unmoving, for what felt like hours. It wasn’t until his hand on the side of your neck tugged you towards him, and his lips locked on yours that those hours turned back into seconds.
His lips were soft as they pressed against yours, his proper care and metrosexuality being the cause for this. It only took you a moment to register what was happening before you began to kiss him back, the feeling of his lips on yours was the best thing you had felt in all your life. When you both finally pulled away for air Sam once again began to smooth down your hair. “I missed you so much, Y/N.” he said, somewhat breathless, “I missed your smile, your laugh, the way your hair looks like after you accidentally fall asleep on the couch,” you couldn’t help but to smile at that, “I missed the way you would always burn the cookies you’d make, no matter how many times you tried.” You gently hit his lean chest as a small chuckle escaped from your lips, “That never stopped you from eating them regardless.” You quipped, causing an endearing smile to show on his face as he brought his hand that was previously in your hair to your cheek. The feel if his slightly calloused fingers against the soft skin of your cheek was a comforting contrast that made you smile. “Yeah, that’s because they were made by you.” He said as his thumb gently rubbed against your cheekbone, “Y/N, I don’t ever want to miss you like that again.” The determination in his voice made you gasp as you stared up at his handsome features. Everything about his words and the look in his eyes scream sincerity, making your heart flutter at the joy it was feeling.
“I feel the exact same way.” You said, voice only barely coming up above a whisper. The smile that grew on Sam’s face was one that you had never seen before. The sheer amount of joy and happiness held within it was truly something to behold.
He kiss you again. This time it felt somewhat more firm, and achingly more sweet than the last time. Even after he pulled away it felt you wanting more. “C'mon, let’s go home.” You said, a bit of a shit-eating grin on your face as you grabbed the man’s much larger hand in yours, lacing your fingers between his before leading him back towards your car. “I already am.” He said as he gave your hand a firm squeeze. The smiles gracing both of your faces never faltered, not even once… and you were 100% okay with that.
#miss gigi goode#gigi goode imagine#gigi goode smut#gigi goode#samuel steven geggie#drag race smut#rupauls drag race#drag queen#dragrace#rupauls drag race smut#rupaul season 12#rupaulsbestfriendrace#rupaul#widow von'du#cute imagine#imagines#imagine#smut writing#fluffy#fluff#request
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