#can you tell i’m mentally unwell | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

5sospenguinqueen · 3 months ago

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He’s Just Ken - Lando Norris x Volleyball! Reader

Summary: Lando tries to tell the Grid that he's dating an Olympic Volleyball player but instead, they publicly accuse him of lying to them.

Warnings: None? Swearing. Fluff.

Requested: Yes by Anon (here)

2024 season, slightly skewed timeline haha

Face claim is Jordan Thompson but also rando pinterest pics used. American Volleyball player to fit in with 'the twist'

F1 Masterlist

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landonorris just posted

liked by ln4, maxfewtrell and others

landonorris non-race weekends mean quality time with my trophy and watching the olympics opening ceremony

2,004 comments

maxfewtrell don’t objectify me like that. i’m more than just your trophy

→ landonorris you wish you were my trophy

teamusa can we count on your support?

→ user1 um, he’s british so no..?

logansargeant looking forward to volleyball

→ landonorris absolutely

→ oscarpiastri it’s just sad now

→ user2 he’s not allowed to enjoy volleyball?

georgrussell63 look, guys, he’s trying to act like a wag

→ alex_albon okay, moving this to social media is a step too far, mate

→ charles_leclerc c’mon, let him have his delusions. he’s not hurting anyone but himself

→ landonorris they’re not delusions!

→ user3 what is this about???

mclaren one of our favourite pictures

→ oscarpiastri can we get him some mandated therapy?

→ landonorris i’m not mentally unwell!

ynln_usa just posted

liked by landonorris, logansargeant and others

ynln_usa and i thought i looked good. let’s hear a little commotion for ms. eiffel

3,481 comments

teammate1 okay but you do look good. nothing looks better than team pride

→ ynln_usa AMERICAAAAA 🦅🇺🇸

→ user4 i love how unhinged she is

user5 what is lando doing in the likes

→ user6 logan is also here

→ user7 yes because she’s a usa volleyball player and he’s patriotic af. lando makes no sense

→ user8 logan follows the usa volleyball insta account

logansargeant good luck 🇺🇸 liked by ynln_usa

→ user9 this interaction has my whole heart. my two favourite (and only) american athletes

→ user10 yn and logan meet when?

teamusa that’s our girl!

→ georgerussell63 lando’s imaginary girl

→ oscarpiastri like he could get her, she’s tall and he’s him (this comment thread has been deleted)

landonorris good luck on your first match

→ user11 sit down vroom vroom boy, not going to happen

→ user12 ha, like lando could bag the volleyball goddess. she’s a real athlete

→ alex_albon the people have spoken

Group chat texts Twitch Boys + 2023 babies

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ynln_usa just posted

liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri and others

ynln_usa first match down. my thighs are chafed and my voice all yelled out but i am pumped!

4,416 comments

logansargeant what a game! looking forward to the rest of the season

→ ynln_usa thanks for the support

user1 now oscar’s joined the group of drivers following her

→ user2 and charles

→ user3 poor logan can’t gatekeep her anymore

oscarpiastri looks intense

→ ynln_usa says the extreme driver

georgerussell63 lads, what’re we thinking

→ alex_albon just further reinforces our point

→ charles_leclerc she looks very cool

→ user4 what are they all doing here

→ user5 why are they all being suspicious

→ user6 nothing better to do on a weekday?

landonorris i’ve never seen the stars and stripes look so good

→ danielricciardo norizz is back again

→ landonorris don’t you start

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oscarpiastri just posted

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oscarpiastri lando’s dragging us to the olympics to feed into his delusion

2,814 comments

landonorris i’m not lying!

user7 anyone else notice that all of the drivers in paris at the moment have been focusing on the usa women’s volleyball team?

→ user8 alex and george both posted this match, and their pic included player 12 as well??

→ user9 put some respect on yn ln’s name

danielricciardo where was my invite?

→ carlossainz55 and mine?

→ landonorris neither of you have publicly called me a liar. this isn’t a fun little trip. this is me proving a point!

→ danielricciardo so it’s a holiday out of spite?

→ charles_leclerc we are having a great time though

alex_albon i’m willing to go along with his delusions if it gets me more free holidays

→ logansargeant me too

→ georgerussell63 lads, no. we were supposed to be staging on intervention. i made a powerpoint

landonorris i hate all of you

mclaren bring us back a croissant

→ oscarpiastri only if you can find me a sane teammate

→ mclaren deal

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ynln_usa just posted

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ynln_usa luckily, i look better in silver than gold

16,812 comments

ynln_usa on a serious note, i am blown away by the immense support i have received this olympic season. a massive thank you to the loml @/landonorris for being at the finals (and bringing along some friends) i could hear you screaming in the stands

→ user10 excuse me!! loml lando norris?? since, uh when

teamusa a silver medal and a hard launch. what a day for our champion

→ ynln_usa help, i’ve been captured by a bunch of men who drive in circles

→ teammate any of them single?

landonorris you look so cute with your medal! my olympic silver medalist, everyone

user11 i feel like this isn’t reaching enough people because all of the comments are just congratulating her on a silver medal. where are the people freaking out about the pinned comment?

→ user12 she won a silver freaking medal. that’s more impressive than dating someone below her league

lilymhe i was on the edge of my seat the whole time! congratulations, girly 🥈 (alex facetimed me the whole time so i could watch the match)

→ ynln_usa you mean, lando didn’t give you a ticket? i’ll tell him off for you

→ landonorris how many times do i have to tell people? i didn’t invite them for a nice trip. i was proving a point! it was a petty trip

→ user13 one hell of a trip

landonorris @/oscarpiastri @/charles_leclerc @/georgerussell63 @/alex_albon @/logansargeant read the caption, boys

charles_leclerc amazing match

oscarpiastri what a game!

logansargeant fuck yeah! USA!

georgerussell63 i’ve never been so invested in a volleyball match before

alex_albon well done, team usa

user14 the f1 drivers are being so polite. it’s adorable

landonorris just posted

liked by logansargeant, maxfewtrell and others

landonorris my baby won silver 🩶🪙

3,304 comments

user1 okay but that picture in front of the eiffel tower. slay

→ oscarpiastri thank you. some of my best work

→ user2 oscar.png when?

→ landonorris it’s only a good pic because he had good models

→ oscarpiastri *model. she’s barbie, you’re just ken

ynln_usa big wins for us both this year

→ landonorris you’re my biggest win

→ danielricciardo cringe liked by ynln_usa

→ landonorris stop it. i saw that, sweetheart

carlossainz55 you used to call me baby…

→ ynln_usa do you want him back?

→ landonorris babe, wtf

→ ynln_usa i’m sorry but carlos is my fave driver and i don’t want him to be sad

→ landonorris dumped.

charles_leclerc okay we get it now. we’re sorry we doubted you

→ georgerussell63 yeah. please stop making out in front of us

→ landonorris vengeance!

→ ynln_usa have you not learnt that he’s petty yet? he dragged you all to paris just to prove he was dating me

alex_albon her silver medal is far cooler than your miami trophy

→ landonorris i agree but shouldn’t you be nice to me like the others?

→ alex_albon no. i never outwardly said i didn’t believe you, just that she was out of your league

→ ynln_usa thank you, alex. it’s amazing what men can do if they make you laugh

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Bonus

logansargeant just posted

liked by ynln_usa, lilymhe and others

ynln_usa from toddler terror to olympic silver medalist, you’ve been a pain in my ass since we were kids, and i couldn't be prouder to watch you win big 🇺🇸🍾 tagged: ynln_usa

2,302 comments

ynln_usa the childhood best friends to professional athletes pipeline is real

landonorris so you knew i was telling the truth the entire time!

→ logansargeant yeah

→ landonorris why didn’t you tell the others!

→ logansargeant was funny

oscarpiastri i’m sorry but this reveal is even better than finding out lando was telling the truth about dating yn

→ user3 wait, so all these comments were because they didn’t believe he was dating yn

→ alex_albon would you have until their recent posts?

→ user4 no tbf

charles_leclerc you sly dog! you let us bully him for no reason

→ logansargeant it’s what he gets for just trying to casually slip it into conversation and not introducing her like a gentleman should

→ landonorris i brought usa volleyball themed cupcakes!

georgerussell63 this is the best thing i’ve seen all year

mclaren you’ve caused both our drivers to need a lot of therapy. we’ll send the bill your way

→ ynln_usa it’s alright, i’ll cover it. i have to deal with them untherapised otherwise

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A/N: So, sorry, Anon. It wasn't until I'd written this up and then realised I'd completely left Max out of it. So sorry but hope you still enjoy!

As always, request open!

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booker-le-livre · 2 years ago

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@mlkseok never did I write that pregnancy caused through rape is the exception, I actually stated the opposite. How a child is conceived is irrelevant when it comes to their right to life, although I do sympathize enormously with the mother and wouldn’t wish that upon anyone.

Secondly, of course I am sorry for the other persons loss, why wouldn’t I be? I mourn their deaths just as much as I mourn the deaths of those who’ve been killed in the womb. It’s part of being pro life, all lives are equal and I mourn them equally. And I would hardly describe myself as a fool for advocating for the most vulnerable people in our society (the unborn).

I am honestly feeling so sad for you, I can feel your pain and anger through your words and I’m praying that you find peace and happiness one day.

imagine thinking being "pro life" is a matter of a different opinion and not an ideology of violence inflicted upon women LOL. if you wanna cry misogyny then maybe open your eyes and understand that women can be misogynists

Imagine thinking that pregnancy, the most natural thing a human woman can do, is “violence”. Taking responsibility for your actions (that is having sex), isn’t “violence”. Pregnancy is the natural result of sex and if you’re not mature enough to take responsibility for that result then you shouldn’t be having sex at all. A baby shouldn’t have to lose their life for someone else’s convenience.

And I never claimed that women couldn’t be misogynistic, but most of the people were crying for “women’s rights” while at the same time cheering this dude on as he kicked a woman to the ground for no reason. And if you think that someone deserves to be violently attacked for voicing their opinion/ideology then there is something sincerely wrong with you. Going by that logic I assume you’re totally fine with people drop kicking someone publicly advocating for abortion?

#pro life #honestly I’m sad for you I can tell that you are mentally unwell #wishing you all the best

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hoe4sports · 23 days ago

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The patterns in the wallpaper

A/N: A short piece, once again based off my own experiences. You can find more stories here.

Warning: Mentions of abuse, sensitive subjects, read with caution .

If you have struggled or struggles with the same things, please know that I’m always available for a chat. I care about you.

If you find yourself in a psychological emergency; please seek medical attention.

As a child, you weren’t really a child. In the surge of your mother’s impulsive decisions and explosive temperament, you suffered your fair share of the consequences. The consequences was piled up in your invisible backpack glued to your shoulder, and over the years; your backpack would get heavier and heavier.

At one point, the backpack was so heavy that you couldn’t get out of bed anymore. Your backpack was above your capacity leaving your attempts at standing up looking like a baby trying to walk for the first time.

The consequences of the imaginary backpack was there when you met Alexia. You met at a coffeeshop. It was the perfect romcom meeting. Alexia ran into you, and dropped her coffee on you. You had subconsciously met a few months earlier in a group therapy session for people dealing with anxiety and depression.

5th of November

One of the assets of Alexia was her face. Her face stood out to you, she didn’t look like she belonged in the room. Sure, mental illness and unwellness dosent have a spesfic look, but if you are attentive and willing to dive; you can see it in their eyes.

The thing about eyes is that it’s the only part of your body that you cannot lie with. Your eyes are like the windows to your soul, to your headspace. When you would look across the room, you would see people’s eyes. Most had drained eyes, eyes that looked like the had seen the most unforgiving of actions.

It was not like your eyes were any different. They were the same. Dull, sad, lost. There are a million ways to describe them, but the most fitting word would be gone.

Your eyes would brighten as the therapy went on. After having a few experiences with Alexia, the light had been sparked again. Like you were finally free to breathe. But, then you got the call.

“Your mother is sick, I don’t know how longs she has left”.

The light in your eyes were simply gone. Just like your mother stole your childhood, your innocence and your magic; she stole the light in your eyes and your adulthood.

It wasn’t the grieving of potentially losing your mother that had hit you. It was the grief of the loss of hope. The hope that one day, she might realise all her wrongs and try to do them right by apologising. That day looked further away than ever. It was just the tiny girl inside of you who were holding on to the hope of an apology like a child holds onto a helium balloon.

You laid in bed, sideways, facing the wall. The wall has patterns in it, carefully chosen by you and Alexia when you built your house a few years ago prior. The wallpaper is unique, you have never seen anything like it.

Alexia didn’t know it back then, but you wanted patterns on your side of the room for a reason. If you ever would spiral down into the state of mentality you had when you met Alexia, you would have something to look at.

10th of November

When your life came crashing down, a regular November night; you stared at the pattern in the wallpaper for hours. As Alexia’s soft snores fills the room bearing evidence of her trust that you are asleep: your eyes were wander to the wallpaper. Eyes heavy with sadness; but somehow also anger.

The anger lasts. It builds up. It turmoils into something bigger. Something heavier.

Anger for how your mother chose to run away from this world instead of dealing with the consequences of robbing your life before it had even begun. Anger for how she made things easier for herself. Anger for how the hope of an apology disappeared into thin air in sync with her existence.

“When i was 7, i would write my mami notes to tell her how sorry i was and how I wouldn’t mind if she gave me away to have someone better than me.”

Alexia looked at you with sadness in her eyes before wrapping her arms around you. The pair of you laying together, close to each other in totally silence and as different. Not a bad kind of different, but a healing kind of different.

“You didn’t deserve that.” Alexia whispers into the top of your head, while your face stares into the wallpaper. “I know” you respond.

25th of November

You don’t really know how to respond, or how to talk about your childhood. Your childhood had been taken out of your backpack after going to therapy for years. The consequences of your mother had been placed into a suitcase before it was thrown up to the loft. You simply forgot about it, for years. But one morning, the suitcase was back in your room filling you with grief of the life and the potential you were supposed to have.

“When I was a kid, my mom would ask me when I would go home again.” You whisper, the memory lingering in your head for a moment before the pattern of the wallpaper takes over again. “You didn’t deserve it, amor” Alexia whispers into your hair.

Alexia never tells you, but each time you share something about your childhood; her heart breaks for the person you were supposed to be. She tends to imagine what you would be like without the struggles,without the consequences of your mother. A part of her hopes that one day, you’ll have a little girl who will grow up to be just like you; but with two loving parents and a safe home.

Christmas is closing in, but you are still staring at the wall. You follow the pattern with your eyes: that’s all you have capacity to do. You never read, watch tiktoks or use your phone. You just stare at the wall, waiting for this to pass. The only issue is that this time; it won’t just pass. You haven’t realised it yet. But Alexia has, already having a list of the best private physiatrist that money could by ready for whenever your mind can hold two thoughts at the same time.

Alexia dosent push. She never does. She’s pacient. She’s consistent. She’s the most reliable asset you have had in the entirely of your life. She waits, and waits and waits; because she knows that one day you’ll be ready to move your gaze away from the wallpaper.

1st of December

“How is it today, amor?” Alexia asks. It’s the same question everytime she gets home from training. She’s just waiting for the day when you have an answer. “I don’t know” is your response. It’s always your response. Like your brain dosent have the ability to answer anything else.

Days become weeks, weeks become a month and a month became multiple months. Months of you laying in bed, waiting for it to get better. Months of you never leaving your bed for more than 5 minutes. Months of having the living room and kitchen being used by only one person.

Alexia is functioning for you, almost on your behalf. She opens your mail, books occasional doctors appointments over the phone, she brushes your hair and she brings you water with ice and a cut up apple every single morning before she leaves for practice. She dosent push it. She just leaves it infront of you.

When she has away games, she haves Alba over. Alba stays in the guest room, and she occasionally checks in on you. Never pressuring you, never making you feel bad. She understands the situation, and she wants to support her sister.

5th of December

Closing up to Christmas, Alexia is at practice tying her cleats. Mapi sits next to her watching as person after person disappears onto the pitch. When it’s only the pair of them left, she looks at Alexia.

“How’s y/n? She hasn’t been at any games this season” she wonders, the memory of you sitting next to her during her injury fresh in her mind.

“She’s alive, that’s all that matters” Alexia responds, quietly cleaning up her spot before getting ready to warm up. She clenches her jaw, not wanting to break in-front of her teammate.

Mapi smiles sadly at her understanding the severity of the situation. Ingrid went through the same thing when her grandmother died.

“I’ll get Ingrid to call her” Mapi says, not a tone of judgement in her voice.

“Anything helps” Alexia responds knowing that you and Ingrid created a special bond when Ingrid was injured. You went home to her and Mapi’s place to take care of her while Mapi went on the US tour with barca. That’s to your nature. Always taking care of others. Always attentive to others feelings.

On the drive home later that day, she dosen’t listen to music like she normally does. It’s quiet. She’s thinking. Her head is filled with worry, hoping that you will find it within you to recover again. Not because she wants you to or because she’s sick of caring for you; but because you deserve to live a life free of worry.

When she pulls up into the driveway, she sees the curtains are pulled in-front of the windows. She does it before she leaves, wanting to shield you from any media or fans. She trusts the fans, but not with you. You are fragile. A small tap, and you’ll break.

She grabs her phone and gets out of the car, walking the few meters to the entryway before locking herself in. Dinner is on her mind, perhaps salmon with pasta? You don’t eat much, but you eat pasta. If she just makes extra pasta, then she can put some pesto on it and have you eat just the pasta.

Her thoughts are spinning trying to find ways to help you without helping you. It’s exhausting, she thinks. Not caring for you, but watching you fade away until an empty shield of what you once were.

She takes off her shoes, and greets your golden retriever. He licks her hands, and wags his tail. Always so happy to see her. Her mind dosent understand how he can be happy of small things like pebble, squirrels and birds.

But then, at the corner of her eye. She sees movement. Her mind instantly brushes it off as the cat, but her curiosity gets the best of her. She rounds the corner, and her breathing stops. She stops in her tracks. Her jaw is on the floor. Her mind is empty. She’s at a loss of words.

Why?

That’s because in the kitchen, she sees you. For the first time since mid October; you look alive again. Like the color has come back into your face. Like the spark in your eyes has returned.

Out of bed, freshly showered in her Barca joggers and a hoodie cooking.

She thinks it’s a dream.

It’s not. You smile at her before pointing to the pot in-front of you.

“I made soup" you say, stirring the caserole of sweetpotato soup.

Alexia’s face soften and her lips smiles

She dosent know what to say.

You embrace her, and look her into her eyes.

She doesn’t know why, how or when Ingrid called you. But, she knows that her patience paid off.

“I love soup” Alexia responds.

7th of December

But the thing about the wallpaper, is that it’s quite the trickster. One day out of bed costs a lot more than the stamina you’ve had since getting familiar with the wallpaper a few months ago.

The wallpaper draws you in again, and for the next few weeks you lay in bed facing the wallpaper. There isn’t a singular emotion in your face. Apathy.

Christmas is closing in. It has always been your favourite holiday. You didn’t love holidays as a child, fearing the consequences of having to be with your mother’s unreliable emotions for en extended period of time.

But Christmas is different. Christmas reminds you of your grandparents. It reminds you of coming to their house, and helping your grandpa with getting the boxes of Christmas decorations from the loft.

The loft has a special smell. It’s usually not a pleasant smell, but you love the smell. It reminds you of nostalgia. It feels safe.

Nobody expects you to feel safe at your mother’s. After all, you would spent all weekends and all holidays at your grandparents. Neglected from your mother’s love and attention.

Perhaps, a part of her passing is knowing that she will never apologise. There will never come a day where she realises her mistakes, and takes responsibility for her actions. Instead, the little girl inside you has to take responsibility of her actions. It drags you down. It feels heavy.

The memory of begging your mom to change her was is still fresh in your mind. A picture of you sitting in your bedroom, tears rolling down your face while brainstorming how to get your mother to change. Maybe if you were just a little nicer? A little more helpful? A little less annoying?

“I wish I could get my mom to change her ways, maybe she would finally care about me?” you whisper out. That’s all you do these days. Whisper. Alexia holds you from behind, her arms wrapped around you like you are some fragile kitten. “The truth is that that no child can save her mother” Alexia hums, gently kissing the top of your head.

11th of December

Alexia’s patience never runs out. She waits. She happily waits for you to find your way out of the maze you have been pulled into. It’s not like you walked into the maze yourself, you were put there against your will.

It’s trial and error. Walking tirelessly to find your way out of your brain. The only thing she can do is wait. You stare at the wallpaper, and she waits. That’s how the days are going by. You stare, and stare and stare. She’s talked to her mami about it, and she supports the wait. It hurts Alexia’s mami to know that you were treated badly by your own birtggiver. She could never imagine doing something neglectful to her own children.

Alexia knows it’s not your fault, any of it really. She knows that you were supposed to be cared for. Loved. Held. But you didn’t get that. You had to figure it out yourself. It’s confusing for a little girl.

The situation confusing for everyone. Patri dosent understand why you aren’t there.

“Why isn’t your girl around anymore? Did you piss her off again?” She jokes.

“No, my wife is sick” she responds, not wanting to shine more light on your situation. She has decided that this is a private matter.

"Sick of you? or of football?" she jokes back. The room is now quiet. Awfully quiet. It’s an unwritten truth that they don’t joke about you. Mapi and Ingrid knows. Caroline and Marta too. Even Fridolina knows about your struggles.

Alexa clenches her jaw, trying her best to cool her anger. Pina tries to get Patri to cut it out, but for some reason; she dosent understand that it’s a serious matter.

“For fucks sake Patri, my wife is sick. Her mother that abused her for years had passed. She’s struggling. Can you leave me and my wife alone?” Alexia snaps, banging her cubby shut before marching out of the room.

Everyone looks at Patri. “Why did you do that?” Ingrid snaps, Patri just shrugges. “I didn’t know she was sick, I was just asking a question!”

Mapi looks at Patri.

“Read the fucking room.”

17th of December

The last game of the year, Alexia forgets her cleats. She had bought new ones after throwing away her old ones. The new ones were bright pink. Nike mad brilliance. Alexia didn’t really want bright pink, but they had the exact same colour as the top you wore on your first date, and the thought of your smile when you would see the cleats with the explanation; that convinced her.

A member of staff offers to go home for her, and get them; but she dosent want to. Even though she needs to eat with the team and do the pre game meeting. No matter how tired, she’s never willing to expose you at your most vulnerable state.

She says her goodbyes before sprinting to the car. Her luck has ran out, and there is traffic making her later than anticipated. The rain is pouring down, making cars drive slower. Her knowledge on the neighbourhoods in Barcelona are to a T after living there for many years. She makes shortcuts before finally pulling up to your street.

The houses passes by. Neighbours like the Ramirez where you would have bbqs and miss Talia where you would be invited for cookies reminds her of better days. Not just how things were a few months ago, but it reminds her of what’s to come when you find yourself back again. When you find your way out of the patterns in the wallpaper. It’s what’s ahead that’s important.

The better days.

Christmas is conveniently here. It adds to the traffic. Normally your house would be all dolled up by now, Christmas gifts and bright lights everywhere. The good old improvised wrapping station you would make taking over Alexia’s office. Normally, she would pretend to be annoyed by it. But, the truth is that she misses it. She misses walking along side you when you try to find this year’s wrapping paper theme. She always pretend to be annoyed by it, but she promises herself that next year; when you feel better, she’ll never complain.

When she pulls up to the house, it’s dark inside. It’s comforting knowing that you haven’t left the house. She knows that you wouldnt do anything dumb, but in the back of her mind the worry of how your mind taking over your rationality lingers.

With quick steps, she moves inside. Your dog greets her in the hallway, like he always does. He’s happy. His butt wiggling from side to side. She’s smiles softly spending a minute petting him, giving him kisses and belly rubs.

“Alexia? Can I come with you to the game?”

Alexia’s eyes widen. It’s like she can’t comprehend what is happening in front of her. You are standing there. Hair done, makeup on. A pair of jeans with her jersey on your upper body.

“Uh” is all she can say.

You laugh softly at her.

Your laugh. She can’t remember when she last heard you laugh before. She’s not sure what to say. If this is a surge or if you are actually feeling better. She separates her lips to speak, it words dosent come out.

You look at her.

She looks at your eyes.

Then she sees it. The sparkle is back. It’s not huge, like a few years ago, yet it’s there. A small twinkle.

“Ale, I think I’m feeling better. I’m gonna talk to the psychiatrist tomorrow”

She smiles, then she nods.

Her frame crashes into yours. Her arms wraps around you, hiding your head in her neck. She can’t remember the last time she hugged you standing up. But she’s grateful.

“My love for you is endless, princesa”

#woso imagine #woso x reader #woso community #woso fanfics #barca femini x reader #alexia putellas x reader #alexis putellas imagine #alexia x reader #alexia putellas

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agendabymooner · 1 year ago

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☏ OH BABY, toto w. voicemail blurb (f)

☏ MOONY’S VOICEMAIL — a series in which formula one drivers send a voicemail to the reader. what about? prompts may vary. (maybe fluff or smut, idk)

voicemail summary: toto’s biggest enemy was his little carbon copy. and the poor girl just wanted some candy.

content warning: dad!toto x tia wolff (oc), nameless mom!reader, tia being a snitch, toto not being a bigger man and squabbling with his daughter, fluff, literally nonsense just dad and daughter banters

note: feeling ✨mentally unwell✨so here’s a quick blurb lol

a - n masterlist

o - z masterlist

“hi, liebe—“

“mama!” a voice rung out from the background, toto’s deep chuckle following suit as the babbling continued, “papa give me candy! papa a dit non à toi!” papa said no telling you.

“tia,” toto warned his little girl, yet his warning voice leaned on the warmth of his smile. “are you seriously telling on me to mama in french? i can understand, you know that right?”

“no,” the little voice, now identified as toto’s daughter tia, mumbled before she shrieked, “but no telling mama is bad, papa!”

“eh? you’re the one who wanted candy!” toto huffed petulantly before returning to the voicemail. “forget about tia—“

“bad papa,” tia huffed back, earning a gasp from toto.

then he returned to his call, “—i’m just calling to ask you about soren’s eye appointment. but it seems like someone’s very sassy today.”

“because you said you give me candy,” tia let out a ‘hmp’ and stomped her little foot.

“and i will, schatzi,” toto shushed his daughter gently, “let papa talk to mama first then we’ll get some candy from the store.”

“i call aunt geri!” tia exclaimed before footsteps began to distance from the phone. “aun’ geri! aun’ geri!”

“—tia, no~” toto sighed quietly before murmuring, “your daughter is a pain at times, liebling. it makes me wonder where she got that attitude from.”

“please call me back as soon as you can then we’ll talk about soren’s appointment today,” toto said, “i love—“

“—aun’ geri! you have candy?” a voice came from outside the room.

“—you, alright talk to you later— tia! are you calling your aunt geri?!”

— beep —

#f1 blurb #formula one blurbs #toto wolff fluff #toto wolff x reader #toto wolff imagine #formula one dad #formula one #toto wolff

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the-hopeless-haze · 2 years ago

Text

I Do Bad Things With You

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x reader

Word Count: 4.9k

Warnings: smut. nsfw mdni

Summary: You don't feel like you're a good agent. Aaron assures you that you are. And then he fucks you. or inn other words, I think I need someone to study my brain because I did cry in my boss' office for very similar reasons to this and I am very much attracted to her but we did not fuck in her office and she has no idea I want her I just have breakdowns at work because 1) it sucks and 2) I am mentally unwell. I just truly don't know if this fic was birthed from the worst compulsory heterosexuality of all time or if I'm truly just an insane bisexual (I think it's the latter) but when I tell you I have not thought about Hotchner in years I MEAN years. I haven't watched Criminal Minds in like five years until today to write this fic. But like. He is FINE. y'all know. you're here. come for my unhinged summary stay for the smut idk

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“I can’t do this anymore,” you mutter under your breath, hating how the tears fall anyway, how you can’t stop them. “I’m not doing a good enough job. I need to leave.”

“What are you talking about?” Aaron asks you. “Why do you feel that way?”

“It’s just… it’s just I feel like I can never get a grip. Like I can’t ever get everything done that needs to get done. Like I’m not good enough.”

“You’re good enough. You’re a good agent. You come in and you do your job,” he says gently. “I don’t need anything else from you.”

You were usually so put together, so stoic, even, so sure of yourself. He can’t quite believe you’re in his office like this, past the verge of tears, sitting across from him weeping.

“I’m proud of you.”

“For what?” you ask, lifting your head to look at him.

“For the effort you put in. How you’re a new agent and you still proved yourself to my team. You’re living up to your potential and then some. We appreciate you. I appreciate you.”

“You just have to say that.”

“No. I don’t have to say anything. I’m telling you what I see and what I believe. And I’m not letting you quit.”

“But, sir, I—“

“I won’t accept it,” he says firmly but quietly. “You’re too good of an agent to lose. You know this. You know your grades were stellar and your psychology background is enviable. You know you passed every test with flying colors. The adjustment to being a full-fledged agent in the first year is tough, to say the least. It’s grueling. Getting accustomed and used to death, danger and just the pressure of the job is something that not everyone can handle. But you can. I know you can. If I lost you, I’d lose an asset. You’re an excellent profiler. It’s intuitive for you.”

There it is, though, that behavior analyst part of your brain and you noticed how he said “I” and not “we” and how his eyes softened, how he wasn’t looking at you sternly and stoically but there was more of a tenderness in his dark eyes.

He likes you. He means what he says. You know he does.

But that isn’t enough. You don’t believe what he says. You don’t believe you’re worthy. This job takes up so much of your waking hours but when you’re outside of it you have next to nothing. You’re not close to family here in Virginia. You don’t have a significant other. You’re not home enough to have a dog. And you just feel like you’ve been letting yourself go since you only seem to have time to eat, sleep and work.

You’ve always been an anxious person. You’ve managed to quell the thoughts wracking your brain with years of practice and medications to a point where you can function, to a point where you made it through school and made it into the FBI. Impostor syndrome dies hard, though. You keep trying to swallow down your tears but it’s fucking impossible when you’re like this. You dry them on the sleeves of your blazer, biting your lip nervously.

“Don’t cry. It’s okay,” Aaron says, breaking through your thoughts.

“It’s not okay,” you murmur. “I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“I shouldn’t be breaking down crying.”

“You’re human,” he says gently. “This job is overwhelming.”

“It doesn’t seem to get to you.”

“It does. It still does. I… I’ve been doing this a lot longer than you.”

“I just don’t think I can do this, Hotchner. With all due respect, I need to put my two weeks in,” you say, strengthening your weakened resolve.

“No,” he refuses, shaking his head. “What do I have to do to get you to see what I see?”

You sigh, leaning forward and bracing your head in your hands. “I don’t know.”

You feel him before you see him, refusing to lift your head up as the tears started streaming down your face. He kneels in front of you, taking your hands gently from your cheeks, but your eyes are still squeezing shut. “Look at me,” he orders.

“Hotchner, I—“

“It’s Hotch. You know that. Or… you can call me Aaron. Just call me Aaron. Look at me.”

Finally, you blink your eyes open, tears spilling over, and he squeezes both your hands gingerly.

“Good. Here’s what you’re going to do. You’re going to go home for the night. You’re going to take your mind off of the job. And you’re going to come back tomorrow morning and everyone in here is going to talk about how much you’re missed when you’re gone. Because we all value you. But you need to take the time for yourself. You’re burnt out. You’re not a bad agent. You’re just mean to yourself and you shouldn’t be.”

It’s not lost on you, the way he’s still touching you when you don’t think you’ve seen him so much as brush against anyone else on the team. Is he…?

You squeeze his hands back, forcing yourself to smile.

“There we go,” he smiles back. “See? Do you feel better?”

“A little. Thank you, Hotch.”

“Please. You can call me Aaron in private,” he reiterates. He would have, could have, should have let you go by now. But he hasn’t.

“In private?”

“I don’t let just anyone use my first name. There’d be questions if you started using it especially since you called me SSA Hotchner for months before I got you to just say Hotchner at least. You’re a rule stickler, hm? I think that’s part of your problem.”

“You don’t strike me as the type to think rules are made to be broken,” you counter. Sure. You were a stickler. You were. Deferential to authority - that deserved it. You spoke out, and you would speak out of turn if anything felt wrong or uncomfortable. Rules made things feel safer. Still. You’d call out the unjust. And you think Aaron is the same way.

“Some of them are,” he muses.

“You yelled at me,” you say suddenly. “My third week.”

He furrows his brow, trying to recall the incident you were talking about and then he nods. “You were reckless. You put yourself and Morgan in danger. You walked straight into an ambush. It was a mistake. A rookie mistake. A mistake you learned from. You never did it again.”

“But I—“

“It’s been almost a year since then,” he says, gently. “I don’t hold it against you. I’ve had to pull everyone who works here aside for something. And I’ve been pulled aside myself. No one’s perfect. I… I raised my voice because I was worried about you. Not because I was angry with you.”

“Okay,” you breathe out, nodding. “Okay.”

“I wish you could see what I see,” he says.

“Hm?”

“I see a strong, capable, intelligent young woman who’s an amazing profiler — you can glean someone’s familial background in record time. I see a woman who holds her ground and then some in interrogations.”

“I’m crying in my boss’ office right now,” you titter awkwardly.

“It doesn’t matter. You’re still all of those things. I see a beautiful woman who’s passionate about her career, who wants to do the best she can…”

He trails off. You wonder if he realizes the weight of what he said.

Always walking the line of professionalism. Making any comments regarding your appearance was crossing it, even if it was as benign and modest as “beautiful”. It was still a step too far.

But you, you’re depressed and anxious, and you’ll take whatever you can get.

He’s still kneeling in front of you.

You know it would be stupid, especially when he’s a broken man himself, even if he denies it to everybody. His wife cheated on him. It was hard, with the job, to have a stable relationship with anyone outside of it. You know this. You’re living it.

He’s still touching you and your skin is on fire now.

“I’m sorry,” he says, but he makes no effort to move, no effort to stop staring through your eyes to your soul. Is he profiling you? Trying to see if your breath hitched when he let the compliment slip?

“Don’t be,” you say breathily.

“It was inappropriate,” he says, and he does get up then, wincing at the stiffness in his knees from crouching in front of you for so long. You miss the warmth of his hands already. “You’re dismissed, agent. Go home and take care of yourself.”

Your emotions flip like a switch, it’s just how it’s always been, and you use it to your advantage in a room full of profilers. It’s good to be unpredictable, a wild card. You don’t even mean to. You just are. You can’t help the words that come out of your mouth next. He stood up, so he’s towering over you as you sit in the seat across from his desk, but he’s looking down at you, waiting on your next sentence. And what you say is, “Agent? I thought we were on first-name basis, Aaron?”

It’s the first time you’ve said his first name, and it goes right through him. He wasn’t lying. Not many people do have the privilege to use it. None of his subordinates would be brave enough, maybe not even if he gave them explicit permission like he gave to you. It’s intimate, all these walls up in this bureaucracy that even something as simple as a woman using his first name could drive him up the wall like it would an upstanding Christian man in Regency England. Rules. Rules to be broken.

Aaron whispers your first name, and it’s barely audible, but you hear it in his low, soft baritone. Not the first time, but the only time he’s said it without your last name tacked on the end of it. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what, Aaron?”

You’re teasing, now, and he wonders if it’s just a reflex, trying to gain back some of the power you lost by coming in here crying, or if you genuinely want something from him besides reassurance and a couple of hours off from work. It was maddening at first, trying to figure you out. He still doesn’t know exactly who you are and he’s resigned himself to the fact that maybe he’d never be able to nail you down.

“Don’t,” Aaron says again, looking at you sternly as you stand up.

“What is it that you don’t want me to do, Aaron?” you ask, and you’re still not eye to eye but you’re closer now, and his eyes never left your face throughout the whole conversation anyway.

He says your name again like it’s a curse under his breath. “You know exactly what you’re doing. Stop it.”

“Use your words, Aaron.”

“Stop teasing me,” he murmurs, looking away from you for the first time, down at the floor. You never expected him to be so… shy.

“I’m teasing you?” you ask, feigning innocence. You didn’t have to be a profiler to see how he was getting tenser as you continue this conversation.

“Yes,” he says, looking back up at you, an edge to his voice you hadn’t heard before. “And I suggest you stop.”

“Or else?” you say before your brain can catch up. You’re playing with fire. You know you are.

But you like him. Tall, dark, handsome, nothing like the men you’ve been with before. Other men were intimidated when he walked into the room. And you being you… you always wanted to break him down into a crying, blubbering mess, and be the only one who got to see him like that. Break the stoic wall and get to see him. Human.

And if he was this reactive to you just saying his name?

Lord help both of you.

“Please,” he murmurs. “Go home for the day.”

“Is that to help me, or you?”

He shakes his head, smiling a little. “Perhaps both of us.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t jump at the chance to get my resignation if I make things so… hard… for you, Aaron,” you say, and you move a little closer, his breath hitching audibly in his throat.

Again. He says your name like it’s the worst curse in the book, hissing it like it physically hurts him, and you know, maybe you are.

“A little selfish, maybe. I’d miss you too much,” he admits. “And I meant what I said. I’d lose an asset. You’re a stellar agent.”

You don’t really know what to say, now, but he continues.

“Profile me,” he whispers. “In this moment. What am I thinking?”

“So you don’t have to say it out loud?”

“Mm.”

“You want me, Aaron,” you say shakily, losing your resolve almost as quickly as you gained it back. “I don’t think you’d have to be a profiler to figure that out.”

“Is it that obvious?” he asks.

“Right now… yes.”

“You need me. You need me to show you how valued you really are,” Aaron says, searching your eyes for confirmation that you want this, too. As always, though, you’re unreadable. “Say it. Let me show you my appreciation.”

God. What in the world? Your brain is fuzzy with lust, and never in a million years would you have thought this is how today would’ve gone. Mondays back in the office are always the worst, piles of paperwork from the cases prior to sift through and file and the anticipation of when you’d be on the road or up in the air next always gnawed at your stomach. You fully expected to give your notice and come home crying. You didn’t foresee the prospect of being utterly fucked by your boss who very much did not want you to resign.

You know why the rules are in place. Dating coworkers was messy anyway, never mind dating someone in this line of work. Still… you thought it made sense in a way. The only person who was really going to understand your crazy schedule was someone who was working the same hours.

So you nod, giving him full permission to do as he pleases.

His lips meet yours, surprisingly soft and gentle, akin to the way his hands squeezed yours before. “I can’t believe I held myself back from doing this for this long,” he mumbles against your mouth, then he pulls you in an embrace, leaving hot open-mouthed kisses on the side of your neck where he can reach. “I need you here. I need you to promise me you’ll stay.”

“I’ll stay, Aaron.”

“I’ve wanted your body since the second you walked into this building. I need you. You ground me. Make me feel better, human. Like maybe I could exist outside of the field and outside of this office.”

“Did you know I was struggling?”

“You hide it well. I knew you were frustrated, but the last case was tough and we all are a little on edge. I’m sorry. I should’ve been there for you to lean on, honey,” Aaron says, moving his head back to face you, eyes meeting yours earnestly. “I want you to always come to me if you need anything. Anything.”

You don’t say anything, just hum contently, pressing your mouth back to his for a kiss that starts off chaste and quickly becomes heated, his hands cupping the curve of your ass.

“Answer me,” he says firmly. “Promise me you’ll always come to me.”

“I promise,” you agree.

“Good girl,” he affirms. “You’re such a good girl. Never have to worry about you doing your job. You always get your reports to me on time, you always make brilliant deductions when we’re going over cases, you always make sure the rest of the team doesn’t need anything… such a good girl.”

You kiss him fiercely, the voice in your head screaming he was your boss and both of your careers are on the line if this goes south long silenced. His large hands on your ass pull you closer to him, and you feel his hardening cock against you as he does. “Aaron,” you choke out breathily.

“Feel me? That’s what you do to me, honey.”

You snake a hand between your bodies and palm him through his dress pants, and you can tell he wasn’t expecting that to be your next move from the way his cheeks flush and he groans heavily. “This is about you,” he manages to say, taking your hand away from his clothed cock. “All about you. Go sit on my desk, honey.”

You do as he says, squeezing your thighs together as he follows you and takes his suit jacket off, revealing his tasteful button-down underneath. “Good girl,” he whispers, spreading your legs with hands, kneading the flesh of your thighs as he does so, letting the fabric of your skirt ride up.

And then he digs his nails under the thin sheer of your tights and rips them. “Aaron!” you hiss in surprise.

“I’ll buy you a new pair,” he responds almost dismissively, easing the torn fabric down the length of your legs, kissing the swell of your calves as he takes your heels off and places them on the floor underneath the desk.

“I’m more worried about how I’m going to walk out of here,” you say, smiling.

“I sent them all out on different tasks and told them to get lunch first. They’ll be gone for a while.”

“Did you plan this?” you ask, raising your eyebrows.

“Not exactly,” he smirks. “But now you can be as loud as you need to be.”

“Aaron,” you say, almost scolding, but whatever you were going to say after that is lost in the recesses of your mind as you feel his mouth on yours again, hot and ready, tongue gliding against yours with ease. He shrugs your blazer off, too, leaving you in just a black tank top and your skirt that was hiked up to your waist.

“I believe regulations are to wear long sleeve button-downs underneath blazers,” he says lowly. You know it’s a lie. If Garcia can dress the way she does there are certainly not strict restrictions on what you can wear, even if you’re a field agent. But you’ll play along.

“I believe regulations are not to have your subordinate spread out on your desk in front of you, sir,” you retort.

Aaron chuckles deeply at that. This is how you usually were, sarcastic and snippy, even with him at times. Funny. “Rules and regulations,” he muses. “I think I’m alright with those two being broken.”

And with that his fingers of his right hand start ghosting your cunt, pressing the thin cotton of your panties, groaning lowly at how wet you are. “You’re soaked, honey,” he says. “Can I feel you? Please.”

“Yes, Aaron, please touch me,” you nod.

He pushes aside your panties, slipping his index finger in slowly, catching your lips with his in the process.

“Want to make you feel so good, so much better,” he murmurs, starting slow and building up pressure before he inserts another finger, stretching you out, making you impossibly wetter, reaching depths of you that you couldn’t reach yourself with your much shorter and thinner fingers. “Lift your hips,” he instructs, and in one swift motion, he slips your panties off, pocketing them in his dress pants. “Good girl.”

“Not fair, Aaron,” you say.

“What’s not fair, honey?”

“You’re still fully dressed,” you point out, reaching for his tie to loosen it. You were absolutely soaked, you could feel it, and you wonder if his desk will stain from your slick. You untuck his shirt from his pants and run your hands over his stomach, scars under the pads of your fingers, God, you want to lick every inch of him.

“Mm. I can help you remedy that,” he agrees, meeting your hands when you were halfway through the buttons on his pristine white shirt, pulling it over his head along with his undershirt. You reach for his belt buckle and he stops you. “Not yet. Let me do something first.”

And before you know it his tongue is on you, swirling incessant circles around your swollen clit, and you can tell he’s not taking his time now. He wants to bring you over the edge and fast, and you wonder how long it will be before the rest of the team do return from their extended lunch breaks. You’ve been eaten out before, sure, but to use a cliched metaphor for the umpteenth time in human history, you finally figured out what women meant when they said their man ate them like it was their last meal on death row. You clamp your legs against his head, and he moans, sending vibrations through your cunt, damn near sending you over the edge as you pant and whimper.

“Am I not making you feel good?” Aaron looks up in worry.

“What? Why would you say that?”

“You’re not screaming. I suppose I should try harder,” he says, furrowing his brow and then he adds his fingers back, fucking deep into you. His tongue focuses on your clit and your thighs are shaking and you gasp, no longer able to hold yourself up seated, leaning back and bracing yourself on your elbows.

“Aaron, I’m so close,” you moan, trying to fight the urge to push him away as the pressure builds. You squeeze your thighs tighter and the sudden force of it drags Aaron’s tongue flat against your clit, and that’s what sends you over the edge, whining his name over and over again.

He doesn’t stop.

“Aaron,” you choke out, trying to back away from him due to the overstimulation. “Aaron. Please.”

“You can be louder than that,” he says, not bothering to lift his head, voice muffled by your wet cunt. “I’m not stopping until you reach a decibel level I’m satisfied with. And I will know if you’re faking.”

You’ve never had anyone go down on you for multiple rounds. You were lucky if you came once with previous partners. Part of the reason you never wanted to make a move with Aaron was that you figured he would ruin you for other men.

And God. Were you right.

You only hope you’re ruining him for other women.

You know you’re next orgasm will be embarrassingly close as he never gave you a chance to come down from the first one. You didn’t expect it to come on like it did though, your right hand carded in his jet black hair, just again, him flattening his tongue against your clit as his fingers continued to scissor you open and you can’t help it, gasping for air, shouting, yelling, keening his name. “Aaron,” you plead. “I can’t give you another one. Please.”

“Shh. Good girl. You can and you will. For me,” he commands authoritatively.

And you can. And you do.

The next time, mercifully, Aaron stands up, and leaves you alone to breathe. He kisses you and you taste yourself on his tongue. He’s achingly hard now, a quite visible tent noticeable in his dress pants, cheeks red from exertion, everything from his nose to his chin wet with your slick.

What a vision.

How were you ever going to get this out of your head?

“Can I be inside you? Please?” he asks.

“Yes,” you affirm.

Aaron lets you unbuckle his pants and lets them pool to the floor, helping you out of your tank top and bra, sucking and biting on your nipples and the flesh of your breasts for a few moments before he steps out of his shoes and boxers, completely bare in front of you.

“God, Aaron,” you breathe. “You’ve really been holding out on me.”

“Yeah?” he asks, and his cheeks flush redder. “I could say the same for you, sweetheart.”

“How long?”

“I told you,” he says lowly, lining his cock with your entrance. “Since the second you walked in this building.”

“Why didn’t you ever say anything?” you ask, but it’s a loaded question if not a stupid one. There’s a myriad of reasons why you don’t tell someone who works under you that you want to fuck them stupid. That you like them. That you love them?

You frown slightly. You don’t think you could handle it if this was the only time you got to be with him like this.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, lifting your chin with his thumb. “You promised you would tell me.”

“Is this… is this a one-time thing, Aaron?” You ask tentatively.

“I don’t want it to be,” he answers quickly. “It’d be a daily occurrence if I had my way.”

With that, he grabs your hips, and looks at you for consent, then slams all the way in when you nod in affirmation. Neither of you can help the moans and groans escaping your mouths at that, you from feeling completely full and him being fully sheathed in you.

“I… I love you,” he says, pressing his sweat-sheened forehead to yours. “You don’t have to say it back. I know how dangerous and inappropriate and difficult this situation is never mind adding emotions to it. And I… I’m not good at them in the first place. I just… I just need you to know that. I want to be with you. All the time.”

“Again, Aaron, why did you never… fuck,” you trail off as he starts moving his hips, setting a slow and languid pace.

“I don’t know. I was afraid,” he chuckles.

“Of me?”

“You’re intimidating. You’re beautiful, smart, and capable. To tell you I wanted you…”

“You’re calling me intimidating?” you ask. “You? Of all people?”

“I’ve seen you interrogate. Baby-faced assassin, hm? You’ve shaken some grown men in their boots.”

“Including you?”

“Including me,” he chuckles, then softens. “Seeing you cry like that today… I… it broke my heart, honey. I never thought I’d see you break. I’d do anything to make you never feel like that again. You need to stay.”

“I already promised you, Aaron,” you say, biting your lip as he somehow angles his cock deeper in you. “I love you.”

Kissing you fiercely, he squeezes your hips, and you can’t wait to see if there’ll be bruises there tomorrow in the shape of his fingertips. “God, you’re fucking squeezing my cock, honey,” he grunts, and you feel yourself clench more at his words. You’ve never heard him swear. Ever. “I’m not going to last long if you keep doing that.”

“I’m surprised you lasted this long, old man,” you tease.

“You’d be surprised how much stamina I do have,” he threatens, rolling his eyes at you. “You’ll see tonight when I have more time with you.”

“How presumptuous.”

He scoffs, doesn’t say anything, but starts running over your clit with his thumb, kissing you deeply, fucking you faster and harder, setting a much more brutal pace.

“You just need me that bad, Aaron?” you ask, hellbent on seeing him break. “You need to fuck me all the time now that you’ve had me?”

“Yes,” he pants. “Need you all the time. Every day. Need to fuck this pretty cunt. Make you know you’re appreciated. Valued. Loved. Never want to hear you talk about yourself like that ever again. Not…I’ll worship you. Kiss the ground you walk on. Fuck you until you can’t stand. Whatever it takes.”

“What about you, Aaron? How do you feel right now?”

“So fucking good,” he groans. “So fucking good. Such a good girl. You keep sucking my cock back in every thrust, you feel that, honey? So wet, so warm, fuck, I’d stay inside you forever.”

“Yeah, Aaron? Hmm? I—“ your teasing backfired on you, and before you can think of anything else to say, you come on his cock, your nails dragging down his back stalling his motions to stutters and he’s asking you, begging you, “Please let me cum inside you,” he begs. “Please, honey.”

You nod breathlessly, unable to speak, and you don’t think he’d be able to make it out of you in time completely if you’d said no because you feel his seed fill you as you’re still riding out the aftershocks of your own orgasm and he’s moaning your name in choked sobs and it’s the hottest thing you’ve ever fucking seen or heard.

“I love you,” he whispers, dark eyes looking up at you from where his face now rested in the swell of your breasts. “I love you. And we’re going to make this work come hell or high water.”

“I love you,” you say back once you catch your breath. “Are you still sending me home?”

He laughs. “You look and smell like sex.”

“Do you think you look or smell any different? You did this to me,” you say, messing up his sweat-streaked hair more with your fingers. “I think your boss should send you home, too.”

“Hm. Perhaps I could convince him,” he says, giving you a wide smile.

He helps you get dressed, kissing you wherever he can reach in between and it takes much longer than it would have had you dressed yourself. You’re not complaining. But there’s no fixing your hair or your tattered tights. No fixing Aaron’s disheveled hair, either, or the sweat stains around his armpits from when you teased him for so long.

“Follow me home, honey,” he instructs. “Round two.”

Maybe you should have mental breakdowns at work more often.

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archie-sunshine · 11 days ago

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Okay um, I wasn’t kidding about being Mentally Unwell about First Aid and his dumb little socks so I wanted to say thank you for making that and also as soon as I saw it I whipped this up real quick. So…

It was your turn to bring back dinner. You knew when the barkeep already had your plates waiting that you were the last one home this time. A simple but hardy arrangement of stew, bread, and ale you take the tray up to your room.

With a little bit of finagling you manage to swing the door open. Odd, you think, that First Aid isn’t there to help, he doesn’t even say hello.

You find him in front of the fire. Your fingers dig into the tray, pressing so hard you’re sure you’re going to tear the wooden thing asunder.

He’s spread out in front of the fire, the orange glow casting across his bare skin, and there was far more of that than usual. He’d stripped out of his trousers, down to his underwear and socks, ribbons still wrapped taut around his calves, and shirt unbuttoned barely clinging onto his shoulders, and surprisingly, his headgear remained on.

It’s a sensual combination that only through sheer will, determination and one more thing that keeps you from dumping dinner and lunging for him.

Far more than just lust, it’s the realization of just how beautiful he is in that moment. You wish you had a portrait of it. Unaware, caught in a moment of peace, it sends your heart fluttering. Seeing him so open, so comfortable, so vulnerable, waiting for you in your shared room—It’s a moment of domestic bliss that warms your soul, spreading from your chest through every vein down to your tippy toes.

It makes you crave a lifetime of this moment, frozen in time here with him in your tiny room in some ramshackle inn sharing meals together in front of a fire forever.

Something snaps him out of his reverie, his eyes catch yours, and the moment is gone.

“Oh! Oh Dear!” He scrambles up. “Give me a second and I’ll get that for you!” You laugh, brushing him off and set the tray down. He looks absolutely ridiculous standing up now half dressed in the strangest combination of clothes to be half dressed in—ridiculous, and beautiful.

He eyes you strangely though the tips of his very pointed ears are turning pink and you can see a hint of that same shade just above the line of his mask.

“What?” He asks you, suspicious.

“What?” You echo back.

“Why are you grinning like that?”

Your grin widens.

“I’m only thinking.”

You step closer to him, your arms slipping under his shirt, wrapping around his waist, your thumb rubs along the bare skin you’d been yearning for moments before. That little edge of skepticism fades from his eyes, outshone by his curiosity as he steps further into your embrace, wrapping around you in kind.

“About what?”

“Becoming a powerful wizard.” First Aid laughs.

“Why a wizard?”

“A powerful wizard. I would need to be one to stop time.” Such a sweet sport, he plays along with only a skeptical brow raise.

“Oh? And why would you need to do that.”

You carefully pluck the glasses off his face, setting them aside your cooling meals to press your forehead to his.

“My world domination plans of course.”

It’s not hard to see him roll his eyes from here. Maybe you’ll tell him the real reason after dinner, or maybe you won’t. You don’t need to. After all, that moment may be gone for now, but you have a lifetime more of opportunities.

AAAaAGGHHH THIS IS SO ADORABLE!!!! thank you thank you thank you thats so cute so so cute EEE!!!!!

sorry im normal

anyway my reasoning for aid's hat being on even though his boobs are out

#archie answers #my art #transformers #mtmte #knightformers #kf fanart #kf fanfic #AAAAAA i will be chewing this nyum nyum nyum #snarf crunch smack munch slurp #ARGH #first aid

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amourrs · 1 year ago

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Some sick!reader + Ellie headcanons I've been thinking about for you Ani <3

• You aren't too sure if it's a coincidence or Ellie is really just That girlfriend, but when you're feeling unwell, all her plans get cancelled out of the blue for her to lay on the bed next to you on her phone quietly glancing towards you from time to time to make sure you're happily enjoying the drink she fixed for you.

• She also goes above and beyond to distract you from the pain,- physical or mental; and probably talks to you to a point where you have to attack her with kisses all over her face for her to stop infodumping for a second and just enjoy the show y'all are watching

• Back rubs.. belly rubs.. arm caresses.. temple kisses.. small pecks.. knuckle kisses.. and boob holding for comfort??? Ellie-

• If you start to feel better by the evening, she tells you not to frown about the missed date and hand crafts a blanket fort "Girls night" as she likes to ironically call it and laugh about it(I'm a sucker for Ellie being traditionally girly dont look at me) She basically makes you watch old movies, does your hair and lets you paint her nails.

you don’t understand how happy this ask made me like omg. 18+ only due to suggestive content under the cut! expansion below (also featuring a couple of sneaky ai audios right at the end…) cw for vomit.

this is so cute i’m gonna cry you just understand all my daydreams!!! she’s so gf i love her… btw it’s canon that cups of watery, kind of awful tea ABOUND in your household when you’re sick and you don’t have the heart to tell ellie they’re bad. she’s looking at you and prompting you with her eyes to take a sip and you have to conceal your wince as you do it. “it’s good tea, right? dunno if i left the teabag in for long enough… google said two minutes. was that right? it’s good, right???” you wait for her to stop but she just keeps rambling and you feel so bad for her that you just have to nod along and swallow down the tea 😭😭

the infodumping… god, the infodumping. you’re just trying to focus on a show through your thumping headache as ellie drones “honestly, i think taissa did do it to allie on purpose, even if she doesn’t realise it-” until it gets to the point where you thwack her with a pillow and she pouts at you before pecking your forehead with her lips and snuggling down next to you.

also i see your boob holding and raise you tit sucking… because yes you’re sick but, well, ellie’s still ellie, and so of course she still wants to do horny things. she’d spring it on you right as you’re waking up from your mid morning nap, eyes all soft as she looks down at you all curled up in the little cosy nest of blankets she meticulously arranged for you.

“hey baby. you just wake up? i can make you another cup of tea if you want,” ellie offers happily. she must see the slightly apprehensive look on your face because her eyebrow crooks up as she continues: “or, well… i was thinking… what if i, like, sucked your tits? just a little? think it might help ease some of the aching… after all, my mouth is kinda magical, if i do say so myself.” you’re unable to contain your splutter at the terrible joke. ellie grins and keeps pushing it. “in fact, this might be a miracle cure!” she says with all the drama of someone announcing they discovered a new planet in the solar system. “you might never get sick again!” comes her next line, hands gesticulating wildly in the air as your chest begins shaking with unbridled giggles.

a fake depressive look turns your girlfriend’s lips down as she dramatically sweeps a hand across her forehead. “okay, maybe that’s a bit far… stop laughing at me. you’re gonna make yourself throw up again,” she teases, except you both seem to realise at the same moment that her last statement was probably true. your eyes lock as ellie dives for the sick bucket and you do in fact puke, her calloused hands holding back your hair from your face <3

as for girl’s night- i feel like she would probably make you a little mocktail because even though you’re not well enough to be drinking, cranberry juice is really good for you and lemonade is almost one of your five a day if you really think about it… and “mint’s basically a vegetable. like, it’s green enough, right?” when you’re forced to take the opposing side on the is-mint-really-a-vegetable debate she acts like you’ve just hit her with a hammer and insists on calling jesse to settle the matter.

“ok, i need your help with a super important decision,” ellie says, a stern expression on her face. the way her eyebrows are wrinkled in the middle looks extra cute, you think, and lean forward to kiss her. instead you’re met with a hand to the sternum and an angry glare. “damn. okay, important decision,” you agree, eyes lifting to hers in curiosity. your girlfriend sucks in a deep breath and you brace yourself… “should i paint my toenails green or pink?” ellie asks innocently. you feel like thumping her- why do i ever take her seriously?? you think, heart slowing back to its normal pace as you throw her a dirty side eye.

“wait, actually… that yellow looks kind of cool-” you cut her off with a thump to the head with your pillow. “OW!” comes her pained response, your lips tilting up into a smug smile as ellie shoots you a look of pure betrayal. “ok… OK!” THUMP! “i get it! no yellow…” the pillow lifts again as if to drive your point home for a final time and… THUMP! “ow! fuck! wait, why is your pillow so fucking solid?”

+ as promised, the ai audios… as i mentioned on my blog before, my bot isn’t anywhere near perfect yet so please excuse if these happen to sound a little funky!

#ask #elliewilliams #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams smut #the last of us #solis3clipse

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moonrisecoeur · 1 year ago

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IM BACK CUZ IM MENTALLY UNWELL OK. and yes you’re the best sub Leon writer 😏🥱 and yes I liked it, SITTING ON HIS FACE? 😍🥱

I’m so sorry for blasting ur req box but YOURE AN ACTUALLY GOOD SUB LEON WRITER SO can you blame me? concept: idk why but re4 Leon is so free use coded and so imagine he is on a mission with a new assigned partner but she’s an asshole to him (“fuck off man, I can do it myself, “I don’t need your help”, “you’re too nice and gonna be taken advantage of 😐”, etc. You get the gist) and his goofy ass just tryna be nice and helpful, cuz this is leon we are talking about. But the fun part ⁉️ they have cameras installed in the hideout they are saying at for security purposes. But ofc, Leon always tries to check on reader to make sure she’s ok - even if she’s an asshole to him. AND YK WHAT READER DOES 😭 she’s way too horny and just goes at it, girl got a masturbation problem on god. Every night. One night - wrong time and place - Leon opens his laptop to see the cameras making sure she’s ok AND HELP HE SEES HER … yk. And he feels guilty like he shouldn’t watch but he does anyways. And this goes on for weeks. Until one night he’s sick and tired of her always being so mean and he accidentally lets it slip that he’s been watching her LOL AND SHES LIKE UHM BOY WHAT 🙄⁉️ and he tries to play it off like “I didnt mean to” but like, my brother in Christ… you’ve been watching every night for weeks 🤨 wdym you didn’t mean to? ANYWAYS LONG STORY SHORT SHE PUNISHES HIM AND HEAVYYYY ON THE FREE USE THING. Love you bae 😘

i made a couple minor changes just for convenience :) fem reader she/her pronouns!

also i didn’t write the smex scene IM SORRY but i have been working on this all day and i need to get to other asks but i promise i’ll write some more free use in the future because it’s so smexy

"look, i know you don't like me-"

"oh? really? tell me what you think you know, kennedy," you scowl at him, and though it spooks him just a little, he tries to seem unphased.

he frowns, not hurt by your words but definitely concerned that you'll make a bad partner, "you don't need to be this hostile. we're allies. we're supposed to have each other's backs."

"right..." your voice echos, and leon knows that if it came down to it, you wouldn't protect him, wouldn't save him, would barely help him. he's practically on his own for this mission, just has an extra body with him to shoot at the bad guys.

it hurts, to some degree, because even without knowing you well, and even with you being cold and rude to him, he knows he'd come to your rescue in a heartbeat. something about him feels fond of you, even though in your entire time knowing leon kennedy, you haven't said one nice thing to him.

he thinks that maybe he likes that you've never been nice to him. he doesn't really know what to do with that thought.

leon is proved wrong.

despite the harshness of your words, you come to his rescue, fighting off the villager who almost decapitated him with an axe like both of your lives depend on it (because they do).

he watches you fight nervously, but when you come out on top, aside from the gash wound you take to the hip, he feels his heart skip a beat.

"this is what happens when you hurt my partner," you groan, holding your side, trying to speak through the pain even though leon can see the blood seeping between your fingers.

you whisper something in your victim's ear, something leon can't quite make out, before you kill him. leon wonders what it was briefly. he decides it doesn’t matter.

you both breathe a sigh of relief, but it's short lived as you collapse to the ground. you saved him. you got hurt saving him.

"here, let me help you," he mutters, coming over to you, not even stopping to ask if you want his help because he knows you'll say no, "stop fighting me. you're hurt and i need to patch you up."

the pain is agonizing, but even through gritted teeth and tense breaths, you push through it. he has to commend you a little bit, you're tougher than you look.

but when you try to push his hand away, claiming "i'm fine, kennedy," he sees the struggle in your face, hears the hurt in your voice. his heart seems to stop. he's worried, "i can do it myself, you don't have to- fuck, dude, i don't need your help-."

"-just relax, okay? i got you..”

you don't have the strength to push him away, but you know you shouldn't anyway, so you just slouch back against the wall and try to breathe, "fine, just fuckin... hurry up."

"i'm just trying to take care of you. we're partners, right? i gotta look out for you," he smiles, trying to lighten the mood even slightly. he wishes that this would be the time the barriers come down, that those skyscraper walls that prevented him from coming any closer to you emotionally could come crashing down, if only for a moment.

"you don't have to do anything. you're choosing to put yourself in danger to help me," you groan as you lean back, looking up at the ceiling, "suprised that no one's tried to take advantage of your willingness to help before."

"someone did," he mutters annoyedly, focusing more on the wound then it being your wound, on your body. his eyebrows, almost naturally furrowed from years of stress, somehow make his face even more sad to gaze upon. it's not that he's unattractive, far from it, but he's... worn. tired. a piece of your heart, no matter how far you keep away from him, aches in sympathy.

leon carries you back to the safe room, a hideout you both are using to rest and recover in while you plot your next move. he lays his jacket on the ground to at least give you something comfortable to lie on. you don't look comfortable, but he can't do anything else to help you.

he looks through his things, trying to concoct something that will at least make you feel a little bit better. he finds a first aid spray, and his heart jumps out of his chest in excitement. he uses it to take care of your wound, and waits for you to wake up from your unconscious state.

he decides to go back out, hoping to maybe find some other things to help you both on your mission. he knows you'll berate him for leaving on his own, risking his own life needlessly. but god if he didn't imagine what it would be like if he found something you could really use, and watch your eyes light up. even if you didn't like him, you'd be happy. he wants to see you smile, to praise him for a job well done.

he cringes at how pathetic it sounds, but he sets off either way, leaving you wrapped in his jacket with a note from him saying what he's doing.

he doesn't do it intentionally. at least... not the first time. genuinely, he just wanted to check up on you, make sure you were alive and breathing and safe. and you definitely were.

he doesn't know why its so hypnotizing, why he can't put his goddamn phone away with the stupid security app on it. of course it's you, though. you're hypnotizing.

he watches every pixel, every distorted view of you touching yourself in the safe room, obviously unaware that he could... see this. he's glad there's no audio, or else he'd be unable to control himself, even in an abandoned building surrounded by zombies. maybe its the years that haven hardened him, burned the fear out of his soul and numbed him to the presence of those things, but he doesn't feel anything but uncontrollable desire right now.

have you been doing it the whole time? you both had spilt off from each other multiple times, and he would almost be upset at the idea that every time he was fighting for his life and barely, barely winning that fight each time, you were getting off a couple hundred feet from him in another room... if it wasn't so fucking hot to watch you masturbate.

he keeps watching until he notices that you're having an orgasm, body twitching and your chest heaving up and down as you take deep breathes. it's so fucking sexy, leon probably could have cum on the spot if he watched anymore.

you keep doing it. he keeps watching it. over the course of the mission (of course he had to be stuck on a long, secluded recon mission with you of all people) he's watched you too many times. he doesn't think he has enough fingers to count how many times, which either means he's been on this mission longer than he thought or you have a fucking addiction. he's almost kind of impressed at how efficient you are. takes you 10 minutes tops, and then you just get back up and keep on trucking? his sentimental, post-nut ass could never.

and, though you recovered from your wound, you haven't displayed any sense of gratitude for leon taking care of you when you passed out after getting hurt. not that he expects it, truthfully. you saved his life, he saved yours. you were even.

he just doesn't feel like he's broken any new ground. he feels like, if anything, you feel even further away, emotionally. he's about had it.

"hey, we need to talk," he says, ominously; he doesn't intend it to be so, "i understand you don't like me. it's fine. i don't even care anymore. but i am tired of you talking to me like i'm a pushover."

you look over at him, reloading your gun with a displeased look on your face. leon hates the inner urge he has to cave and apologize to you, as if his body would rather give up any sense of dignity he still has in favor of being slightly more tolerable to you.

"well? are you going to say something?"

you scoff, looking away, "didn't know you were so fucking sensitive, kennedy," and you turn around, ready to walk out, before he snaps, "this isn't a pleasure trip. sorry you're not having a good time."

"clearly you're having a good time with all the pleasure you're giving yourself while i'm trying not to die."

he stops. panicking. trying to think of how to spin the words he just said and make it not sound like he knew every tell you had when you were about to cum or exactly how you touch yourself in order to get yourself off quickly.

you stop as well. and you look back at him with this expression on your face that is completely unreadable.

maybe it wasn't the best move to reveal the only card he had left to play if it mean he would get this reaction out of you considering that, again, you so clearly do not like him.

... right?

"what... did you say, kennedy?" you ask, pure venom in your voice. it's not a question, you so clearly heard him correctly.

"i- i'm sorry, i didn't mean to say that-"

"have you been watching me?" you take a step closer, eyes boring into his soul so intensely he can't make eye contact. he has no way out of this situation. he feels out of breath, nervous, god why are you getting so close to him? "answer me, leon," not kennedy, leon, "have you been watching me masturbate?"

he looks up, trying to keep himself from making eye contact. he knows the second he looks into your eyes, he will be putty in your hands, free for you to mold into whatever you'd like. he knows you're not looking at him with distain like usual, it's something else.

something hungry.

"yeah," he breathes, barely getting the world out at all. you take a deep breath, as if you're debating what you're going to do.

"what you did was wrong, you see that, right?"

"yes, i know, but-"

you scoff, annoyed. god why in this moment, just inches away from you, you notice the moles on his neck, the angle of his jaw, the entrancing aura of his eyes. it's so damn distracting, and you have to pull yourself together, "but nothing. you watched me without my consent, you got off on it, didn't you?"

"god, you're making it sound so bad, i... i'm sorry, okay? how can i make it up to you?" he asks, trying so damn hard as always to please.

this is where you come to realize that maybe you didn't hate leon kennedy all this time. maybe you found yourself too comfortable, too at ease in his presence. maybe he was safe and sweet and gentle and it didn't sit right because nothing in a world with zombies and bioweapons and cults and parasites was gentle. but leon is.

you look down, considering your options, "i have an idea. you're free to refuse and we go back to before, and you get nothing from me. do you want to hear it?"

"sure?"

you take a breath, going for it, "i’ll be… blunt. if you couldn’t tell, i’m a bit.. insatiable. i need something to get myself off now that i’m getting bored of my own hands out here. you help me, and i’ll forgive you for watching me.”

his thoughts stop. he genuinely can’t put together a coherent thought, what did you mean? "are you.. are you fucking serious? you barely speak to me, every time you do speak to me you act like i'm the scum of the earth, you act like i'm not here when i saved your ass and carried you and patched you up, i-”

you cut him off with a kiss. it’s not gentle, it’s rough and messy and your fingers dig into the skin of his cheeks, leaving him red and breathless. he finally gets it. you don’t want him to help you, you want to use him.

he lets you push him down, pin his body to the wall as you kiss him breathless. he lets you dig your nails into his neck even if it hurts. he lets you touch and kiss him as rough or as gentle as you like. and you don’t like being gentle, clearly.

“use me,” he whispers between kisses, and when you pull away, eyeing him intently, as if urging him to explain himself, he does, “do whatever you want. just keep going until you’re satisfied. don’t… don’t hold back. whatever pleases you… i want that. i want to please you.”

“awh, you just want me to be happy with you, don’t you?” you coo at him, endeared by his selflessness. truly a good man in a bad world, “that’s all you’ve ever wanted, hm? for me to like you?”

his resolve cracks just a little bit more, “uhm, yeah…” he his voice is shaky, unsteady, and he just needs to give in.

“then you’re going to let me do this every single time in horny and need something to get myself off. i’m going to do whatever i want to you, and i’m not going to ask. you’re just going to let me. if you don’t, then we go right back to being enemies, and you really don’t want that, right?”

he stutters aimlessly, his knees going weak. he’d truly be done for if you weren’t hold him up with a strength he did not know you had.

and you just keep going, “i’m not going to ask or care if it’s a bad time. i want it to be inconvenient, uncomfortable, ill-timed. i want it to be permanently in your head that i can have you whenever i want you. that i can do whatever i want to you.”

“only i get to have you, got it?”

“g-got it,” he mutters weakly, feeling your hands on him, touching him in places he hasn’t been touched in a while. he didn’t realize how desperate he was.

“only i get to touch you, only i… get to fuck you.”

he nods helplessly.

“it’s too bad i didn’t bring a dildo in my bag when we set off for this mission, because i would so fuck you with it until you’re seeing stars and apologizing for going behind my back… but i suppose i’ll just have to satisfy myself with your cock…”

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wu-sisyphus-gang · 7 months ago

Text

Weiss: We need to get you something casual to wear. Even I don't just have dresses. I have skirts, and jeans and yoga pants.

Jaune: What's wrong with this shirt? It's cotton. It's comfortable.

Weiss: You don't have any other shoes just those heavy boots.

Jaune: What's wrong with my boots? They're comfortable and I know if I have to I can crush somebody's skull with them.

Weiss: Besides the fact they are on my new coffee table? Get some slippers, sandals, or tennis shoes and I'll let the shirt and pants go.

Jaune: I have jeans...

Weiss: One pair? I've seen your closet. Face it. You've gone all hunter with no relaxation.

Jaune: I sleep shirtless in gym shorts. Are you complaining about that? It's not typically something a loving wife tells their husband. 'Put on more clothes.'

Weiss: You also only have one pair of gym shorts. You're so military it would make a Spartan cringe. It's not like you don't have the money for clothes.

Jaune: I've been busy.

Weiss: But now you're not.

Ruby: Ooh! We should dress him up!

Jaune: What am I? A doll?

Weiss: It's settled then.

Jaune: Settled how? Since when are we putting things to a vote. That's not allowed. Everyone has to be onboard.

Ruby: Get democratized.

Weiss: What happened to your onesie? At least you had that. At least it existed even if I am glad you just sleep in gym shorts.

Ruby: Your chest is nice to sleep on. How is it soft and hard at the same time? But we aren't hoofing it around anima anymore and you're not clawing your way back to Vale. Let us dress you up.

Jaune: Again like a doll?

Ruby: Yeah. But you're our doll. Please? For me?

Jaune: *makes the mistake of looking into her eyes, gets up with a sigh*

Weiss: We don't mean right this minute. Good gods.

Jaune: *sits back down* You know where to find me.

Weiss: You have to teach me how to do that Ruby.

Jaune: You both do that to me. You looked at me, folded your arms, and told me to get a psychiatrist and I did.

Weiss: True. But there’s something special about the way Ruby says ‘please? For me?’ Isn’t there? She does it to me too. She’s like ‘I know you like this color of paint for the bedroom but I like this one. Won’t you agree to it? For me?

Ruby: *has this look of 'who? Me? I'm not familiar*

Jaune: As far as I’m concerned you both cheat hard and ruthlessly. How often do you walk around singing in the kitchen while you’re making coffee? You cheat. You both do. You both do it as much as you can get away with and that’s quite a lot. And what am I supposed to do? I’ve got nothing. I have neither defense or offense.

Weiss: How is doing things you love cheating? I happen to sing while I’m doing chores. That’s for me. If you happen to like it, then that is on you. I am talking about how Ruby actively uses her charms to get us both to do what she wants.

Jaune: And I’m just saying you’re not innocent. As soon as you found out it turns me on when you sing you started singing at me all the time.

Weiss: Okay. I did do that.

Jaune: Bangarang. And everyone in this house knows that Ruby just looks up at you with those big silver eyes and asks nicely and gets her wishes granted. Everyone knows that. Especially Ruby. She knows we can’t help ourselves and she knows that we know that she knows. But there’s nothing to be done. What am I going to do to get what I want?

Weiss: You don’t want anything though. You don’t really care what color the annex office gets painted. You hardly care what you eat for dinner. You could probably eat the same thing every day without complaint.

Jaune: That’s exactly what I used to do at Beacon until you moved in with me. I ate the same thing every single day. And you know what? I liked it.

Weiss: You’re schizophrenic. You have to stop with these mentally unwell behaviors. That’s a part of fighting back against your illness. It’s not enough to just take the meds.

Ruby: Yeah, that’s a sign of mental unwellness… You should eat different things…

Jaune: Exactly how long term am I supposed to be thinking here?

Weiss: *Smacks his chest gently with the back of her hand*

Ruby: *much less flirtatiously and aggressively hits the inside of his thigh*

Jaune: And you both abuse me.

Weiss: Oh shut up.

Ruby: Big baby.

#rwby #rwby incorrect quotes #jaune arc #weiss schnee #whiteknight #white knight #motion sickness #ruby rose #lancaster #war of roses #whiterose #white rose

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zionworkzs · 1 year ago

Text

Okay, but I need to talk about Good Omens and The Sound of Music.

First of all, I’m genuinely obsessed with it being explicitly canon that The Sound of Music exists in the GO universe and is, for some reason, God’s favorite movie. Neil says here that Heaven misses the point of the movie/musical, but I find it incredibly fascinating that Aziraphale outwardly despises it.

Brief summary of The Sound of Music incoming as well as some really interesting parallels:

So we've got Julie Andrews playing Maria, who is studying to become a nun in an abbey in Salzburg. Problem is, she isn't the best nun, and is often late to chapel and just isn't the shining beacon of holiness that the rest of the nuns expect her to be.

In response to this, the Reverend Mother of the abbey decides to send Maria to live with sexy widower Georg von Trapp, a navy captain who desperately needs help with his seven children. The Captain is a bit of a hard-ass since the death of his wife, and has been treating his kids like little soldiers as well as banning music from the house.

The 7 kids are rambunctious and make things difficult for Maria at first. But one night, a thunderstorm scares them, and they run to Maria for comfort. The kids realize that Maria is really fun, and then later, when their dad is off to Vienna, the kids and Maria end up running around Salzburg singing, dancing, climbing trees, and having a blast.

When the Captain comes home and hears about this, he sends Maria away. But then he overhears the children singing a song Maria taught them and he gets all emo and remembers how much music meant to him and his late wife. He asks Maria to stay after hearing the song, telling her she's brought joy back to their house.

And oops, Maria and the Captain are falling for each other, but the Captain is sort of kind of dating this blonde bombshell.

There's a big fuck-off party, and the Captain and Maria dance together.

But, oh, no, Blondie saw them and can clearly tell they're in love. She tells Maria what she's seen and Maria is freaking out cause she's just realized she's in love.

Mentally, my girl Maria is going through a lot. She thinks she’s disappointed God by falling in love when she was supposed to be doing a job. She feels scared by the depth of her feelings and because of all these emotions, she runs away. Back to the Abbey. Back to presumed safety.

Mother Superior figures out what happened real quick and tells Maria that she isn’t wrong for falling in love. She sends her back to the Von Trapps, and it's such a great scene. If you wanna watch, I included a link below.

youtube

Maria goes back, and the kids are elated and she and the Captain confess their feelings (and oh my god, don't even get me started on the lyrics to the song they sing to each other while confessing, Something Good).

(I’m unwell.)

So that's the Sound of Music. There's a subplot going on with WW2 and the Captain being pressured to join the Nazi regime (which he is very against). King, we love him.

I pointed out some obvious parallels, but I'd also like to pull some random thoughts together here:

Mother Superior (God) is the one that sends Maria (Aziraphale) to help the Von Trapps (humans) in the first place.

Maria (Aziraphale) extends grace and patience with the children (humans) and refuses to give up on them, even going so far as to disobey their father by letting them fuck around and be kids (going against God's wishes and giving humans the flaming sword).

Mother Superior (God) also sends Maria (Aziraphale) back to the Von Trapps after realizing that Maria (Aziraphale) is in love with the Captain (Crowley).

Here's to hoping we see God telling Azi that loving a demon is chill and he should go back to earth in S3.

Overall, it's incredibly amusing to me that Aziraphale, our Aziraphale, doesn't like The Sound of Music, with the main plot being about a woman who choses love over religious obligations and a man who rejects an authoritarian regime so that he might make his own way in the world.

Maybe Aziraphale recognizes the parallels and is in denial. Or maybe he just prefers Sondheim...

#can you tell i watched the sound of music too much as a child #fuckin love this movie #ineffable husbands #aziracrow #crowley #aziraphale #good omens #aziraphale x crowley #good omens season 3 #good omens meta #good omens season 2 #the sound of music #Youtube

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bakugo-softski · 5 months ago

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I’m going INSANE Can someone please just tell me if there is any other manga out there that has pulled this like platonic not-gay literal soulmate connection story with a like 90:10 ratio of canon content between said soulmate bond recipient/mc and the non soulmate canon straight relationship? Is this documented? untread territory? like i am so fucking unwell about this istg

Horikoshi Kohei, gaslighter: “😋izuocha?😋😋”

Also Horikoshi Kohei, gaslighter: “hey can you hold on to these majority bkdk coded big scenes, and all these canon sketches and covers and intros, and the save the maiden sacrifice, and this movie where they hold hands, and this very specific song i had commissioned for them, control your heart,and the soulmate token lying beside the corpse, and the rest of their lives and, oh hold up, i almost forgot- and this all might keychain and-*checks notes*-mountain top talk about the main characters’ love interests..love interest? That isn’t the main character? Cool,..thanks”

Hori-when i get out of this mental facility👊

#count your days #bkdk #bakudeku #mha #bnha #and a couple times he even blushed!!!#fuck OFF #bakugo softski

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nightcolorz · 4 months ago

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I know you are not home (home being the internet) but you can answer when you are back

(hey! if you are reading this, welcome back!)

Anyway I've been thinking lately about Marius's handling of Daniel when he was "sick" (crazy) and what it says about him and his core values

Specifically:

Not informing Armand that Daniel was unwell and with him

And

Not tolerating Daniel's choice of creative outlet fully, namely not letting him use recycling and assorted objects to build his little cities and making him use only mass produced packs

I think both things are very telling of who Marius is as a person, he doesn't see Daniel and Armand's relationship as something valuable, he is blindsided when they get back together (which happens basically the second they are allowed the privacy to have a full conversation) and he doesn't think what Daniel is doing with his models as real art

I can't help but think he made sure Armand and Daniel didn't have contact those years because he knew if they did they would both abandon him, but he told himself (and maybe even believed that he was doing it to protect them both out of love)

He thinks love equals control and that love can not exist without hierarchy and subservience

Thoughts?

It took me so long to answer this bcus I have massive thoughts!

I think the way that Marius treats Daniel and Armand when it comes to their creative outlets is rlly interesting and telling and I’m so happy u brought that up. I’ve always gotten the impression that Marius is kind of pretentious about art. He has the whole “control = love” mentality and I think that’s plays into what he thinks art is/means. The way that Marius creates is by making exact replicas of real life or pre existing paintings with his vampire mimicking skills. So his art always comes off as very detailed and fascinating but also impersonal and in some way artificial. When he ends up accidentally inserting parts of himself into his work (like painting pandora into his piece when he’s thinking of her) he considers it in error and erases it. I get the impression that Marius considers art more the act of possessing smth preexisting and making it in his own image, taking control over it by immortalizing it, rather then expressing a part of himself or reflecting on some meaning.

he sort of pushes that perspective onto Daniel when hes under his care by making him use store bought items to create his models instead of letting him delve into his mind to sort through some creativity and make smth of his own. Marius likely thinks that by allowing Daniel to only build things in this specific correct way he is both teaching Daniel how to correctly make art and he is also controlling daniel and any kind of narrative that may be happening by restricting Daniel by exploring any of his self or emotions that Marius doesn’t have a say over. Daniel can’t delve into his “crazy” mind to create if Marius controls what he is creating, and I think Marius sees this as a good thing. The less access Daniel has to his sense of self the less likely he’ll go “mad” (and the less likely Marius won’t be able to keep him docile anymore)

when it comes to Armand, when Armand was a child he was very artistically skilled and inclined. He was so religious and faith meant sm to him that he only drew religious icons, which caused him to be taken advantage of and exploited by figures in his community. When he is sexually assaulted and sold into slavery he represses his childhood memories and his ability to paint. painting becomes traumatically triggering for Armand, and reminds him of how he feels like he’s lost his faith and connection to god bcus of what’s happened to him, and he refuses to do it. Instead of trying to encourage Armand to recontextualize his relationship with art and to use it as an outlet to regain his identity Marius instead takes advantage of the opportunity he sees of Armand being a blank slate and pushes his own views of religion and art onto him as to replace to old ones. I know Marius had good intentions there, and was probably like “by giving Armand a more positive view of this he will be less terrified”, but what he ends up doing is further depriving a slave child from his cultural identity and religious values by teaching him that his faith is the wrong type of faith and he should consume art the way marius does. Marius is once again asserting his control over someone in his care’s capacity for creativity by making sure his perspective is the one that is dominating the creation.

The way I see it, as an artist Marius understands the power of art and creation and knows that to keep his “love = control so these dudes I love need to be under my control” mentality he needs to limit how his loved ones r able to engage with their own creativity so that they aren’t tapping into a level of independence that is beyond Marius’s power.

I think this is also exactly why he limits Armand’s ability to interact with Daniel while he’s “sick”. Armand and daniels relationship is such a hurricane and Marius definitely knows that if he puts those two in the same room they r a force that he can’t push around to his will. But I think Marius is definitely telling himself that he’s separating Armand and Daniel bcus Armand is a mentally ill unstable lunatic who will ruin daniels brain and Daniel is too fragile to deal with that. I also think that since Armand and daniels relationship doesn’t follow this master and apprentice dynamic and is instead this emotional colorful hot mess crazy kid combo who can’t keep there hands off each other and r addicted to each others blood that it’s therefore Bad and Irresponsible (it is but it’s better then whatever Marius thinks is correct 💀) so he needs to be the big parent and protect them from themselves (keep them reliant on him so that they don’t leave him)

thnak u for the ask this is all so interesting !!

#armand #tvc #the vampire chronicles #iwtv #interview with the vampire #vampire chronicles #the vampire armand #vc #daniel molloy #the devils minion #devils minion #Armand x daniel #daniel x armand

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