#you would be learning from them or politely leaving them the FUCK alone to do their own thing while you focus on yours!
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Thinking a little bit about that one "I'm an English major and a professional as opposed to you amateurs" anon. Gonna roast 'em a little bit, but with the intention of addressing a thing we've had in mind for a while.
Real talk, coming from someone who WAS an English major; majoring in English is not necessarily a guarantee that someone is a good writer. For one, you can be bad at your major, full stop. For another, it's not even a guarantee that someone identifies as a writer to begin with. English as a major is pretty broad, and it covers reading too, among other things. There's library science, analytical academia, historical preservation & interpretation (MEDIEVAL MANUSCRIPTS HELL YES), editing, nonfiction trades (often crosses over with STEM majors), marketing (crosses over with business majors), and also book design and typography (<3 <3 <3 our favorite, crosses over with art majors).
Someone can major in English and take a specific minor with the goal of falling into a trade that is not writing literary fiction. In fact, we would argue that most people who get something useful out of their major are the ones that do that.
It's also worth noting that it's possible to be an English major focused on "lowbrow" fiction. There are people who major in English and use the experience towards the end of writing erotica. There are people who major in English with the intent to write genre fiction. There are people who major in English to study the history and social context of fanfiction.
These things are, in fact, worthy fields of study! The realm of the "amateur" is the realm where a lot of cultural conversations and innovations happen!
Expecting English as a major to be a tract specifically for producing acclaimed literary fictionists is not realistic, not how the discipline typically works, and it's certainly not a thing you can use to hold over other writers' heads. It is perfectly possible for people to write good things (professional-grade things even) without ever touching a college course.
I sat through so much bad writing in college. Technically bad, thematically bad, gramatically bad. And I routinely bump into non-graduate authors who write texts, formal and informal alike, that blow my own writing clean out of the water with their quality.
In short, dismissing other people in your general field as "amateurs" who are beneath you is an incredibly unprofessional thing to do.
#writeblr#basically this is an anti-elitism post#sometimes we see elitism creeping back into writeblr#and as academia enthusiasts we feel the need to respond to it by whacking it with a broom#because! if you were really dedicated to the honing and preservation of knowledge & skill! you would NOT! be! dismissing people offhand!#and you would especially not be putting them down to boost your own ego!#you would be learning from them or politely leaving them the FUCK alone to do their own thing while you focus on yours!#*general you here#i know we sound angry here but please imagine us saying all of this with wicked glee while whacking Amateur Anon with said broom#because we are saying it out of enthusiasm for the people who are making cool things around here#ourselves included because we are not allowed self-deprication anymore
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Too Sweet
Toto Wolff x Reader
Max Verstappen x ex!Reader
Summary: Max used to think that you’re too sweet for him … now he has to learn to live with the fact that Toto has quite a sweet tooth (inspired by the song that I’ve had on repeat)
I take my whiskеy neat
The doors to the upscale restaurant swing open and Max strides through, his fingers lightly grazing the small of your back as he guides you inside. The dimly lit interior is bustling with the chatter of well-heeled patrons enjoying their evening repasts. A sharply dressed hostess greets you with a polite smile.
“Good evening, sir. Welcome to The Sazerac Room. Do you have a reservation?”
“Verstappen,” Max replies curtly.
The hostess consults her tablet, then nods. “Right this way please.”
She leads the two of you through the elegant dining room, weaving between tables topped with crisp white linens and elaborate floral centerpieces. Max keeps his hand at your back, his thumb idly stroking in a soothing pattern as you take in the opulent surroundings with wide eyes.
“This place is incredible,” you murmur, craning your neck to admire the ornate chandeliers glittering overhead. “Thank you for bringing me here.”
He simply grunts in acknowledgment as the hostess stops before an intimate table tucked discreetly in the corner. After pulling out your chair for you with a flourish, she sets two leather-bound menus on the table.
“Your server will be right with you,” she informs them before departing with a polite nod.
You waste no time in opening your menu, hungrily perusing the offerings. “Oh Max, look at all these amazing cocktails! The La Vie en Rose sounds divine — rose liqueur, raspberries, lemon ...” You glance up at him hopefully. “We should get a couple of those to start.”
Max barely glances at his own menu before shaking his head. “I’ll just have a whiskey neat.”
Your face falls slightly at his brusque response. “Are you sure? These all look so good! We should live a little and try something fun for once.”
He fixes you with a stern look from across the table. “You know I don’t like frilly drinks. Now stop pestering me about it.”
Chastened by his harsh tone, you lapse into a wounded silence and continue reading the menu with diminished enthusiasm. A few moments later, a dapper middle-aged gentleman in a crisp suit appears at your table.
“Good evening, and welcome to The Sazerac Room. My name is William and I’ll be your server this evening.” With a polite smile, he produces a notepad from his breast pocket. “May I start you off with something to drink?”
You glance back at Max, giving him one last chance to change his mind. When he simply gazes back at you impassively, you sigh. “I’ll have the La Vie en Rose cocktail, please.”
William jots down your order before turning to Max expectantly.
“Whiskey neat,” Max says flatly. “Redbreast 27 Year, if you have it.”
“An excellent choice, sir.” William makes a note. “And may I bring you both some bread from our bakery while you decide on your meals?”
“That would be wonderful, thank you,” you reply gratefully.
William departs to place the drink orders, leaving you and Max alone once more. An awkward silence stretches between you, filled only by the tinkle of silverware and murmurs of conversation from surrounding tables.
Finally, you try again. “Max, are you sure I can’t tempt you with one little sip? This La Vie en Rose cocktail sounds absolutely divine. You might lov-”
“For fuck’s sake!” Max suddenly explodes, slamming his menu down on the table hard enough to rattle the cutlery. “How many times do I have to tell you I don’t want any of your ridiculous fruity bullshit? I’m a fucking race car driver, not some ridiculous Instagram model trying to look pretty with my drink.”
His nostrils flare as he leans across the table, eyes flashing with irritation that you would dare continue to push the issue. “I’ve had a long fucking day and I am going to drink whatever the fuck I want. So order your stupid fucking girly cocktail if you must, but don’t act so goddamn disappointed and keep shoving it in my face when I say no.”
You shrink back in your chair, eyes widening with hurt at his enraged outburst. The crestfallen look on your face is enough to douse Max’s fury like a bucket of ice water. He slumps back, remorse already stirring as he witnesses the light dimming in your eyes, lips trembling ever so slightly as you blink back sudden tears.
“I … I was just excited to try something new together,” you whisper shakily. “But never mind. You’re right, I’m sorry.”
The arrival of William with a basket of assorted breads and your glittering pink cocktail garnished with raspberries provides a merciful distraction from the tension.
You immediately reach for the drink, wrapping your hands around the delicate stemmed glass and taking a large gulp — both to avoid making eye contact with Max and to sample your coveted libation.
A look of bliss softens your features as the tart, sugary concoction bursts across your taste buds. “Mmm, this is incredible!”
For a beat, Max can’t help but drink in your look of pure enjoyment — the way your eyes flutter closed in delight, pink lips quirking into a contented smile as you savor each sip. It simultaneously tugs at his heartstrings and fills him with an irrational stab of resentment.
Here you are, sweet and radiant, able to find joy in the simplest of things … while he is just a miserable bastard who can’t let himself enjoy anything without getting irrationally angry.
You deserve so much better than him.
The thought is sobering and he feels shame burn hot in his gut. Unconsciously, his shoulders slump as he watches you take another euphoric sip of your cocktail.
“I knew it, this is amazing,” you sigh happily, seemingly recovered from his earlier tantrum as you bask in the deliciousness of your drink. “Max, you have to try just one little-”
“No.” The refusal is automatic, the word slicing through your offer before he can think better of it.
Your face shutters once more, the bright light in your eyes dimming as your smile fades into resignation. With a soft exhale, you set your glass down and reach for the bread basket instead.
“Suit yourself, then.”
As you silently butter a roll, Max finds himself at a rare loss, anger dissipating into regret as the knot in his stomach tightens painfully. Tonight was supposed to be a celebration after his impressive win on the track, a chance for the two of you to enjoy each other’s company and make more happy memories together.
Instead, he’s gone and ruined the mood … again … just like he always does.
***
“Another round?” Checo’s voice cuts through the sound of laughter and chatter around the table.
Max glances up distractedly from pushing the remaining bits of food around his plate. He, Checo, and a few other members of the Red Bull team are celebrating a successful Monaco Grand Prix. Despite making the podium, Max’s mind hasn’t really been on the festivities.
“I’m all set, thanks,” he mutters, raising his glass of whiskey with a tight smile before taking a sip. His gaze drifts across the opulent dining room of Cipriani Monte Carlo, idly scanning the crowd of wealthy patrons enjoying their evening meals.
That’s when his eyes catch on a shockingly familiar figure.
You.
Sitting at an intimate corner table, bathed in the soft glow of a candle’s flickering flame. For a moment, Max’s breath catches in his throat as a thousand bittersweet memories assault him all at once.
The hurt look on your face that night at The Sazerac Room … the resignation in your eyes as you accepted, yet again, that he would never be able to appreciate the sweet, simple pleasures that brought you such joy ...
The cold, empty silence that descended over your apartment when he finally left for good, stuffing his belongings into a duffel bag as you watched with trembling lips from across the room ...
Max blinks, and the moment passes — but his gaze remains riveted to your table. Because there, sitting across from you with adoration written across his insufferable face … is Toto Wolff.
Max feels his lips curl into an unconscious sneer as the Mercedes team principal murmurs something to you with a gentle smile, reaching across to delicately brush a lock of hair behind your ear. You catch Toto’s hand as it falls, pressing a tender kiss into his palm that makes the older man’s expression soften even further.
Your waiter arrives then, providing a momentary distraction as he lays out a couple of fresh cocktails on crisp white linen — a bright purple concoction garnished with a sugared rim and a plump cherry for you and an amber-hued old fashioned for Toto.
Your eyes light up as you take in the colorful beverage, immediately wrapping your hands around the delicate stemmed glass and bringing it to your lips to sample. A look of pure delight crosses your features as the no doubt sugary drink bursts across your taste buds.
“Mmm ...” you hum in pleasure, causing Toto to chuckle affectionately as he watches you enjoy the first reveling sips.
Setting your glass down, you gesture enthusiastically toward it as you address Toto. “This is incredible! You have to try it.”
Without hesitation, the Mercedes team boss dutifully leans across the table to take a long pull from your straw. Max watches with a mixture of disgust and morbid fascination as Toto’s expression morphs into one of surprised enjoyment.
“Wow, that is quite good, isn’t it?” Toto remarks with an indulgent grin, licking a telltale dab of purple syrup from the corner of his mouth.
“I told you!” You crow in delight, eyes sparkling with unrestrained glee.
The pure joy radiating from you in that moment is enough to make Max’s heart clench in his chest. He has seen that look before, so many times — whenever he deigned to let go of his surly demeanor for even a moment and actually indulge whatever fleeting whim or simple pleasure you desired to share with him.
But it was always so short-lived with him, stamped out by his own stubborn refusal to truly embrace anything resembling happiness or frivolity. You deserved so much more than his constant scowling and gruff rebuffs.
As if reading his thoughts, Toto then leans across the table to tenderly capture your lips in a soft, lingering kiss. The gentle intimacy of it makes Max’s gut churn as a feeling too complicated to fully unpack blossoms in his chest.
When you finally part, both of you are smiling at each other with such open, unguarded adoration that it’s almost obscene to witness. Toto reaches out to cradle your face in his palm as your lips find his once more in another chaste, loving caress.
This time, when you pull away, you let your head loll back with a look of pure bliss. Something deep within Max cracks and splinters at the sight. In a haze, he finds himself drifting back through the churning currents of memory ...
… that last, fateful shouting match in your living room, both of you red-faced and furious as the dam holding back all the anger and resentment and accusations that had been building for months finally burst ...
… you weeping silently as you clutched a meager trash bag containing what little remained of his belongings, not even able to look at him for fear of collapsing completely ...
… “I’m too sweet for you, Max. You’ve made that perfectly clear.”
The acid words burn in his mind even now, feeling as fresh and raw as that night they were spat out like venom between you. His chest constricts as his gaze falls guiltily back to the present day scene in front of him.
Toto and you, basking in the warm, rosy glow of new love — careless and unrestrained in your public affection. Delighting in each other’s company and simple pleasures … just as you always desired for Max to do, yet he could never fully surrender to.
The display is like a twisted mirror, taunting him with the vibrant reflection of what he threw away. What he was too foolish, too emotionally stunted and uncaring to fully appreciate at the time.
Stumbling from his chair in a daze, Max barely registers the questioning looks and concerned murmurs from his team as he staggers from the dining room. He hardly makes it to the privacy of the restroom before bending at the waist, hefting the contents of his stomach into the thankfully pristine porcelain basin.
The whiskey burns on the way back up.
Max grips the edges of the counter, face contorted in anguish as a realization washes over him in searing waves.
You were the real prize all along … and now, he’s lost you for good.
My coffee black
The drone of announcements over the PA system and the dull roar of hundreds of people bustling to and fro mingles into an ever-present white noise hum. Max trudges ahead, the brim of his ball cap tugged low as he weaves through the teeming crowds filing through the airports’ terminals.
It’s just after 5 am, the start of another grueling race week. This time the travel will take you from the Middle Eastern leg of the circuit to the other side of the world in Australia. Twenty-plus hours of planes, layovers, and jet lag beckon — a prospect that grows less and less appealing with each passing season.
A warm weight presses against his side as you shuffle along beside him, head lolling adorably as you struggle to keep your eyes open. One slender hand is looped through the crook of his elbow, gripping the strap of your carry-on bag with the other. You let out a jaw-cracking yawn, leaning into Max’s solid bulk.
“I need coffee,” you mumble groggily. “I’m barely conscious.”
He shoots you a sidelong glance, mouth quirking ever-so-slightly at your dramatics. As grating as your tendency for excessive cheerfulness can be at times, he does admire your ability to shake off the fatigue and stress that plagues him more and more these days.
“There’s one of those chains up ahead,” he grunts, nodding toward the familiar logo peeking through from around the corner.
You light up immediately, straightening and quickening your shuffling steps in anticipation of the caffeinated boost soon to come. By the time you reach the counter, there’s a bright spark back in your eyes that makes the exhaustion plaguing Max’s own limbs feel slightly more bearable.
The barista, a pimple-faced youth who can’t be any older than 18, greets you with a too-wide smile. “Welcome to Daily Grind! What can I get started for you?”
You lean in eagerly, surveying the massive display of chalkboard signs advertising the latest sugar bombs and “coffee” concoctions designed to appease the basic palates of everyday people who wouldn’t know a good cup of joe if it slapped them across the face. Max scowls, already anticipating some ridiculously saccharine order.
“I’ll have a large cinnamon honey oat milk latte, please,” you chirp, as expected.
The barista marks down your request with a perky nod. “Excellent! And for you, sir?”
“Black coffee,” Max replies flatly. “Medium.”
Your brow furrows as you shoot him a quizzical look. “Just black coffee? Not even a splash of cream or anything?”
He shakes his head tersely, one hand already rummaging in his pocket for his wallet as the barista rattles off the total. “We’re in a rush as it is, and that sugary nonsense you ordered takes forever to make with all the fussy bullshit they do to it.”
You wince at his blunt assessment, shoulders slumping a bit in a way that makes a pang of guilt flicker through Max’s chest. He doesn’t mean to be so harsh … but sometimes it’s like the more considerate side of his nature has been ground away by years of constant training and calculating every single variable down to the most minute detail.
The poor kid working the register seems to shrink under the intensity of Max’s gruff demeanor. With shaky hands, he quickly processes the payment before stammering out your total. As you shuffle off to the side to wait for your orders, Max can’t help but keep picking.
“Honestly, I don’t know why you insist on ordering those stupid drinks that are 90% milk and trash,” he mutters, shooting you a disapproving look. “Barely any actual coffee at all.”
You frown, immediately hunching into yourself a bit as you cradle a handful of napkins against your chest. “It’s not like that coffee flavor isn’t there at all,” you argue meekly. “And I have to get some kind of caffeine boost to stay awake during all these flights and race weekends. I just … I don’t really like the taste of black coffee.”
Max scoffs loudly at that, shaking his head in open derision. “Sure, because drinking just regular black coffee like an adult would be too difficult. Instead you have to get your ‘caffeine boost’ from some tooth-rottingly sweet concoction that looks like something a child would order.”
The barista shifts uncomfortably behind the counter, clearly flustered by Max’s abrasive tone. Not that he cares — he’s been dealing with people gawking at him in public for years now. What does rub him the wrong way is the wounded look spreading across your delicate features, eyes dropping to stare dejectedly at the floor.
He opens his mouth to continue chiding you, but at that moment the barista appears with your drinks. The sweet, cinnamony aroma of your order hits Max’s nostrils like a slap in the face, making his nose wrinkle on instinct. You accept your oversized paper cup gratefully, hands automatically curling around the comforting warmth.
With visible enthusiasm, you bring the drink to your lips, unable to resist taking a sip despite the scalding temperature. Max tracks the minute changes in your expression — the slight widening of your eyes, the upward quirk of your lips into a smile of unalloyed contentment. Your lashes flutter closed on a quiet hum of blissful appreciation.
“Mmm … heaven,” you practically moan, hunching over your cup as though to better inhale the revitalizing notes of sugar and spice.
It makes Max want to retch, watching you so unashamedly indulging in such vapid, artificial flavors. How can you find such simple-minded pleasure in that, when you could be savoring the bold, robust notes of a proper cup of black coffee? One meant to awaken the senses and caress the taste buds with its smoky aroma and rich, nuanced flavor notes.
“You can’t honestly get any enjoyment from basically drinking hot milk and flavored syrups,” he mutters, sneering at the offensive beverage in your grasp.
In response, you simply shift closer to him until you’re pressed alongside his body. Your free hand snakes around his bicep, squeezing gently as you tilt your head back to gaze up at him imploringly. Exhaustion and hurt war openly with the angelic softness of your delicate features.
“Max … can’t you just let me enjoy this?” You plead in a low murmur. “It’s early, and we’ve got a long flight ahead.”
His jaw clenches stubbornly, unwilling to back down so easily. Caffeine and sleep deprivation have eroded his already thin sense of decorum.
“I’m just saying, drinking a syrupy dessert drink loaded with sugar and god knows what else isn’t doing you any favors. You might as well just stick to black coffee like a normal adult if you want to be awake and energized.”
The wounded look in your eyes deepens into something more somber and resigned. Slowly, you pull away from Max’s side until a noticeable distance stretches between your bodies. Something inside him shrivels at the loss of contact. Your slender fingers work feverishly at the cup’s lid until it pops off with a dull thunk.
Max stares blankly as you march over to the nearest trash can and upend the contents of your cup into the receptacle. You don’t even seem to hesitate — simply turn on your heel and hurl the now-empty cup in after the wasted drink. It clatters hollowly against the canister, mocking and empty.
When you turn back to face Max, the sight makes the now-lukewarm coffee sitting neglected in his own cup feels like a lead weight in his gut. Your arms are wrapped protectively around yourself, hunched against some unseen foe. Head bowed, you refuse to meet his gaze as you slowly make your way back over to where he stands rooted to the spot in stunned silence.
It’s only as you draw up beside him that Max notices the twin tear tracks striping your cheeks. Your chin remains stubbornly trembling, but you make no move to wipe at the tears now falling freely. Max’s chest constricts almost painfully at the sight of your misery, the guilt gnawing at him as the reality sets in.
He is the reason for it. His harsh, uncompromising tongue has wounded you in one of the cruelest ways once again. Too strict, too unyielding, too incapable of allowing even the smallest indulgences that bring you simple joy without sneering dismissal.
For several agonizing moments, the two of you stand in silence amid the milling crowds of travelers streaming past. Max can’t bring himself to meet your gaze, knowing he’ll only find the depths of his own callous thoughtlessness reflected back at him in your swimming eyes.
Finally, you release a shuddering sigh that sounds far too weighted for someone of your sweetness and light. When you speak, your voice is little more than a tremulous murmur laced with dejection.
“Let’s just go to the gate, Max.”
You brush past him without another word, leaving him to trail numbly in your wake as shame burns a hole through his gut. He watches as your form disappears into the throngs, shoulders already beginning to hunch inward as that spark of happiness in you gutters and fades.
Lingering behind, Max’s gaze falls to the empty cup lying crumpled and discarded in the trash. A reminder of yet another instance where his unchecked tongue and inability to empathize has spoiled an innocent attempt at simple pleasure.
His coffee suddenly tastes like ash on his tongue.
As he moves to dump the neglected drink into the nearby basin, Max wonders with a sinking feeling just how many more times he’ll be able to snuff out your light before it dwindles to nothing.
***
The late morning sun bears down with oppressive force, causing a mirage-like haze to shimmer over the sweltering asphalt of the paddock. Despite being early summer, the Spanish air is already thick and heavy enough to bathe Max’s skin in a sheen of perspiration as he trudges toward the Red Bull Energy Station.
Ahead, he spots a cluster of people milling aimlessly near the entrance to the Mercedes motorhome. At the center appears to be you, head tilted back in unrestrained laughter at something George Russell is regaling you with. The British driver is equally animated, pale features scrunched up in exaggerated motions as he relays what is no doubt an amusing tale.
Max feels his steps gradually slow of their own accord as he takes you in from a distance. You seem utterly at ease and in your element — cheeky grin splitting your face, one hand toying idly with the ends of your hair as your eyes crinkle with unbridled mirth.
A pure vision of effortless contentment.
His gut clenches unexpectedly, unbidden memories of how he methodically chipped away at that very lightness in you until it was all but extinguished washing over him in a nauseating wave. How quickly he took such simple joys for granted ...
So transfixed is he by the sight of your open, honest amusement that Max barely notices the figure slipping up behind you. Not until Toto Wolff raises a conspiratorial finger to his lips, eyes twinkling impishly as he pantomimes for silence at a sputtering George.
You remain oblivious even as the Mercedes team principal slides flush against your back, looping one arm around your waist to tug you snug against his chest. With his free hand, Toto cups it teasingly over your eyes — to which you release a tinkling peal of laughter.
“Guess who?” The playful lilt of the older man’s Austrian lilt is unmistakable, dripping with honeyed warmth.
“Hmm … I wonder,” you murmur coyly, making a show of tapping your chin in feigned confusion. “Is it a dashing gentleman caller here to sweep me off my feet?”
Toto chuckles deeply in your ear, the sound positively dripping with unguarded affection. “Only if you’ll have me, liebling.”
Craning your head back with a cheeky grin, your arms instinctively wind around his neck as you stretch up on your tiptoes to greet him properly. Toto meets your lips in a lingering, languid kiss that has George hastily clearing his throat and looking resolutely anywhere but at the affectionate display before him.
When you finally part, all radiant smiles and flushed cheeks, it’s like the rest of the world has completely fallen away. Toto gazes down at you with such pure adoration that Max feels his throat constrict as though a belt is suddenly cinched tight around it.
“I have a surprise for you, schnucki,” Toto murmurs huskily, lips brushing your temple as he speaks.
You light up like a kid on Christmas morning, practically vibrating with excitement at his words. “Oh? Do tell!”
With a wink and roguish smile, Toto brandishes his other hand from behind his back — in it, clutched protectively, is a large cup topped with whipped cream and what looks like edible flower petals sprinkled over the top. The light purple hue of the iced contents catches in the bright sun, refracting a prism of soft, delicate colors.
“I had the barista in our hospitality whip this up for you,” Toto explains fondly. “After I mentioned how much you enjoy trying unique coffee flavors. It’s a lavender vanilla iced latte.”
Your mouth drops open in a perfect ‘o’ of delight as you instinctively make grabby motions toward the tantalizing beverage. Max recognizes that earnest enthusiasm all too well. It’s the same look you used to get whenever presented with any unique taste or experience to appreciate.
A look he always met with disdain and scorn.
Toto doesn’t hesitate for a second before depositing the cup into your greedy hands. You immediately cradle it reverently, as though it’s the most precious thing you’ve ever held. Ducking your head, you take a long pull through the striped paper straw.
The expression that blossoms across your features as that first taste bursts over your tongue is one of pure, unadulterated bliss. Your eyes flutter closed on a muffled moan of sinful enjoyment, lips pursing as though savoring each individual note of flavor. Max hasn’t seen you look that unguardedly delighted by anything in … well, he can’t actually recall the last time.
“Oh Toto, this is heavenly!” You gush, swiping your tongue across your lower lip to catch a stray drop of condensation. “The lavender is subtle, but gives it such a uniquely fresh and floral twist. And the vanilla adds this creamy sweetness that keeps it from being overwhelming.”
You open your eyes to beam radiantly up at the older man, who returns your luminous smile with equal warmth. “It’s perfect, thank you! You have to try it.”
Without prompting, you eagerly offer the cup up to Toto. He accepts it with an indulgent chuckle, locking eyes with you as he takes a contemplative sip — no doubt eager to share in whatever fleeting moment of bliss the simple drink has brought you.
Unlike Max, who would have turned up his nose and likely received it with derision, Toto seems to savor the complex blend of flavors. Humming thoughtfully, he swipes his tongue across his upper lip as though committing each separate note to memory.
“You’re quite right, liebling,” he agrees readily, “this is delightful. So refreshing for this heat. I may have to acquire a taste for these iced coffees myself.”
You positively glow at his assessment, lighting up from within like a joyful little sun. Max is helpless before the storm of emotions suddenly ripping through him at the sight.
“Oh! That reminds me,” you chirp giddily, bouncing on the balls of your feet, “I was talking to the barista about maybe incorporating some other floral syrups for iced coffees too. Like rose or hibiscus! And maybe we could get her to try making those fun layered drinks with the espresso on the bottom-”
Toto’s deep belly laugh cuts off your stream of eager rambling. Without warning, he snakes an arm around your waist and tugs you flush against him once more. You let out a startled giggle as he buries his nose in the crook of your neck, lips brushing the feverish pulse point just beneath your jaw.
“You adorable thing,” he rumbles warmly, words slightly muffled against your skin as he presses a languid line of kisses along the sharp line of your jaw. “So enthusiastic about the simplest pleasures in life ...”
Pulling back, Toto lifts one hand to tenderly cradle the side of your face. You automatically nuzzle into his palm with a look of such smitten devotion that it makes Max’s heart stutter behind his ribcage. When Toto leans in to seal his lips over yours once more, the kiss is deep and thoroughly unhurried — as though the two of you have all the time in the world to savor this intimate little moment.
Max’s hands clench into white-knuckled fists, blunt nails biting crescent moons into his clammy palms. He should turn away, leave you to your blissful display with someone who so clearly appreciates you. Yet he remains rooted in place, unable to tear his eyes from the scene unfolding before him.
It’s like witnessing an alternate universe version of your shared lives play out in vivid, scorching detail.
In this reality, Toto is the one tenderly stroking the pad of his thumb over the elegant arch of your cheekbone as the two of you part, drinking in the sight of your passion-addled features hungrily. He is the one basking in the radiance of your bright and unrestrained joy. Celebrating each of your simple thrills, from the most frivolous of flavored coffees to the sensual graze of skin on skin.
And where does that leave Max? An outsider peering in at paradise with his face smeared against the glass, watching the warmth and affection he could never fully embrace slowly slip through his calloused fingers.
And my bed at three
The mattress shifts, the subtle movement rousing Max from his slumber. He cracks one eye open to find the space next to him empty, the sheets disheveled where you had lain.
A glance at the digital clock on the nightstand tells him it’s not yet 5 am. Where are you going at this hour?
He hears faint rustling from the living area of the hotel suite, followed by the soft click of the door. Groaning, he kicks off the covers and pads out of the bedroom, the plush carpet warm beneath his bare feet.
You’re sitting on the couch, slipping into a pair of flats. “What are you doing up so early?” He asks, his voice still husky from sleep.
You look up, startled. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.” A soft smile plays on your lips. “I was going to watch the sunrise.”
Max rakes a hand through his tousled hair. “Why would you want to do that?”
“Because it’s beautiful.” Your eyes sparkle with an excitement he can’t comprehend this early in the morning. “The colors, the way the light slowly creeps over the horizon — it’s just magical.”
He snorts. “It happens every day. Nothing magical about it.”
Your face falls ever so slightly, and it tugs at something in his chest. But the feeling is fleeting, replaced by annoyance at having his sleep disturbed for something so trivial. “So you didn’t want to join me, then?” You ask, almost timidly.
“And wake up before the ass-crack of dawn? No thanks.” He flops onto the couch beside you with a huff. “I was up until 3 am sim racing. Not all of us find staring at the sky such riveting entertainment.”
You say nothing, simply nodding as you avert your gaze. The light in your eyes has dimmed, and he feels a pang of guilt. But he shakes it off — it’s far too early for this kind of whimsical nonsense.
“Suit yourself,” he mutters. “I’m going back to bed.”
He doesn’t see the way your shoulders droop as he turns and trudges back towards the bedroom. Doesn’t see the tears that prick at the corners of your eyes before you blink them away and readjust the set of your jaw with determination.
Max burrows under the covers, fully intent on drifting back into oblivion. But sleep evades him, his mind buzzing with a peculiar restlessness. He punches his pillow into a more suitable shape, flips it over to the cool side, but still he lies awake, listening to the silence that fills the suite.
After what feels like an eternity, curiosity gets the better of him. He kicks off the covers once more and pads over to the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlook the city street below. Sure enough, there you are, a tiny figure perched on a bench across the way, your face tipped up towards the slowly lightening sky.
Max leans his forehead against the cool glass, watching as the inky blackness of night gives way to soft shades of periwinkle and lilac. Slowly, the colors deepen into blazing pinks and vibrant oranges that streak across the heavens. The sky ignites in a brilliant blaze of crimson and gold, the clouds set afire by the rising sun.
And there you sit, bathed in the dawn’s ethereal glow, utterly transfixed. In this light, your features seem softer, more at peace than he’s seen you in a long while. A smile plays on your lips, genuine and unguarded, as you take in the spectacle unfolding before you.
Max finds himself holding his breath, as if the slightest movement might shatter the magic of this moment. He’s never seen you look more beautiful, more alive than in these fleeting minutes as day breaks over the city.
A rare pang of tenderness blooms in his chest, quickly overshadowed by a creeping sense of unease. He isn’t certain how much time has passed before the brilliant hues fade into the pale blue of morning, but eventually you rise from the bench, taking one last, lingering look at the sky before turning and disappearing from view.
Max exhales slowly, his breath fogging up the glass. He isn’t proud of how he dismissed your simple joy, that spark of wonderment at the little things that he so often takes for granted.
An emptiness settles in the pit of his stomach, the guilt heavier than before. How many other moments has he trampled on in his relentless pursuit of success?
He thinks of your radiant smile, how it lit up the pre-dawn gloom more vibrantly than the sunrise itself. With a sigh, Max turns away from the window, already dreading the apology he knows he owes you.
Because in that single, breathtaking moment, he realizes just how lucky he is to have someone like you in his life. Someone who can find magic in the mundane, beauty in the simple things he’s become blind to along the way.
Someone, Max fears, who may be too sweet for him.
***
Max gives up on sleep around 4:30 am, as he has for the past several weeks. Insomnia has become his constant, unwanted companion, leaving him tossing and turning until the first hints of dawn creep through the curtains. On nights like this, slumber remains persistently out of reach no matter how exhausted he feels.
He lies in bed, staring at the ceiling as the brightening sky slowly illuminates the room. It wasn’t always this way — he used to be able to sleep like the dead after a race weekend, knocked out by the physical and mental exertion. But lately, his mind refuses to shut off, thoughts swirling endlessly until his head pounds.
With a groan, Max kicks off the tangled sheets and drags himself out of bed. Maybe going for a run will quiet the racket in his brain, at least for a little while. He dresses quickly, lacing up his trainers and grabbing his earbuds before heading out into the semi-darkness.
The pre-dawn streets are blissfully empty as he starts off at an easy jog. He despises becoming one of those obnoxious morning people, but exhaustion has a way of stripping away one’s self-respect. If pounding the pavement before the rest of the world awakes is what it takes to catch a few hours of sleep, so be it.
His route takes him along the harbor, the gentle lapping of the waves against the seawall providing a soothing soundtrack. The first rays of sunlight glint off the glassy surface, and he finds himself averting his gaze, oddly resentful of the impending sunrise.
It wasn’t so long ago that he scoffed at your eagerness to greet each new day. But ever since you’ve been gone from his life, those brilliant, fleeting moments of beauty have begun to mock him at every turn.
He picks up his pace, as if he can outrun the rising sun and the flood of memories it brings. But there’s no escaping the vivid flashes of you, smiling radiantly as the world awakes in a blaze of fiery hues. Or the hollow ache that twinges somewhere beneath his rib cage whenever he’s reminded of just how little he appreciated you.
So lost is he in his circling thoughts that he nearly runs right into you, appearing abruptly on the path ahead. His trainers skid against the pavement as he grinds to a halt, his heart stammering in his chest.
“Max?” You blink up at him, clearly startled by his sudden presence.
He opens his mouth, an automatic apology rising to his lips — until his eyes zero in on the camera clutched in your hands. Of course. Still chasing sunrises after all these years.
A wry grin tugs at the corner of your mouth as you take in his rumpled running attire. “Fancy meeting you here.”
Max says nothing, his gaze flickering briefly towards the brightening horizon before fixing on you once more. You look … well, radiant as ever, lit by the soft morning glow. A small pang of something — longing, maybe — twists in his gut.
“Out enjoying another sunrise, I see,” he says at last, nodding towards the camera.
You glance down at it fondly. “Well, you know how it is. I have to capture them while I can.” A teasing lilt edges into your voice. “Not all of us are night owls.”
He huffs out a humorless laugh. “I’ll never understand what’s so fascinating about watching the same thing happen day after day.”
“But that’s just it — each one is different. Unique and fleeting and … breathtaking.” Your eyes spark with that gentle wonderment he remembers so well, the sight sending a tremor through his chest. “Like getting a front row seat to the greatest show on Earth, but it’s one you’ll never see again.”
You trail off with a small shake of your head, seemingly at a loss to put the feeling into words. Max doesn’t need the explanation — he’s seen that look of childlike awe on your face more times than he can count.
An awkward silence stretches between you, laden with the weight of history and unspoken apologies. You shift your stance, mouth opening as if to say something more.
But Max cuts you off before you can get the words out, unable to bear whatever sentiments might cross those sweet lips of yours. “Toto not joining you this time?” He asks gruffly.
Your expression softens into a fond smile, and it’s like a physical blow to Max’s sternum. He knows that look, has been on the receiving end of it more times than he cares to remember. The way your entire being seems to brighten when you so much as think about someone you love.
“Ah, you know Toto — he’s more of a sunset person,” you say with a light laugh. “I’ve never been able to drag his grumpy butt out of bed for a sunrise.”
Even as his insides curdle with jealousy, Max can’t help the quirk of his lips at the mental image. He could all too easily picture Toto swatting irritably at you, burrowing deeper under the covers to escape the blasted sun.
“But we make it work,” you continue, that loving glow refusing to dim from your eyes. “I take photos of the sunrise to share with him later. And he does the same with the sunsets for me. That way, we both get to experience it in a way.”
The gentle sound of your voice washes over Max like a salve, momentarily easing the tangled knot of regret and longing that’s taken up permanent residence inside him. He watches, transfixed, as the early morning light bathes you in ethereal radiance.
In that moment, he sees it so clearly — the depth of give and take in your relationship with Toto. The effort, large and small, that you both put into nurturing one another’s happiness.
Even when your desires don’t perfectly align. Even when compromise is required.
It’s such a simple gesture, capturing those magical moments to share with your loved one. But it’s one Max was never willing to make when you were with him.
A lump forms in his throat as realization washes over him with unforgiving clarity. You weren’t too sweet for him, as he had so arrogantly assumed time and again. No — the truth, much harder to swallow, is that he was simply too sour for you.
Too selfish, too wrapped up in his own ambitions to make even the smallest concession. Too blind to recognize the magic in the simple things that brought you unbridled joy. Too bitter and jaded to embrace and nurture the beautiful nature that made you … well, you.
And now, after all his careless cruelties and wasted chances, he can only stand idly by and watch as someone else basks in the sweetness of your affection. As someone else goes out of their way, day after day, to put that blinding smile on your face and those stars in your eyes.
Something in Max’s chest cracks and crumbles at the injustice of it all. At the agonizing truth that he let the best thing in his life slip through his fingers, all because he couldn’t be bothered to change his sullen ways.
Because you were never too sweet for him … he was too sour for you.
#f1 imagine#f1#f1 fic#f1 fanfic#f1 fanfiction#f1 x reader#f1 x you#toto wolff#max verstappen#toto wolff imagine#max verstappen imagine#toto wolff x reader#max verstappen x reader#toto wolff fic#max verstappen fic#toto wolff fluff#toto wolff fanfic#max verstappen fanfic#toto wolff blurb#max verstappen blurb#f1 fluff#f1 blurb#f1 one shot#f1 x y/n#f1 drabble#f1 fandom#f1blr#f1 x female reader#hozier
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Okay, but... now I'm wondering >.>
@the-witchhunter We talked about Danny being Morningstar's feral, probably engineering oils and ectoplasmic goo covered, mad scientist/himbo hybrid (attack) purse dog. His special lil guy.
But!
I seek your Knowledge(TM).
From second hand accounts? He seems to HATE the hypocrisy. The blaming HIM for humanity's own choices. The rat race and endless song n dance of "Righteous Good VS. Cartoonish Evil". Because it let's humanity paint themselves the helpless victims. Because it's all surface level. Because it is not so easy to escape the ugliness of your Sins, yet they keep trying to scapegoat him.
Fuck um.
He was tired of it.
But? He still has CONSIDERABLE POWER. It's probably written down. And the Ring Of Rage? Is proooobably not the loveliest of artifacts? I imagine, like the Crown, it's NOT leaving Danny alone. One of those "we don't CARE if there is no throne left to sit upon, you WILL wear us, as King" sort of systems.
It genuinely would not and DOES NOT matter, if not a single soul in all the Zone bows to him. Did he defeat the previous holder of their Right To Rulership? Yes or No.
If No, fuck off.
If Yes, new monarch.
Is it hurting him? Not the rings problem. Nor the Crown's. Heavy is the weight, etc etc. But! DANNY would certainly care. He is... is ANGRY all the time now. Has no idea who would even MAKE this bullshit ring. Why JUST Rage? Yeah, it makes ghosts stronger, but at what COST?
He can't even get rid of it!
......by himself.
Luckily, he's still clear headed enough to know that he's NOT in this by himself. And it's amazing what "mom, dad, this ring is trying to drive me insane. Help me" in a terrified and tearful voice, can brush over. No one threatens their baby and all that.
It would honestly be hilarious, seeing the extended Fenton clan decend like LOCUSTS on Pariahs Keep, searching for clues, terrifying the local ghosts, if... if he wasn't so tired.
God he's so tired.
It's Aunt Alecia who... "politely encourages" a passing scholar to lend them the book they need. Took the poor sucker right out of the sky. Guy never stood a chance. RIP.
He learns he has to head..... over? Like... 27 that-ish way, then up. Huh. 27 WHAT?
Realities, apparently. He's in the wrong bundle. Branch? Neighborhood? Eh. Clan Fenton rolls back out, he packs his bags, and hilariously enough? Goes off to the devils night club. Hopes he likes rings. Or hates them.
Thankfully, being "king" means the Zone? Kinda... humors him? Like... it still has RULES(tm). He can... can FEEL that now. But it's willing to bend some for him, if he asks. And anything NOT against the rules? If it's in the right mood? He need only ask. It's weird. Being suddenly so powerful, yet NOT, at the same time.
Cause none of it's his.
All he has is the Zone's attention. The ability to ask pretty please. If you don't mind. And then? The highways between... ALL will just? Shift and change for him. He can see how it went to Pariah's head. The Zone is pretty agreeable. Is by nature Amoral, cause it's not a Being, it's... well, it's the Zone.
And everyone wants him to ask things. Do things. Demand this or that. Use this power.
Maybe he doesn't WANT too! Maybe he didn't WANT to be king! Doesn't he have the right to say NO? To refuse? Why do they think he OWES them service? An eternity of politics and people trying to kill him, for something he never wanted in the FIRST PLACE.
He's so tired.
The nightclub's pretty cool.
So he comes to ask, politely of course, cause the guy's probably busy, if Morningstar could... dunno, fix or destroy it? Want a ring, maybe? Also he heard you MADE the stars. Huge fan of all of that. Can I ask about the process? Or are you in the middle of something?
And? Lucifer? Turns around, from where he's Leaning Seductive Yet Elegantly(tm) to see... scrawny. Tiny corpse child. No... half? Corpse? Alive. Dying. Alive yet dying. Huh. Well, that is different. And here he didn't think he'd get see anything NEW. You, child, are NOT a zombie. What are you?
Halfa.
I have no idea what that is. What do you want?
He gets shown the ugliest, crudest, peice of shit ring imaginable. A genuine foul little curse. Really stinks up the place. He destroys it, obviously. This club has STANDARDS. Hope that wasn't important?
Kid just smiles the biggest fangy lil grin. No. No it was not.
Obvious, lie, but cute lil teeth. He'll allow it.
He gets dragged into talking about the stars. And talking. And talking. Mostly bragging and explaining. Kid hangs off his every word. Follows him around as he makes his rounds. Asks good questions. Completely focused, dispite the booze and barely dressed dancing all around him.
Lucifer can't help notice the crown.
Lovely little thing. Space ice and star dust, glittering like jewels and light catching the mist. If he remembers right... that one iiiiiis..... not Limbo, it's.... Zone! That crown is the Zone, it changes to suit the wearer. He recognizes the vibe. Awfully young, aren't you?
And.... it all burst forth. He didn't even need to press. Use persuasive words and honeyed tones. Like an inflamed, festering wound. The merest brush is enough to spill everything.
Negligence, greed, blood lust. Bigotry and xenophobia. A tyrants endless quest for power. Ah, humans. They truly don't change do they? Realities away, dead or alive. Now they're harrasing a child. He honestly looks miserable. Whereas just a moment before, listening to Lucifer talk about his work on the stars, his soul practically GLOWED with light. A tiny little star unto himself.
.......maybe it's the big ol "I'm you BIGGEST FAN" eyes. The sad wet cat aura. Perhaps the scrawny "could snap you like a twig" teenager, all elbows and knees. The fact he is, in fact, NOT human; for all that he once was. But?? The kid? Is... not terrible company.
He'd even go so far as to say? It's like having a pet intern.
He can sleep on the couch.
Tell you what, you stay here? I'll keep taking about stars and YOU can do the chores I don't feel like doing. I'll take care of you and all that.
And Danny? Honestly was sold at the word "stars" but? This sounds like a phenomenally terrible idea... and he has yet to meet one of THOSE he hasn't made out sloppy still with, so deal! But as a minor, that DOES make you his new gaurdian for the next four-ish years. He's legally obligated to finish schooling.
Ah.
.....well shit.
(Just? Local stressed 14-15 year old Ghost King does RESPONSIBILE thing and finds Adultier Adult. With more qualified Adult powers. Unfortunately for everyone, the adult is Lucifer Morningstar, night club owner. Even MORE Unfortunately, said ghost kind has pack bonded with the Nice Star Man, who saved him from the Bad Ring, and effectively offered to let him crash on his swanky couchs.
Now Morningstar has to? Somewhat VAGUELY pretend he gives a shit local schooling system, as he puts his charge INTO it. Actively giving waking terrors to the magical community. What evil plot is afoot? Where did he get this tiny minor death god? What is his end goal FOR said child?
No one knooooows~
But Lucifer is just doing this cause he's a Being of his word. He hates the tedious minor chores he'll be foisting off onto Danny. And? Most importantly? Look at that face. *shoujo sparkly eyes of Star Sempai Noticed Me!* it's like having a golden retriever puppy. Ffs he has STANDARDS.)
(It'd be hilarious to watch the hostile 5th dimensional chess DC characters have going on in the background, all while? Danny is like? Man! Isn't this universe GREAT? Everyone here is so CHILL! And nice to me! I'm so relaxed now! Finally, I can finish my education in peace.)
@hdgnj @hypewinter @lolottes @babbling-babull @nerdpoe @mutable-manifestation
#dpxdc#dp x dc#dc x dp#dcxdp#dc x dp prompt#danny phantom#tw wounds#but only as euphemism for emotional state
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I would like to see how Alastor's mother meets the reader (when they were alive). I see almost nothing of Alastor's mother and I feel that she is a wonderful mother ヾ(≧▽≦*)o
Alastor lovers would be NOTHING without this woman, she should be WORSHIPPED
Alastor X Reader Headcanons
✅️Romantic
❌️Platonic
TW: None I think???
Description: ☝️⬆️
Alastor's mother was his entire world, all the love and affection in his life came from her
The way he learned to love he learned from her
So you have her to thank for that
Which is why you're so fucking nervous to meet her, if she doesn't like you then you feel like your relationship is doomed
Not that Alastor would leave you at the drop of a hat but you just couldn't make him choose, you love him too much for that
You're fretting over everything, your hair, your clothes, your perfume-
E V E R Y T H I N G
It's not until you feel a strong hand on your shoulder and look into Alastor's eyes that you realize you were panicking
He's smiling at you, he's always smiling, but you can tell you worried him
"Sorry...it's just...I'm nervous..."
You're being pulled into his warm embrace before you can say anything more, familiar fingers pushing your chin up
You feel a pleasant shudder go through you as you meet Alastor's eyes, soaking up the affection that radiates from them
"Now now, a little dinner has you this worked up~?"
"What if she doesn't like me?"
He's leaning in closer, never breaking your gaze as his lips brush against your own, his canines glinting almost like fangs-
"Why wouldn't she like you? If I love you then she'll surely love you too..."
God, this woman raised such a good man
If Alastor was being honest with you, he's a bit nervous too but not in a bad way
He's excited for his two favorite people to meet, he's excited to show off each of you to the other so that you both understand his love for you two
He's just so ecstatic that this is finally happening
Coos and soothes you the entire walk to his mother's house, knowing that you're nervous but understanding that you have no reason to be
Alastor lets himself in and you're immediately welcomed with the scent of delicious food cooking
You can hear his mother in the kitchen, the table not yet fully set
Alastor leaves your side to hug his mother in greeting, laughing a little when he startles the old woman
She's beautiful even though she's no longer a young woman, you see a lot of her in her son
"Mother, I'd like you to meet my darling Y/N~"
Alastor's arm wraps around you in an attempt to calm your nerves and to present you proudly to his mother
When her kind eyes land on you, all sense of anxiety and fear melts away as she pulls you in for a hug
She's stronger than she looks, squeezing you as though you two have known each other for years
You realize that she hugs just like Alastor and melt into her arms as you hug her back
"It's so good to finally meet you..! I've been asking Alastor to bring you over ever since he first mentioned he was seeing someone!"
Now Alastor is blushing and mumbling something about her promising she wouldn't bring that up
You can't help but laugh and pat his cheek softly, it's adorable when he's embarrassed
Together the three of you finish up dinner, his mother sending him out of the kitchen to set the table
Leaving the two of you alone
It starts off smoothly, the two of you making polite conversation before falling into comfortable silence
And then it's uncomfortable
Oh shit you're nervous again
She stands next to you as the two of you work together to finish cooking, a soft smile on her face
"My son really loves you, my dear..."
Her voice is still soft, still warm, but there's a warning tone to it
Alastor did say his mother could be the sweetest woman or the scariest woman you've ever met
"I hope that love isn't misplaced."
Oh. Of course.
She's looking out for her son, like any good mother would do
You're careful with your next words, reaching out and taking the other woman's hand gently
You make sure to look into her eyes, wanting to convey your truth
"Ma'am, you son will have my heart and my soul in life and in death. I love him more than words can convey.."
And that's all it takes, the woman pulling you in for another hug and clutching you in relief
This woman is relieved that her son found someone who genuinely loves him and will continue to love him when she's gone
And if you love her son as she does then she has no choice but to love you as well
Things are easy going between you two after that, Alastor's mother loving you a little more with each thing she learns about you
She watches the two of you interact and gains a better understanding of the relationship
She understands why her son fell for you, you're more than just a pretty face that lured him in
You actually remind her a little bit of herself in her younger days
Mother, please don't say that
The two of you actually get along rather well, ganging up on Alastor several times throughout the night
"I'm only saying! The best way to enjoy tea is-"
"Alastor, honey, Y/N and I just told you that you're wrong."
"Why don't you let the two people who know what they're talking about carry the conversation, hm~?"
"I think it's about time we leave, don't you two agree?"
NO
Not Alastor's mother taking your hand and looking at her son with a shocked expression
"You would take away my darling Y/N? What cruel boy you've turned into!"
Oh she's good
Alastor pretends to be annoyed at the sight of you two clinging to each other and whining about not wanting to be separated
Before that fake annoyance melts away into fondness and he's joining in on the hug
Alastor takes care of cleaning up dinner, leaving the two of you alone again
Which means Alastor's mother gets to show you photos of Alastor when he was younger
And tell you all the embarrassing stories
You two are so busy giggling and cooing at the photos that you don't notice Alastor standing in the doorway, face flushed red with embarrassment
"Time to go, my dear!"
She sends you home with plenty of leftovers and fusses over you like you're one of her own
"Do you need a jacket, dear? A hat? I might have an extra one around here-"
Gives you the biggest hug and kiss on the forehead before you leave, telling you to visit her often
Oh just one more hug before you go
Before Alastor can pull away from his own hug, she pulls him back to whisper to him
"You picked a good one, my darling boy...~"
You three are a family after that, no matter what anyone says, no matter what happens
She loves you just as much as she loves her boy and she'll brag about you just as much as he does
Carries a photo of you two around in her purse so she can show everybody
Literally loves having you around and is worried that other men will try to take you for themselves
You don't have a ring on that finger
Not yet anyways
Alastor's mother just has to convince him that he wants to get married
Which probably won't be hard
This is like the only photo of Alastor's mother I can find and I don't even know if it's canon or not-
She's gorgeous??
This one wasn't originally what I was working on but it was too good to pass up
#hazbin hotel x reader#alastor hazbin hotel x reader#alastor hazbin x reader#alastor x reader#hazbin x reader
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how do you think would rafe react when crybaby!reader gets upset when he unintentionally hurts her feelings and she’s serious upset and not adorable upset? yk what i mean? like suddenly he’s realizing she’s not being dramatic but really hurt🎀
୧ ‧₊˚🧸ྀི ৎ୭
i feel as though season one rafe would do this the most often. season 2 rafe is very intentional with his words because he’s learnt to be more careful not to get himself in trouble, esp towards the end of season 2 when he’s spending a lot of time with limbrey and her brother and you can see him acting a lot more grownup. season 3 rafe is actually fairly gentle, especially around women — he’s figured out how to conduct himself and is very set on changing his ways which is why he’s very respectful towards sofia and also very mindful of kiaras space when they were trapped at singhs together — if she flinched when he’d come too close he’d immediately stop approaching or he’d slow his movements and put his hands up to show it was okay. season one rafe however, doesn’t give a fuck how anyone feels really.
most importantly, he doesn’t know how to have a girlfriend yet. i was speaking about this last night in dms with indy — and it seems very clear that he doesn’t get how to handle you yet. he doesn’t seem like he’d understand that he needs to take you on dates still once you’re in a relationship or ask you to be his valentine etc, not seeing the point of it. so i can definitely see him messing up and hurting your feelings really bad.
he’s very much a boy, and likes to do boy shit with his friends. stand around and drink beer and talk and watch the game. he doesn’t mind you being there, but if he’s wrapped up in conversation with his friends he kinda doesn’t care so much if you’re there because he’s happy doing his thing. say you’re at the country club and this is happening, your boyfriend laughing and being obnoxious with his pals. you’d approach and he’d give you a little side hug, pulling you to his side but he’d continue talking to his friends and not so much you.
“what are you guys doing?” you ask quietly to just him and he glances your way.
“uh, just hanging out? you didn’t find any of your little friends to talk to?” his hand drops to your lower back and you blink up at him obviously.
“yeah they’re here just… wanted to be with you?” you furrow your eyebrows and he briefly laughs at something kelce said, only offering you half of his attention before looking at you again.
“well we’re just doing guy stuff, a’ight? go hang with them. don’t need to hover around me, i’ll just come get you when we’re leavin’.” its an offhand comment, but your face immediately falls. ‘hovering around him’? when the two of you were alone he often demanded all of your attention, but now with his friends here it was like he didn’t care at all. to add salt to the burn, he gives your ass a little pat and let’s go of you. “go on.” he hurries you along.
you feel that hot feeling in your chest and you can feel yourself getting upset. “i think im going to go home.” you’re polite as you can be but your voice shakes and it catches his attention, following you when you take a few steps, still half smiling.
“wh— are you serious? why?”
you avoid his eye like you don’t even know him, lifting a shoulder and brushing him off. “just— just want to.” he watches you wipe your tears away as you leave the club, and he sighs in confusion, taking a sip of his beer.
topper was actually the one to teach him about how to handle an emotional girlfriend. he sighed out a “i don’t understand this girl, man.” when you were out of sight and after some convincing— rafe learned the valuable lesson of grovelling. he shows up at your door an hour later, pink in the face from being in the sun and a little warm and sweaty.
“uh, can i come in?”
he lets you cry into his chest as he squints at the wall in confusion trying to understand you. he did love you, believe it or not — he just didn’t have a way with words.
“look okay, you know when i say shit i don’t mean it, alright? i’m a guy it’s — it’s just what we do. i didn’t mean for you to take it that way.” he cups your face, a strand of his pushed back hair fallen onto his forehead.
“you hurt my feelings.” you mewl, and his heart does infact melt a little, blinking rapidly as he sighs in frustration with himself.
“whats gonna make this better? huh? you— you wanna punch me or something?” he asks desperately which actually gets a giggle from you. “well what then?”
“just want you to like me.” you sigh sadly and he stares at you dumbly.
“i do. so now what?”
“prove it.” you huff and he shakes his head a little, dumbfounded.
“prove i— okay.” he grabs your face, pulling you in for a kiss.
୧ ‧₊˚🧸ྀི ৎ୭
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"I almost lost you." with Mikey, Draken and Taka?
Man the angst is heavy today isn't it?
Pairing: Mikey, Draken, Mistuya x Fem!Reader
Tags: fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, nightmares, injuries, passionate kisses, desperate kisses, cuddles, protectiveness
A/N: First post with multiple Tokyo Rev characters ands angst packed lol.
2. "I almost lost you."
Feels like its his fault that you even got involved. He doesn't want any other member to carry you, you're his girl to protect, at least you were supposed to be. While waiting at the hospital you can hear Mikey making a fuss outside yelling about the doctors needing doctors if you're not okay. He can barely look at you when he enters the room, his eyes tinted red from crying and voice rough from yelling earlier. Can't stop himself from silently walking over to your bed and wrapping his arms around you, quiet for the longest time, making sure you're okay, hands gently roaming around your sore body.
"What were you thinking getting in the middle of that? Have any clue how big that fight was for us?! No look, ah, I'm mad cause when you showed up I was focused on you, not the fight... if I hadn't been distracted I would have seen the guy on the motorcycle on time. I... saw you take the hit and... fuck I almost lost you. How would I live with myself if I let the best thing that's happened to me slip through my fingers? I know I'm not the best guy but you say something in me worth while, so please, stay with me."
Has frequent nightmares about you leaving him or getting hurt on his behalf ever since you got taken by a rival gang that one time. You got roughed up pretty bad but thankfully got out okay, which is more then Draken can say for the guys that took you. Ever since then he's had bad dreams about it, what if they hurt you really bad, killed you, if he lost you for good? Every time he has one of his nightmares he runs to your house and wakes you up, arms wrapping around you and pulling you into a desperate kiss, his heart slowing down when you relax into him and guide him into your bed.
"I keep seeing that day, being too late to save you, seeing you in my arms, helpless to do anything for you. Almost makes me want to go back there and kill them for real, but I know that's not what you want for me. You want a future with me and I can't give you that if I'm behind bars now can I? Am I... annoying you by waking you up? I could call instead. You like me sneaking in? Ha, how rebellious of you."
If Mitsuya even thinks someone might hurt you he'll go up to them and get in their face about it. Screw being polite when you're in danger of any kind. Little does he know he gave his weakness away like that and made you a target. Learned that when you were taken hostage in a fight. Shit. He was trying to keep yoh safe, not endanger you. Luckily you got away with minor cuts but... seeing a knife against your throat made him lose his cool, made him realize that he should protect you even more, but maybe he doesn't have to do it alone.
"I should have backed off you a bit. When I was constantly around you it made them realize how much you matter to me. I got cocky and it almost made me lose you. I should have asked for back up! Fuck! Maybe I should stay away from you for good. For your sake. Hey! No don't cry! What did I- Ow! Did you just flick my forehead? Oh really, I'm being stupid? I just don't want to live in a world without you. I... I could... I love you too. I'm sorry, must have upset you just now. I'll tell the guys to keep an eye out okay?"
#tokyo revengers x reader#draken x reader#mikey x reader#mitsuya x reader#tokyo revengers fluff#draken fluff#tokrev fluff#tokrev x reader#ken ryuguji x reader#ken ryuguji imagines#ken ryuguji fluff#mikey fluff#sano manjiro x reader#ken ryuguji x you#takashi mitsuya x you#mikey x you#takashi mitsuya x reader#takashi mitsuya fluff#ken ryuguji headcanons#draken imagine#draken headcanons#tokyo rev headcanons#tokyo rev x reader#tokyo rev fluff#manjiro sano x reader
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Title: Hold me tighter
Synopsis: You knew Suguru wasn't well, and you did everything within your power to be there for him, including inviting yourself on a certain mission where two young girls were rescued.
Character: Geto Suguru x reader
Series: Let's Meet in the Spring (SaShiSu x reader)
Notes: Fluff, angst, swearing, feral!reader who probably hung out with Gojo too much, Geto pining, mentions of death and alludes to depression. AU where Geto doesn't defect.
Somewhat of a prequel to this AU.
You were amazing. You were strong. You were also terrifying.
That's how Geto Suguru saw you during a certain mission.
He and you had been assigned on the mission in a small town inhabiting only more of 100 people, with weird things like deaths and disappearances of the villagers.
You begged the higher ups to go because you were worried about Suguru's health, and you didn't want to leave him alone. You had noticed a downward spiral from him, and these days, it seemed to be getting worse. You also had a very bad feeling about this mission, and you were going to do whatever you could to make sure Suguru's sanity remained intact.
Even if the elders said no, you were going to go anyway. And that's exactly what you did.
"What exactly is this?"
Suguru had an expression of exasperation as he saw the young girls locked up in the wooden cage, bloodied and bruised, holding onto each other for support.
You could smell the thick scent of blood in the air, as well as see the dried, old patches of blood here and there when you eyes darted around the room. Apart from blood, there were other smells, similar to an abandoned alleyway where the homeless would reside.
Your jaw clenched and your eyes, widened with the need to see every and anything in the room, hoped they were lying when they landed on the girls. You counted the number of bruises on their limbs, the blood on their clothes, the blood on their face, the eye injuries each of them had.
It made your blood run cold. They looked to be just around 6-7 years old, only just old enough to understand and learn more complicated math in a school setting.
Not here.
Not here, bloodied and bruised.
It was like something inside you snapped, and all inhibitions went out the window. Like boiling water, it started to simmer, and you slowly turned to the two villagers as they conversed with Suguru, holding down your anger as your fists clenched and released.
"What do you mean? They're the cause of this, right?" One of the two who accompanied you both raised a hairy brow, his arm raising and trying to make a point.
"No." You could feel Suguru trying to continue being polite, but the slight edge in his voice was obvious.
"But those two strange ones are using their strange powers to attack the villagers!"
"I've already determined the cause of the incidents." Suguru gave a statement, one that he determined after being in the village for 5 days with you.
"My grandson was killed by these two." The older lady chipped in, a terrible frown on her wrinkly features.
Ugly.
Your shoulders relaxed and a light exhale released from your lips. You took a couple of steps forward to stand by Suguru, placing a hand on his shoulder softly, patting it a couple of times.
So they want to die?
Suguru glanced at you, his hand still up, about to summon a curse as he battled with his inner demons.
You gave him a little smile, one you'd give him all the time, but the underlying feeling made him tense. It was much darker, much more sinister.
"He's the one who-!" The girls from the cage exclaimed, but was shut down by the shouting of the male villager.
"Shut up, you monster!!! Your parents were exactly the same! We should have killed you when you were babies!"
"Shut the fuck up."
A loud thump from your fist embued with cursed energy, as well as a resounding crack from the same area tore a bloodhurdling scream from the middle aged male villager.
Suguru's eyes widened as his tensed hand lowered to his side, lips parting in shock at your actions.
That was the first time Suguru has ever seen you so angry you snapped. It sent chills down his spine and the hairs on his body to raise. His body tensed from the accumulation of cursed energy around you.
"Does having a broken rib hurt?" Your words were laced with worry, but with the unyielding mocking tilt in it, it was hardly convincing. "Do you want me to break your arm as well? That'll numb the pain a little."
You strode forward a couple of steps, coming in closer to the older male, crouching down slightly as you grabbed his arm roughly, pulling him in as your foot landed on the shoulder of the arm you pulled, about to dislocate his arm with a rough pull.
A strangled cry for you to stop made you raise your brow as a scowl adorned your face. Your eyes narrowed at the man below you. He was breathing heavily as he grabbed your ankle, trying to pry you off weakly, but to no avail. His grip was painfully weak, and he was struggling to breathe. You wondered if the broken rib pierced his lungs or any other organ?
"Oh? You want me to stop?" You taunted, an amused chuckle resonating through your chest. "Did you stop when you and the village were tormenting those poor kids? Beating them up and locking them up in here?" You dug your heel into his shoulder as you pushed him into the concrete wall, twisting it a couple of times for good measure. He writhed in pain as his grip on your ankle tightened, but you pulled at his arm, making him scream out.
The older lady on the side, who had been trembling the whole time in shock, suddenly let out a screech and flung herself at you, her arms flailing to hit you to let go of her fellow villager.
You grit your teeth as you grab the village man's arm with your left arm, using your elbow as an anchor point to throw a perfectly timed slap to the woman's face, causing her to hit the wall next to him after spinning in the air a couple of times.
"Wow, didn't know a human could spin so much. Especially for an old lady!" You light up into a smile. The smile didn't reach your eyes and was instead habouring a deep hatred for the types of people you were fighting, ready to rip off their arms and limbs if necessary.
"You can join you grandson now. I'm sure he's waiting for you."
What a sorry excuse for a human being.
"[name]..." Suguru called our your name hesitantly, glancing at the two girls in the wooden cage. They were trembling, hugging each other as they watched you. However, it didn't seem like they were scared. Their eyes showed admiration, and were widened in a surprise that could be interpreted as positive.
His eyes once again landed on you. You didn't even react to him saying your name - it was like you were in a state of mania, with such a fluctation in temperament and emotions, it felt like a different person. It didn't feel like you.
Did he even know you?
Who was the person in front of him?
He looked back at the girls, walking a couple of steps closer before trying to shield what you were doing with his body.
"Answer my question. Did you or did you not stop when you were tormenting those kids?" You looked to the wall where the woman hit, seeing her barely unconscious on the ground after the smack made her life flash before her very eyes.
The villager man screamed, "I-AAHHh-hah, you...you'RE THE DEVIL!"
"Oh, wow, you think I'm the devil?" You didn't even miss a beat at responding, giving him a doe eyed look to vouch for your innocence. Your expression shifted to a crazed grin, a laughter erupting in your throat as you pulled roughly at his arm, a loud pop ringing in the air as you dislocated it. You let him scream, collapsing over as you let go of his arm, allowing it to drop to his side as he cried, streaks of tears staining his shirt as drool flowed out of his mouth at the pain. You lean in, a smile on your lips as you coo at his current state, "Honey, if I'm the devil, then what are you and the other villagers? I think you're all devil's incarnate, so we should be the same, no? Why the scared face? Just like you said, I'm a devil. No, we're both devils."
You watch as his expression contorts to one where he wanted to scream something in your face, anger taking hold of him as the fear takes a seat. He was sweating, and the colour was draining from his face from the pain you inflicted.
You could only chuckle at his sorry state, clicking your tongue at him a couple of times. "But there's one thing you got wrong, darling. I'm not the devil, I'm your grim reaper."
You pull your foot back as the man's consciousness finally breaks, and he slumps over to join his fellow unconscious villager after enduring the pain.
"Didn't even answer the fucking question." You muttered, clicking your tongue once more. You fished your phone from your pocket and gave a call to the Windows nearby to alert them of what happened.
As you did so, Suguru watched you. He was frozen in his spot, unable to move. He was in shock at the way you handled the two just now. It was different to when you sparred together, and it made him realise you always unconsciously held back.
While he watched you release your anger at them, he had calmed down. His mind and heart less cloudy than before as he watched everything unfold before him. It gave him a rationality of thought, juxtaposed with your outburst. It almost made thinking a lot easier, with you by his side in such a state.
It reminded him of his best friend Satoru, and he wondered how much time you spent with him to become like this. After all, that mocking tone and speech was actually quite similar that it scared him - or, did you have this side hidden the whole time, but had control over yourself that you didn't break until the situation called for it?
By no means did he condone what you did, but if you didn't handle it the way you did, he didn't know what he would've done. He was so close to breaking that it was almost a miracle he didn't.
"[name]." Suguru repeated your name again after you finished your phone call, taking a couple of steps towards you.
"Hm, yes, Sugu?" You questioned him with a genuine smile. Your usual smile was on your lips as you tilt your head slightly at him, wondering what he wanted to ask.
He paused, wondering which was the real you. The switch was so fast, and oh so sudden. Your cursed energy had dissipated and wasn't so condensed, and your calm temperament was back. It confused him, and he wondered if he was in the wrong for thinking of such horrible things before you literally broke a person's rib.
He grabbed the hand you used to hit the man in the stomach and slap the other, seeing no injuries. Gliding his thumb over the areas that made contact, he closed his eyes for a moment, heaving a light sigh, before making eye contact with you again.
"We should get the girls to safety." You nod to the girls in the cage, placing a hand on Suguru's hand as you pat it a couple of times before releasing from his grip.
Suguru watched as you broke the lock of the cage, taking the girls out carefully. They latched onto you and murmured quiet thank yous as they cried in your arms. It hurt his heart to see such young children suffer from the hands of horrible adults. They didn't deserve this.
He walked over and leaned down slightly, placing his large hands on the girls' heads, gently ruffling their hair. He also ruffled your one too since you were crouched down to their level, a funny noise coming from your throat at the unexpected affection. Seeing your reaction, the girls glanced at each other and did the same, placing their hands gently on your head as they pet it like they did a small animal.
You laughed lightly, a sound so delightful to Suguru's ears at this current moment that it slowly wedged its way into his darker thoughts.
"The Windows should be here soon," You looked from Suguru to the girls, "We'll be taking you back with us. You'll be provided shelter and food, and life will be much better than here." You grabbed a hand from each girl, thumb caressing the back of their hand.
They fervently nodded their heads, ready to depart from the wretched village they used to call home.
The minute the four of you arrived back at Jujutsu High, you were pulled over by an angry Yaga, who began berating you for going on the mission regardless of what the elders have said, and that you were to see them immediately.
"This is unlike you, [name]! Suguru could have handled it on his own." Yaga pinched his nose bridge, obviously frustrated at your handling of the situation.
You crossed your arms, quickly glancing over at Suguru, the girls and the Window accompanying them. They were watching you, and the girls were getting tugged to go to Shoko for their injuries, but they didn't want to leave since you were getting yelled at.
You met Geto's eyes, which held yours for a moment, before you looked back at Yaga with a heavy exhale. "Well, yes." You said simply. Yaga stared at you like you'd grown another head, wondering why what you said was different from your actions.
"Since you understand that, then why--"
"So do the elders want to see me now?" You interrupted. You didn't want to hear it from him nor did you want to elaborate. It wasn't like they were going to understand what you were doing anyway.
Yaga made an expression he normally did when dealing with Satoru, before sighing. "They'll see you now. You're probably not going to get out of this unscathed."
"So what are they going to do? Kill me? The villagers are still alive and well, just a little bit in pain." You waved at the girls and Suguru as you left with Yaga.
"I'll be back in a bit. Gonna get ripped a new one." You joked light-heartedly. It was the elders, after all. They're going to rip into any and every material and weakness they had on you so they could bring you under their control.
But you weren't going to succumb.
No fucking way.
Suguru watched as you left, his waving hand falling to his side. He felt little hands grab his pants as you left, each one belonging to the little girls saved.
"Is [name] going to get in trouble for saving us?" Their worried tone of voice was so sweet, so young, it hurt Geto.
He shook his head, "Only a little bit. But they'll be ok." He placed his large hands on each of their heads and ruffled their hair gently, careful not to get any healing areas.
"I think [name] will be happy if you go to Shoko and get healed up." Suguru nodded at the Window, who tried to get the little girls with them.
The girls stared up at him for a moment, then let go and nodded, trusting his words. They each grabbed the Window's hands and asked them to lead the way.
And, Geto Suguru was alone once again with his thoughts, the whole fiasco weighing on his mind as his feet took him to your room.
Geto Suguru wandered why he sat in your room all the time. He practically lived in there now, with how often he was there instead of his own room or house.
You often dragged him when you saw him alone, to your room so he could keep you company, citing 'loneliness', but really, later down the track he realised he was the one needing your company instead, and he looked forward to when he was able to be around you. He also knew you weren't really 'lonely', but rather wanted him to know someone was willing to be there for him.
Could you read minds?
Sure, his other best friend Satoru wasn't around as often due to taking more solo missions, and Shoko was in the morgue, but at least he was able to see her. But out of the three, he saw you the most, and he was glad he did.
When did it start?
He wondered when he started coming to yours, now considered normal without any asking, without any hesitation.
He thinks it was right after the mission with Riko, the star plasma vessel. That was when you started inviting him to things way more often, trying whatever you could to fill up his time and space whenever Satoru and Shoko weren't there. So he was never alone.
The compliments, the time, attention, and love he was showered was almost too much for him when he realised it after this specific mission, and he had to lean forward and hold his head in his hands as the burden of his own thoughts made his eyes glassy.
The one who had reached out their hand, unwavering and steady, was you.
It was always you.
And since it started, the others did their best to support whenever they could, and that would've been an effort on your behalf, most likely you letting them know what you were doing.
Geto let out a choked sob as he let the tears fall in silence. Even though it tore him inside with which side he wanted to take when it came to protecting or not protecting non-sorcerers, he thought of you, he thought of Satoru, and he thought of Shoko. He thought of the girls you and him rescued, and the lives of the other sorcerers he went to school with. He thought of the non-sorcerers who didn't understand what it meant to live as a shaman, and he thought of the ones who cried and thanked him gratefully.
He hated the Jujutsu society and how it was structured. He hated how non-sorcerers were the bane and root of their existence, and the discrimination that comes with being a Jujutsu sorcerer as a minority.
Even though he was combating the very notion of accepting either side of the war raging inside him, he wondered how you were able to be as you are. How you were able to continue on your missions, how you were able to continue on the marathon race called shamantism? Did it not affect you?
But he knew it did, but how deeply he did not know.
He had heard you crying your heart out for Haibara, who was easily one of your favourite underclassmen, alone, when you woke up in the middle of the night before and during the mission you both came back from. But, even though he heard your sobs and cries, he couldn't say anything. All he could do was pretend to sleep and move so one of his arms was draping over you stomach, his forehead touching your shoulder as a way of saying 'I'm here for you'.
He would notice the way you calmed down when he did so, and it was something he noted for next time.
In his mind, he could recognise your smile and your voice, every one of your words drilled into his head as the tears fell onto the floorboards.
He was originally doing this for himself and wanted a solid foundation to base his beliefs off. Before, it was strong, but after the Riko mission, it faltered, and he wasn't sure if he wanted to continue down the same path.
And now, he was at a crossroad.
He wanted to trust in those who had faith in him, and the good in the people who were not the bad kind of non-sorcerers. Because the world had both. If his noble cause was just to protect the weak, those who weren't able to protect themselves and were good people, then so be it. Those who were corrupt, there will be another punishment waiting for them.
And so, he made up his mind.
"Sugu! Those elders put me under house arrest! For disobeying orders!" You opened the door to your room, half exclaiming and half grinning at the punishment given.
You gave a momentary pause when you saw Suguru with his head in his hands, hunched over where he normally sat at the foot of your bed.
With your arrival, he looked up, his loose hair slightly covering his face. But you could tell, he looked like he'd been crying, or was he still crying?
You took off your shoes, shut the door and immediately made a beeline to him, standing between his legs and cupping his cheeks with both your hands as you stared at him, searching his eyes for answers, for reasons, for everything. He stared up at you, sniffing every couple of seconds as his tears dried.
"Sugu." Your voice was a whisper, "What are you thinking?"
The softness of your voice didn't go unnoticed. Suguru always noticed. His hands hesitantly held your wrist, fingers wrapped around loosely so if you wanted to get out of his grip, you could.
The silence was palpable. It was heavy, and it tasted thick. He could only feel the warmth of your hands on his face and the warmth radiating off the close proximity of your body.
Since you didn't get an answer straight away, you gently swiped your thumb in the area just under his eyes like he did for you, on both sides, one at a time. He blinked a couple of times, the grip on your wrists loosening further as it fell down between his legs.
When you ran your fingers through his hair as a makeshift comb, he closed his eyes, basking in the affection you gave him, calming his tumultuous heart.
"Thank you..." His words were quiet, all too quiet that it seemed like you were the only one who he spoke to, in the bubble of the two of you, "For coming with me on that mission."
You hummed lightly as you continued to thread your hands through his hair, giving him a light head massage here and there as he struggled to find the words to convey his thoughts to you.
"I wavered." It was a statement, a statement that had many emotions in it, spoken to himself more than to you. It made you pause your movements, the raw feeling of his words sinking into you as you waited for him to continue, along with your massage.
"After Riko's death, those non-sorcerers, those monkeys, I can still hear them clapping, applauding her death." Suguru lets out a breathy sigh at the end, finally letting out his thoughts. "I used to believe the strong exists to protect the weak. But now...what about the strong? The strong are dying because of these non-sorcerers, because they aren't able to control their cursed energy, and they create curses that cause our deaths. There's no end."
"Being a Jujutsu sorcerer is a marathon race. What if...at the end, it's just a pile of our corpses? Our friends' corpses?" Suguru opened his eyes again, holding a sadness in his eyes he wasn't able to show until now.
You put your hands back on his cheeks. "Do you still believe the strong exists to protect the weak?"
You weren't able to answer this marathon race question. It was impossible to. Whatever answer you had, it would be negative. And you didn't want to dampen his spirits with something he already knew, deep inside him.
It was silent before he finally replied, "I don't know."
"The strong protect the weak. That was your philosophy, wasn't it?" A pause, "It's also what makes the strong, strong. You know, if there weren't any 'weak' people, you wouldn't even be considered 'strong', you know."
"As someone who's been saved by the strong and now becoming stronger because of them, I will hold that in my heart forever. Those non-sorcerers and sorcerers you've saved, Sugu, will remember you as their saviour."
Suguru's lips parted, but he closed them again, waiting for you to continue. He didn't know what to say.
"If you decide you don't want to protect non-sorcerers anymore and you look down on them, and it's the alternative to saving non-sorcerers because they're weak, then..." Your forehead presses on his as you close your eyes, "I'll let you go."
Suguru's throat became dry. He wanted to badly to say that he wasn't going to leave, but he couldn't deny the feelings he had when it came to whichever road he would pick.
"But, if you do end up hating non-sorcerers, you'll become one of those corpses you didn't want to see. And as a fellow sorcerer, I'd hate for that to happen." You lean down and move to hug him to your smaller body, pressing his face into the crook of your neck.
"Non-sorcerers are weak, yes, but they can also be strong. Not strong enough to kill curses, but strong in other aspects. Strength is not equal to pulverising curses." You gently pet the back of his head, "Riko was strong, wasn't she? She's not a bad non-sorcerer. She was almost like a friend to you, wasn't she?"
Suguru's arms wrap around your mid section, grabbing onto the back of your shirt like life support. "...yes." He managed to whisper.
"There's good and bad in everyone, Sugu, regardless of if they're sorcerers or not. If you're worried about the sorcerers in the world, wouldn't it be best to fix it at its core rather than to to just kill them all?"
Suguru didn't respond. He already had his answer.
You felt a wetness on your neck as his body shook, sobs ripping through his body as relief filled his veins at your words. You hummed, gently patting his back as he cried.
You knew, Suguru was a soft person inside. No matter how troublesome he and Satoru can become when they're together, Suguru was undoubtedly the softer one. Satoru also had a soft heart, but he had walls and walls around so it wasn't easily penetrated. Whereas for Suguru, the environment he's in affects him easier, and the suffering of others will easily shake him. Especially with his job as a sorcerer, it was even harder since it was a job with an abundance of negative energy.
You must've stayed like this for a while, and you felt him move to face you, his face still in your neck. You could feel his exhales on your skin, a soft hum from him as he murmured an apology to you into your skin.
"You okay there, Sugu?" You leaned your head on his, nuzzling a little.
He let go of the back of your shirt, and instead grabbed your waist and under your legs, bringing you to his lap as you yelped in surprise at the sudden lightweightedness.
"Sorry, it's easier this way." He adjusted you so you were directly in front of him, your legs to the side on the bed. His arms encased you as he hugged you tighter than before, not wanting to let go. He wanted to feel your pulse and heartbeat, to know you're present and there with him.
He buried his face into the crook of your neck again, his eyes closing as he tried to burrow impossibly closer, just like you're his lifeline.
You didn't mind since occasionally he would do this, but as of now, this was the most intimate he had become with you, and it was making your heartbeat speed up.
You tried to calm yourself as you continued to pat his back and smooth the back of his hair, chin on his shoulder as you leaned your head on his.
"Your heart's racing." You felt his lips curl into a smile, "You like this?"
Slightly annoyed by his teasing during such a tender moment, especially for him, the next pat was a lot harsher than the rest of them. You pouted as he chuckled into your skin, loosening his grip. He kept one arm around you as he wiped any tears with his sleeve, gently patting the areas on you he made damp.
You noticed he looked a lot better. A lot lighter, even. Even though he was crying, whatever was weighing him down seemed to have lessened or disappeared, like it was never there in the first place. It was like the Suguru pre star plasma vessel mission had returned.
You unknowingly held your breath, wondering if the Suguru in front of you would go back to the one who was conflicted.
"Do I have something on my face?" Suguru could feel your intense gaze on him the whole time, and he felt like he was under a microscope at how strong your gaze was.
He suddenly became self-conscious; did he look that bad after crying?
"You're back." You stated, almost incredulously.
At the tip of his tongue, he wanted to ask 'I'm back?', but he realised, you meant him. You meant the him from before Riko, the him before he started spiralling. The him who had a strong resolve and foundation.
"I've always been here." He gave you a little smile, the smile sincerely reaching his eyes as he gave you a little forehead bump.
You felt a blush rise to your cheeks at such a gentle motion, not unnoticed by him.
"You blush at this but not the hugging before?" He stared at you like you were the strangest thing on this earth, but the mirth was clearly dancing around his purple eyes, making you hit him lightly in the chest, giving him an unimpressed look.
"Welcome back, I guess." You rolled your eyes playfully at him, but you were glad he was back.
"So what's this about a house arrest for you?" Suddenly, you remembered you'd come to deliver the news to him after your meeting with the elders.
"Ah, yeah, so I'm under house arrest! For 1 week! They told me to not leave the school and if I do, they're gonna do something." You tried to recall the information, but all you had in your head was Suguru, Suguru and more Suguru.
You blinked once, twice, thrice, but you couldn't remember shit all. "Maybe I should get 'toru to bail me out if I get in trouble. He can threaten them easily."
"...why not me?" Suguru gave his best attempt at puppy dog eyes, making your brows raise at him for the effort.
"Nice try," You pinch his cheeks, trying to stop the smile from pulling your lips upwards, "I don't want you going alone, so go with 'toru if you want to. Double trouble from the two strongest sorcerers, right?" You finally give him a grin as he held a baffled look.
Then, he laughed.
The sound was like a melody to your ears, one which was so genuine and heartfelt, one you hadn't heard in so long. It moved you.
"I'll do that, then. Does that mean you have to stay here the whole time?"
"Nah, as long as I'm in Tengen's barrier."
"That's a pretty good holiday for you."
"I know right?"
"You've worked hard enough so I think you deserve some rest."
The chatter continued until the night, until you fell asleep on him from how tiring the whole day was. Geto cradled you close, like you were made of glass (not that he wasn't hugging you like his lifeline before). Instead of caressing your cheek like he was used to, this time, he mustered up some courage, gave a quick peck on your cheek, then nuzzled your cheeks together as he stood up and got you into your bed.
As he tucked you in, he gently pushed the stray hairs out of your face, his finger caressing your cheek ever so gently.
"...thank you, [name]." He spoke so, so softly he barely heard his own voice, a calm and gentle smile on his face as he reluctantly left. He was going to hop into bed next to you to sleep as well, but he figured he should clean up first before doing so.
Turns out, Suguru didn't have any missions in the same week you were under house arrest.
You were still sleeping even after Suguru tried to wake you up in the morning, so he just left you there so you could rest. After all, you probably needed some extra time since you worked so hard for him.
"I'm surprised I don't have any missions this week." The martial artist sat down with a cup of tea.
"Wonder why that is?" Shoko had shrugged off the question, eating together with the curse manipulation user in the common area.
She already knew why that was, since she heard it all from you, but she wasn't going to tell Suguru so easily.
"[name] probably complained to the elders." Suguru stated with a laugh. He could see it happening, with you giving them attitude until you got what you want. Almost like a kid trowing a tantrum.
Shoko let out a hum as she agreed. There was a little more to the story, but he didn't need to know yet.
They were so worried about you they actually begged the elders this time. Probably the first time they've begged them, so they allowed it with one condition: [name] had to do whatever they wanted for a week after their house arrest.
But Suguru didn't need to know that, at least, until [name] told him, which they probably didn't want to do.
Seeing Shoko's nonchalant personality was normal, but for Suguru he felt like there was definitely something she knew. After all, [name] was at Shoko's before they came back to their room yesterday. And knowing the elders and from what [name]'s said about them, Suguru assumed there would be some form of condition.
Seeing he wasn't convinced, Shoko decided she was going to allude to it a little, since [name] probably wasn't going to say anything.
To speed up the process, was Shoko's determining factor.
"I think they're going to be quite busy after their week off. My spider senses are telling me this." She joked, leaning back on the chair.
Suguru thought for a moment, "So the elders are going to force [name] to go on difficult missions."
Shoko shrugged, taking out a cigarette and placing it between her lips. She didn't light it inside, but it didn't feel right without it. "Aren't they already doing that?"
Geto didn't give a response, thinking what the elders would do especially since [name] was involved. From his observations, they were much more strict on you than they were on anybody else. Satoru could get away with things because he was one of the strongest and could actually end them and everything else, but you on the other hand, were not able to do that and effectively just danced in the palm of their hands trying to bite your way out.
He let out a low hum in thought. If he was granted no missions during this time and you were under house arrest, but Shoko alluded to you being busy the next week even after knowing you'll be taking up missions just like usual, that effectively means something was up. Was there another variable he wasn't sure about? Did you have something to do with him having no missions right now?
"Shoko, why not just tell me [name] had a deal with the elders?" He let out a sigh at the roundabout way of getting to the answer. "I'm guessing they agreed to do whatever the elders asked for, for 1 week, right? In exchange for giving me a break and going on that mission even after getting told not to."
"Bingo." Shoko made finger guns at his correct answer. She definitely didn't tell him, he just figured it out on his own, she tells herself.
Suguru's lips pressed into a thin line, wondering what the elders had planned. After all, you were a semi grade-1 sorcerer, but you kept getting pushed into missions which were grade 1 or higher, somehow managing to always come back alive even after facing a grade 1 curse.
Which is why the elders were always assigning you to go on difficult missions.
"You know, the girls you brought back, Mimiko and Nanako, are doing well. They've been put into a foster home associated with Jujutsu High, so you'll be able to see them if you want." Shoko forgot to give him this piece of information.
"That's good to hear." He smiled, now knowing the girls were doing well. It brought him back to the day prior, where he was so, so close to losing it and choosing another path. "I'm sure [name] would like to see them too."
Shoko shifted in her seat when she heard your name from his lips this time, finding it was different to earlier. It was softer? She couldn't quite put her finger to it, but it was like his soft spot for you was even softer than before, if that could even be a thing.
"You sound like a lovesick fool." Shoko commented with a non-commited laugh. She was just teasing, but she was also curious.
Suguru rolled his eyes at her, taking a sip of his tea. "They saved them too. Of course they'd want to see them."
He didn't agree nor deny, making Shoko raise her brows in surprise.
"I heard my name." You yawned as you entered the common area, still in the clothes you wore yesterday.
"Looks like you slept well." Geto examined your hair, which stuck up in some places, a smile on his face at the scene.
You hummed in response, giving a wave to both of them before sauntering over to the kitchenette to make yourself a glass of warm water, uncaring of the eyes trailing after you.
Shoko's gaze landed on Suguru, watching him watch you.
His gaze on you was definitely different. She definitely wasn't seeing things. She swore it was softer than before. The way his expression changed to a more relaxed one the minute you came into the picture, the way his shoulders relaxed when he talked to you, the tone of his voice shifting spectacularly to include an affectionate tilt, all of it was presented right in from of Shoko, who had known Suguru for a while, so she could tell these differences easily.
Wow, damn. He's down bad.
She smirked to herself, wanting so badly to tell Satoru of Suguru's little crush.
Except, both of them would probably deny it to the ends of the earth.
You slip into the seat next to Geto, eyes half open as you slowly blinked away your sleepiness, drinking the water here and there. Suguru laughed lightly at your state, scooting a little closer to detangle your hair with his fingers, running his hands through your hair to fix it.
Shoko's eyes nearly bulged out of her head, watching this blatant public display of affection. She was used to Suguru being a little touchy with [name] and expressing it here and there, but this was a new high. It made her sip the coffee she'd forgotten she had on the side, not sure if she should be there to experience such a thing.
You hummed in content, "Thanks Sugu."
"Should've brushed your hair before coming out." He gently chided, taking a sip of his tea.
"Probably should've changed, too..." You yawn again, taking another sip of water. "But yeah, I'd like to see the kids too, Shoko, when they're ready and all healed up."
Shoko, having been distracted for a moment, returned to her nonchalant self as she grinned, promising to let both of you know when that was possible.
The week of house arrest was a blessing for you, especially before the files for the missions you were undertaking were handed to you by a Window.
There were 2 missions you were asked to undertake - a grade 1 solo mission, and then a special grade one with Satoru.
A special grade with Satoru? If you didn't already feel alarmed, you were definitely feeling alarmed now. Hell, if Satoru is on any missions, it meant that there was serious harm that could be done.
You flipped through the papers wordlessly, your expression changing here and there before going back to normal.
These were the two missions asked by the elders, the ones who you were to obey for the week.
There can't be anything good here, you thought, going through the documents a second time to remember the information.
"Are you going on a mission soon?" Suguru suddenly appeared out of nowhere, nearly making you jump in surprise. His face was right next to yours, overlooking your shoulders to peer at the documents.
"Yeah, these two are for next week. One solo, one with 'toru." You showed him the front pages of each and the basic information.
He let out a low hum in response and pulled back, plucking the papers with him to sift through them.
He already knew they were missions the elders specifically picked out for you, but for one with Satoru? He was sure something was up there.
Of course, you didn't know he knew about your little deal with the elders, and he didn't plan on telling you he knew. Instead, he just showed up wherever you were because he wanted to be near you. And, who knows, the elders might have something planned so he wanted to know you were safe.
"It's too bad I have my own missions to go to. Otherwise I'd have gone with you." He handed you back the papers, seeing your confused expression.
"I'm sure the elders would love that." You spoke sarcastically, but laughed all the same. It would've been great to go on missions with Suguru, just like not too long ago. "Maybe we'll go on missions together soon!"
"I'd like that."
He'll pretend he didn't see the big red words on the special grade mission with Satoru, one which spelled out '2 special grades'.
"So, apparently there are 2 special grades." Satoru ate a crepe filled to the brim with toppings, walking side by side with you as you both headed to the site of the mission.
He'd come back a day or so ago and didn't even bother looking through the documents, leaving it to you since you had them before him. Also because he was strong and he didn't care enough; he would've beaten them regardless.
"Which is why I have no idea why I'm here." You muttered, sighing. You snack on your on crepe, much more simple than his, wondering why in the earth the elders wanted to put you on such a mission. You were semi grade 1, for fuck's sake! Just because you survived a special grade and grade 1 mission before doesn't necessarily mean you'll survive the next ones?!
Satoru glanced at you and took a large chomp of his crepe, munching gleefully. Once he finished that bite, he said, "They should've sent Suguru with me if anything."
"I know right? Special grades against special grades, not special grade and semi grade 1 versus 2 special grades. Are they telling me to die?" You let out an exasperated sigh.
"They're probably planning something." Satoru and you both knew how much they were assholes, but cunning was also a word that could be used to describe them.
He left out the part about how he knew you did this for Suguru, and all the nitty gritty details Shoko filled him in about after he came back from the mission prior. He also left out the information only he has access to, one which was more in line with the ability you had, that the elders were convinced you were able to awaken at a later stage.
After all, if you could unlock your cursed energy output channels so abruptly and have so much CE, there was bound to be some locked potential there, right?
Which is why you were put onto this mission to assist Satoru.
"Let's just get this over and done with." You finished the rest of your crepe, downing some bitter green tea before heading to the Windows waiting at the site.
Satoru followed you, feeling the CE ooze strongly from the site.
This will be interesting.
A couple of nights after you and Satoru went on the mission, Suguru began to get worried. He shouldn't be worried about you since you were with the Gojo heir, but he couldn't shake the feeling something happened to you.
It was when he woke up from a nightmare of you dying in his arms that he feels his stomach drop, and cold sweat run down his face and body.
The feeling was unmistakenably so humane, so real that it fucked his head in. He sat up in bed for a moment, feeling your side of the bed before finding it cold and empty. He started to panic, wondering if the dream was indeed real, but then he realised you were still on a mission, and it's been a couple of days since you went. He sighed to himself, slipping out of the covers to go cool down.
When he opened the door, he saw the light at the end of the hallway was open, the one belonging to the common room.
He didn't know what time it was, but it definitely wasn't a time to be up. But, he still went, curious about who was up this late.
"Satoru?" He questioned, seeing the white haired man in question sprawled out on the couch. "You two finished the mission?"
"Yeah." Gojo leaned back, turning his head to meet Suguru's tired ones. "Can't sleep?"
"Had a nightmare."
"Yikes."
"Where's [name]?"
"Getting examined by Shoko."
"What happened to them?" Suguru didn't want to sound too panicked, but Satoru could see through him right away.
"[name]'s fine. Maybe super tired now since they activated their curse technique for the first time."
"Cursed technique?" Suguru echoed. From what he knew, you didn't have a CT.
"Yeah." Satoru leaned on one side, crossing his legs as he faced Suguru. "Nullfication. Can cancel anything with cursed energy within a radius of 2 metres. Curses die just being in contact with it, but depends on grade."
"Isn't that an extremely rare ability?" Geto had to get himself something to drink, he was parched. He also made one for Satoru as well, knowing he'd want one too after the mission.
"Yeah. It bypassed my infinity." Satoru made an expression as he clicked his tongue, "But then my infinity worked again. Was the first time something like this happened."
Suguru couldn't help but let his jaw drop. "Is that even possible?"
Satoru frowned, taking the cup from Suguru and taking a drink. "I don't know, but the CT uses CE to maintain it. Still trying to figure out how it works."
Suguru breathed out in relief, "Wow."
"Not a moment to be celebrating, Suguru." Satoru clicked his tongue at him again, "I think this was exactly what the elders wanted."
Suguru backtracked for a moment - he knew the elders wanted something, but this? He didn't expect them to look at [name] and go 'this one will have a CT manifested'. Usually CT are manifested at an earlier age, so for you to awaken one so much later was a miracle in itself.
"Back then, and now, too." Gojo let out an exasperated sigh. "Those old bastards."
Suguru finished off his drink, "I'm going to go see them."
"Oh, ok." Satoru saw Suguru's expression, it did hold worry, but it was more contemplative due to the situation around it. He quickly finished off his drink and followed his best friend.
Suguru breathed a sigh of relief he didn't know he was holding when he saw you getting a check up from Shoko. You looked tired, but you were still alive and kicking.
"Sugu? Why are you awake? It's 3am." You raise a brow, then quickly realised Shoko was up too because of you and apologised with a little bow.
"I couldn't sleep." He strode to where you were. The tension in his body was replaced with relief as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a hug. He nuzzled into your hair, even if it was dirty from the mission.
"Sugu? I haven't cleaned up, you know." You let out a laugh as you let him do his thing, giving him a light hug back and some pats on the back.
Satoru made an expression, almost pouty, before he also came over and enveloped both you and Suguru into a hug. "I don't know what's going on but I'll hug you too. Shoko, come!" He dragged her by the arm so everyone was in a hug, much to your delight.
It's been a while since there was a group hug.
"If the elders say anything, drop my name and I'll come kill them." Satoru murmured, ready to throw hands. He nuzzled his face into the top of your head, ignoring how his hair tickled Suguru and Shoko's noses.
"If you do that, let me examine their dead bodies." Shoko joked.
"If there are any difficult missions, bring me or Satoru along." Suguru scrunched his nose as he delved deeper, leaning his body weight on you ever so slightly.
"Guys, I think I'll pass out..." You tapped at their arms, not having enough strength to pull them off.
Not even a minute passed and you were tucked into your bed, the other three shoved into your bed with you, hugging at least one part of your body as they drifted off into sleep.
You were facing Suguru, who hadn't slept yet, but was waiting for you to close your eyes and rest.
"Sugu, let's visit the kids soon, ok?" You yawned, closing your eyes, "Goodnight."
He moved slightly to bump his forehead to yours, moving back when a small smile curled your lips. He was ready to sleep now, and he didn't think he'd have anymore nightmares.
"Let's do that. Goodnight."
A/N: This is almost a little prequel to this angsty one, but can be a fluffy-ish angsty-ish standalone as well!
Fun fact, after Suguru cried his eyes out, his eyes were puffy for the first day of this break, and you and Shoko gave him so much shit for it.
#jjk#jujutsu kaisen#geto suguru#jjk season 2#satoru gojo#gojo satoru#jjk fluff#jjk gojo#jjk x reader#jjk spoilers#ieiri shoko x reader#jjk shoko#shoko ieiri#jujutsu kaisen shoko#jujutsu shoko#geto#suguru geto x reader#jjk geto#geto x reader#jujutsu geto#suguru#suguru x reader#getou suguru x reader#jjk suguru#jujutsu kaisen suguru
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John Price X Reader!
My first published piece!
Captain John Pricex Reader!
Minors do not engage!
You loved him, really. But, John Price is a lot to handle. Yes, he is a family man, a great husband, a wonderful provider. But he holds on too tight. Tight enough to strangle. You- You had to do it.
even though it felt like your heart was being ripped out of your chest when he found out... Oh, his poor watery blue eyes you loved so much...
You cried your eyes out in bed that night, alone.
Price is eh, heh- heh, heh, heh. He's not letting you go, love. Not ever.
You live in this incredible house, curtesy of your husband's high paying career in the military. It's the perfect place for children to grow up...
Toxic Ex-husband Price never leaves. "The house is ours, love. Ours is ours." And leaves no room for debate. He'll live in the in-law apartment above the detached garage, yeah? He's not happy about it and uses every instance he can to weaken your resolve and stop this silly 'separation' nonsense.
Walk's out onto the balcony in the morning in his robe, coffee in hand. The robe is open, exposing his chest to the neighborhood. He doesn't care that the women jogging by can see and stare. He only cares when he sees you stop and stare out your bedroom window, all alone. Before you aggressively close the curtains, trying not to fall for his tricks!
Semi Toxic Ex-husband Price, who still wants all the gossip you used to share with him when you were married. He'll just stroll into the house from the back door and hear you chatting with your friend from Pta.
He does what he used to, sit his ass right next to you and press his ear on the other side of your phone. Does he care about the gossip? Not really, it's amusing, but not really his thing. What he loves? He loves how you used to turn to him and go off. You look so happy, chattering on and on about what you'd just heard. Including him in your life...
He says he doesn't really like the gossip but will get upset if you don't tell him every detail. His job is to know, love. You can't just leave him hanging! He will demand to know more about Patricia from the parent-teacher conferences. She slept with the teacher! You can't leave him hanging on that, luv! Just to get you to talk to him the way you used to.
Semi Toxic Ex-husband Price, who is your mother's favorite.
She hates your sister's boyfriend; she hates your brother's wife. You? You landed the cream of the crop!!!
How could you have left him??? Your grandma, your mother and your aunties LOVE him, smug bastard. He eats it the fuck up...
They greet him like the long-lost son they wish they had! Meeting him at the door with kisses on the cheek, beckoning him towards the kitchen, treating him like royalty. He is the favorite, and he's not even blood!
"Oh, such a handsome man! So nice!" "So polite!" "And respectful!" "Here, is she feeding you enough?" Oh, when they learn you've served him with divorce papers? They all cry out in alarm. Everyone, not just the women. Uncles, Grandpa, Cousins, all of them.
"What you talking 'bout divorce? fah! He still come to family parties!" They would totally be on his side… They all help in his case to get back together with you.
It'd make him so much worse….
Especially if your youngest kid is going to her first day of school. You both drop her off and you bawl your eyes out and he's there to comfort you, just like he had with all the times before… cradling you to his strong but soft chest. So warm... familiar... soothes the heartache you're experiencing.
Do you want another baby? You miss having a little one around now that your youngest is off to school, yeah? He can help with that…
Maybe- Maybe you... Maybe you were too harsh on him. Maybe, give him another chance...
#cod x reader#tf141 x reader#john price#john price x reader#call of duty#cod mw2#cod#x reader#fem reader
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Don't really know what to do with this thought so I'm sharing this with you, but Ghost and Soap getting on a tram one day and the only seats left are next to this timid looking thing, trying to make herself as small as possible, silently hoping these two big men will settle for holding onto one of the poles or handle bars above. They clock in on her immediately, pretending to be kind and polite, making her feel safe as they sit on either side of her, boxing her in. They learn her routine and always get on when she's on.
Slowly, they start to cop a feel every once in a while, apologizing because 'it was an accident' and she doesn't think much of it at first, but she cant help but think something is off about them the more frequently it becomes, so she settles for standing up the next time she gets on the tram, holding onto a pole in the back corner. They'll probably leave her alone, right?
Soap and Ghost get on and see that their new toy has moved from the regular seat, obviously trying to avoid them. They're upset, and instead of leaving her alone like she hoped, they stand next to her, Simon using his body to block the view, though it doesn't really matter to either of them if anyone sees, and Johnny gets behind her to trap her between the pole and himself. They tell her not to make such a fuss as they take turns groping her because what would the people think if they saw her acting so slutty in public?
There's nothing she can do to stop them. It happens every single time she rides the tram now and she can't go on a different one because it's her only mode of transportation to work. It even gets to the point where Ghost and Soap can take a turn to fuck her before her stop because she's so quiet and good for them. They just have to remind her to keep being quiet and good as they fill her up with a load to drip down her thighs throughout her day. When they can, they steal her panties. One day they'll steal her away, too.
- 🥍
hey woah woah. how dare you infect me with these brainworms. not cool! (i love you)
nsfw in link but here's some fanart of ghost doing exactly this ask to soap
cw: noncon
i know a lot of people dislike reader inserts because the reader tends to lack agency, but i personally think it's hot for a character to be taken advantage of and very much so enjoy this image
you probably cant tell from literally everything i've ever posted on this blog but im a big fan of johnny and simon just doing whatever they want to you and you can't stop them. always leaves me melting to imagine them just... not caring whether you want them touching you or not. horrible men
i love this because i can just imagine the increasing discomfort and awkwardness as they push the boundaries of what's acceptable every day.
it starts with johnny just resting his thigh against yours, and yeah its a bit odd that his leg follows you when you try to give him more room, but you figure he's just being a dick and manspreading. and you can't go very far, because you'll bump into simon :( you scooch away from johnny a tiny bit and suddenly there's a big hand on your knee from simon, to hold you still and let he and johnny press against you as much as they want
i also like the image of you sitting in the corner with johnny boxing you in from the other seat and ghost standing in front of you to block every one else's view. johnny maybe leans over you, panting against the top of your head with a hand up your shirt using your tits as stresstoys :/ maybe moves down to sucking at you neck and when you look up you see ghost just staring down at you
ghost having you sit on his lap when you try and stand up one day. sits right behind you, wraps his big hands around the front of your thighs and tugs you down so you're sitting on him. pushes the back of your shirt up, pulls open his pants, and has you warm his cock for the ride :( doesn't fuck you, but maybe he rubs your clit and that + the little bounces of the bus/train moving get you off
#🥍 anon#asks and answers#ghoap x reader#bo writes#this is SUCH a freaky au#genuinely thank you for sending it to me :)
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HOW TO FAKE IT 2
part i.
summary: when jack and yours management team come together to create a perfect pr relationship you and jack must do your best to keep it as professional as possible... but when you have to spend a year together the lines between real and fake can become a little blurry.
STAGE TWO: A Little Bit Of Water
It had been maybe three weeks since your trip to Louisville with Jack, where you got to spend some time with his family and friends. You were glad everyone in his circle loved him and that he trusted them because for the entirety of the time that you were with him there beside the random fan picture there was really nothing else that tied the two of you together.
But now it was game time, because the two of you were back to the real world.
“And you're wearing Tommy?” You asked wrapping your arms around Jack as the two of you walked into the hotel the both of you were staying at, noticing all the lingering people who were not subtle with their secret picture taking.
He nodded, looking down at you stealing a sip from your Starbucks. “Mm that’s too sweet Y/N.”
You shrugged, “I like it sweet.”
“I know you do.” He winked at you, making you laugh.
“I’ll drink some Phocus next time.”
“Okay actual question, do you actually like it?” Jack asks you as he presses up for the elevator.
You’re silent for a moment before you shake your head earning a dramatic look from him. “It’s not that it’s not good, it's just that I don't like energy drinks.”
“Oh but you’ll drink a twelve pack of coke in like a day?”
You frowned, “Leave my caffeine addiction alone.”
The elevator opened up letting the two of you walk in and just as it was about to close for the two of you another person walked in pressing another floor. You politely smiled at the person.
It was quiet before the lady turned to the both of you before smiling again, “Do you mind if I get a picture with you? I mean my daughter would kill me if I didn't. She loves your latest EP, what's it called, Honeymoon Avenue?”
You smile, nodding your head excitedly. “Of course baby, can you take the picture?” You ask Jack.
He nods, “I got y'all with a good picture.”
Jack gently takes the phone from the lady’s hand taking as many pictures of you two, smiling, hugging and laughing. You even record a video for her daughter who you learned is named Jasmine.
The two of you say goodbye as she gets off on her floor leaving you two alone for a minute longer before getting off on your floor.
“You’re so kind and gentle with all of them, you put me to shame.” Jack smiles at you as you enter the two bedroom suite the two of you are sharing to get ready.
“I try to be as kind as I can be, I know what it’s like to be awkward and stuff and just say things at the wrong time.” I laugh, “I was homeschooled so…”
“That makes sense.” Jack laughs along.
You push him gently, “Jerk.”
Jack pulls you into him on the small couch, shaking his head. “I’m just messing with you sunshine.”
You can’t help but notice all the freckles on Jack’s face as he speaks closely to you and you feel woozy at how blue his eyes are and you can see all the crinkles near his eyes. You stand up fast almost falling over, “Hair and makeup is here I have to take a shower.”
Jack gives you a confusing look before nodding. “Okay, I’ll let them in when they knock. Neelam and Iris should be here any minute anyways.”
You can’t even respond to him, all you can do is throw a thumbs up and shut the door behind you.
“Oh fuck no, this can’t be happening.” You mumble.
Jack actually has no idea what just happened and can’t even think too much about it because a whole glam team is entering the room as soon as you shut the door behind you.
You and Jack ride separately to the VMA’s since he has to be there earlier since he’s performing and presenting. You’re excited to see him bring out Fergie.
You get out of the car and are immediately led to the carpet where fans are lined up behind barriers and cameras flashed every second. You waved at the loud crowd to your left, immediately backing up to take pictures.
“Y/N, I knew you were going to be here!” A girl screams and you laugh.
“You look so good!”
“I love you all so much!” You practically scream giving as many people as you can hugs, and taking selfies.
“Where’s the new music girl? And tour?”
You bring your index fingers to your lips, “Patience is key!”
You pose for several pictures before being led to a few people for short interviews.
“Hello gorgeous, you look stunning.” A random interview compliments you as you walk up to them.
“Thank you, you look absolutely gorgeous as well.”
“Your outfit is seriously so simple but stunning, very classic.”
You nod, “I had to take some inspo from Mimi, the queen, her VMA look from 1997 has always been etched into my brain so I had to pull that inspiration from her.”
“Well you are pulling it off. What about music should we be looking out for that?”
You shrug, “Maybeeeee.”
You move on getting mostly the same questions.
“And Jack Harlow?”
You know that they want you to slip up but you just give them a cheeky grin, “He’s performing today isn't he? I like his song First Class, so I’m excited to hear that.”
You’re getting escorted away before she can even respond to you.
“Good?” You ask Iris.
“Just enough.” She winks back leading you to your seat that’s right next to Jack who’s opening up the show.
Right before it’s about to begin though Neelma rushes through pulling you up, whispering something in Iris’ ear and before you know it you’re being dragged away backstage to fake airplane set.
“First Class set, makes sense.” You giggle as you walk up to Jack who's getting mic’d up.
You see everyone else, random models who are seat filling and several celebrities.
Fuck it, let’s put on a show.
You place a soft kiss on his lips, “Kill it baby.”
Jack looks taken back for a second before pulling you back onto him and placing another kiss on your lips, “Two times for good luck.”
They lead you to your seat right across from Becky G and when you know he can’t see you touch your lips a bit.
“You two are so cute.” You hear the familiar voice of Becky G, “You both compliment each other really well.”
You smile shyly, “Thank you.”
Just as you thought the performance is a hit and goes ever so smoothly except for when you can’t keep a straight face as Jack wraps his famous pineapple juice line to you.
And when he wins his award your heart soars with pride and you’re the loudest in the room.
“I have the most amazing support system, and the sunshine in my life right now is very bright… Thank you.”
You know the cameras are on you but the smile on your face is not for them.
#jack harlow#jack harlow imagine#jack harlow x reader#jack harlow blurb#jack harlow x you#jack harlow x y/n#come home the kids miss you
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WAIT FUCK GUYS I JUST HAD A GREAT IDEA FOR A COMIC SERIES THAT WILL APPEAL TO ME AND MAYBE SOME OTHER PEOPLE BUT LIKE DEFINITELY TO ME IF DONE CORRECTLY
So like, y’know how Tim and Damien are kinda having a custody battle for the Robin title right now because DC never really managed to successfully give Tim his own identity? Well maybe we can have a series focused on exactly that, Tim finding a new hero identity.
BUT THAT’S NOT ALL FOLKS, BECAUSE DO YOU KNOW WHO ELSE NEEDS A NEW HERO IDENTITY?
KON EL FUCKING KENT
Do I ship Tim and Kon? Yes. Do I understand that Tim is in a relationship with Bernard right now? Yes. Do I know that DC would never let the poly relationship happen? Yes.
But guess what, I don’t give a fuck. I’m desperate here. These two don’t need to smooch I just need them to talk to each other and be best friends and go on adventures and figure their shit out. I MISS THEM. THEIR RELATIONSHIP DYNAMIC, EXCLUDING ANY ROMANCE, IS AMAZING AND I NEED MORE OF IT.
Think about it, Kon and Tim know that Jon and Damien are going to take the mantles of “Superboy” and “Robin” and they have to learn to move on. They struggle to let go, they doubt whether they truly can make a name for themselves. So, they decide to leave Metropolis and Gotham. They separate themselves from the people that have defined their entire heroic lives. But both of them are afraid of being alone, so they go together. One last journey as Robin and Superboy.
They travel the world together. They meet some familiar faces.
Maybe they go visit Greta and Cissie and we get to see how their civilian lives are going. Perhaps the girls suggest that maybe the two need to let the hero life go. Maybe Tim and Kon even consider it, but they realize that being a hero is what they want to do. (AND THEY DON’T FIGURE IT OUT WHILE IN A FIGHT OR SOMETHING, NO THEY JUST FUCKING TALK. THEY BEAT SOME SHITHEAD UP AND THEN THEY TALK. WHY DID THEY BECOME HEROS? WHY DO THEY WANT TO KEEP BEING HEROS? GIVE THEM SOME FUCKING DEPTH DC I SWEAR TO FUCKING GOD)
Maybe they run into Anita. She’s found out that Slobo is alive and the three of them go to save him. (AND HE FINALLY GETS FUCKING RESCUED AFTER GETTING TRAPPED AS A CONCIOUS STATUE FOR SO FUCKING LONG FOR NO GODDAMN REASON I STILL CAN’T BELIEVE THAT WAS PUT IN THE FINALE FOR THE ORIGINAL YOUNG JUSTICE SERIES THAT LAST HALF OF THAT RUN SUCKED ASS AND EVEN IF YOU DON’T AGREE WITH ME ABOUT THAT WE SHOULD ALL AGREE THAT SLOBO DESERVED BETTER). There is a reunion and it’s sweet and happy and just a nice moment.
Shenanigans ensure, blah blah blah. They meet more familiar faces, some friendlier than others. They meet new people that help them along their journey. They now fully understand what makes them different from other heros and how they want to put those skills to use. They know what kind of heros they want to be and are ready to pave a new path for themselves.
And at the end of it the two choose new names for themselves that are hopefully not stupid and are very cool and suits them. The two have a touching moment where they say just how much the other means to them. Then they hug, maybe kiss (sorry i’m delusional), and then go their separate ways.
Tim returns to Gotham, returns to his family, and we get a nice little reunion between the bat family. He officially resigns as Robin and the first time his new hero identity is put into action is in Gotham with the rest of his family because no matter what, he’s still a bat. Tim, as a hero, does his thing and stops crime and keeps the city safe. However he also focuses his attention on the political and corporate corruption happening in not just Gotham city, but all around the world. He even uses his influence as Tim Drake-Wayne if it can help. Most people won’t know he’s the one digging up evidence and ensuring justice is served, but that’s okay. So long as people’s lives can be changed for the better, he’ll be happy.
Kon returns to Metropolis and talks to Clark. They have a heart to heart conversation and Kon official gives up the title of Superboy. He then goes to Jon and Kon officially gives his mantle to him. Kon was the first Superboy and Jon will be a more than worthy successor. Unlike Tim, Kon doesn’t stay in his home city. He bounces around from place to place aiding whoever is need of his assistance, whether that be working with another hero to stop a villain or helping a small community recover from a devastating natural disaster. He may not have a home city like other heros, but he still has a home. That home is simply spread out all over the world. After all for Kon, home is wherever his friends are.
We fast forward a few months. Tim and Kon meet up at the old Young Justice base. They joke about how much they hated each other when they first met, which leads into a serious conversation about much has changed. Despite everything, they both agree that they’ve changed for the better and will continue to keep improving themselves and their lives. And yet, even after all of that . . .
“Kon, we may have given up our old names, but we’re still a part of those legacies. No matter what the future has in store, there are some things that will never change. You’re my Superboy. Always will be.”
“And you’ll always be my Robin.”
And the comic ends.
#i blacked out for a second there- hey where did this essay come from?#did ya see that reference to a quote from the comics at the end there#i can't be a delusional shipper if its based on canon#i mean i still am delusional#and a timkon shipper#but like that ending quote is a reference to dc canon#i would make this a full fledged fanfic if i was productive enough#i don't trust dc comics with my boys but like i'll still hope#tim drake#kon el kent#conner kent#dc comics#young justice#yj 1998#timkon#robin#superboy
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Defined
ch: 1 | 2 | 3
synopsis: you and nanami are coworkers and former friends with benefits grappling with the decision to consciously uncouple as a non-couple (aka stop doing each other)
word count: 1,937 words
characters: nanami kento x gn!reader
warnings: angsty kinda, slight sexual mentions this chapter
a/n: i was gonna talk a bunch here about clarifying intentions, labels and titles meaning things, etc. but i thought that was entirely too much... i imagine if you've been anywhere on the fwb/situationship spectrum then you'll just get the gist of it all
"With this, there was no dating. No tender moments in public or meeting family. And no telling coworkers... absolutely not. The closest semblance to a normal partnership was the rare mission assigned together. The ones you both went on afar from Tokyo, apart from the blood and guts, felt a bit like little vacations.
But even if his hands fell onto and held your waist a certain way. Or if his teeth tugged your bottom lip as his to claim. Even with the smiles that bookended your meetings of intimately learning the other's weaknesses. This was not that kind of relationship."
Violet with dying rays of orange and pink melted into the growing spread of navy sky. The moon always seemed to look brighter up north.
So many mundane blessings clicked for you in moments like these. The daily changes in the sky, the gentle crumble and cushion of leaves beneath your sore soles, an intact spine... it all felt so nice. Normal miracles.
Lucky, some would say. You were lucky to experience those blessings.
"Ah, so you're headed to Hiraizumi?"
"Yeah well, nearby. There've been quite a few disappearances near the Satetsu river. I've never been but it seems fairly quiet there otherwise."
"It's pretty... beautiful really. But you'll want to be careful up there. Lots of concentrated energy."
"Of course. I'm looking forward to it."
"Try not to take offense to this, but who'll be going with you? I don't imagine they'd send anyone near there alone unless it was Gojo."
"Well, I'll be with Nanami... we've worked together a couple of times. I think we get along just fine. Should go fine."
"Aren't you lucky..."
"Mmm."
"Seriously though, be careful. For them to assign a grade 1 and semi grade 1 on a single assignment. Sounds like they don't even know how big of a problem it really could be."
"Right... you sure you don't wanna swap places with me, Kusakabe?"
"Don't make me laugh. Try to come back in one piece."
Last week's conversation played in your head while you gradually retreated from the wilderness toward the nearest town. The replay was a welcomed distraction from the internal and external bruises that slowed your pace. It also took away from the freshly-made replay of you nearly being split into pieces by the wickedly sharp appendages of the curse you faced not even an hour before.
"Nanami?"
"...Yes?"
"Thank you... for watching my back there."
Met with silence, not that you were expecting much. An expression of gratitude is a hard conversation point for someone unenthused to relish in their own good deeds. Because he was there, your near-fate was returned to its sender. As planned, the 7:3 Sorcerer's dull blade tore apart the sickened flesh that held the curse together. No rumination of the act on his part out of politeness, sure, but more so out of professionalism.
His position, tried and true, was simple: what kind of sorcerer would he be if he stood by and allowed you to be decapitated by a curse mere feet away from him?
'I need to work on my reaction time...' Who doesn't? You're at the best that you've known yourself at. 'I'm sorry for being a burden...' Fuck no. That doesn't make sense and it sounds pathetic.
Thoughts trailed off as your steps continued. 'Just leave it...' A breeze slapped against your cheeks and your adrenaline continued to fall.
Even now, the silent air between you both was not uncomfortable. Though, it never usually was. Besides, many sorcerers pray for minutes of peace to grow into hours, days, and months. Most find the time after intense combat to be the purest form of peace; from one extreme to its polar opposite in seconds. Colors, light, scents, and temperature all came through so much clearer... more precise in those after moments.
Auras too... and his captivated you. It had for so, so long, but in the duration of your relationship you had rarely seen this particular quick swell, bright glow, and slow decompression. Witnessing it made you grateful.
Strong. By nature and nurture, his strength was hardwired into his body, mind, and soul. It struck a perfect balance with his kindness, something unwavering that you witnessed the moment you ran into him years ago (literally, by immaculate chance) as a salary man.
Kindness and strength, just two of his many traits that defined the humanity you adored. Steady in your meeting, brief union, and eventual break. At every stage, it was never difficult to find Nanami admirable.
“There’s no way they properly considered the risk of this assignment."
What were you two talking about again? Oh—
"Yeah. It's odd that they sent us both."
"It’s… a disheartening situation.”
"..."
You sincerely hoped it wasn't becau—
"...Not because of you..."
"Oh, I... I understand."
Of course you understood, it came with your own strength. But surely he could've handled that curse without yo—
"Thank you for your hard work. You created a wide opening for me to assist. I'm not sure I would've been able to do this without you."
"...Mm. No problem... me either. I certainly couldn't have done this alone."
Your statement was obvious, as you were covered in far more wounds and marks compared to your coworker. You may have landed more blows against the curse, but he certainly managed to move efficiently and avoid the brunt of what you got.
"Are you feeling faint?"
“No… I’m okay. Thanks.”
Maybe faint wasn’t the proper word, but the goosebumps on your skin made it harder to move. Colors, temperature, and that growing navy sky felt colder and colder. Terrible shame that the nearest town was still a 30 minute hike... and that the nearest auxiliary manager was another 20 minutes away.
“Are you sure?”
“…Yeah… I’m just a little chilly…”
In a singular, swift motion, the weight of Nanami’s blazer comfortably swallowed your shoulders. Without hesitation, he had removed the layer for your benefit.
“Your adrenaline is dropping.”
“T-thank you… thanks... but so is yours. Aren’t you cold?”
“My injuries are minor and we don’t have long to go.”
“Okay… well... let me know if you want this back at any point.”
“I’ll be fine.”
If Nanami was anything, he was an excellent coworker. A professional and selfless team player in every sense. The evening grew cooler and despite the donated layer, the chill sank into your exposed skin and down your bones. 15 more minutes, huh?
"Do you think you can make it for the next-"
"Next 15 minutes? Y-yeah, I think so."
"..."
You figured, at least until his question made your knees buckle. His ever watchful eyes took in your attempt to conceal a growing limp. Did this curse really fuck you up that bad?
"Hold on."
Nanami placed a firm hand on your shoulder prompting you to pause and repositioned the harness that holstered his weapon from his back to his shoulder.
"If you're comfortable with this, I'll carry you until we reach town. Please don't feel indebted to me, I don't want your injuries to worsen from oversight."
"I... Nanami..."
God. First, his coat. Now, his back. What more could he give?
He certainly wasn't being chivalrous to prove a point... was he? What point would he even be making?
Well... how long were you going to make him wait...?
"I don't mean to pressure you..."
Hazel eyes, bare of his glasses, were kind and waiting for your answer. A familiar air of disarming patience carved the cold air between you. Were his eyes always this way when looking towards you? Even now?
"N-no. No, it's... I..."
Deep breath... okay.
"Thank you. Thanks... I really appreciate that."
"Okay. Just try not to lean back, I might lose my balance."
He wouldn't, you both knew, but the warning put you at ease. You smiled, nearly drawing out a teasing quip in response. As gently and respectfully as possible, you made your way onto Nanami's back. Your body was pressed flatly against the broad, dense surface of his. With sturdy arms roped around the plush of your thighs that rested on both sides of his waist, he resumed a slower pace.
The bob of his walk complimented the steady rhythm of his heart, both of which reverberated through your own chest making you wish you could sink into him. The newfound warmth soothed the growing aches and you slipped into sleep. No matter how hard you tried, your body could never forget the comfort that his brought you.
"Maybe this isn't a good idea..."
"...Sure."
I guess the illusion of this fantasy had finally caught up to you two. Five months of willingly bending your own limits, testing the line of professionalism and personal boundaries. Neither of you would've ever sought out another sorcerer as a long-term partner. Sort of stupid to think that indulging in each other carnally would be a sustainable form of healing.
With this, there was no dating. No tender moments in public or meeting family. And no telling coworkers... absolutely not. The closest semblance to a normal partnership was the rare mission assigned together. The ones you both went on afar from Tokyo, apart from the blood and guts, felt a bit like little vacations.
But even if his hands fell onto and held your waist a certain way. Or if his teeth tugged your bottom lip as his to claim. Even with the smiles that bookended your meetings of intimately learning the other's weaknesses. This was not that kind of relationship.
"I don't regret where we are. But being like this might do more harm than good longterm."
What an incredibly stupid conversation to have in bed. And what a crazy thing for him to say with his lips still pressed to your neck.
"Kento... I don't think we were planning on doing this forever, right?"
So why do this in the first place? Maybe he doesn't need a friend (is that what you are?) like you anymore. The sex, itself, was never the problem. If it was, the conversation wouldn't have followed your pleads for him to consume every part of you (and him fulfilling every request.) Pillow talk and waxing poetic about alternative lives or separate futures would eventually run dry.
Neither person wanted to escalate beyond where you two comfortably were. Blissfully uncoupled. And as cathartic as it proved, unpacking core memories and histories as a non-couple was... very intimate for the type of relationship you agreed to share.
But sometimes you figured you could do this... it all... forever, at lest with him. Not that forever was particularly long for the average career sorcerer anyway.
Your own trauma was similar to his own formative heartbreaks, both spoken about in bits and pieces scattered across your time together. Compassion and the embracing calm of your bedroom beckoned Nanami's largely regulated vulnerability. Five months of unlocking each other to see and be seen, if only for a few hours.
Maybe what you both really needed was a good therapist?
"Hey... Kento?"
"Yes?"
"Do you still want to work together?"
"Of course... but I think we'll need distance."
"Of course. Yeah... ok. Ok... just don't treat me like a stranger."
"I never will."
Of course. Responsibility was never solely about physical strength, but about balancing the variables: endurance, intuition, experience, maybe even spite at times… but, most importantly, care. And he was always so responsible.
A responsible, capable, and careful man would do what he could to protect you. How cruel would it be for him to suddenly change when your heart had been so close to his, then and now? Of course a responsible man would carry you when you were down and he'd even let you dampen his shoulder with your tears, awake or not. Naturally, he'd let you grieve what should have been let go.
For the sake of work, sanity, and your friendship.
So here you two were. Nearly five more months down the line since your last meeting. And as much as the partnership changed, the players stayed the same. Accepting another rare assignment together, but with the new goal of making it unremarkable. Just work. Open and closed, with no strings attached.
#jjk fic#jujutsu kaisen fic#jjk scenarios#jjk x reader#nanami kento x reader#jjk nanami#nanami kento#nanami headcanons#kento nanami x reader#kento nanami#nanami x reader#nanami kento x you#nanami x you#gn reader#jjk angst
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Pretty when you cry
Ethan landry x Black! Crybaby reader.
Summary: Ethan finds you pretty when you cry he likes to scare you and see the tears and fear in your eyes, so he decided to scare you while wearing his Ghostface costume and he couldn't help but smile at how beautiful you look when you cry.
Ethan loved the way you cry, he'd never seen such beautiful crier in his life, you were to fragile for anyone to break or harm, Ethan loved the way how you would hug him or sit on his lap when your scared it made him feels good that he was there to protect you. He would kill anyone who ever made you cry or try to harm you.
Y/n was heavily getting bullied by 3 girls at her school, she would come home crying, Ethan knew Y/n to well he knows when she's crying even how hard she tries to hide it, it was clear he knew. Y/n and Ethan were best friends and they tell each other everything... well not everything in Ethan's part. Ethan killed the girls thst bullied Y/n and he had a good time doing so.
While Ethan and Y/n were sitting on the couch Y/n heard the news that the girls that bullied her were dead, Y/n was a sweet innocent girl she never wished anything bad happen to then. As Y/n made it to the couch sitting right next to Ethan. " Did you heard about the news? Y/n said looking at Ethan almost about to cry. " No, what happened?" Ethan asked Y/n knowing what she was talking about... after all those sluts deserve to die knowing they were bullying Y/n. " Those girls that bullied me are dead." Y/n said crying as she hugs Ethan for comfort. "Yeah they bullied me but I don't want them die, I mean their people too." Y/n said through tears, Ethan looked at you and he thought your crying so angelic were like a angel, Ethan comfort ls Y/n as he hugs her to soothe her pain but he was smiling at what he did to those girls. Not one bit a remorse he did that for you.
Y/n was home alone since Ethan had econ, Y/n didn't like to be alone, when she was young she cried that she was alone it was lonely and she didn't find any comfort. But, now she got older and she still didn't like being alone but she learned how to deal with it she can't rely on Ethan all the time.
Y/n heard the phone rang, she walked over to the phone and picked it up. "Hello." Y/n said.
"Who is this?" The mysterious voice said.
"You called me, sir." Y/n said so innocently and patient making Ethan horny for you at your politeness, you were to perfect.
"What's your favorite scary movie?" The raspy voice questions Y/n.
"Oh, I don't watch scary movies, they make me scared I like watching something wholesome." Y/n said growing anxious wanting to hang up the phone.
"Uhm, sir I have to go, it was nice having this conversation buy I really have to go." Y/n said feeling weirded out by the man she was talking to on the Ethan.
"Wait... No!" The voice said on the phone but Y/n hanged up before he could even say anything. As Y/n walks away from the phone she heard the phone ring again, this time she was really scared. "Hello." Y/n said as hee voice shakes. "That was a big mistake, princess do you know how rude it is to hang up on someone on the phone while there talking to you." The voice says as he chuckles on the phone making Y/n.
"If you don't leave me alone I'm calling the police." Y/n threatens. "YOU CALL THE POLICE I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU!" The man on the raise his voice making Y/n cry, Ethan love the sound of your crying it was angelic and was music to his ears.
"Don't ever hang up on me, you wouldn't anything bad happen to Ethan do you?" The man says as he laughs making Y/n cry harder as her heart beats rapidly.
"What do you want from me?!" Y/n said to The man on the phone getting very scared.
"You, princess it was so easy to distract you on the phone, and I know you didn't lock you lr windows someone can get inside you house... I wonder who?" Y/n's heart stopped as he said that knowing she didn't lock her window.
Y/n grabbed the biggest knife in the kitchen holding it in case if the man comes for her. But all of a sudden the light went off and Y/n couldn't see.
"You're so fucked now, princess." Ethan says as he laughs as hangs up the phone. Y/n still had the knife in her hand but she was shaking since she never has been in a situation like this.. she Ethan was here so he could hug her and tell her everything was going to be alright.
Y/n didn't feel the knife in her hand anymore as it just disappeared from her hand all of a sudden the lights went on and Ghostface was standing right in front of you with the knife in his hands, "Looking for this?" Ghostface taunts Y/n as he steps closer to her menacingly.
Y/n starts crying she felt so weak she didn't know what to do, Ghostface began coming up to her face to face his body weight all up on Y/n making it hard for her to get out of his grasp.
"Why are you doing this?" Y/n cries as Ethan smirks beneath the mask as he caresses her neck with the knife as Ghostafce was focused on caressing her neck with the knife, She took off the mask to only be in shock that it was her best friend.....Ethan landry. He put her in all this fear in danger. Ethan smiles at Y/n and comes closer to her and whispered in her ear. "You're pretty when you cry, and I fucking love it." Ethan whispers in Y/n's as he kisses the tip of her ear. "You won't tell anyone will you sweetheart?" Ethan says looking at Y/n, Y/n was scared of Ethan and what he was capable of, so she said 'yes' to not make him mad.
"Yes." Y/n says looking at Ethan making him smiles as he hugs her knowing she was scared of him.
"Good girl, it will be our little secret~" Ethan said whispering to Y/n's ear.
#Spotify#Ethan landry x reader#Ethan landry x black!reader#Black!reader#Ethan Landry#Scream 6#Crybaby#Pretty when you cry
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Verlaine. Verlaines arms. Just. Arms. His. I want him to choke me , I want to claw at his forearms and see them bleed. See the muscles flex as he uses his ability or punches smth, bite into it.
Pull off his gloves and kiss his fingers , he wants to pull away, he killed so many with those hands , he thinks you shouldn't touch smth so. Vile , but they're soft with how he takes care of them. Holding pinkies with him when you see him zone out in public, bad thoughts again. Just ground him with the smallest touch. Feel hid arms wrap around you whole in a hug , hold you tight , as if you were going to leave. Are they hot, are they cold to touch, bigger than yours or more slender?
Thoughts?
First of all:
☆ Verlaine’s arms are so fucking strong I just know it. Despite his build Paul is an absolute powerhouse of physical strength and his arms absolutely reflect that. Big and you can see the way his muscles move whenever he does anything and god he could probably lift you up with one hand even without his ability. And he is such a cunt about it all too, especially during sex. He’s using his strength to his advantage to hold you down or maybe yeah choke you (though he’s a little hesitant to do this, especially at first).
☆ On a more tender note however, he is incredibly gentle when touching you in general. Paul is all too aware of just how dangerous he is, how a singular touch from him could kill you within seconds, and though he's all but mastered his ability I think there is a constant hesitation in every single touch, a fear of accidently loosing control [not that he would, of course, but Paul is anything if not full of self doubt].
☆ Which is also very worth mentioning, by the by. While Verlaine has a very odd relationship with pride [to put it politely] and he firmly believes that his touch taints you. Not because he's an assassin or killer, but because he simply isn't human. Lines of code don't deserve such gentle touches and he fails to believe he could give them either. He's, as you said, vile, wholly undeserving and incapable of either giving or receiving love.
☆ Which is very very wrong, of course, but the process to showing him that requires a lot of patience. Hand kisses [or hand touches in general] are an excellent way to start though. Like you said they're grounding, tethering him to the moment and reminding him that there is someone who cares for him.
☆ Verlaine is constantly alone I think, there's really no changing this, no getting rid of the isolation that comes with being, well, a program, but your touches help lessen it. Feeling your fingers on his, seeing the way you kiss the small scars littering his hands, the way you reach out for him almost unthinkingly while walking together, it all builds up over time and it results in a feeling of almost peace. There'll always the an urge to pull away, but it becomes miniscule over time.
☆ Paul's love of you starts to cause him to love himself, because if you can touch him with such gentleness and fondness then maybe there really is something there worth it all, and it manifests in his touch first. No longer hesitant, he places his hands on your body with confidence and reverence and with enough time it leads to him fully accepting your own affections too. Paul simply has to learn to properly give before that can happen, but your touch and love inspires him to - at the very least - try.
☆ Appearance wise, Verlaine's hands look strong, sturdy. Never seen shaking or anything like that, they move with purpose and grace, elegant like a bowstring and just as strong. His hands are veiny and rather big, though slightly slender in shape. Paul's fingers are long and skilled, with filed down nails and he often wears clear nail polish. There are also undoubtably several scars on them too, though for the most part they're very small, with the most notable one being a scar that goes from between his ring/middle finger and down the back of his hand, extending to his elbow. Other features worth mentioning are a mole on his right wrist and small burn scare on his right pointer finger [he says it's from something cool but he accidently touch the kettle while it was boiling]. Temperature wise his hands are very warm and nice.
#✧ library shelves ✧#darling noodles ♡#happy bday again verlaine hehe#bsd#bsd x reader#bungo stray dogs x reader#bungo stray dogs#verlaine x reader#bsd verlaine#paul verlaine
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Watch beatrice allowing herself to be selfish for the first time in a long time.
Ever since she became a nun she convinced herself her desires didn't matter. She had been a mean to her parent's political agenda and then she became a mean to the OCS's ends.
She had fought against it first "how can we be here just to fulfill some God's providence?" but being sent to that boarding school, stripped from everything she loved, being told what she wanted was sinful, made her surrender and think that maybe [maybe], existence was meant that way "things change when you realise not everything is about you".
She stopped asking God for help, even for forgiveness, who was she to merit his mercy? She prayed in a depersonalized way, repeating the words she had been taught, over and over again.
Then it came Ava. The girl who was the living proof that she had been wrong this whole time. Sure, at first Ava's selfishness annoyed her. Who was she to think she was greater than what God had put in her path? "whatever you want is insignificant" she wanted to tell her, the same way she had been told.
The truth was, however, she envied Ava's rebellion. Even though she had agreed to help them, in her daily life Ava did nothing but to please herself (she had been able to witness that in The Alps). She ate not to feed herself but to taste the flavors, she took showers not to keep clean but because she loved feeling water falling on her back, she read books not to learn but because they entertained her, she asked Bea silly questions about herself because, quoting "I really want to know you better".
Ava knew the world didn't revolve around her, Bea had realized that one sleepless night they got to have a deep conversation (for once) while staring at the ceiling. But the thing is... Ava didn't care. She would make the world hers if she could, "what's the point of being here if you can't have a crump of joy?" she had casually told her. "What's the point of being here..." yes, Bea had also asked herself that.
So watching her lying there, full of blood and lifeless... It wasn't fair. "I know the world its hard and unforgiving" she really knew it, she had learnt it from a young age "and I know that warrior nuns die" but it was not ANY warrior nun, it was ava, she wanted to live why couldn't HE give her that? "But please don't leave me" she would be alone again without her "I don't WANT you to die" she really didn't, she desired with every fiber of her body to keep her to herself, to touch her, to feed her, to talk to her, to love her, to make her hers. She WANTED Ava, she had never wanted anything more.
Why couldn't she have her? Why was God taking Ava away from her? Who was God to decide? It was unfair. Maybe she was not the center of the universe, she didn't fucking care, it was still unfair.
If ava hadn't woken up she would've hated God.
"God knows what's best for us" does he really? "For those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose" then why have you forsaken me? "You ask and do not receive, because you ask wrongly, to spend it on your passions." Wrong, there could be nothing more holy than wanting Ava.
"Give her back. Give her back. Give her back" She repeated to herself as she was holding her in her arms. "I've never asked you anything for myself but give her back to me" just this time, for all the times she didn't ask, for all the desires she put aside, for all that she had been enduring since she was sent to that boarding school.
And then Ava wakes up. "I'd like to avoid thay myself" she says, sure she does. And she hugs her because she can, and she touches her face because she can, she finally holds her because she can, because it is what Ava wants, and because "who is she to deny that to Ava?". Having her in her arms alive, she finally looks up, "thank you for not taking her away from me... don't you dare do it again" she thinks. Except... he does.
#this is something between a scene analysis a mini fic and just me having a breakdown#warrior nun#avatrice#sister beatrice#ava silva#save warrior nun#warrior nun analysis#ficlet#beatrice's thought 2x05#warrior nun 2x05#alba baptista#kristina tonteri young
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So now I'm gonna move on and actually describe an experience I have had as a trans man who is currently detransitioned due to financial status. This experience involves both misogyny and transphobia, and I'm not really here to debate weather or not I Can experience these things, instead I'm just going to share it.
So I guess somewhat important context to this is that I am rather feminine by appearence. If you encountered me in the wild you'd think I was the hoodie and cookie monster pajama girl from high school. My partner, also not currently receiving gender affirming care passes a bit better than me. He at the very least gives people pause or incites confusion. Usually, though, people just assume he's a young man.
I was going to get a state ID because I had moved recently to another state. My ID from my previous state had my gender marked as M because I went through the due process to get that done. New home state has a policy that if youre from out of state you have to get your ID processed at the police station. My partner is also trans and had gone a week prior to get his done, and they had respected his ID's gender marker, moving all of his information from the out of state record.
I go in and of course I am marked F, so upon reviewing it I said thats incorrect, because my ID says M. We go back and forth and I eventually produce my partner's ID and say "you did it for him just last week". Big mistake on my part because I'm honestly still learning how not to give people like this the benefit of the doubt. Regardless, they go to their manager to figure out what to do.
A few minutes later I am called alone into the managers office. Here's a shortlist of this meeting;
-Thet confiscated my partners ID without him present
-Told me my due process didn't matter, that I can only change it if I had a letter saying I had already had SRS.
-Took my previous ID and voided it so I couldn't change my birth certificate
-Made me submit my ID as F
-Tell me my partner has to come in to correct his to F as well
This all happens very quickly, and I try to advocate for myself and lose. By the end of it, I am crying a bit and I mutter to myself "This is fucking insane".
This is the part that really fucked me up.
The manager stepped forward toward me, holding her hands in that defensive position, the one cops to do say 'I'm calm but prepared to use force', you know where they tilt their hips forward and rest their hands on the front of their belt. She tells me "I understand you're upset, but there is no swearing in here."
I am a nearly 30 year old MAN. And she is trying to tell me not to swear like I'm some teenager giving her lip.
"I'm not from here, this is just how I talk" I say, not yet realizing that she is trying to instigate. She prods this issue again, trying to detract me, trying to get me to cuss more. Trying to rile me up. I become quiet and still, thank them for their time and leave. She called me Sweetheart as I left.
And there is nothing I can do in this situation. Im dealing with cops in a red state. There's nothing I can do but cave to the authority because my plans are bigger than this. Because to further advocate is to put myself in danger and she made that very clear by drawing a line at me swearing. So I submit.
Submitting in a situation like this feels like your power is being taken from you. Like they are physically removing something from your arms and trying to get it back would be a major risk. It's not just that someone is stepping on me, it's that theyre telling me politely to get on the ground so I can be stepped on. It felt especially oppressive in this scenario, but it always feels like this. In the workplace, in social group, in family, a trans man is the least respectable thing you can be because not only are you a woman, but you're a crazy, damaged woman and if you're me you get ire for being a waste of a pretty face.
There's always a timeline too, it can be long or short but it always goes like this; People receive me initially with feigned tolerance and some mild comparisons to my partner's masculinity. Then they start poking and pushing and trying to see if I'm really a trans man in ways they think is subtle but to me is very unsubtle. Eventually, when they've disrespected me to the point of reacting emotionally, they act like they've gotten their gotcha moment because I've displayed the Ultimate Thing that makes you Not A Man: Tears. Most of them don't even need to get to there to conclude I'm a trender because well if I'm already almost 30 and haven't transitioned, I must not want it bad enough.
I'm sharing this story not just because it displays the intersections of being a trans man, how hard it is to obtain respect and how fragile that respect is, but also because I know there are guys out there who are like me. I see you, you with the puffy lips and round hips, you who can't transition right now, you who feels like he's waiting for a some day, for a time when it's just okay to exist out there and be treated with the basic fucking dignity of telling someone "Hi, I'm Dave" and having them reply without looking at your tits first. Who has beat himself up in the quiet hours for years for being too emotional, too feminine, feeling assaulted by the way the world wants to commodify your body and demonize your mind. You deserve to be seen and respected.
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