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badaziraphaletakes · 2 days

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In which some poor innocent unsuspecting reader submitted an ask and I respond by throwing an entire textbook at them

Like seriously i won’t even be upset if no one reads this PhD dissertation, like actually what is wrong with me omg

The ask:

I want to start by saying I love this account and really appreciate the rebuttals I see here to some of the messed up stuff the fandom’s spit out over the past few years. That being said, the most recent post about “the creepiest take you’ve ever seen,” was one I disagreed with strongly. It’s entirely normal to enjoy watching media where characters have breakdowns. It is not a desire to see a person breakdown. It is a desire to watch a good story.

My response:

Hi and thank you for your kind words! (Also idk why there is this huge gap in the text here, sorry haha!) If it were a necessary part of the story, or a part of the story that made sense, I would agree. But it’s not necessary (esp not at this point in the story) and therefore wouldn’t be “good”, if we are defining good art as being emotional truthful, which I imagine is a pretty uncontroversial definition.

Side note: We already saw him have this exact shattering breakdown in Uz. So that renders most of what I am about to say (and arguably some of what you have said) somewhat moot. But I’m going to continue anyway because some of the points brought up here touch on issues that I think bear re-visiting often.

It’s cathartic, it’s engaging, and it helps people who’ve been through the same thing see themselves reflected. For example, I like watching someone on tv hit rock bottom with their addiction because I’ve been through that, and seeing them finally realize they have to work on recovery and actually do it is motivating and empowering.

I’m so sorry you’ve been through that. I haven’t (although I am estranged from an entire side of my family due to alcoholism and meth addiction, which is a whole fun thing), so I can’t comment on this too much.

But addiction is not the same as an ab*sive relationship. (I do have knowledge of those, both from life experience and from my previous job in ab*se research. I edited a newsletter about family violence research for several years.) Seeing a person suffering from addiction realize they want to work on recovery, and realize that the substance they are addicted to is messing up their life, can make sense. Especially if they're in a place where they're able to work on it and have the opportunity to try to change.

But seeing an ab*se survivor “realize they need to get away from their ab*ser because they’re evil and have a breakdown about it” doesn’t make sense, because being trapped in an absive situation is not about “motivation” or what they think about the abser or even, really, about "empowerment". (Side note that word is thrown a lot to delude women into thinking our capitalist system is working for us rather than oppressing us. But I digress.) It boils down to the fact that they are in danger if they leave. The situation is not within their control.

(This next part is not directed at you, but at the general readership, in case this is helpful discussion for anyone: A lot of addictions aren’t within people's control at all either. It depends very much on the drug we’re talking about, the health of the individual, the quantity and duration of the addiction, whether the person has access to the healthcare they need to be cured, and whether there’s a way for them to get free from the broader societal dysfunctions that led to them being trapped in this situation in the first place.)

Also, with addiction, people can absolutely get past that without losing their sense of self and their identity. If they go through that kind of crisis in the process of healing from addiction, I would argue that something is very wrong. (Not with them, but with the society around them). In a best-case scenario, a person suffering from addiction would have access to the kind of mental and physical healthcare and support system that lets you get free from that without a shattering breakdown or loss of sense of self.

Besides, not everyone who has an addiction has toxic beliefs about themselves or their own identity or other people, etc etc. (Babies who are born addicted come to mind, if we want to talk about the most extreme example.) So I find the idea that addiction is down to toxic beliefs about one's self very suspect. I would argue that 95% of the time, addiction happens because your life sucks. The mental health community is starting to have this conversation about depression and anxiety - Cognitive Behavioral Therapy to work on one's "limiting beliefs" and "destructive thought patterns" can only do so much to help you feel better when your whole life is shit anyway. And it can actually make it WORSE if the victim is made to believe that their depression is the fault of their "Faulty thoughts" rather than a reasonable reaction to a shitty situation. Not necessarily saying we should throw CBT out the window altogether, but I am saying that mental healthcare will be a LOT more effective when it learns to truly take the broader societal context into account. I suspect, I hope, we'll soon be having a simialr conversation around addiction.)

And that’s doubly the case for ab*se survivors. They’re not stuck in that situation because there’s something wrong with them that they need to fix. They’re stuck in that situation because there’s something wrong with the ab*ser.

Regardless of the victim’s personal worth as an individual, regardless of whether they’re a good person or what-have-you, they don’t deserve to be ab*sed.

(I'm just waiting to hear about how some therapist tells a victim to work on their "limiting belief" that they need to stay with their ab*ser in order not to be killed, and/or tells them that fearing their ab*ser will kill them is a "cognitive distortion", and tells them to stand up to their ab*ser and/or leave, and then the ab*ser kills them. But I digress.)

And the loss of self when separating from a toxic system that’s defined your whole life is a real thing some people go through. It’s not bad consider that Aziraphale could also go through that, or to want to see that experience reflected.

I want to be very clear that I don’t have the smallest objection to people wanting to see that in a show. But a. that’s not what the person was saying, and b. they were also saying it’s necessary. IT’S NOT. I can’t emphasize this enough.

Loss of self is the worst-case scenario for how something like that goes. Nothing good comes from that. That is a side effect of ab*se (because the ab*ser’s the one who says that “Everything you are is bound up in me and you’re nothing with me"), not an integral part of the process of getting away.

Trauma is not necessary for character growth.

The way these things should go is that the person is able to gradually and mindfully work through the beliefs that are poisoning them with the help of a therapist, trusted friends, etc.

I know what I’m talking about. I worked in trauma research for over seven years. Please trust me on this one.

And again, Aziraphale can’t “separate” from them anyway. There’s nowhere he can go where they won’t find him. So his beliefs are irrelevant to his situation. And if the show implies that his beliefs “need to change” as part of the earth being set free from heaven-hell’s tyranny, or that he “needs to change” in order to be free, I will be writing a strongly-worded letter to the creators.

But more importantly, *they didn’t just say giddy.* They also said apprehensive. Perhaps they’re apprehensive because they know it could be painful to watch. Or because they don’t want to see it handled poorly.

“Giddily apprehensive” sounds an awful lot like “excited” to me. I admit it is ambiguous, though, so I’ll give you that one. I maintain that the OP expressed themselves with an exceptional lack of grace, however. And they’d be FAR from the first person to want to see Aziraphale suffer because they are mad at him. I think I have good reason to believe that's what they're getting at here, given how many people in the poster's orbit say the same kinds of things and how many other things I've seen the OP say that are along those lines. I acknowledge I should have made that clearer in my original post.

They aren’t giving this advice (if one could call it that) to a human. They’re saying they’re excited to see a character breakdown. Character arcs like that are common and enticing for good reason.

I have yet to see a reason why I should believe that the things people say about Aziraphale are different than the things they say about people in real life.

I would point you to a couple lines down where you say yourself that we respond to characters the same way we respond to real people.

Personal growth ≠ character growth.

But what makes a good character is that they act like real people.

As an audience, character growth (even negative) is engaging.

Yes, absolutely. But we can absolutely do character growth in a way that does not spread harmful mindsets or misinformation about what ab*se and recovery from ab*se looks like. In fact, I would argue that character growth can’t happen if the writer doesn’t write the characters to behave in a way that is realistic to real life.

Characters follow the same rules, though. We respond to characters the same way we respond to real people. The same general rules of personal development and so forth apply.

The idea that “Aziraphale realizes his ab*sers are terrible” is something he needs to do for his “personal development” is highly objectionable. He doesn’t need to grow in this area. He just needs his ab*sers to leave him alone. Side note: We should give him the benefit of the doubt and assume he already does think they’re terrible and only stays with them because he is terrified. Even if this hadn’t been strongly and frequently hinted at in every episode going all the way back to S1E1 - almost every scene, in fact - we should still give him the benefit of the doubt.

Also, even if we say, for the sake of argument, that Aziraphale was a terrible, awful, horrible person -I know you’re not saying that, to be clear- even then, he still wouldn’t “need to realize his absers are terrible” or “have a complete breakdown” or “lose himself” in order to grow. That's not how growth works. The best growth happens when people are at peace and safe and loved. Not frightened and confused and alone. He never chose them in the first place, he never wanted to be on their side. If he were left alone, he would just spend the rest of eternity reading his books and eating Eccles cakes and snuggling with his former-demon. That’s who he really is. There’s nothing about him as a person that needs to change. I agree a story where a person loses their sense of self after escaping from an absive system would be interesting to watch, but I maintain that it does not make sense for the context of this particular story. And such a story would NEED to make clear that the person wasn’t bad or wrong for deriving some part of their sense of self from the ab*ser and that they shouldn’t have had to have a catastrophic breakdown in order to develop their own sense of self. No one should have to go through that.

It’s not the same thing as asking for personal growth from a real human being.

Good characters do not operate according to different emotional and psychological rules than we do, though. If they did, we wouldn’t have millions of people sobbing about how real Aziraphale and Crowley feel to them. We would be the biggest dodos in the world if we were reacting this way to paper dolls 😄

Comparing the desire to see a character go through a dramatic storyline like that (and to come out of it strong and shining) to fundamentalist rhetoric is… just total bullshit.

You said this blog has been a good place for you and I want it to continue to be that way for you. So I want to give you a chance to revisit this part and see if you can say something more constructive. Because I've gotta admit, this really made me upset and I can't let it go without saying something. It’s not cool to call someone’s commentary “bullshit” like this.

I heard the line “we must die to ourselves” many, many times from my high-control religion. It is a classic cult line. Hence why so many cults have "burial and rebirth" rituals, make people change their names, etc.

I am not just making up a comparison. This is a real phenomenon. Controlling ab*sers are the ones who’ve given us this idea that “death of the self” is character growth. It’s not. Character growth happens in spite of those excruciating emotional crises, not because of them.

Growing as a person is supposed to feel good.

Also - Again, they said he “needs” to do it.

And they didn’t say anything about Aziraphale “coming out strong and shining”. You added that in. I think it's wonderful that you want to see that for him (so do I) but that’s not what this person was saying.

If they'd said that, I wouldn't object to it at all. But they didn't. That part was left out. Which I think may be very telling in itself.

There are a myriad of reasons someone could have that desire, including having gone through something similar themselves.

Having gone through something similar doesn’t necessarily mean it makes sense for another character. It also doesn’t mean it’s necessary. And having been through something that went a certain way does NOT mean that it happening that way makes sense for someone else.

Deconstruction from a religious upbringing is different from leaving an ab*sive relationship

Aziraphale doesn’t have religious trauma. (I’m not going to talk much about religious trauma and deconstruction here, because it’s outside the scope of this blog, largely because - as attested by no less an authority than Neil Himself - Good Omens is not about religion. But I’ll say a little bit.)

Heaven and hell are not a “religion” in his world - they’re real. His fear of hell (and of heaven) is absolutely, one hundred percent, completely legitimate and appropriate, and NOT something he should be “reasoned” out of. Saying otherwise gives “your ab*ser isn’t actually that evil and scary”. But regardless, in either scenario, that kind of traumatic personal crisis is not a necessary part of the healing process. My heart aches for all the people whose deconstruction process was emotionally shattering. But what makes it ache even more is how for so many of them, the takeaway is somehow that that kind of crisis is necessary - rather than "dear god, i hope no one else ever has to go through that kind of hideous experience to get away from their shitty religion", which surely is what the takeaway should be (assuming there even is a lesson to be learned at all from an experience like that, which is doubtful) - and they go on to demand it of other survivors and gatekeep against people who haven't gone through the exact same thing they did in the process of getting away.

How, HOW did we get to the point where so many people’s deconstruction has been such a fucked-up, scarring experience that we think it’s inevitable for deconstruction to be that way????? I grieve.

I know the idea of killing one’s old self is inherently wrong to many people.

It’s not about whether it’s wrong. If that's valid for someone and they get where they need to go - you do you. It’s about the fact that it’s painful and it’s unnecessary to the process of growth.

Furthermore, it is the kind of thing ab*sers WANT to see happen to their victims when they leave. They want victims to think that they have to have that kind of crisis if they want to leave them. Because then they’re less likely to leave. When we encourage that kind of thinking, we are playing directly into their hands.

What should happen is that the victim should be given the opportunity to realize that all along there was much more to them than their ab*ser.

I don’t personally desire to watch Aziraphale do that, especially because there are so many wonderful aspects of the Angel he’s been since the beginning

Agreed.

But fwiw, this is giving a faint whiff of perfect victim syndrome. Even if he were an asshole, he still deserves to just have his ab*sers leave him alone, not to have some kind of shattering, soul-crushing emotional breakdown. They will always, always be worse than him.

but it’s not wrong to want to see that. People do go through it, and their stories are incredibly compelling.

I don’t disagree. For me it’s rather about the place this is coming from. OP was saying it’s necessary. There’s a difference between wanting to see a show address this issue overall because it’s interesting, and demanding that a specific character go through it because you think it’s necessary or that their process of leaving and healing won't be legitimate (or whatever word we wanna use) if it doesn't happen. And, as you said, it doesn’t make sense for Aziraphale. If the character is an asshole, I’d be able to see it a little more (although again, I still very much question the entire idea in the first place) But not for him. I find anyone’s thinking it “makes sense” for him highly questionable.

I know Aziraphale is much more than a character to many people

Speaking as a (very, very, very slightly, lol) professional writer and actor - every character should be “more than a character”, if they’re well-written. They should feel real if the writer and/or actor has done their job well. I like NG's line that "If you write someone who is utterly and completely themselves, you get people coming up to you and going 'Oh my God, you wrote my life!'

a desire to watch him go through a psychological breakdown is not some poorly concealed desire to watch real people go through that.

It may or may not be. I agree it isn't always.

In this person’s case, though, I very much did get concerning vibes.

(As an ab*se survivor, you start to know the vibe of victim-blamers after awhile.)

Regardless, though, the way we respond to characters is the way we respond to people in real life. Story is a primary vehicle through which people learn how to interact with one another and their environment. If it wasn’t, discussing media along these lines would be pointless, and I'd just spend all my time talking about how good David Tennant looks in those tight pants 😁 Or, probably, I would take up a different hobby altogether.

I wouldn’t have wasted my time starting this blog if the things people say about this story and especially about Aziraphale didn’t have real-world applications (not to mention making a lot of ab*se survivors feel very unsafe in the fandom - before we turned off anonymous asks, I got an average of two messages a day from ab*se survivors and other oppressed people telling them how this blog has made them feel so much safer in the fandom) - and if their views about the characters didn’t mirror the kinds of things they’d say about people in real life. (All the anti-Aziraphale autiphobic takes come to mind.) I flatter myself I have enough judgment that those takes wouldn't have troubled me so deeply if they weren't reflective of real-world societal problems and indicative of problematic attitudes in the people who right them.

In this case, the wording is identical to the kinds of problematic things people say about real-life victims/survivors. Yes, the person may not actually consciously want (or want at all) to see real-life ab*se victims/survivors suffer. But I absolutely, one hundred per cent guarantee you that anyone saying this has some major problematic biases/assumptions they need to work on that are contributing to how ab*se survivors are maligned, degraded, and oppressed in our society. (I never want to see Disabled people suffer, but if I say ableist things, I’m contributing to it whether I mean to or not. I may not want to see women suffer, I am a woman, well more or less anyway lol, and I've identified as a feminist my entire adult life, but nevertheles there have certainly been times in the past when I've said sexist things. It's something all of us will always have to be vigilant against in ourselves. I suspect at this point I'm preaching to the choir, because you do not strike me at all as a bigoted or ignorant person, but I figured I'd re-iterate all that again anyway, because screaming it through a megaphone as often as possible is what this blog is for lol.)

And what’s worse, they are spreading that rhetoric. I’ll be damned if I’ll let it go by without saying something.

Hope this makes sense and cleared some things up.

With love and respect,

Mod X.

#good omens #goodomens #aziraphale #good omens 2 #badaziraphaletakes #goodomens2 #ineffable husbands #cw: abuse #cw: trauma #cw: religious trauma

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incandescent-creativity · 1 year

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Also banish the idea that copy/pasting the same ask to multiple writeblrs is bad

If you scroll through a tag of your favorite trope and find five different works, all of them tagged with the same thing, you can find five different writers and ask them the same thing.

I know we’re all creatives and we all value originality and being unique, but sometimes coming up with a different ask for every inbox is too tiring. I promise it’s okay to write something that’ll work for everybody and send it out in a blast.

#writeblr #this post brought to you by me doing this exact same thing #and remembering an ask I got recently that was like #prefacing that it was copy pasted???#when in reality I saw it being answered by my circle of mutuals #and went ‘omg same hat! same ask!’#and started mentally comparing our answers #it was GREAT #anyway send more asks. send the same asks. who cares.

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fingertipsmp3 · 1 month

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Full disclosure I do not care if someone copies me. I quite literally do not give a shit. Maybe it’s just because I’m 28 and getting mad about someone “copying” you is high school shit, maybe it’s genuinely not a big deal, I don’t know. I could run into someone who’s wearing the same thing, head to toe, that I am and I would neither notice nor care

#this post brought to you by my friend…. apologising for buying the same model of fitbit that i have?????????#like excuse me but what in the goddamn hell are you talking about #we are BOTH 28 years old. we have not just been beamed back to secondary school #even if we had; i doubt i would’ve given a shit THEN??#it’s a fucking fitbit. it’s not like you’ve tried to xerox my entire style. and even if you did i would not care #frankly if someone walked into this room wearing the exact same thing i’m wearing (grey cardigan bought at tesco ten years ago; dark blue #long sleeved t-shirt; fitbit; light grey sweatpants from the university i was at during 3rd year; brown socks; grey slippers)#my first thought would not be ‘omg they’ve copied me!’ it would be ‘they look comfortable’. or maybe ‘honestly they could do better’#maybe this is just because i got bullied for accidentally copying someone in secondary school (read: there were about 3 shops near us that #sold supplies; and they had very little in the way of choice so i COMPLETELY COINCIDENTALLY bought the same ballet shoes; pencil case #and tote bag that she already had)#but i get kind of violent when people either apologise for copying someone’s style/haircut/etc; or get mad that someone has done that #to them. like half the time it’s literally not intentional #i mean i can see it getting to be way too much but like #I DON’T CARE IF YOU OWN THE SAME FITBIT AS ME. in fact buy it #good christ i wish i’d bought this thing before i went through two terrible offbrand smartwatches that beeped at me while i was trying #to sleep and had ugly ass interfaces #personal

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maaarine · 5 months

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Men Just Don't Trust Women -- And It's A Huge Problem (Damon Young, Huffington Post, Mar 16 2015)

"Generally speaking, we (men) do not believe things when they're told to us by women.

Well, women other than our mothers or teachers or any other woman who happens to be an established authority figure.

Do we think women are pathological liars? No.

But, does it generally take longer for us to believe something if a woman tells it to us than it would if a man told us the exact same thing? Definitely!

This conversation is how, after five months of marriage, eight months of being engaged, and another year of whatever the hell we were doing before we got engaged, I realized I don't trust my wife.

When the concept of trust is brought up, it's usually framed in the context of actions; of what we think a person is capable of doing.

If you trust someone, it means you trust them not to cheat. Or steal. Or lie. Or smother you in your sleep.

By this measure, I definitely trust my wife. I trust the shit out of her.

I also trust her opinions about important things. I trusted that she'd make a great wife, and a trust that she'll be a great mother. And I trust that her manicotti won't kill me.

But you know what I don't really trust? What I've never actually trusted with any women I've been with? Her feelings.

If she approaches me pissed about something, my first reaction is "What's wrong?"

My typical second reaction? Before she even gets the opportunity to tell me what's wrong? "She's probably overreacting."

My typical third reaction? After she expresses what's wrong? "Ok. I hear what you're saying, and I'll help. But whatever you're upset about probably really isn't that serious."

I'm both smart and sane, so I don't actually say any of this aloud. But I am often thinking it.

Until she convinces me otherwise, I assume that her emotional reaction to a situation is disproportionate to my opinion of what level of emotional reaction the situation calls for.

Basically, if she's on eight, I assume the situation is really a six.

I'm speaking of my own relationship, but I know I'm not alone. (…)

There's an obvious parallel here with the way (many) men typically regard women's feelings and the way (many) Whites typically regard the feelings of non-Whites.

It seems like every other day I'm reading about a new poll or study showing that (many) Whites don't believe anything Black people say about anything race/racism-related until they see it with their own eyes.

Personal accounts and expressions of feelings are rationalized away; only "facts" that have been carefully vetted and verified by other Whites and certain "acceptable" Blacks are to be believed.

So how do we remedy this? And can it even be remedied? I don't know.

This distrust of women's feelings is so ingrained, so commonplace that I'm not even sure we (men) realize it exists."

#article #weaker sex

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love-belle · 1 year

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you're losing me !!!

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ in which she's losing him and he's not fighting for her either.

for when you lose someone you thought you'd spend your lifetime with. ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

social media au // max verstappen x fem!reader

sequel - i hope i never lose you ⋆·˚ ༘ *

warnings - language

author's note - my heart broke while writing this :// still, i hope u like it!! lmk if u want a part ii though i'll write it anyway. i love you, thank you for reading <3

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by lewishamilton, yourbestfriend, lilymhe and 2,628,926 others

yourusername when the flowers that we'd grown together died of thirst

9,926 comments

username MOTHER?????

username max :///

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≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

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maxverstappen1 pole position!!

very happy that we managed to put the best bits together for qualifying today! great work by everyone in the team redbullracing & hondaracingglobal 👏

looking forward to be racing again tomorrow 👌

7,972 comments

username NO Y/N????????

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-> username if me and my fiancée broke up i'd be the same

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≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

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f1newzzz formula one driver, max verstappen and singer/songwriter y/n y/l/n called it quits on their engagement, source close to the pair claimed. "they just wanted different things, their goals weren't aligning," the source explained, "marriage had seemed like the picture perfect ending at that time, when max had proposed, but in the long run, they both would've been very unhappy." though the exact reason for their split isn't very clear, many speculate that it was actually verstappen who ended their 11 month engagement. for more details, click on the link in our bio.

479 comments

username ur telling me that the woman who wrote "your past and mine are parallel lines, stars all aligned and they intertwined" about her man wanted "different things"??????? ok.

username max i just wanna talk ☺️☺️☺️

username no bc they were so in love everyone could see it

username she did not write "i don't wanna look at anything else now that i saw u" for u to write this fucking shit post

username "she's been my rock, my biggest supporter, my proudest fan and im very grateful for her, forever will be. i don't deserve her and i don't know what good i did to have her in my life but im very glad i do" NO WAY HE BROKE UP WITH HER

username idk man if u write 3+ albums about someone and stuff like "all that u ever wanted from me was sweet nothing" or "all's well that ends well to end up with u" the universe should it impossible for u to break up

username just a daily reminder that u should drink rat poison before falling in love bc it never works out

username the day i stopped believing in love

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yourusername you're losing me is finally yours. this is easily the most vulnerable, heartbreaking, raw and personal song that i have ever written and sharing it with you all is like sharing a big piece of myself. you are, at some point in their life, at a place where you're begging someone to love you the way you love them and i think that's a saddest thing someone can do, i've been there. this song is a messy compilation of my feelings, my thoughts and the enigma in my mind, i hope you like it. and finally, to that one person, thank you for being my forever. it was real.

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username I WOULDN'T MARRY ME EITHER A PATHOLOGICAL PEOPLE PLEASER WHO ONLY WANTED YOU TO SEE HER

username the way we went from "i'd marry u with paper rings" to "i wouldn't marry me either"

username DO SOMETHING BABE SAY SOMETHING

danielricciardo in awe of you and your talent 🤍🤍🤍🤍

-> yourusername danny i heart you

username no bc what really hurts is that throughout her albums and songs she's always been like "i can't wait to marry you!!!!" like from lover and paper rings and now it's hinted that max didn't wanna marry her and the way she's trying not to blame him by saying "i wouldn't marry me either"

-> username "she would've made such a lovely bride what a shame she's fucked in her head" to "i wouldn't marry me either"

username the way that some people were saying that they got married secretly and the whole time they were broken up and she still continued to act like everything was fine like my heart's hurting for her

username "thank you for being my forever, it was real" IM CRYING IH NY GKD

carmenmmundt the most talented person i know 🤍 i love you so much y/n/n

-> yourusername you own my heart 💌

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-> username "it would've been fun if u would've been the one"

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username thinking about "he didn't try at all though" vs. "do something babe say something"

#f1 x female reader #f1 x reader #fake instagram imagines #social media au #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x y/n #max verstappen x fem!reader #max verstappen blurb #max verstappen instagram au #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen imagines

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sinnersweets · 3 months

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DogDay x Reader Valentines Special

A/N: This is set a few months ahead of the actually story. I hope you all like this and Happy Valentines!

Today was Valentine's Day and Playcare did not slack with the decorations. I should’ve known since for Christmas they didn’t hold back on the decorations either. I laughed thinking back to that day. DogDay was so excited to give me his present. I looked down at my wrist and admired the handmade 'friendship' bracelet that he gave me. On the bracelet was his name and on his was my name; well actually it said 'Angel' which is my name for him so yeah, haha. I gave him a handmade bandana. He hasn’t taken it off since then. Well unless he needs to get cleaned then he’ll take it off but other than that nope.

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As I exited the cable car there was a lot, and I mean a lot of hearts scattered around the place. There was some on the lamp post, on the floor, everywhere! I noticed that around the statues of the Smiling Critters were streamers with hearts. There also seemed to be string hanging down from each of their hands, er, paws..feathers..whatever. It seemed like there was supposed to be something attached at the bottom for each of them but there wasn’t. I’d have to ask someone what it’s for.

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The counselor's office was decked out with streamers, candy, balloons the whole fixings. I set my stuff down in the lounge for us helpers and took out some Valentine Day cards that I made for the kids that were normally assigned to me and DogDay. As I was heading out, I spotted Sarah, Catnaps helper and asked her if she knew what the strings were for on the statues. “Hm? Oh, so like at the end of the day all the Smiling Critters are gonna go in the playhouse and us helpers must write some sappy crap for them on this big heart and attach it to the string. We do it allll the tiiiime. Oh, and like when we’re doing that, they’re in the playhouse doing the exact same thing. It’s dumb.” It didn’t sound dumb to me; it seemed sweet. I haven't been here as long as the other helpers, but I was looking forward to this. I thanked Sarah and made my way to the school.

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It looked like Cupid himself threw up everywhere. Along the walls there were hearts with the children’s names. I recognized a few of the names: Miley, Jason, Henry, Todd, and Damian. Damian was a good kid. To be honest, I’ve grown attached to all the kids. I know the day will come when they’ll get adopted, that’ll be the last I see of them. I shook my head and walked over to the art room. On my sheet for today it said that I’ll be stationed here along with DogDay.

As I was approaching the art room, I saw Craftycorn along with DogDay through the glass. Craftycorn was short enough to not need to hunch over, unlike DogDay. I opened the door and was immediately greeted by the kids. “Angel!” I laughed as I shut the door. DogDay chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck. Craftycorn waved hello and DogDay picked me up and hugged me like always. “Hiya Angel, we were just talking about you!” As he put me down, I got a good look at his face. He had a heart painted over his little brown patch. Cute. “Oh? And what were you all saying about me?” I set the bag of cards that I had on a table. “We said that we like having you around and that we hoped you brought us our gifts.” Damian spoke out. He had hearts painted on his cheeks. “I like being around you all as well and yes, I have your gifts.” I reached for the bag and started to hand out each of the handmade cards to the children that were assigned to me.

The kids from Craftycorn looked sad that her helper didn’t get them anything, luckily, I had extra to give out. “Look at you Angel, so thoughtful.” DogDay spoke out. “I made some cards for you guys as well but there put away in the counselor's office.” DogDay wagged his tail while hearing this. “Oh, wow Angel, you shouldn’t have.” I knew DogDay was just saying that playfully. Damien told me yesterday that DogDay was hoping for a card from me. “Now, let’s get you all dolled up like me Angel.” DogDay then grabbed me and set me down on a chair in front of him. I came to about his chest when he was sitting like an actual dog would. Craftycorn then walked over to me holding a paint brush with red at the end. I smiled and closed my eyes as she also painted a heart over my eye.

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My shift was ending soon which meant that it was time to attach a heart to the strings on the statues. I walked around and placed the cards that I made for each Smiling Critter into a little basket on the floor right below the string. After I placed all the cards I walked to right in front of Dogdays' statue and attached the giant heart onto the string. “I hope he likes it.” I said to no one in particular.

Soon a bell rang, and all the Smiling Critters came outside of the playhouse. I spotted DogDay and waved hello and he immediately waved hello back. All of them soon then stood right in front of their helpers and in unison said “Happy Valentines” while handing us a gift bag. “Happy Valentines Day Angel, I hope you like your gift.” I looked up and smiled. “Happy Valentines Day DogDay, I also hope you like your gift.” “I’d be happy with anything Angel; heck you can even give me a rock and I’ll be happy with just that!” He’s so silly. “Well sorry to disappoint but I did not get you a rock.”

I moved out of his way so he could see his letter on the heart. While he read my letter, I opened my gift bag. Inside was a picture of me and DogDay. He was holding me in his arms, and we were both showing off our painted faces. The picture frame was covered in little hearts and dog bones. I turned the picture around and saw a note attached. Before I could read it DogDay snatched me up and buried me into his soft, fluffy chest. “Thank you Angel! This letter means the world to me. I promise I’ll cherish it forever and ever!” I laughed at his reaction. Dogday then held me up to his face and moved me closer. His nose booped my nose. “I love you, Angel.” “I love you too, DogDay.”

#sinnersweets #poppy playtime #poppy playtime chapter 3 #dogday #x reader #dogday x reader

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saerayofsunshine · 7 months

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Tease me, baby

Summary: Gojo Satoru could be a complete tease, outside the bedroom and inside the bedroom. Sometimes, you played along with his antics, because why not? The reward would be sweet, or so he promised. But sometimes, it was just too much, leaving you hanging on the bridge of madness, leaving you with nothing but a flame of desire within you, a flame that only he could put out. Relationship: Gojo Satoru/Reader Rating: E Words: 2.6K Content Warning: consensual sex, edging, unprotected sex (don't be silly, protect the willie), breeding, orgasm denial (?), pet names (babygirl, baby, darling), fingering, etc. (let me know if I forgot something). Note: This is my first time writing smut, but I've caught up to the manga and man, I just had to do something with myself. This is pure porn with no plot at all, so ehe. Hopefully I haven't missed any typos or grammar. Reblogs, likes, and comments are appreciated! On the other hand, writing this has been an experience because how the fuck do write people long smut? How do they put words together and make it sexy at the same time? Like damn.

cross-posted on ao3

You had heard of the name Gojo Satoru way before the start of high school. How could you not? Every sorcerer had heard of that name at least once: the wielder of six eyes, the strongest jujutsu sorcerer, the honored one... his name brought a sense of dread to his enemies while awakening feelings of admiration within his comrades.

You had heard plenty of him but didn't encounter him until the start of jujutsu high, where you had the unfortunate (or fortunate?) chance of being his precious kohai.

Up to that point, you had heard about how playful, annoying, and teasing Gojo Satoru could be, but it was only after meeting him that you realized how much of a playful, annoying, and teasing bastard he could really be.

It had all started in high school. You hadn't questioned his antics during that time, simply letting him touch you whenever the opportunity called for it. Whether that be a slight brush of your hands as you passed something to him, or him brushing something across your shoulders, afterwards playing with your hair as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

Remembering such memories never failed to bring a smile onto your face.

Gojo Satoru had always been a tease, during his youth and his adolescence. Normally, you played along his little games, more than eager to tease him back and make him crack.

What had started with innocent touches during your youth had turned into seducing prods, demanding more, wanting more, seeking more out of your body. You were all too eager to deliver, but sometimes, sometimes, even you couldn’t keep up with his enthusiasm.

You loved the feel of his large hands groping your tits, squeezing, pulling, brushing against your hard nipples, before teasing them with that wicked tongue of his; loved to feel his digits on your clit, gently caressing and petting the little bud nonstop, as if he wasn’t preparing to make you scream afterwards. With a soft growl of his, he would reassure you every time you cried out for him, desperately asking him to just put it in, please, and you loved it even more when he delivered, his long fingers finally sliding home within your pussy, fingering the shit out of you and granting you that sweet release you had been longing from him.

You loved him and his little game of teasing, but sometimes, you hated him for this exact reason.

You hated him for making you crave him so much, for putting you through hell, just to get a taste of his fingers, his mouth, his cock. Anything he was willing to give, you would gladly accept.

It didn’t matter whether it was his fingers, his mouth or his cock, he would patiently wait, he would listen, as if you weren’t trashing within his hold, moaning, practically crying his name with every breath. “Satoru, ah, Satoru… please.”

Satoru was too good at ignoring his own desire, his cock practically leaking, begging to be touched, but he wouldn’t have it. Without you saying the words, at least. He adored the expression on your face whenever you felt desperate, the breathless sighs leaving your parted lips, along your twitching thighs that rose into his hand, sucking and clenching around his fingers, and the filthy sound your cunt made with every push and pull… it was all too addicting.

Even if he tried, Satoru couldn’t, wouldn’t stop, no matter how much you begged for mercy.

“Relax, I got you,” he murmured, leaning over your sweaty body, kissing you on the lips, effectively cutting of the moans. Their tongue danced around each other, moaning against each other’s mouth as Satoru massaged your right tit as his other hand maintained a fast pace within your poor cunt, feeling it twitch with every push and pull, brushing against that spot that had you gush against his digits. Desperate for more, you ache more into his palm, in hopes of him acknowledging your neglected clit.

Though, you knew that he wouldn’t show you any mercy, that bastard. The pleasure was just too much.

Sometimes, he was too much for you.

You wouldn't have it any other way.

Kissing your red cheeks and trailing kisses across your neck, Satoru kept the fast pace of his fingers, curling his fingers slightly up, brushing against that spongy spot once again, leaving you a moaning, twitching mess beneath him.

Hands grasping his hair, you held on tightly as he left soft pecks across your neck and shoulder blades.

“Ssh, it’s okay babygirl.” He chuckled at the whine that escaped you when he pulled his fingers out, switching his attention to the swollen bud, gently petting your clit before slapping it, before gently petting it once again. He stuffed you full of his fingers once again, continuing his fast pace within you. “Just take it like this. I know you can.”

Cocky little bastard. How can he be this collected when you felt his cock twitch against your thigh whenever you grinded on him? It was hard, tip swollen an angry red and leaking precum from all the grinding, but here he was, acting as if this wasn’t affecting him in the slightest, as if he wasn’t yearning to be inside you.

A long sigh left your lips as you clenched on his fingers that were assaulting your drenched pussy, blushing at the wet sounds it created. It would have been embarrassing any other day, the way you were soaking his palm, but today, you couldn’t care any less.

“Fuck… please, please give it to me.”

He growled underneath his breath, a crazed look on his face, smirking as he witnessed you desperately trashing within his hold. “Just tell me what you want, and I will give it to you,” he promised, placing loving kisses against your reddened cheeks. “You just have to say what you want, darling. Use your words. You can do that much, right? I haven’t fucked you dumb, right?” He asked, slowly pulling his fingers out to gently massage your clit, slapping it occasionally, chuckling as moans left your mouth. “What do you want me to do? Tell me what you want, I’m not a mind reader, baby.”

“Satoru…” you drawled out, meeting each other’s gaze. Satoru didn’t look away from you, daring you to back out, to not voice out your wants. You bit your lip, the uncomfortable ache within you making it unable to stand still. “Please, make me come. I want to come so badly. Please.”

That was all he needed to hear. If there was something that Satoru loved, it was you desperately begging him to make you come. He was sure, this feeling would never leave him; there would never be a day where Satoru didn’t want to hear you cry out of pleasure, begging for him.

You were his needy little girl, all spread open, wet, twitching and ready just for him.

Satoru loved to see you desperate, desperate for a kiss, desperate for his fingers, desperate for his cock.

He loved teasing you, making you beg, wrecking you, before starting the process all over again.

"There you go. Was that so hard to admit?" His cockiness and the smug smile on his face would have annoyed you any other day, but today, you let it slide, focusing on the way he played with your clit, prepping you up for what was about to come. "You know I will give it to you. All you have do is be a good girl and ask."

Placing a hand on your stomach, Satoru began his unforgiving assault with his other hand, and fuck, if it wasn’t what you needed. His fingers expertly bully your cunt, pulling and pushing, brushing over your sensitive spots within you, and you trashed, and trashed, and trashed. His hand on your stomach held you down, and you could do nothing but shake like a leaf underneath his demonstrations.

He leaned over you body when you grasped his shoulder, scratching his back as you bucked against his hand, and fuck, was it fucking hot. Quiet murmurs of his name and repeated, dragged ‘yes’ were the only thing that left your lips, encouraging Satoru to give you more, more and more.

“C’mon baby, you’re close, aren’t you?” Tugging at your aching bud, he massaged it quickly, up and down, left and right, before repeating the process, bright eyes never leaving your teary gaze. “Come on my fingers, baby. Give it to me.”

“Fuck-Satoru… I’m gonna come, I’m gonna come!”

You felt as if you were spiraling, finally having found the exit of a labyrinth. You could practically feel the edge, just a little more, and you were sure you would tip over.

That would be the case, if it wasn’t for Satoru pulling out of your pussy after hearing those words, grasping your thighs as you struggled against hold, having been left an empty, unsatisfied, and twitching mess.

"You piece of fucking shi-"

His lips met yours, interrupting the string of profanities, smiling against your mouth and grinding his hips against yours, cock laying heavy against your pussy, its wetness spreading across his length. “I’m sorry, baby. Need you to come on my cock instead, missed you so damn much,” he growled, adjusting himself between your spread legs, his knees placed against your tights, gazing at the sinful treasure presented in front of him.

Messy hair, swollen and puffy lips due to all the kissing, sweat covering every inch of your body, it was a view to behold, and it was all his to defile.

Adjusting himself so that the tip of his length grazed your sensitive clit, he teased you by tracing his tip over your bud and netherlips, brushing back and forth, occasionally tapping the swollen button, ignoring and shushing the little whines that escaped you. “Hold on tight, baby. You not going anywhere without coming on my cock.”

You had plenty of sex with Satoru, he was practically insatiable. Though, no matter how many times you had intercourse, it never lost its magic, each time different than the other, but always leaving you satisfied, sated, and with a delicious ache between your legs.

Even now, prepped and dripping, he was big enough to make you breath hitch as he pressed into you inch by inch, gauging your reaction, observing whether it was okay to continue. You both groaned as his cock slid home, feeling him twitch inside you, deliciously dragging his length within your cunt.

You bit your lip. He filled you up too good, and you could do nothing but tighten around him.

Satoru’s thumb brushed against your lower lip, releasing it from your bite before lovingly caressing your face. You would have thought the gesture as romantic and sweet, if it weren’t for the fact that he was balls deep and rock hard within you. Stroking your chest, playing with your nipples, he playfully swirled his hips against yours, smirking as you rotated your own hips as well, before settling his hands on your waits, experimentally thrusting his cock into you.

"Don't try to stifle your moans. I want to hear you scream my name."

Satoru knew how to work his fingers against you, inside you; whether to be slow, teasing you with the barest of touches or firm, so that his digits could prod just the right places that had you groaning, and he definitely knew how to work his hips against your own, fervently pounding himself inside without abandon, clutching onto your waist, as if it was the only thing grounding him down to earth, and you could do nothing but cry out and take it, take it, take it.

Satoru was a beautiful man, always has been, but at that moment, above and inside you, he looked ethereal. With his white hair tousled, covering his beautiful eyes, gazing down at you, admiring the way your pussy clenched onto him as he repeatedly pounded in you, you were reminded of a starved beast, a predator ready to devour his little prey that laid baren in front of him.

You wouldn't have it any other way.

"You like that, baby?" He punctuated his words with a swirl of his hips that had you moaning loudly, his cock dragging across your walls beautifully, scratching that itch within you. "You look so fucking hot," he growled, before thrusting hard, admiring the way your breast bounce with every thrust. "You gonna make me come so hard, you would like that, wouldn't you? Want me to come inside you, fill up your empty pussy, baby?"

You bite your lip, gripping his wrist desperately, clenching and unclenching uncontrollably as his assault continued, anchoring yourself against his hand. Just the image of him coming inside you had you frenzied, so much so that you could only moan out loudly, holding onto him:

"Yes, fuck, please, yes. I want it so bad. Please, come inside of me, Satoru!"

Groaning at those words, he pounded away into you, and with every drag, you tightened around him, feeling him twitch, feeling as if you were ready to burst, but desperately trying to hold back your fast approaching orgasm. He was so close, you could feel it, and you wanted to feel him become undone within you, with you, filling your pussy up as you finally let go. Clutching his haunches, you rhythmically met his thrust, wordlessly encouraging him to fuck you faster, harder.

Gradually, his controlled thrusts turned sloppy, a telltale sign of his approaching orgasm. You grasped his shoulder, making him bent down so that you could mutter against his lips ‘Come with me, Satoru,’ before kissing him, tongues dancing and hips bucking wildly against each other as you hold onto him tightly.

Satoru knew how to wind you up, whether that be with his teasing antics or without, but the outcome always had you reeling, spasming mess against him, desperate to catch your breath as you finally let go of the tight coil within you. Satoru, on the other hand, wouldn’t let up, fucking you through your orgasm as he too finally tipped over the edge, groaning uncontrollably and grinding against your clit, fucking his load into you. The feeling of it had you smiling against his mouth, content and sated for the time being, and you absentmindedly massaged his neck, tugging at his hair as Satoru finished within you, thrusting slowly against you for the last time before stilling within you.

Without a hurry in the world, he kissed you, gently and sweetly, trailing pecks all over your cheeks and jaw, before ultimately placing a short peck on your lips once last time.

And with that, he straightened his posture, slowly pulling out of you with a breathless sigh, smirking in perverse satisfaction as cum drippled down your slit. The view had him throbbing uncomfortably. Therefore, he nudged your sensitive clit with his cock, toying with it, all the while ignoring the high-pitched whines of protest, leisurely smearing your wetness across your inner thighs, before carefully sliding his tip into you once again, groaning as he did so.

You haven't known how much of a tease Gojo Satoru could be, but with time, you had learned that his playful nature was, in fact, very much present during bedroom activities. You could say that you hated him for it, but the promise of sweet release after an endless amount of teasing always had you aroused, and Satoru was someone who kept his promise.

And till now, he always made good of his promises, so that at the end of the day, you let him have his victory price.

#BREAKING MY WRITING-VIRGINITY WITH GOJO WOHOOOO #I am kind of feral for him like no joke #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #gojo satoru #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru x reader #fanfiction #jjk smut #I don't know how to tag man holy goddamn shit #jjk gojo #saeray writes #gojo satoru fanfiction

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w1shb0n3z · 12 days

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Alright, so hear me out

(this is another long one. Like. Seriously. It has 2.6k words.)

*yes, I edited this like 5 mins after I posted it just to add some more, oops

Post cannon Labru where Laios tries to help Kabru regain weight

TW: ED, Body Dysmorphia, Fat-phobia, Gender Dysphoria

It turns out to he a huge body image thing. Like Kabru develops a bit of an ED after he gains his weight back and tries to stay "the perfect weight" and major body dysmorphia. But! It's very sweet because hand feeding, of course, and self-acceptance.

I imagine Kabru's blue eyes get brought up when Laios is like "oh, you don't like that about yourself? :( you're so wonderful! What else could you possibly not like! Surely not those eyes ^^" or something

Plus! I'm 98% sure that Laios gains some weight post cannon, so his wrestler build gets softer, which, yay! We love that here! But this comes with its positives and negatives. (Dont he scared by how big the negative paragraph is)

Positive: Kabru has an example of having a healthy relationship with yourself and your body

Negatives (and hold on) TW btw: at a certain point of Kabru's weight gain/ body acceptance journey, where he gets obsessed with keeping "the perfect body" and does everything in his power not to gain anymore, his own twisted view of himself spills over to Laios. He starts to view Laios as a sort of slob or careless person because he gained weight after the dungeon and gained an extra 5-ish pounds while helping Kabru gain. Because Laios can and will encourage Kabru to eat by eating with him with a smile on his face.

What if someone finds out about Kabru's purging?

Yes, Kabru has purged a few times while he was at his lowest. And no, Laios doesn't catch him in the act. He doesn't know until someone tells him about it. Kabru just keeps it to himself with a tinge of guilt. Someone else finds out. I can't decide who yet, but if it were:

Chilchuck - he'd be familiar with his topic because one of his daughters went through the same thing. He keeps secret as per Kabru's request but gives to Kabru straight. He tells him vomiting hat much rots your teeth and only has negative impacts in the future. With Chil being big and tall for his race's standards and him canonically watching his own weight, he talks Kabru through this whole body image thing. Maybe not in the exact way Kabru wants, but in the way he needs

Senshi - he's SO against this. He tries to father Kabru, but his own lack of understanding for why Labru feels this way gets in the way of progress. He urges Kabru to eat and tells Laios what's goin on in hopes of figuring out what all of this is about, accidentally spilling the beans and leading to conflict between Laios and Kabru

Marcille - she doesn't really get the ED thing, but she gets not liking your body (since she never fit in with her "age group" while growing up and wished she physically presented like them). She also tells Kabru that throwing up rots his teeth and says it's bad for your mana and junk. Shes very offput by this whole thing, but she tries. She doesn't tell Laios...on purpose. (Falin also finds out becuase the guilt Marcille has from telling that secret ears her alive)

Falin - my girl does NOT understand. But she's here to empathize. She ends up being huge in Kabru's healing journey. She tries to check in on bim every now and then and uses her own transformation to promote body acceptance

Izutsumi - she doesn't know what to do. She's 17 goddamn it. So when she hears Kabru throwing up she just assumes he's sick, but when she keeps hearing it she gets a little stressed about him. She goes "he's just weird" and mentions it in conversation to someone else, most likely Marcille (which probably led to Marcille finding out in the earlier paragraph)

Mickbell...somehow - is like "dude wtf" and tells Rin about it since he knows there close. He's worried, yeah, but he doesn't think its really his problem. Especially since the two fo them aren't close like that.

Kuro - he finds out and tells Rin as well, he also tells Kabru that he looks fine. He mentions it to Mickbell, yeah, but in a "Will he be okay? :(" way

Rin - devastated. She initially gives Kabru a hard talk...which makes him worse, but hey! She tried. Rin then thinks its becuase of the shame of dying many times and tries to comfort Kabru again. Doesn't work. She tries to get him to eat the things he likes. He eats them, but she can sense the guilt from Kabru. They then have a heart to heart becuase Rin can't stand to see her best friend suffer like this and assures him that he looks fine as often as he needs

Holm - he takes a simular approach as Falin but gets a little more involved. He understands it on paper, but can't image what actually having these issues is like. Yes, he also informs Rin and is the one that told her to try to speak to Kabru in a less...prickly manner about this touchy subject

Daya - She doesnt realise what Kabru was trying to achieve by puking. So she just advises him not to do so and tells Rin about the strange behavior.

How does this affect non-platonic Labru?

Easy!

Well for starters! If they were boning before, they aren't now LMAO

Partly because of Kabru's own body image being trash and his attraction to Laios (temporarily) going to shit after Laios gained some weight to encourage Kabru. Damn that internalized fat-phobia. Neither one of them seems to have a clue what's going on. Let word, seems.

Kabru knows his view of Laios just isn't the same, but he doesn't let it be known that he's aware of this.

Does he feel bad? Yeah. But he only feels bad because he doesn't feel bad. He feels as though he's a shitty boyfriend for harboring such disgust for his partner's figure

Laios catches Kabru stealing glances at himself in the mirror. Staring just a little too long. Laios deduces that Kabru's feeling a little self-conscious after some hard thought.

So, of course, he makes sure to be extra careful about his words. He'd totally be like that one meme (which I can't find) that goes: "damn girl, that ass is wide" "what??" "I didn't want to say fat and trigger your eating disorders :/"

Plus, on the not boning thing, they're busy. You got a king and his advisor, they're not gonna be cranking it up every night! They simply sleep together, in a literal sense most nights anyways, so more sleep isn't anything bad

Additionally, I don't believe Laios has a high sex drive at all. (I personally think he's on the asexual spectrum, maybe because I'm ace, but still)

Kabru won't initiate a thing at the moment, it's up to Laio's sporadic desires to get things going. (It never gets going)

What if Laios discovers Kabru's feelings towards him and the purging?

He's hurt, simply put. He can't understand why Kabru dislikes his body, Laios can't understand why his own body would be such a turn off now.

In the non-platonic vers Laios tries to become "sexy" again. ....He fails horribly and ends up making a fool out if himself. At first he's like, "well monsters do this to attract mates" right after he feels as though he needs to inprove upon himself. Then he goes "no... Kabru isnt a monster, and im not either (unfortunately)"

He pushes that silly thought aside and tries to find out *why* Kabru is turned off by his looks now. His face? No.. His hair? Just got it cut. His figure? ...but why?

Laios goes right up to Kabru and confronts him about it. Kabru being the slippery bitch that he is denies it and goes "lol wtf haha! I luv u bae and there's nothing wrong with u!! ur so sexy and hot haha..."

This, inevitably, confused the shit out of Laios and he asks for honesty. Kabrus actions aren't exactly aligning with his words, and something needs to he done.

[Okay, let's be real here. If Kabru didn't want Laios to know how he felt, Laios' ass would NOT know lmao. This is just for the bit]

Now the purging? Laios is like "dude what? :(" he doesn't understand it. Nope. Not at all. He tires to he supportive, but he really doesn't know what to do with this. It's not like there's a bulimia monster, so he has no real frame of reference.

He's all "but you look fine how you are :(" and "I like the weight on you!" or even "did you know that [this species of monster] finds fat attractive? ,:D"

He means so so well, and Karbu knows it. Laios really is just a dog of a man.

Laios also tries to get Kabru to promise to stop. We know how that went. Karbu agreeing just to do it behind Laios' back because he knows Laios won't find out. He'll cut back on it, yeah, but he has his weak moments.

Eventually, Laios makes sure to only have Kabru serve his favorite meals. That should keep him from puking it up! And Karbu stops after a while. But only because his health is on the decline.

What else?

Two words: hand. feeding.

Kabru throws up? He gets his favorite meals so he won't. Kabru keeps checking his figure? Less mirrors in the caslte and more compliments. Kabru not eating enough or skipping meals? Simple. Laios makes sure he eats.

And how? A little less of Laios sensually slipping a fork full of decedent chocolate cake past Kabru's lips and a little more than a simple "here comes the airplane"

It starts off as Laios seeing Kabru taking smaller bites and being like "oh! Let me show you how to fill your fork! ^^" and then him taking Kabru's fork, impaling a bunch of assorted foods onto said fork, then handing it back to Kabru.

Then it sort of devolved (...evolved?) Into Kabru begrudgingly letting Laios feed him like a toddler while no one else ot looking. My boy Kabru does NOT know how to say no to this autistic man properly.

Laios was like "would it help if I just fed you?" And karbu replied something like "haha! It just might!" And of course Laios did not pick up on that God level sarcasm and went "cool, Let's try it then" and Kabru, wanting to appease Laios said "cool!". Bro was punching air.

(Yes, Laios said stuff like "good job buddy!" "You're doing so well!" "Its tasty, right?" Almost every bite)

In the non-platonic world, Laios would have Karbu sit ever so close to him as he was fed, maybe even in his lap. And of course Karbu would get a peck on the cheek after every bite. And the whole process may or may not turn Laios on. Especially when they're dining on monster. Whoops.

....anything else?

This all ties in with the absurd standards that was set for Karbu and the insecurities he hides within himself.

The whole blue-eye-spawn-of-a-demon thing was already enough for him. But being raised by that moody ass elf was a whole nother thing.

Milsiril, his adoptive elf mom, raises children like she has a monopoly in daycares. She's a serial foster fr. All them damn kids. Raising them like pets becuase you want something to love and depend on you. (I love Milsiril btw)

Anyways.

Kabru was his mom's favorite since his features were unique. Im talkin big bright blue eyes contrasting with rich dark skin, in particular. Plus, he was so sociable! All of his siblings looked up to him in one way or another. He was the star child.

And, you know that thing about elves being twinks, right? When ever Milsiril would check up on Karbu's health, she would use this old elven chart depicting the "average/desirable/suggested" height, weight, and muscle tone for diffrent short-lived races at diffrent ages/stages of life.

Safe to say these charts and texts were based off of elven standards, so everyone was thought to be slimmer, lighter, and more toned than normal. Plus, they're old lol. Instead of updating her charts and buying some from the diffrent cultures and races, she keeps her old one becuase she legit just forgets to replace it and hasn't had any "major problems" while raising her kids with that information so she doesn't think to change it.

What in trying to say is!

Kabru was raised with unrealistic body goals, and when he used to deviate from those arbitrary statistics during childhood he'd be put on diets and stuff.

Also, What if Kabru was transmasc?

Especially when he was a teen, even gaining a little wait made him go nuts. He couldn't get the words "unhealthy" out of his head and started associating it with the word "fat". His mind likes to play tricks on him when he's in the mirror. Exaggerating his figure and making him panic.

So! When he was sick and tired after that weird ass dungeon trip that changed his whole world and he came back to find himself thin as a pin, he tweaked.

He logically hated it because it was unhealthy, but a part of him was satisfied. With the added stress of becoming a Kings advisor, he started to crack under the pressure, manifesting in an obsession with himself. When he started to gain weight back he was brought right back to those check ups he had with Milsiril and those 2, maybe 3 times he was put onto diets in his youth. He really feared he was getting fat and he would just stare into the mirror and feel his flesh beneath his fingertips, searching for some sort of confirmation. All he felt was a bit of a squish, a bit of a give, and that's all he needed.

It was too much for him. His body was wrecked in his eyes. He's supposed to he fit and lean and thin and perfect. How could that be perfect? He looks in the mirror in his private study, wasting the time he could've been spending planning new city infrastructure or working out the kinks in trade. But no. He's here, in his dimly lit room, looking at how imperfect he's become in his eyes. How unhealthy he is his mom's eyes. How disgusting he is in his birth mothers eyes.

He had to fix it. The wound rubs deep, dar past the dermis. And, I guess, much like other wounds that cut a chasm into the skin, you don't really feel it once it severs your nerves. You don't really notice until you see the big, gaping, bleeding, notch where you used to be.

Lol anyways

Whoo boy. He is in hell. He feels like gaining weight makes him look "softer" and more feminine. He hates it, yes. But he tries his best not to let it effect his wardrobe. This whole weight journey really rehydrated his gender dysphoria.

He's used to looking a little androgynous, but with his new weight going to his stomach, hips, and thighs, he just feels as though his silhouette is becoming more girly.

Kabru is found training and working out more. Anything to get his body more boxy again.

He spends more time making sure he looks presentable. Even waking up a little earlier to ensure he vouge cover ready. (Well, I mean, as vouge ready as perpetual business casual can be)

And how does it end?

It takes some time, but Kabru heals. He's 10 pounds heavier than when we were first introduced to him, but he doesn't mind anymore.

It was a long journey full of all sorts of denail and shame, but he got there.

He's still the Light Yagami coded perfect chivalrous boy. He always has been. And Laios loves him all the same. Platonically or not.

Laios was essential in Karbu learning to let go of those impossible ideal and unreachable standards. Laios does not give a fuck afterall, he thinks all human bodies are unintresting beautiful! That dude does not judge. Rember him talking about the orc women in one of the monster tidbit sections? He's about body acceptance and neutrality.

Kabru grew to love his body, not just tolderate it or like it because someone else does. And if it tickles you, he liked the extra pounds Laios gained in the end, too. And if you're here for non-platonic Labru, then Laios may have became a bit of a feeder and has a tiiiiny food kink. Plus, Laios is a huge fan of the squish and Kabru likes how warm Laios is.

I just want to add this in here, also hecuase ive seen it before and i agree, but Laios seems like the type to give dutch ovens. He shows love like a big brother and its horrible (affectionate). This passes Karbu off SO BAD and it's hilarious. He has to sit down and have a very direct and serious talk about "getting too comfortable". And Laios would sit there the entire time like a sad dog and nod along.

Kabru and Laios also wrestle. No debate. They do it to spar, Laios does it for fun, Kabru does it to make Laios shut up. It's great!

Sorry this took so long lmao,, I legit just kept forgetting to write this

This was just word vomit. I've lost the plot somewhere along the way, I fear

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rukunas · 2 years

Text

post inspired by this, also this is a complete self-insert bc i hate one of my roommates LMAOOO hope she never sees this…. completely unedited too i’m sorry

cw: bakugo is in his 20s + reader is in college, suggestive

pro!hero bakugo always wonders why you don’t ever invite him back to your place.

well, to be fair, his place is amazing. even for just starting his agency, he gets a decent pay, and he put his first check into a penthouse that overlooks the whole city. crystal clear windows that go from the ceiling to the floor, more rooms than he can use— so of course, he randomly finds your things littered around everywhere. you probably like his place even more than him.

but he knows you have a place at your college campus. you’ve never invited him inside, though, always hurrying out the door whenever he picks you up. you’ve complained to him about one of your roommates once, but besides that, he knows nothing.

“what are you doing here?”

bakugo’s busy peering in over your head, trying to catch a glimpse of anything in your apartment. “brought you dinner. can i come in?”

it’s funny watching him, seeing how shocked he is at seeing how you live. “your kitchen is so small. how do ya fuckin’ cook in here?” “this painting isn’t bolted. do ya want it to kill ya?” and his reaction to your bedroom— “fucking hell. how do you have so much stuff?!”

it’s even funnier when he complains about the size of your twin bed as he rams into you.

“fuck.” he spits out angrily, sweat dripping down his brow as he curves his back to keep his frame above you and most importantly, on the damn bed. he gets why you like his place so much.

sleeping together afterwards is a whole other story. he takes up the whole bed—mind you, his feet hang off— and you’re left to lay on top of him, limbs all tangled up. (he honestly kind of likes it, but he’ll never admit it).

bakugo wakes up in the middle of the night to find you at your desk, typing away at some essay due tomorrow morning.

“come back in bed.”

“‘m almost finished. promise. just need to proofread and edit and… shit, what format do i need to use?”

bakugo sighs, lifting out of bed. “can i get water?”

“yeah, my brita is in the fridge. it’s blue and has my name on it.”

he’s standing in the glow of the fridge light, trying to figure out where the fuck your brita is, when someone shrieks.

“h-holy shit! you’re— you’re dynamight!” your roommate— the one you’ve said is annoying, always asks for my homework answers, never takes out the trash. “holy shit!”

“oh, um.” bakugo realizes too late that he’s only in his boxers. “yeah. do you know where my girl’s brita is? said it’s blue.”

her eyes bulge out of her head. “oh! i used it by accident.” she laughs awkwardly, grabbing it off the counter to hand it to him. “forgot to refill it though.”

bakugo feels his own blood boil. he recalls the time he lived with denki— the fucker would do the exact same thing. before he can open his mouth to spew out everything you’ve said about her, your face pops around the corner.

“hey, i finished. did you get water?”

“yeah.” he manages to pour in half a glass before the brita empties. he hands the glass to you. “drink this. i’ll refill it.”

“thanks, baby.” you try pecking his cheek, but he turns his head so that you reach his lips. he smirks into it, wrapping his arm around your waist but quickly realizes that he has an audience.

your roommate gapes at the two of you, jaw practically on the floor. “you didn’t tell me you’re dating dynamight.”

“um… yeah.” you nod your head stiffly. “if you’re going to use my brita, can you at least fill it up?”

you tug bakugo’s arm to bring him back to your room, ignoring (but also basking in) the way your roommate still stands in utter shock.

the next morning, he finds himself on the carpet. he must have rolled off the bed in his sleep. his final straw.

so, he proposes you move in with him. it’s better if your place also happens to be his.

#this is so pathetic but i dreamt ab this #i want pro hero bakugo to lay on my bed while i write my fucking lab report #katsuki bakugo #bakugou katsuki #bakugo x reader #katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki fluff

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cryptidghostgirl · 2 months

Note

I had this though on a cute little one shot for Alastor x chubby reader in the hotel I was wondering if you would like to run with it? Where the reader gets some nail varnish that matches their lip color without thinking about it. Alastor becomes rather fond of them wearing the color and eventually it vanishes after Angel points out that it’s almost the exact same color as the reader’s lips.

The reader ends up pouting a bit over it because they can’t find it anywhere in stores anymore. They ask Angel if they borrowed it to Angel’s confusioned response to the tune of “why the fuck would I want to wear your lip color?” And it gets to the point they ask for Nifty’s help finding it while Alastor is trying to avoid the topic entirely. Eventually Nifty DOES find it in the radio tower much to Alastor’s flustered frustration.

A/N oh hell yes i can do this. 11/10. Also I am skipping the fuck around in my request order, I am so nervous about posting cover up pt 4. I promise it will come out soon.

Spicy Sienna and Berry Naughty (Alastor x Gn!Chubby!Reader)

Pairing: Alastor x Reader

Warnings: Uhhh I got a little suggestive with this one guys. Sorry. Also,, Alastor is a little creepy and stalkery and has a thing about hands. This one just came out all around weird. Also, I named it after my favorite lip and nail polish matching combo so don't judge the fic by its name. Also Alastor sexualizes the reader a bit. Let me know if I missed anything. (guys i really have no idea what happened with this one, i am so sorry. I hope you still like it.) Also,, Alastor is for sure ooc.

Word Count: 3,675

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Click here and leave a comment if you want to be added to any taglists or send me an ask about it.

"Is that a new color?"

Alastor's ears perked up. He didn't turn to face the source of the sound but he listened. There was only one person in the hotel Angel would direct such a question towards after all.

"Yeah. It's essie, Berry Naughty is the name I think? Nail polish and makeup products always get called the silliest things. Do you like it?"

Y/n was the Hazbin Hotel's newest resident. They had arrived just a few weeks before, brought into the fold by Angel himself. The pair were old friends apparently, knew each other from back when they were alive.

"Yeah, it suits you. A lot more than that blue you used to wear."

There were three things the pair could be discussing in Alastor's mind. The first was Y/n's clothing. They were always dressed to the nines, decked out in some crazy ensemble or another.

At first, it had seemed foolish to Alastor. Anyone who cared that much about what they looked like had no shot at being an enjoyable person in his mind. That was before he had started to get to know the demon, seen the joy it brought them to indulge in fashion, realized the things they wore were for them and them alone. Everything had changed with that. It wasn't about persuasion, getting attention, facade. It was just who they were.

The thing about this first theory, however, was that Y/n almost never wore blue.

"Hey!" Y/n laughed, sounding a tad offended, "I liked the blue and I still might go back to it."

The second option was lipstick. Another little hobby the demon indulged in that had caused Alastor to misjudge their character upon their arrival was the makeup. Every few days, they would come down from their room in one crazy look or another. It was always something dramatic, coordinated perfectly to whatever else they had going on. If Y/n loved anything, they loved a theme.

Alastor had again made the mistake of assuming Y/n's enjoyment of such a thing was a representation of their vapidness when he had first met them. He would not be making that mistake again. The thing was, for all their wild self expression and experimental use of colors, he had never once see them sporting blue lipstick, he couldn't even picture it.

"What! I'm just sayin." Angel teased.

The third and final option, the one Alastor decided was what they must be discussing, was their nail polish. Y/n loved the act of painting nails, called it a ritual of self adoration. The way they talked about it, someone would think they were dedicating sacrifices at an alter to the gods. Every week, like clockwork, they would repaint them. Monday afternoons, four o'clock sharp. Their favorite color of late had indeed been a dark, almost black, blue. Alastor had liked it. The color had made something about their hands shine.

"Rude." Y/n scoffed in reply.

Alastor had always loved Y/n's hands. He had always had a thing about hands. In his opinion, hands were the most telling part of a person, or demon even. They showed nerves, experience, hard work -- went straight through to the core of who a person was. A carpenter's hands were rough, a cook's were scarred, an artists stained with color, a string musician's had calluses on the fingertips. Yes, a lot about a person could be learned from their hands.

Y/n's hands were soft, on the smaller side, and without the bony protrusions of their knuckles so many people seemed to admire now days. Alastor had never understood the desirability of skeletal thinness. It was impractical and uncomfortable. Y/n's hands suited them perfectly, Alastor thought. They were his favorite pair of hands to watch, the way they would flit across the keys of a piano, the way they kneaded the dough when she baked, the way they held a pen.

"I mean, it does match your lipstick now which is kinda a look."

At this, Alastor really did turn around. He couldn't help himself.

Y/n and Angel were lounging on the couches of the hotel lobby. They were dressed down, wearing a pair of jeans that hugged their legs and a crop top that accentuated their body perfectly. They looked soft, they looked comfortable, they looked delicious.

The idea of hunger was a complicated one. When Alastor thought of other demons as delicious looking, it was because he wanted to eat them, to consume their flesh that is. Y/n was certainly delicious but, he had no desire to eat them. Not like that, at any rate.

Angel had been right, Alastor could see it from across the room. The soft ruddy red of their nail varnish matched the gloss coating their lips perfectly. Alastor had always loved the color red.

"Wait, really?" Y/n asked, holding a hand up to their face, by their mouth, their nails turned out towards Angel, "Is it bad?"

"Nah, it's honestly kinda a look."

Y/n hummed, moving their hand from their face and staring intently at their nails.

"Maybe it'll be my new color then... This is the gloss I wear when I'm just doing normal makeup."

"Cohesion is key." Angel noted, "If you have a look to fall back on, people tend to like that in my experience."

Y/n stayed true to their word and Alastor relished in this revelation. Over the course of the next week, nearly every time he spotted them around the hotel, they were wearing that same combination of nail polish and lipstick. It was a secret indulgence of his, a treasure.

They nearly caught him staring one time as they were talking with him. It was nothing special, just one of their average, casual chats about the ethics of one situation or another. For someone who had ended up in Hell, Y/n had a soft spot for moral philosophy. It was clearly spill over from some preoccupation of their mortal self.

Mid conversation, he had drifted off. He hadn't meant to, it was the way they talked. Y/n was an animated conversationalist, always moving their hands to accentuate their words in one way or another. It drew his eyes to their hands and their face equally, their nails and their pretty, dark red lips.

"Hey, Alastor... Alastor!"

"Yes, my dear?" he had quickly replied, snapping out of his stupor.

"Are you alright?"

"Why on earth wouldn't I be?"

"You just kinda... trailed off there."

Alastor tried his best to push his embarrassment to the side, to shake it off his shoulders seamlessly. Miraculously, he succeeded. He wasn't quite sure how, when they were watching him with such concern filling their eyes, a slight pout to their lips.

"Just a little distracted. Lots to do today. My apologies, my dear."

"And here I thought you loved deontological thought." Y/n had teased.

Everything was fine. Alastor didn't mind Angel having noticed, it was a well known fact the spider demon saw Y/n as a sibling rather than a potential partner. The pair had grown up together and when Sir Pentious, one night, had asked whether or not they had ever messed around with each other, seeing how close they were and comfortable with physical contact, the pair had made eye contact before each putting on their own display of disgust.

Alastor was good at seeing through people, he knew it hadn't been a show. What was a problem was when Husk somehow noticed the pairing of their lip and nail color as well.

Alastor had been talking to Charlie about one thing or another as Y/n shared a drink with Sir Pentious at the bar. He was half listening to Charlie, half to their conversation. Alastor always kept an ear out for Y/n's saccharine tones.

The pair had been chatting about how their respective journeys to redemption were going when Husk had cut in.

"Did you match your nail color to your lipstick?" he asked in mild amazement.

Alastor bristled. That fact was his, was for him. No one else was allowed to see.

"Yeah!" he heard Y/n brightly reply, a tinge of pride to their voice.

Though Alastor's back was to them, he could picture the way they must be holding their delicate, gentle hands up now.

"Isn't it cute?"

Husk whistled.

"Damn, Angel is finally rubbing off on you."

"I mean, I guess." came Y/n's hesitant reply.

"You trying to catch someone's attention?"

Alastor could hear his own heartbeat in the silence that proceeded their reply.

"I mean, not on purpose. Not with this. I just like the way it looks... I don't know, it makes me feel... pretty."

Y/n was right. Alastor knew for a fact, had seen it with his own eyes, how irresistible the combination made them look. Now others were starting to notice it as well and, well, Alastor couldn't have that, now could he.

The next morning, when Alastor came down for breakfast, he noticed Y/n sitting at the table, looking uncharacteristically despondent. His back to them as he began to prepare his morning cup of coffee, he smiled.

"What's got you down, my dear?" he asked and Y/n sighed.

"My nail polish disappeared."

So, they had already noticed. Alastor picked the carton of milk up off the counter.

"Don't you have others? You're always a veritable rainbow of color!"

Alastor kept his voice light and cheery. His coffee made, he took a seat at the table across from them.

"Yeah, I guess. I just liked that one. It matched my favorite lipstick."

"Couldn't you try another color? That midnight blue last week was rather nice."

"Yeah, I guess." suddenly, their eyes shot up to his, a smile breaking out across their face, "Wait, Al! You're a genius! I'll just go buy another bottle!"

When Y/n returned from the store a few hours later, their gray cloud had returned.

"Are you alright?" Vaggie asked as they slumped onto the couch beside her.

Alastor couldn't help but note, from his hiding place, the way the act of sitting changed their body. They were beautiful standing, stunning even, but something about the way their thighs spread out over the surface of the couch...

"Yeah." Y/n grumbled, "Just... bummed."

"Oh no!" Charlie exclaimed, walking away from the bulletin board she was planning their next lesson on and joining the pair, "What happened?"

"It's stupid." Y/n groaned, throwing their head back.

"Wrong guy hit on you?" Angel teased and they immediately righted themselves, shooting him a glare.

"No." they pointedly replied, "Just... that nail polish? Berry Naughty or whatever its called? The one that matched my Spicy Sienna gloss?"

"Damn, you're pulling out the color names." Angel laughed, "Yeah, I know. What about it?"

"I can't find my bottle anywhere and I went to like seven different stores today and none of them had it! Not one! You didn't borrow it, did'ya Ant?"

Angel put a hand to his chest dramatically.

"Who, me?"

Y/n rolled their eyes.

"Nah." he waved them off, "You know I always ask before I borrow. I learned that lesson about you the hard way."

Y/n sighed despondently again.

"I'm sorry." Charlie hummed, patting Y/n's knee comfortingly, "I know it was making you really happy."

"It's silly." they shook their head, "It's just nail polish."

"Yeah but, it clearly brought you a lot of joy." Charlie insisted, "What if I ask Nifty to keep an eye out for it around the hotel?"

Alastor almost let the shadows hiding him from the group in the corner of the room dissolve in shock. He hadn't expected that. He had really thought everyone would just let it go. Yes, he knew Y/n would probably be upset about it for a few days but, that just gave him all the more of an excuse to be near them, to comfort them.

"Really Charlie?" Y/n brightened immediately, "You'd do that for me?"

"Of course! I mean, I'm not making any promises but, you know."

Y/n pulled themselves from the couch, throwing their arms around Charlie's neck.

"Oh, thank you! Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

"It's just a nail polish." Vaggie chuckled, watching the interaction warmly.

Y/n let go of Charlie, who shrugged back at her girlfriend.

"It makes them happy."

Two weeks had gone by with no sign of the bottle of nail polish. Y/n still went to the stores every few days, checking for the color, but had yet to have any luck. Nifty too had come up empty handed.

Alastor was very pleased with himself. The trick of using his shadows to empty every store in the surrounding area of the color before Y/n went shopping was something he was particularly proud of.

Of course, all along, he knew where the missing item was. It was in the top drawer of his night table on the right hand side of his bed. Nifty only went in to clean his room maybe once a month or so and she knew better than to snoop. It was all going off without a hitch, even the comforting aspect. Alastor had had the absolute pleasure and honor of showing up at just the right place, at just the right time (imagine that), so as to be included with Angel when Y/n had the bright idea to see if she could find any other matching colors between her vast collection of lipsticks and lipglosses and even larger collection of nail polish. He wasn't sure how their hands could sustain that much acetone, or their skin that much makeup remover, but he was grateful for it nonetheless.

Alastor was in his studio, fixing one of the control panels, his mind filled with spinning memories of the past couple days (Y/n had even hugged him! The feeling of the cushion of their waist against his arms, their stomach, was not one he would soon forget), when he heard a knock at the door. He straightened up, eyeing it suspiciously.

The guests of the Hazbin Hotel, as well as its staff, knew better than to disturb him while he was at work. It's owners, on the other hand, were much more foolhardy. He ran a hand over his hair, straightening it a bit so as to make himself presentable, and called for the knocker to enter.

The door creaked as it swung open, just like Alastor wanted it to. A creaky door was a good thing, it made sure most people couldn't sneak up on him when he was at his most vulnerable, most distracted.

"You'll want to grease that." Y/n hummed as they stepped into the dingy space, "I think we have some WD40 in the basement, if you want me to bring it up for you."

They had never come to visit him up here before, never dared even come near the rotting wooden door. Alastor walked forward, shutting the door behind Y/n now that they were fully in the room. He was close enough to feel their breath on his skin as he smiled down at them.

"No need, my dear, although, I do appreciate the offer."

A silence fell between the pair as Y/n took a few steps further into the room, their eyes running across every surface available before them. Alastor noticed their hands were clasped behind their back. It wasn't an unusual position for them but, something seemed different about it this time.

"What can I help you with?" he cordially asked and Y/n turned to face him.

"Well... I... um..." they locked eyes with Alastor, finding their words at last, "Nifty found something today. While she was cleaning."

Alastor was glad Y/n's demon form was not all that powerful in this moment. If it was, they would have heard his heartbeat spike. His voice, his demeanor, even his expression were easy to control but his heart? Not so much.

"Oh?"

"Yeah... I..." Y/n trailed off.

With a sigh, they brought their hands forward, opening them to reveal the source of Alastor's anxiety. Nestled there, in the softness of their palm, was the nail polish.

"She found it! Congratulations, my dear. You must be thrilled."

"Yeah." Y/n replied uncertainly, looking away.

Alastor knew why they were so uncomfortable, but his hope was stronger. There was an uncanny sense of optimism in him, one that was unfounded and unfamiliar. It drove him to pry, to see how much they really knew. For all Alastor knew, there could be something else entirely going on.

"Where was it?"

"I..." Y/n looked back at him once again, "That's the problem, Alastor. Nifty said... well, she said she found it in your room."

"In my room?" Alastor repeated, feigning confusion, a hand to his chest in mock surprise.

Y/n nodded.

"In your night table drawer."

They must have known him better than he thought, have seen the flash of sudden anger in his eyes or something like that, maybe he had tense his body. Whatever had ticked them off, they continued.

"She didn't open it. Nift said it was open and went to close it and just... spotted it in there so don't get mad at her, she didn't do anything wrong."

Alastor stood in silence, watching Y/n carefully.

"I just... Look, I'm not mad, I am just confused. Why was it in your room, did you take it from me?"

A shock of nerves fluttered in Alastor's stomach. The heat rushed to his cheeks and he looked away, a hand flying instinctually to his collar and tugging at it just the slightest bit, as if the room was too hot. It was all the answer Y/n needed.

"Why?"

Alastor turned back to Y/n and nearly stumbled back a few steps when he realized how much closer they had brought themselves to him. Nearly every other time, he was the one to bridge the distance, to step into their personal space. His breath caught in his throat, a sort of thrill flooding his mind.

"I... I..."

He had stuttered. Alastor didn't stutter. He had never stuttered, not even when he was alive.

"You..?" Y/n prompted, leaning forward slightly.

His mind was reeling. He couldn't tell if that was their goal, secretly, if they had finally realized the effect they had on him and begun to use it to their advantage. Alastor looked away again.

"It was..."

"You knew it was my favorite. Why did you take it?"

Fuck.

They were upset, maybe even angry. Alastor had seen them mad before but it had never been directed towards him. Normally, he would relish in the wrath of another but Y/n's wrath? Fuck. He realized right then and there, he would rather die.

"Husk." he admitted at last, his hands now fiddling with the cuffs of his jacket, his face flushed.

Alastor dared a glance at Y/n. Their brow was furrowed.

"Husk?"

"Yeah. Husk."

"I... why Husk? Did he dare you? Did he... I... what?"

Whatever feelings they had previously held had been replaced by pure confusion. Alastor could handle confusion. The situation at large was still unwelcome and rather untenable but, at least there was the confusion.

"He..." Alastor cleared his throat, brave enough to meet their eyes again at last, "He noticed."

"Noticed.... oh."

"Yeah."

They fell silent. This wasn't a thing Alastor had felt since he was very young. There was a wild animal in his chest. In this moment, he didn't just look like a deer, he was one and Y/n was the hunter with their gun trained on the spot between his eyes.

"It wa-"

"Did you also take it off the shelves all over the neighborhood?"

They had always been smart, smarter than he gave them credit for. Alastor grimaced, nodding slowly.

"Alastor, why did it bother you so much? Is it illegal to match my nails to my lips? Does it go against your... your weird ass deontological code?"

"No, it's just... it was... fuck!"

Y/n had never heard him curse before. A hand flew to Alastor's head, he took a deep breath.

"Alastor, I-"

"It was for me, okay? I... I didn't want anyone else noticing. It was just for me."

Y/n looked somehow even more confused as he lowered his hand once again. The releif that had accompanied the admission was greatly outweighed by his anxiety as he waited for their response.

"But Angel noticed too? Before Husk?"

"That's different." Alastor sighed, "He... You... I..."

"Alastor, what's going on?"

There was concern now, lacing their voice in its gentle vines. It almost made everything worse.

"I like you, okay!? There. Are you happy now!?"

He didn't know why he was yelling. Y/n's eyes went wide.

"You... like me? Like, like like me?"

He glared at them and they put their hands up in surrender.

"Just trying to clarify the situation!"

Alastor rolled his eyes, crossing his arms protectively over his chest.

"Yes. I... like like you or... whatever nonsense you just said. Are you happy now?"

It was a stand off, each training a metaphorical pistol at the other. Y/n was the one to finally break.

"Yes." they curtly replied, crossing their arms to mirror his position, "I'll... I'll let you get back to work now."

Someone had driven a nail right through Alastor's chest and into his heart. He watched their retreating form as they opened the door and slipped out into the hallway. Just as it was about to fall shut, they miraculously stuck a foot between the closing door and its frame, peeking their head back into the room.

"Just so you know: if you asked me out on a date," they began, their eyes flicking up to his from where they had previously been fixed on the floor, "I'd say yes."

-----

A/N Ant is a pretty common nickname for Anthony in NYC (where I am from and where I'm pretty sure Angel is supposed to be from). Yes, I will be using it in another fic I am working on too (its part two of Unexpected (Vox x Reader). Also,, deontology is when you have a strict set of ethical rules/maxims you stick by no matter what (Kant is a deontologist).

TAGS:

@willowshadenox @i-love-jafar @elfyeet @reader3 @lazygirlfanfic0-0 @kahlan170 @wendyphan01203-blog @fairyv-ice @clarakainda @lunaramune @mcueveryday @luxky-aish @peterpankat @corvid007 @juskonutoh @simpingsohard @sethianaa @gabile18 @slytherin4ever @skyeliteratures @zombiesnips-blog

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celabi · 8 months

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tbh, I feel like I’ve been drifting away from the original scummy scara I made when I first made the au, so I would like to let everyone know that he is a BIG freak. the type of guy you avoid because he’s just… so creepy and weird. like, restraining order, banned in fifty states type of weird.

he will steal a pen you’ve been nibbling on in class, and do all sorts of things to it that you don’t wanna know. like shoving it down his throat or something idk.

he goes through the trash and takes the gun you spat out, and chews it as if he were a man on death row. and at this point he might as well be.

he ‘makes’ you home made lunch. (which is just store brought food he put into a lunch box). awe, so thoughtful, right? NO, he passed out after cumming so much to replace the dressing on your salad.

spits in your drink, so it’s almost like you’re kissing in a way, because his saliva is in your mouth yada yada. he’s so delusional, gosh.

this man jerks off to anything. pictures of you in a bikini. pictures of your panties that he snuck a photo of from under your skirt. hell, he has even fapped it to a post he found on one of your family members facebook where you look like the most ordinary person ever. anything.

he acts like an angel around you, but the moment you turn your back, he has this dark, violent glint in his eyes at anyone who isn’t you.

he STANK. like discord moderator who manages thirty different servers. he plays video games 24/7 and eats only fast food + he lives in his mothers basement so minus points.

his mind is SO dirty too. like you could be complaining about this one girl who has been getting on your nerves recently, and all he can think about is bending you over the table and running his hands all over your body. he thinks of you when he shouldn’t, and in ways he shouldn’t, even before you knew his name.

yeah he’s so sweet, and kisses the ground you walk on. but he also would love nothing more then to knock you up and keep you as his cute little spouse who he can come home and make love to every day.

god and he’s a brat too, don’t get me started. like, throwing tantrums when you decide to sit with someone else at lunch. starting fights with people who so much as look in your general direction (ones that he loses cause he is so small and scrawny). screaming profanities at the professors who separate your seating plans in lectures, and so on.

if you’ve been keeping up with my posts, you’ll know that this man has a literal sex doll replica of you he sleeps with at night. it’s so detailed to the point where there is freckles in the exact same spot they are on your skin. (even some moles and beauty marks that you didn’t even know you had, and god knows how he does).

has a shrine of you in his closet. strands of your hair he has collected. lipgloss and chapstick he has stolen from your bag whilst you weren’t looking. accessories like rings and bracelets. nail polish, all the works. and in the middle of this shrine, in all its glory, is a pair of your underwear that he took while you were in the changing rooms. he prays to it. the holy grail.

he has been dating you in his head the moment he saw you, like, gets a little annoyed when you don’t remember your five month anniversary, but the thing is, you didn’t even know you’re dating at all.

I love him. don’t get me wrong, but he is not the man you want to get involved with, like AT ALL.

go for someone like scummy alhaitham, who has (some) self respect 👍

#scummy scara :(#yandere scaramouche #yandere genshin impact #tw yandere

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savnofilter · 7 months

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Your Scent Is Sweeter | e. kirishima

Werewolf!Eijiro Kirishima x Virgin![FEM]Reader

CONTENT WARNING(S): sexual content, one shot, loss of virginity, kirishima likes how you smell, dry humping, hints of jealousy, spit (1), knot inflation, pull out method, mutual pining, friends -> lovers (?), established friendship.

COUNT: 3.4k words [13 mins.]

READ MORE: masterlist + [student masterlist]

A/N: ehhh i dont think i'll ever do this like an animal horny hybrid shit after the last few fics i have queued up. 😭 even if i do i'll def cringe it later probably anyways- ignore my hating… also this is a continuation from a draft over a year ago?? including the next two bakugo fics im going to post and the other dragon!kirishima fic so bare with me. this isnt even that bad LOL. thank you, anon!

How you and Kirishima first met was simple:

Two different hands reached out for the last skewer that sat on the hot grill, both stopping in hesitation at the presence of someone else. You both stopped and looked at each other, an awkward laugh coming from you as an equally shy smile graced his lips.

“Lady’s first!” He grinned at you, his sharp teeth showing as he blushed softly, stepping back. “Go ahead, I’ll just swing back later.”

“Thank you.” You smiled at him, feeling butterflies in your chest as the cute male allowed you to grab it.

As much as you wanted to say something else, your brain short-circuited on coming up with anything. Part of you wanted to tease him and say he could take it, but you never pass up on an opportunity for food. Nevertheless, even if it was for a random cute guy. Plus you had spent the last few hours dancing and working up a sweat, you were sure you needed it more than him. As he stood to the side, you were able to pay and take your leave, waving to him as you disappeared into the crowd. One last glance was exchanged with him as you left him at the stand.

Typically, you wouldn't go to many events if it weren't for the festivals or known shows; but this one faithful New Year's festival when you were fresh into adulthood had proven you made the great decision to attend the celebration. Events between humans and werewolves were often rampant during popular holidays, the New Year being one of them.

There were many people around with many great food booths to compare. It was only a mere coincidence that you two seemed to be craving the same savory treat, kabobs.

After the first time you two had met, you started bumping into him more at cultural events. You hadn’t told anyone that you had met with this boy. At least you were sure he was around your age, young twenties or so, but there was no mistaking he had a few on you though not too much. The more you saw him at these gatherings, the connection between you two grew naturally, and it soon evolved into a friendship. No one knew about this friendship and to your friends he was merely regarded as something akin to a hallway crush. What they didn't know was that you two had been seeing each other for about two years now, doing various things together as a private friendship. It was no surprise the once innocent feelings you had for him slowly turned into a crush each time you two met. Luckily enough for you, today was one of the days when you two could catch up and you were more than ready to see him again.

You bit your lip as you sat on the cut-down tree stump, one of the many things that made him complain. Something about humans defiling the woods by making modifications that didn’t need to be made. Oftentimes when you met him, he ranted about different things, all things to be exact. Even with his rambling nature, he had other sides to him. You saw him chill, you saw him happy, you’ve seen him angry and you’ve seen him annoyed. But the ‘mood’ he approached you with today was something different. It was… feral. In a way, you couldn’t explain it.

“E-Evening, Kirishima.” You smile up at him as he walks up to you, holding up the basket you brought for him. “I made your favorite, they’re still hot just how you like them!” You open the basket to show him the goodies, scooching over on the big seat to give him room to sit down. He was quiet today, stiff too. You tried not to show your concern as he picked up the bag and sniffed it. It was times like these when you could pay close attention to the way his face looked, admiring the roundness of his cheeks that complimented his sharp jaw.

Kirishima only grunts as he sits away from you, his quiet and fidgety demeanor worrying you a bit. Your eyes observed his statue that had a light sheen of sweat layering his tanned skin that was visible to the eyes, his brows scrunched angrily. His facial expression was one of heavy frustration even with how much he tried to hide it. Whatever he was trying to find using his snout appeared to not have been found, and he was once again on the hunt to find the source.

Kirishima proceeds to start sniffing again, this time pulling away to smell somewhere else. You couldn’t help but stare as his behavior was odd, flinching a bit when his nose led to sniffing around you. You tried to stay calm as he got closer, shifting awkwardly as you contemplated the right moment to ask about his demeanor. His breathing seemed a bit ragged too, his chest rising and falling as he avoided contact with you, even visually.

“You’re… in heat.”

If he couldn’t see the blush on your face you could certainly feel it.

“....what?"

“I can smell it, you’re aroused...” Eijiro responds simply. "And you smell really good."

He was still standing as he towered over you. He rested the basket next to you and didn’t move, his eyes dark with a glint you haven’t seen before. His hand comes up cup your jaw, his palm hot against your skin. You play with your sleeves as you grow flustered, laughing nervously as the thought of being in a lewd situation with the black-haired male starts to run through your head.

“Eijiro…” You start, looking up at him as he makes you look up at him by tilting your head up. You felt as though you were caught stealing from a cookie jar, hands covered in crumbs as you tried to hide the emotions stirring inside you that he could very obviously sense.

His lips spare you the process of trying to come up with something to say as he presses his mouth against yours. You felt something spark as he did, your hands that were once clenched at your chest held his shoulders, stabilizing yourself when he forces you to lay down on the large tree stump you sat on. You tried to keep up with his kisses, opening up your mouth to let him in, fearing the pain of accidentally poking something if you chose to let your tongue wander in his. You moaned as his tongue poked and prodded in your hot cavern, his hands moving to grip your thighs to spread them apart as he got between them.

You hadn't noticed how big his body was, being so exposed to it so many times in such a friendly setting compared to this one. You daydreamed about this moment but never did you think it would happen so soon. Your heart hammers in your chest upon feeling his lips move so softly against yours, caring even. You could tell that he was the skilled one between you two and his kind way of gentleness showed with his fervent kisses. Unfortunately for him though, you didn't nearly have as much lung capacity as him to continue this unbroken kiss.

One of your hands on his shoulders taps him as an indicator for a breather, the doting male taking the message. Your labored breaths mix with his as your eyes can't help but be glued to his in desperation. A timid mewl is ripped from your lips when his hands that once respectfully rested on the sides of your hips swoop down to grip the back of your thighs and reach behind you to squeeze your bum. Kirishima growls as the scent of your arousal heightens, his gaze darkening as he prepares himself to fuck you.

"I-I didn't want to pounce on you like this but you smell so good." Kirishima rambles as his hands start to grope at your clothed skin. You couldn't do anything but just lay there and take it, watching up at him with curious eyes.

His strong and calloused hands trail up your body to grope your chest through your clothes, the heavy weight of his hands bringing a rush of excitement straight to your core. Whilst he fondles you he successfully manages to slide closer to you between your legs, your thighs resting on his as he gets comfortable. You bite your lip feeling his hard length now pressing against your core, a taunting sensation between the layers of clothes that restricts you. While your hands never left his shoulders his hands happily roamed your body.

From when he was fondling you, he was able to unbutton some of your blouse, the top of your cleavage now exposed to him, and the beautiful light of the moon from atop the sky. You feel tightening in your chest as oxygen starts to run out from kissing for so long, your hands lightly pushing him away. He pulls away with a light growl that marks his excitement. Kirishima hadn't slept with humans often but had to remind himself that he had to be gentle…. at first.

"Do you want this, Y/N?" Eijiro holds your chin to have you look up at him. You lightly gulp in excitement at the feeling of his rough hands on your jawline, a more than ready nod coming from you.

"I want to, Eiji." You're not even sure how you managed to maintain eye contact after relaying that. Until now, you had only kissed other people but other than that it never went further. There wasn't much left to ponder about his experience in these activities, though. "Just be gentle, this is my first time, okay?"

He visibly portrays his shock at the revelation with a dropped jaw but quickly recovers by nodding his head in understanding. If anything, this is one of the best news he's heard in a while. Now it wasn't often that Kirishima thought about your sex life. When he did think about you having sex, other partners were never in the equation. Just purely you and him. Though on his part he was assuming your experience—it was just Ludacris to him that no one has gotten that far with you yet considering he could tell the way most of the males around you acted.

Those festivals where he'd watch you from afar and get a jealous flutter in his chest fell testament to this, later his anger fueling into pure neediness in the comfort of his bedroom. He'd be straight-up lying if he said he wasn't crushing on you hard. You were as sweet as ever, pretty with a physique that suited you nicely, a smile that he fell in love with on the first day, and god you always smelled so good. Even in times when he'd playfully chase you down and you'd try and push him away in embarrassment of odor, it was that exact husk that drew him in closer. The pull that made him want to pin you down and fuck you raw.

Kirishima grips your hand and kisses the back of it as he stares deeply into your eyes. "Of course, anything for you."

You softly sucked in a breath feeling his hot hand slip down to palm your sex, the sensation so very foreign to you. Undoubtedly he could certainly sense the wetness through your clothes, another animalistic growl coming from him. He palms you in preparation for his eventual fucking, skilled hands rubbing at your labia and then playing with your clit. Your body jolts at the pleasure you receive from that certain area, a pained whimper in desperation slipping from your lips as you clawed at him.

His deft fingers easily rubbed against your clothed core, determined to get you hot and ready for him. His eyes watch down in a predatory gaze as he watches your expressions for any behavior change, his pupils dilating in hunger as he watches your body open more and more for him. Once he's done pawing at you he presses his crouch right against yours, the heat and weight of his confined cock stirring a whimper from within you. You tilt your head back, hands still stuck on him as you pull him closer to your body instinctively. Kirishima wordlessly leans in to press more animalistic kisses to your neck, now utilizing his sharp teeth to nip and bite at your skin. He groans against your sweet skin as you start to grind against him as well, a revelation now settling in that you were impossibly sensitive in all areas of your neck.

Usually by now, Kirishima would've fucked whoever was underneath him into oblivion already, but he was purposely taking it slower. He needed to tease and punish you for not being his any sooner. To make him wait so long to get between your luscious and squeezable thighs.

"Eijiro," A louder moan encourages him when he roughly nips at the conjuncture of where your neck and collarbone meet, the sensation sending a hot shiver down your spine. Mixed with the friction of his heavy hips against yours you're shaking under him, eyes prickling with tears as an unfamiliar feeling starts to wash over you. "W-Wait—!" You try to tap his shoulder, the act has him unmoving as he himself already knew what you were experiencing.

Kirishima leans up to witness the pleasurable experience wash over you, greedily taking in the fact it was him to accomplish it without even having to do anything. In seconds he's gripping your jaw and having you look at him as he places another searing kiss against your lips. You're sloppily meeting him halfway there with no doubt that his tongue has all the right to overpower yours. Your hands are lost in his hair whilst his are impatiently ripping off your clothes ready to take you under the moonlight.

A line of saliva connects you two when he pulls away, the small connection popping when he licks his lips. Your mouth and skin tasted so sweet, that he'd have to remind himself to eat you out next time, preferably somewhere more romantic and private.

The male on top of you grunts as the cool air of the night hits his now exposed schlong, the naked member twitching at the sensation. It was a reminder that he needed it in somewhere warm and his solution was right in front of him. He groans once the scent of your fresh arousal hits his nose, it now being stronger than ever with your hot cunny in line of sight for him. You were a sight to behold, truly. Skin littered with his bite marks, a light sheen of sweat coating your skin and your pussy dripping in need for him.

"Do you want it?" Kirishima asks with a growl in his voice. You had just come down from an orgasm and he didn't want to rush you.

"Give it to me, Eiji."

He doesn't have the balls to play with you anymore and gets straight to it. He presses his bulbous head against your opening, rubbing it up and down your pussy lips as he tries to loosen you up. "Relax."

You bite your bottom lip and try to do as told, eyes glued to his raging hard cock. You hadn't seen a cock before now but you were a hundred percent sure this was the prettiest you have and will ever see. You shiver when he pokes his tip at your clit, the sensitivity from before making you squirm. Your eyes flicker up as you watch him spit on his cock for more lubrication, mixing the substance with your arousal and his precum to make it easier for you to take.

"I'm going in--fuck." Kirishima breathes out as he inserts his dick into your gummy walls, the squeezing around him has him reeling in pleasure. With no remorse, he grips the back of your thighs and presses them against your body in a mating press, a deep groan rumbling in his chest as your cunt swallows his cock in this position. He tilts his head back as he slowly and surely rocks the rest of his length into your awaiting cunt, the ecstasy he was experiencing had never been felt before. It was almost reminiscent of the first time he had lost his virginity except this felt exponentially better.

His hands nearly rip your shirt open to show your breasts to him, the restriction of your clothes around your breasts making them perk up for him. He licks his lips as your nipples harden even more at the attention. Your tits bounce with each thrust as he slowly tries to ease himself in, his excitement making it hard for him to stay patient.

Your breathy moans are the only thing he can hear and focus on, totally zoning out on anything around him. Everything about you felt too good. The way you wrapped around his cock, how your hands gripped at him, the desperation in your voice, and the way that you felt under his hands was intoxicating. Kirishima had been waiting for this for so long and he could finally have it, have you. With patience, he was able to start rocking his hips faster and deeper into your cunt. The lewd noise of your pussy squelching with every thrust encouraged him to do more, to fuck you more passionately.

His lips were busy marking up your skin not caring about the complaining you might have for later. Earlier when he was eagerly trying to take off your clothes he tried his best not to rip your clothes off but there was no guarantee his (kind) gesture came to fruition. That minuscule dilemma will be something to deal with when you both get there.

His hand dips down to mindlessly play with your sensitive bean, humming in satisfaction when it elicits a sharper moan from you. You're grinding your hips against his with vigor, body shameless in the pleasure it receives from him. Your eyes could barely focus on anything specific as the male you once considered a friend completely obliterates your cunt. Tears prickle at your eyes as you start to feel an intense sensation that washed over your body not too long ago.

"E-Eiji," You pant out, head lifting lightly from the wood.

Kirishima's head immediately lifts from your skin and looks up at you, you two millimeters apart from each other's faces. "You close, babe?"

You nod frantically and wrap your legs around his waist, locking him in closer. He groans at how well you're able to take him, the new position allowing you to take in his cock fully. He softly coos as you try to stick it out, a pained but pleasured expression adorning your features.

"Cum on my cock, baby."

The buzzing in your system doesn't die down, everywhere in your body feels as though it's on fire. You're engulfed in everything he gives you and refuse to let this moment go. Your body is raging with white-hot arousal as you come undone with the help of a few thrusts and his fondling. You groan happily as he grips your thighs and presses them against your body again, an unfamiliar swelling at the base of his cock forming at the base of his cock and slamming against your pussy with each thrust. You peek down to see the inflation, a bit of worry rushing into your system.

Kirishima cusses as he lets go of one of your legs and pulls out, his spunk immediately spilling onto your pubic area and pussy, successfully covering you in his load. You whimper at how much there is, some getting on your clothes and the already defiled tree trunk from the spillage. You felt yucky with all the sweat and fluids and felt like it was prime time to go to sleep.

You shyly make eye contact with him and let out a nervous giggle, happily welcoming an approaching kiss as he leans in to take your lips against his. You two gradually come down from your high, your body now slumped against the flat surface of the massive cut-down tree.

You two will figure out what you are later.

#bnha x reader #mha x reader #bnha smut #mha smut #kirishima eijiro x reader #kirishima x reader #werewolf!kirishima eijiro x reader #bnha oneshots #mha oneshots #bnha imagines #mha imagines #bnha scenarios #mha scenarios #n/sfw #sav's sins

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httpslolas · 11 months

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CORNELIA STREET CL16

summary. Pierre Gasly would like for his sister to stay away from Charles Leclerc, and said sister would like a new car. In the end, neither of them get what they want.

notes. Part two solely because apparently you can’t put more than 10 pictures in one post. Fuck tumblr. Also a little written part bc why not :) -> GO BACK TO PART 1

charles_leclerc Monaco

Liked by ynngsly.user and 924.239 others charles_leclerc All in white for the home GP 🤍

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ynngsly.user bonne chance!! Forza ferrari ❤️

charles_leclerc merci ❤️

pierregasly c’est quoi tout ces cœurs là

user4 once upon a time the delulus were the ones who thought yn and Charles were dating..

user5 these times are long gone it seems

“Non.” Your brother’s mind is made up, and there’s visibly no changing it. Nevertheless, you take it upon yourself to try, again.

“Come on! You couldn’t possibly want that for your innocent and helpless little sister, right? For her to end up all alone, old and wrinkly with just a few bony cats to keep her company?”

Pierre does nothing but raise an eyebrow at you. “Is that an option ?”

You grunt, throwing your head back like a toddler that’s missing it’s favorite toy.

“He’s too old for you!” The blond continues.

“Like you’re not too old for Kika..” You retaliate quietly, puffing out your cheeks and crossing your arms. You wish you been a little louder when you see the blood creeping up his ears.

“That’s.. different.”

“Like hell it is! She’s a year younger than me! You’re 27! Wake up, old man. You’re a total cougar.”

“And you’re about to make Charles one if you start seeing each other!”

“A four year age gap is nothing, get over it!”

“It’s five years!”

“That doesn’t change anything!”

“That changes a lot of things!”

“Ferme ta geule!”

“Ferme la toi-même!”

A door opens, and the both of you freeze up, suddenly realising how loud you were being. Kika shows up in the kitchen, hand in her hair, obviously having been woken up against her will by your dispute. Despite being the reason of her unpleasant start to the morning, she greets you and Pierre warmly, following it up by a yawn.

“What’s up?”

“Pierre forbids me from dating Charles!”

“Not much”

Your opposing answers cause Kika to raise an eyebrow. “You don’t want her to date Charles? Why?” The brunette turns to her boyfriend, and you silently thank the universe for having brought these two together. Francisca always had a knack for convincing Pierre to understand your side, and sub consequently getting you what you want.

Her arms latching themselves around his neck seem to do the trick. “We-well, I just, um, I don’t think it’s very.. appropriate..”

“What’s not appropriate?” Her fingers are threading into his hair, and Pierre is almost giving out. So. Close.

“Their age gap!”

“Uh..” the perplexed look on Kika’s face seems to be an exact replica of yours when handed the same argument.

“It’s not the same!” Your brother reiterates, clearly exhausted by the argument.

“Look, it’s weird. My best friend is dating my little sister, that’s just weird. I don’t want that for myself. It complicate stuff during races for me, I don’t how I’ll handle it, and overall I’m guessing I’m a little.. protective? Of you?”

You can hear your brothers girlfriend clear her throat and excuse herself to go the bathroom. You don’t blame her, the atmosphere is tense. You didn’t like your brother’s answer one bit.

“You don’t want that for yourself? You’re an absolute piece of shit, you know that?”

With that, you storm out of Pierre’s penthouse, ready to openly defy him and do what you should’ve done a long time ago.

ynngsly.user Monte-Carlo, Monaco

Liked by charles_leclerc, francisca.cgomes and 54.236 others ynnglsy.user had a verrrryyy long night

charles_leclerc je t’aime ❤️

ynnglsy.user je t’aime encore plus 🫶

pierregasly bon.

this user has restricted comments on this post

TRANSLATION: “Bonne chance”: Good luck

“Merci”: thanks

“C’est quoi touts ces cœurs là”: What are all these hearts

“Non”: no

“Ferme ta geule”: Shut the fuck up!

“Ferme la toi-même”: You shut the fuck up!

“Je t’aime [encore plus]”: I love you [more]

“Bon”: well.

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x reader #formula one x reader #f1 x reader #ferrari #ferrari x reader #formula 1 #formula one #charles leclerc smau #Pierre Gasly

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jeongharine · 4 months

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a fruit made for two

⚝ jeonghan x reader

⚝ comfort, romance, established couple

⚝ notes: you might think "how lame" when you will be done with it, or "can she write about anything else other than tangerines" and yes, while i acknowledge my problem with tangerines, i can tell you that i'm done writing about them. but enough of my rambles, just wanted to post this little (maybe a bit sad) scenario that i have come up with during these days.

wishing you a good start of the year and a not so rough january (i personally dread this month) :)

enjoy and thank you for taking time to read this short fic x

you have always liked to peel tangerines neatly. jeonghan was focusing his attention on your fingers work. the sections coming apart cleanly in your hands.

he’s trying to cut out the noise, the laughters of the other guests at the table, the cracking open of the nuts, the clinking of the glasses and the cutlery, your aunt bragging about your cousins to your mom and your nan nearly tripping into the dog.

“that’s the limit, from then on her eyesight will worsen to blindness and there’s nothing they can do,” that’s what your father had told jeonghan before christmas lunch.

he reasoned you didn’t have the courage to confront jeonghan with the matter. so, he took it in his hands.

your thick eye-glasses nearly falling off your nose while you’re peeling away neatly the white parts.

“hannie,” you said, “i don’t know how you do it. always tearing holes when you peel tangerines and oranges, juice going in every direction,”

you’re jeonghan’s love of his life.

“i hope you never learn how to peel them, hannie. i want to do it for you for a lifetime.”

“where’d you get these?” you nearly shouted in the college backyard, while jeonghan handed you an orange.

“just took them out of a plastic bag someone left behind in class,” he said.

you laughed. you started to peel the orange, separating it in two perfect halves to give one of them to him. “you know, when i won’t be able to see no more i will miss terribly peeling citrus..”

if he could have wore his half like a friendship bracelet, he would have. “i mean, i still will be able to do it but man how it satisfies me to see the colour of the fruit changing: different shades of orange, white and then orange again,”

instead, jeonghan just swallowed each segment one by one and told himself that this, this exact moment, would have always meant so much more.

“... and your face, to see your face so focused on how i peel citrus fruits! i have to start giving you lesson,”

to share it with you. to chew and to swallow with you the sections that you so dutifully and accurately peeled, listening to all the possible rambles you might have had to tell him. to just taste the same thing in the same moment.

“here you go hannie,” you handed to jeonghan his perfectly peeled half.

the air around you filled up with the smell of peeled orange.

it was christmas’ eve. no festivities at home this year. closing the front door, jeonghan longed to hear your hasty steps down the corridor.

longing to slip an orange or a tangerine into the pocket of your wool coat before heading to town.

instead, he ignited the engine of his car and drove to the hospital where you had been staying. your eyesight barely spots of colour and light by now.

you were looking out the window into the wintery morning haze with a smile on your lips, when jeonghan entered the room. “hannie you’re here,” you recognized his footsteps and his scent. the sweetest kind.

he brought tangerines with him, peeled three of them in his car. he peeled them perfectly, peeled away every little part of the white stuff until they were all orange like you did. so you wouldn’t have to worry about not enjoy one of his favourite things.

it took him some time, but love always does.

#jeonghan x reader #yoon jeonghan x reader #seventeen x reader #seventeen fic #jeonghan fic #svt fic #jeonghan x y/n #jeonghan scenarios #seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines #jeonghan comfort #seventeen comfort

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xxblairexxss · 10 months

Text

Flushed

Pairing : Charles Leclerc x reader

Theme : Angst / fluff

Requested!

Your attempt to move on from your ex, Charles went terribly wrong.

Based on Google, the symptoms they mentioned were dizziness, abdominal pain, visual problem, trembling and reduced sense of control so I wrote based on it. I’m sorry if it wasn’t accurate! Thank you for the request, anon! I hope it lives up to your expectation!

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“Excuse me?!”

You jolted awake when your friend came bursting into the room with a bunch of chocolates and chips in her arms. Your hair was looking all disheveled, your eyes were red and puffy.

“What?” You brought the tissue paper to your face to blow on your nose before laying back down, tugging on the quilt to cover back your entire body.

“Y/N! It’s been months! You can’t seriously still crying over this. I mean, I get it, break up is sad but is this all what you gonna be doing?”

“I miss him!” Your voice became a muffle under the quilt and you heard Y/F/N groaned as she pulled the quilt away.

“Then call him. Tell him you miss him.”

“Should I?” You looked at her in surprise. She had always been telling you to move on, to just find someone else so you were expecting her to say the same thing over again. “No, I can’t do that. See, he doesn’t miss me as much as I do. I’m the one suffering here!”

“How do you know the break up doesn’t effect him?” She took a seat in front of you and went through all the chips she had bought with her. Her brows raised in excitement as she picked a salt & vinegar flavoured chips, offering you one when she opened it, to which you took and crunch on it.

“Because he doesn’t look like it? Have you seen his Instagram?” You scooted closer and dipped your hand into the chips packet to get another one.

“He’s a freaking Formula 1 driver. Have you ever seen Lewis Hamilton post a crying picture of him when he go through a break up?” She rolled her eyes, looking very much done with you. “What about the guy you were talking to last week?”

“Oh, I stop replying to him. Got an ick. But! I met this other guy.” You took your phone to click on the picture of the guy you were talking about and showed it to Y/F/N. “What do you think?”

“Let me see.” She took your phone away and stared, more like analysing the picture. “Sketchy. I would say no.”

“Why! He’s cute though.” You took the phone back and scrolled to a different picture. “See?”

“Oh, so now you are all interested with other guys just when I asked you to call your ex? I swear you be doing the exact opposite of what I told you.”

“It’s not like it was serious or anything. I still miss him. None of the guys I talked with could make me feel the same way like he did.” You turned off your phone and laid down by Y/F/N’s side, eyes trailing the details of your room for the hundredth times.

“Why don’t you try and go out with him?” She scowled at you jokingly when you turned to look at her. “Not Charles, idiot. That guy. Who knows a proper date could make you stop thinking about the Ferrari guy. One step at a time?”

“Do you think so?” You sat up and gazed at her in hesitation.

“I would prefer to see my best friend all dress up and going out on a date so I could hear some tea instead of hearing you wail over the same guy for another month.”

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“Too much?”

The date didn’t happen until another week after your conversation with Y/F/N as you weren’t exchanging texts everyday with the guy, Alan, and he didn’t mention anything about a date until the weekend arrived. You were actually contemplating to say yes because you had a hunch of something but you weren’t sure what it was and decided to dismissed it as ‘a feeling everyone gets when they try to move on from their exes’.

“Too much? Are you really asking me that? You look absolutely phenomenal!” Y/F/N walked to the dressing table and picked a few shades of lipsticks. “Try this one. It’s gonna pop your look even more.”

“I feel like I’m betraying Charles for this.” You closed the cap of the lipstick once you put it on and fixed the smudge on your eyeliner with your picky finger.

“Stop talking about Charles! You are on to a new adventure and a new dic–“

“Okay, I’m off!” You immediately stood up after applying perfume on your insides wrists and neck, walked back to the bad to get your handbag along with you.

“I just finished the longest shift in the world! Don’t wake me up and keep the tea hot until I wake up tomorrow, okay? Enjoy your date and go crush that dic–“

“Stop it!” You yelled back and slammed the door.

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“You look beautiful.”

“Hi!” You stopped when you were by the side of the table that he had sat. He looked exactly like how you pictured him. Fancy and well formed would be the words to describe him. He had told you beforehand that he would arrive a little early to the restaurant, asking you if you would mind about it to which you said no because it didn’t feel right to make him wait for you.

He greeted you with a hug and you were slightly taken aback when he ran his fingers through your hair, sniffing it as he pulled away. “You smell nice.”

“Oh, thank you.” You smiled back and took a seat as he pulled your chair out.

“I was actually going to wait but the waiter recommended a drink so I ordered it for you. I hope you don’t mind?”

“No, not at all. Thank you.” You placed your small bag on your lap and took a sip from the drink. It looked like a pinã colada so you were expecting a sweet taste on your tongue but this one had a weird smell and tasted salty. “Wow, it’s really strong!” You cringed as the drink hit your throat, thinking it could be a twist drink menu from the restaurant.

“Is it? Should I order a different one? Excuse–“

“No, no. It’s totally fine.” You waved your hand and he retreated his hand from calling the waiter.

“So, what’s up? Wait,” He shook his head and laughed in disbelief. “That was really bad. You are so beautiful it made me speechless for a while.”

He carried the whole conversations and you knew he would. He was also the one who had been picking new topics for you to talk about through texts. He looked exactly like his pictures, yes, but the way he approached certain topics were somewhat interesting, you would say. You saw the way he talked about women and though it was very subtle, he sounded haughty but you weren’t gonna jump into conclusion as maybe, just maybe, he had a bad day today so some of his emotions were conveyed through his way of thinking.

But it was hard for you to deny the discomfited feelings when he kept on touching your hand whenever you put it on the table and you had to continuously taking a sip from your drink just so it gave you a reason to pull your hand away.

“Y/N?”

“Yeah? I’m– I’m sorry I got distracted. What were you saying?” You shut your eyes as you felt yourself spacing out.

“I was asking if you ever had a pet.”

“Yeah? Yeah! I used to have a dog but he passed away like, last year. I’m sorry but I think– I am not sure– but–” You placed your fingers on your temple area and applied a pressure on it. You realised that you started feeling the room spinning around when you focused on him but everything around him swayed, making you nauseous. Everything he said went from clear words to a mumble to nothing at all. Your ears were ringing so bad they were no longer registering anything he said and you only see the way his mouth moves over and over, as if you had put it on mute.

“Is there anything wrong?”

“Yeah, I don’t– I don’t feel really good.” You winced from the pain on your head and took his hand as he stretched out his arm.

“Do you want me to bring you home?” He stood up and for a split second, you saw a smirk. You realised you had been spacing out, disoriented every second now. You didn’t know why, but you knew something was wrong. It couldn’t be from your food as you never had any food allergy. You felt completely fine before you left the house, exhilarated, even. But the little smirk that he had divulged as he offered you a hand sealed everything together.

You quickly retracted your hand and struggled to push the chair back, feeling suffocated as if it was trapping you. “I– I need to go to the bathroom. Excuse me.” You took your bag with you and tumbled when you tried to walk past him.

“Are you sure? Do you want me to walk you there and wait for you?” He held your waist, even pulled you closer as you felt his breath on your neck.

“No, it’s– it’s okay. I’ll be back. I– yeah.” You pushed him away and saw he trailed his eyes from your neck down to your chest, making you grapple to breath. Stepping aside, you held the wall as you took a few steps, leaning against it as you shut your eyes, trying to shake off the dizziness.

“Ma’am, are you okay?”

“Yeah– yeah, I’m fine.” You gave a little smile and continued walking to the bathroom, nearly toppled over a couple of times. You could feel the eyes on you from the workers and customers and there it was, again, the smirk from Alan as he looked at you from the table, hands in his pocket, looking full of pride.

The bathroom was empty, which was a relief and you scurried inside one of the stall and clumsily tried to lock the door, your hands shaking as it felt as if someone was chasing after you. You were now on the floor, your legs gave away as soon as your felt, not safe, but shielded from whatever it was outside.

You tried to unlock your phone but your blurry eyesight and trembling hands made it hard which caused your phone to lock itself from the repeated wrong passcode inputs. “No, no, no, no. Please.” You pressed everything that appeared on the screen and it was finally ringing to which you quickly placed it to your ear. “Please pick up. Please, please.”

The ringing stopped and you were greeted with a soft breathing sound from the other hand. You took in a shaky breath and wiped your tears with the back of your hand. “H–hello?”

“Y/N?” It was Charles.

“I– I don’t know– I don’t–“ Your words were stuck in your throat and you couldn’t stop sobbing so everything became a mess. None of your words were spoken, every sob you took made you feel more and more breathless.

“Y/N? Hey, hey, hey. Slow down. Where are you?”

“I’m at La Table and– I think– something in my drink– my head hurts.” You mumbled and pulled your phone away where you heard footsteps coming.

“Y/N, hey, Y/N, listen. I’m coming to you, alright. Stay on the phone with me. Can you do that?” You nodded but he was expecting to her your voice. “I need words, Y/N. Say something.”

“Yes…”

“I’m heading to my car. Can you tell me where you are?”

“I’m in the bathroom. Can you please–” You flinched when you heard a knock coming from outside your stall.

“Baby? It’s me.” It was Alan. Then came a woman’s voice after his. “Ma’am, we thought you weren’t feeling well so we brought your boyfriend.” The knocking sound came again.

You were trembling so hard that the phone nearly slipped off your hand. You pushed on your leg to scoot as far as you can from the door. The bathroom was big, bigger than usual but it still made you feel like as if there wasn’t enough room for you.

“Charles– I’m– I’m scared.” You whispered, and flinched when they knocked on your stall again. “They– he is outside.”

“I’m 5 minutes away, Y/N. I promise. Fuck!” He slammed his hand on the steering wheel when the traffic light turned red before he could pass.

You turned you head to the door when you heard the clicking sound as the door came unlocking, the handle being pushed down from the outside. “Ma’am, we are unlocking the door for you.” The worker had an extra keys and they had permission from Alan, which they assumed was your boyfriend and guardian to unlock the door and you scurried deeper against the wall. Your phone had now fallen on the floor and long forgotten.

“Baby,” Alan crouched down on his knees and brushed the strands of your hair away, one finger trailing down to your neck and you shook your head in urgency, shutting your eyes and you trembled in fear.

“No, no. I– please, no.”

“What do you mean? I’m your boyfriend. I’m taking you home.” He pulled you by you wrist so your hand were no longer covering your face but you kept your eyes shut, too scared to look at him in the face.

“Look at me, baby.” He gripped on your chin roughly, jerking you which made you opened your eyes in fear. You saw he was looking back, checking if the worker was still there before bringing his face to your ear. “Behave, or I’m gonna make it worse for you.” You felt his tongue under your ear and it caused you to shiver with feart.

“I– go home– I wanna go home.” You saw he pulled a face, nodding as if he was mocking you.

“I can’t wait to go home too, baby.” He bobbed your head, his grip on your face still stayed.

“Move.”

“What?” You heard he said and as you shut your eyes, refusing to look at him in the eyes any longer. You were no longer felt any force on your cheeks but you could still feel his presence near you, in front of you.

“I said move, bastard!” Charles pulled his back by clenching roughly on the back of his collar, pulling his out of the stall, away from you.

“The fuck is wrong with you?!”

He ignored the man and immediately went in front of you. You had your face hidden against your knees. “Y/N,” He timidly tried to hold your trembling body, hands went to grip on your shoulders. His touch was different though you weren’t aware of your surrounding. The significant difference between the touches made stop quivering a little. “Y/N, princess, it’s me.”

“Please– please don’t leave me.” You unable to form any words, slowly lifting your head to seek comfort from whoever in front of you when you found yourself in someone’s embrace as Charles pulled you into a hug, the familiar comfort inundated your heart when his arms tightly wrapped around your shaky frame.

“I’m not, I’m not. I’m right here, Y/N. I won’t leave you.” You didn’t see it but when he stroked his hand on your back, it was shaky. It felt like he had been holding his breath ever since he received your call and now only could he finally filled his lung with air. He didn’t know and hadn’t properly check if you were hurt but you were in his arms, no longer a phone call away where he could only imagine the worst.

“I am so sleepy– I can’t– everything hurts.”

His hand went to stroke your hair as he shushed you, realising that you still couldn’t speak properly. “It’s okay, princess. It’s okay.“

“Who the fuck are you? Let me handle her.”

“Lay your hand on her and I’ll fucking break it. ” Charles pushed the guy away, sending him tumbling back. “Can you stand up? Y/N, hey, look at me. I need you to stand up. Can you do that for me?”

Charles patted you on your cheeks when he saw you were spacing out, your eyes getting droopy. “Fuck it.” He went from crouching to kneeling down as he wrapped his arms around your back and your knees, standing up and your head was leaning against his neck.

“Head hurts. My– stomach.” Your words became a mumble against his skin as you were falling asleep and he leaned his cheek against your forehead, trying to reassure you.

“I know, Y/N. I know.” He took your phone and bag, hanging it on his arm before trying to walk out from the bathroom.

“Y/N–“

“Go fuck yourself.” Charles pushed the guy by his elbow, causing him to crash against the sink. “I’m not done with you yet.”

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When you woke up, you were in an oversized shirt, Charles’s shirt. Your skin didn’t feel moist from all those skincare and makeup products and you had a gel-cooling pad on your forehead. Your head was still throbbing but it was better than what you felt last night.

“Y/N?” Your turned your body to the back, facing the door of the bedroom and saw Charles walked in. “No, no. Just lay down.” He straighten his arms to halt you from sitting up and he crouched down by your side of the bed so he could meet your eyes. He the. caressed the side of your face, letting his hand so stay cupping on your cheek as he gently stroked the temple of your head. “You scared me a lot. Does your head still hurt?” The warmth of his hand, the comfort of his gaze, the reassuring smile could pull you back to sleep. Long gone all the insecurity and perilous feelings from yesterday. You felt sheltered and secured just from his touch. The touch that you had been yearning.

“No, not anymore.” You smiled at him back taking his hand in yours and brushed your lips on the palm. “What’s wrong with your hand?” You frowned and trailed the cuts on his knuckles, stopping when you see him grimaced.

“I got into a fight. It’s nothing, princess.” You haven’t heard the nickname for the longest time ever but it still gave you butterfly.

“A fight? With who?”

“No one. It’s not important.”

“Can you lay down with me?” You saw he blinked, looking at you as if he was asking you to repeat the words.

“Is it– is it okay? I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable.”

“Please?” Charles gqve in when he saw your look, almost pleading and stood up to get on the bed. You scooted closer, your head finding its way to its home, against his chest as you felt his fingers playing with your hair.

“Why did you do it?” Charles asked, breaking the silence in the room.

“Do what?”

“The date. Why did you go on a date?”

“I–“ You drew in a breath. “I was trying to move on from you.”

“Why?” His hand is now on your back and you felt your shirt tugged a little as if he was trying to snake his hand under it but held himself and went back to stroke your back, hand against your shirt.

“Because I miss you.” You fixed your head on his chest, your legs are all tangled up with his.

He didn’t say anything else and you felt like you were chagrined, feeling rejected, even slightly ashamed for being too blunt with your feelings. You knew you shouldn’t have said that. He probably had been talking to someone else by now.

“I miss you too.”

“Hm?” You tilted your head when you heard his voice cut all the thoughts in your head.

“I actually miss you a lot, princess.” He looked down and beamed when he met your eyes on him.

“But you don’t look like it.” You muttered, making him chuckle.

“What do you mean?”

“Your Instagram, it doesn’t look our break up effect you.” He chuckled even more and leaned his head against your hair. Your voice was so full of diffidence he found it adorable.

“My Instagram doesn’t speak for my feelings, silly. I miss you, a lot. I always wanted to call you but I couldn’t, scared if you would find it annoying. When I got a call from you last night, I thought you were gonna said something, anything about us but I heard you whimpered and my blood ran cold. God knows how many speeding and disobey sign traffic tickets I have gotten by now.”

You giggled and turned yourself facing him, your hands fondled with his chin, feeling the stubble poked against your skin. “I’m sorry. I didn’t even know I was calling you. I didn’t want to call you, actually because I wasn’t sure if you would come because, you know, we broke up.”

“We broke up but you are still important to me, Y/N. You always will. I would even take the damn flight if you called me from a different country. Just– don’t call me when you are on a date. No, no more date for you.”

“Why? How am I able to move on if I can’t go on a date, Charles. I can’t keep on crying over you.” You shook your head, looking dejected. You needed to move on. That was what Y/F/N had been telling you. You couldn’t keep on hoping for something that you, yourself didn’t even know if it was worth the wait.

“You don’t have to move on. I’ll be taking you out on your next date. And your next next date. And your upcoming date. All of your dates, basically.”

You sat up almost instantly, hand was still on his chest and you blinked. “What? What do you mean? Are you doing this just because you felt bad for what happened to me last night because if that was the reason, then it’s totally fine. I–“

You felt his lips on yours. It was the kind of kiss that was enough to speak for all of the unspoken words to which he didn’t even have to say anything else. The kind of kiss that erased all your insecurities, all unanswered questions you had been keeping in your head. He pulled away and leaned his forehead against yours. “It means I still love you, princess.” His lips is back on yours as he pulled away, again. “A lot.” Lips were back to mould against yours. “And I don’t want to see you go out on a date with someone else. No more silly date, okay?”

✧.* tags! @i83andrew @cltrlne @karmabyfernando @ohthemisssery @ru-kru @tastebaldwin @f1obessed @aundercover @love4lando

let me know if you would like to be removed or added to my tag list! or if I missed anyone!

Wanted to also point these out. The other symptoms mentioned were difficulty to speak and slurring words, hence why none of the words she said made any sense. Feeling confused, where the reader asked Alan to bring her home and memory loss, where she didn’t ask about what happened last night since she couldn’t remember large sections of it. Hope it makes sense! 🫶🏻

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #f1 imagines #charles leclerc #charles leclerc imagines #f1 imagine #f1 x reader

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daisygirlwrites · 1 year

Text

Behind the Wheel

Summary: Times when Ghost's driving (& piloting) gets the team in trouble.

Warnings: Descriptions of violence, injuries and drinking (but not really). Mentions of death. Mentions of throwing up.

Pairing(s): Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!Reader (Platonic), Task Force 141 x Reader (Platonic)

Word Count: 1,642

Note: No use of (Y/N)

a/n: hey hey! so sorry that this is late! school just started for me and i've been doing job interviews as well. finally got some time tonight to finish this. sorry if the ending felt rushed, my brain didn't know how to word. might post another fic/headcanons this week though! also, thank you so much for 100 followers! and another thanks to @thoughtfullyhauntedchild for inspiration :3

taglist: @bobfloydsgf

Las Almas

Seeing the truck almost brought tears to your eyes. You were exhausted to say the least, also pissed off with Graves and Shepard and even more that you got shot. It was not your day. But during the darkest hour, that running truck was the ray of light you needed.

After exchanging shots with the remaining Shadows in the area, Ghost rams through the blockade without warning. Still sitting up from covering the men in the front, the forward momentum launches you out of the backseat, body moving towards the already broken windshield.

If it weren’t for Soap's quick reflexes, it would have been the second time you’ve been thrown out the window during a mission. Thankfully he grabs the back of your vest to slow you down. But instead of glass, your face hits the dashboard. The pain was blinding white, tears threaten to spill as Soap pulls you back and you cradle your face in your hands.

You missed Ghost’s eyes widened with shock (and slight amusement) as yours was still closed to stop the tears from leaking out. Soap’s eyebrows furrow with concern as he gently tilts your chin up and carefully slides the balaclava down your face, a chain of "owies" leaving your lips.

“Sorry Lass, I’m just gonna feel if it’s broken, okay?”

“As long as you let me whine about it.”

Using his pointer finger and his thumb, Soap makes small squeezes down your nose. You mutter curses as he does so. “Fuck, dammit! Oh Jesus Christ, shit!” Soap mumbles back apologies, keeping his hand steady as the truck drives through the uneven ground. He pulls back, giving your face another inspection.

“Definitely swelling but nothing feels broken to me.” You give him the okay sign. Moving back to your seat, you gently maneuver your mask back on.

Ghost can feel your eyes burning holes on the back of his head. Maybe he did feel a little bad but it really wasn’t his fault that you slammed your face on the dashboard. He just hopes your nose isn’t broken or else he won’t hear the end of it. But still, he kind of apologizes.

Giving you a glance through the rearview mirror, he acknowledges you. “My bad, Sargent.”

Fighting the urge to roll your eyes and feeling like this is the most he’s going to say, you let out an audible sigh.

“It’s cool, LT."

Moscow

Whenever the team goes out after missions, you were almost, if not always the designated driver of the group. It started as a “rookie responsibility” but honestly, you liked taking care of others. It reminded you of your college days, dragging your friends back to the dorm building, feeding them goldfish and water before tucking them in bed and leaving them some painkillers for when they wake up. Now, you do the exact same things but with taller military guys that claim to have high tolerance.

However, tonight’s a little different. Nikolai piloted the team to safety and as a thank you, Price promised to buy everyone's drinks. You initially declined the offer but Soap’s question made you reconsider.

“Don’t you wanna try real Russian Vodka?” He grins at you. He watches you open your mouth before closing it, eyes deep in thought. Sensing your hesitation, Soap looks over to their Lieutenant that was in the back of the group.

“Hey LT, can you drive us back tonight?” Soap shouts at him. Ghost narrows his eyes. “Please? Crash has always driven us back!”

Ghost doesn’t respond but you do instead. “Don’t worry about it LT! I won’t drink tonight, I’ll drive everyone to the hotel.”

Soap lets out a whine, disappointed and even Gaz looked a little bummed. Clearly annoyed, mostly with himself for giving into peer pressure (and not wanting to deal with Soap’s bitching for the rest of the night), Ghost lets out a sigh, “Oi, Crash.”

Watching your head turn back at him, he opens his hand. “Keys,” He demanded. You raise an eyebrow at him, silently asking “Are you sure?” He just nods. Fishing the keys out of your pocket, you toss it towards him.

A few hours and many shots later, the group piles back into the SUV. Nikolai sits up in the front passenger seat, giving Ghost slurred directions back to the hotel, while Soap and Gaz laying passed out in the back row. You and Price are in the middle, him telling you a story from his past and you, not really comprehending, nodding along.

The car makes a slight jump when hitting a bump on the road, the movement not helping your stomach. It’s becoming more frequent now, along with the addition of the sharp turns. Looking away from Price and to the driver in front of you, your brain was slow to process what was going on. The bumps continue, eventually waking the two men in the back seat. Even with your hazy mind, you notice a pattern during the beginning chaos. Slide, bump, slide, bump. Glancing out the window to confirm your suspicions, you watch the tires going over every curb you see.

Ghost was annoyed again. Nikolai’s instructions were sudden, therefore making his movements jerky. The safer option is to slow down but Ghost wanted everyone in bed.

“Jesus, Si. The fuck you haulin’ ass for?” He hears your voice call out. "Fuckin' driving like a teenager, hitting curbs and shit."

“The girl is right. Wouldn’t want the police to show up,” Nikolai comments. As if he had been blessed with the gift of prophecy by Apollo himself, Ghost catches the sight of red and blue lights flashing behind him.

“Oh fuckin’ hell."

Swiss Alps

One of the pilots is dead, the other was putting pressure on their arm that was sporting a gunshot wound, the aircraft itself was spinning out of control and you were panicking. Honestly, everyone was panicking but you’re the only one showing it.

“Oh man, why am I forgetting my training for this?” You questioned, mostly to yourself. Price keeps a tight grip on your shoulders, trying to calm you down from your ramblings. Constant beepings and warnings are heard throughout the helicopter. Gaz, already bracing himself while Soap frantically looks around for anything useful.

Ghost, looking unbothered, shoves the body aside and takes a seat. He glances over at the injured pilot. “You’re going to instruct me to land this thing.”

“Crash landing to be more accurate. Look for big snow piles,” They yell out. Ghost nods, grabbing hold of the cyclic and quickly scans for snow mounds. Finding one that looks big enough, he leads the helicopter towards it. It was supposed to be simple, just crash on the fluffy snow and call it a day. However, trying to stabilize a malfunctioning aircraft wasn’t as easy as he thought. Though, upon seeing the pile of safety, he gives out a breath of relief.

Ghost on and off the field is a machine. So when he completely misses the snow mound, he lets out an audible gasp. Along with the loud beeping, Soap and Gaz join’s your screaming.

“HOW DID YOU MISS?! HOW THE FUCK DID YOU MISS THE-” Your yelling was the last thing he heard before blacking out.

141 Task Force Base

Waking up in the med bay was something he wasn’t expecting, along with being alive in general. The lights were dim, his eyes adjusting his surroundings quicker. Wiggling his fingers, he was relieved to feel them touch the cotton sheets. Unsure of what injuries he had, Ghost slowly lifts his hand up to his face. He lets out a quiet sigh when he feels the familiar fabric of his balaclava. Suddenly his mind races to his team, to Soap, to you.

The last thing he recalls was blurs of trees and everyone screaming.

“Hey! LT’s awake!” A familiar Scotts voice rings out, followed by someone shushing him and what sounds like a slap on the head.

The lights turn a smidge brighter, as if to not hurt Ghost’s eyes. He watches the team walk into the room, looking a little more rough than usual. His gaze lingers on the shortest member of the group. A couple bandages cover her face, along with a frown. Arms crossed and eyes refusing to meet him.

Price explains to him that after the collision, he, Gaz and Soap had to drag you, him and the other pilot out. And also the helicopter exploded. They watch him run a hand down his masked face.

He looks at you again, “You’re pissed.”

You meet his gaze this time, “No shit.”

Sensing some tension, the team spreads out through the room, not wanting to get in the way but also wanting to see you go off on the Lieutenant.

“Your driving sucks ass, LT! Like Cher from Clueless! Hitting curbs like a teenage girl. Holy fuck, my guy.” You start. All Ghost could do was stare at you, more amused than angry. “You almost broke my nose in Mexico with a freaking break check, I threw up in front of police officers- wasting eighty dollars worth of good vodka! And now this!” You point at your face. “My face is all jacked up!”

That last comment made him chuckle, out of all the things you were concerned about, it was your appearance that mattered. He inspects your face, besides having new scars, everything else looks the same. All he could do was shake his head in disbelief.

“Crash, you are such a girl.” He gives you a smile. You couldn’t see his mouth but his eyes expressed it. “I’m just glad you’re alive.”

That comment caught you off guard, feeling heat coming up to your cheeks. You were speechless.

"Also, it really wasn't my fault."

"YES IT IS!"

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