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strawberrystepmom · 2 months ago

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bakugou x f!reader. part 2 of a mini series called by heart. part 1 can be found here. cw: mentions of alcohol, implied sexual content, weddings. | word count: 1.7k, reading time: ~10 minutes

The welcome dinner went off without a hitch. The bride and groom sat next to each other, glowing and in love and sneaking glances the entire evening. Several other bridal party members and assorted early arrivals joined the soon to be newlyweds, yourself, and a very frosty Katsuki. You pushed bangs belonging to a very drunk Shinsou Hitoshi off of his face to help him see and sent him off to the elevator safely. That call a member of the bridal party very nearly made to her ex while she was kind of drunk and missing him? Thwarted thanks to the communal pep talk she was given before you took her up to her room.

There will always be small dramas whenever the entirety of your group of friends is in one room, usually ones that everyone communally knows about. The issue is that nobody knows about what happened between you and Katsuki so the tension seems kind of out of nowhere.

“You were like all over him the last time, what happened?” Ashido asked you with a sigh while you waved her off and opted to remove the heat from yourself by asking her about her relationship status.

If she’s noticed you know it’s going to become an unavoidable issue if the two of you cannot talk it out. The need to just get past it influenced your decision to invite him into the hotel bar with you to start with, as bad of an idea as it’s proving to be. Public is probably not the best venue to have a personal conversation but you know he doesn’t want you in his room and you definitely don’t want him back in yours and this bar is just intimate enough it’s unlikely anyone will overhear unless they’re trying very hard.

“Are you going to actually talk or are we going to sit here and watch each other drink all night?”

Despite yourself, you laugh at his annoyance. It’s funny that he thinks he has the right to be at all when he’s the one who created this shitstorm to begin with.

“If anyone should start us off, it should be you. You’re the one who left.”

Groaning, he opens his mouth to speak. You stop him, putting your hand out, suddenly feeling emboldened enough to make the first move despite the pit it creates in your gut.

“I never thought you were that type of person. Every other man, of course because that’s just how men behave. You, though?”

With a head shake, you lift your glass and tilt until the rim is almost fully touching your mouth to truly pull every last bit of vodka from the bottom of it.

You won’t let him see how much what you’ve perceived as his rejection has affected you. It’s the mantra you’ve been repeating since boarding your flight this morning even though you did cry on the way to the airport, silently and alone.

It’s stupid to cry or be upset at all but it could be that a bit of you hoped that he saw you as special and still does to this day. Unfortunately him coming as close as he’s ever come to fucking you and subsequently running pretty much convinced you the opposite is true. So you’ve cried and asked your friend who is set to be a beautiful bride in two days what she thinks and she’s told you that you need to be the one to talk to him about it and you’ve been stubborn and she’s been irritated and now you’re here, using sheer will to keep yourself from crying and poorly attempting to lap up severely watered down vodka to make up for the courage you naturally lack.

Sliding your glass onto the bar, you place your elbow atop the counter as well and rest your chin against your balled fist.

“Not you, Katsuki. And I guess it could really be that I never knew you at all so feel free to tell me I’ve always been wrong at any time – it just kind of feels like shit to uh, get played by the one guy you hope won’t do it.”

Averting your eyes, you keep them toward the back of the bar. You really don’t want to look at him right now, aware of what that pitiful look on his face that he keeps trying to hide with a grimace will do if you look at it for too long. You aren’t world class when it comes to being a boundary enforcer and it would take very, very, very little for him to get back into your good graces.

Something like a tiny, little, so minute and small you can barely picture it…

“I’m sorry.”

Exhaling loudly through your nose when he says the very small words you’ve been hoping to hear, you now are left considering how to accept them gracefully. It would be a lie to tell him you haven’t been aching and lying is something you aren’t in the business of doing very often so you don’t want to let him off the hook that easily.

You open your mouth to speak and he stops you this time, raising his free hand while he cradles his half drained glass in the other.

“This makes no sense and I’m not sure how to say it but I feel like I forget how to act when you’re around.”

Tilting your head to the side curiously, you look at his glass and then back at him but he only harrumphs at your insinuation.

“I’m not drunk right now, this is barely even a drink to begin with,” he swings his crystal glass around with a frown. “Every time we’re together I feel like someone else. You keep me up all night talking and I never tell you to stop or that I don’t care because for some inexplicable reason, I do give a shit even if this is the only time we see each other. And my god you do this fucking thing…”

He trails off, setting his glass down on the bar beside yours to try and contort his face into the best version of yours that he can. There’s something uniquely hilarious about seeing such a stoic man forcefully widen his eyes, looking around the mostly empty bar coquettishly and blinking. Pressing your palm over your mouth to stifle a cackle, you shake your head and he throws his hands up and leans in, the tip of his nose shockingly close to yours while his expression falls back into its natural state.

“I don’t speak eye contact. What the hell does that mean? What do you want from me?”

Your head remains tilted but the lightness in your expression falls, your eyebrows furrowing.

“I mean, what I want from you is friendship? Someone to talk to and hang out with outside of these shitty, hectic wedding weekends?” Scoffing, you desperately look around the bar to locate the tender and order another drink. “God, is that really what you wanted to say to make this whole thing right?”

The man sighs, defeatedly.

“No and if you’d listen to me you would know it.”

All you do is shrug, blink wildly, and lean in his direction to emphasize how ridiculous you find what he’s saying.

”Okay awesome, well I am listening and now all I know is that I make you late for bedtime when we hang out. That still doesn’t tell me why you left that night.”

Pinned by his inability to say the find even a slightly right thing to say, he recalls why he didn’t want to have this conversation with you at all and originally planned to dodge and avoid as much as possible over the course of the weekend. Granted he has had over a year to come up with a decent lie and hasn’t. He could also pretend to be the asshole everyone seems to think he is and just brush it off. Something keeps him from veering into flippant behavior and it’s an urge to protect your feelings as a means to say thank you for the good memories even if the two of you do not make a single one to add to the scrapbook during your best friends’ shared wedding.

Finally convinced that you’ve intimidated him enough, you lean back against the chair and cast a glance that screams ‘your move’ so loudly the childish version of him that still lingers in the back of his head on occasion wants to scream it right back. Blessedly, he’s more in control of himself and chooses instead to say what has been heavy on his heart since the early morning hours he left your side knowing he’d be hurting someone he cares about in the process.

“Because if I stayed we would have probably ended up going all the way and I didn’t want us to do that while we were drunk, alright?” Setting his glass down with a thud, he rises from the barstool. “You can believe me or not if you want to but I'm done talking about it. I’m sorry I hurt your feelings. Have a good night.”

You watch his every move despite remaining practically stuck to your chair and inside your feelings, his thick fingers digging into his pocket for his wallet to slap a few paper bills down onto the bar in an effort to continue behaving like the man you used to assume he is.

None of what he said explains why he jumped to the nuclear option of leaving yet there would be no reason for him to lie about something so significant when you’re already pissed off. Even your instincts are telling you that this is the honesty you’ve been hoping to eventually receive.

“Katsuki.” He looks up from his hands when you say his name, eyebrows raised and mouth drawn into an unamused line. “I believe you.”

He nods though it doesn’t seem like he necessarily believes you and turns to exit, leaving you with little besides more questions.

For instance: has he thought about what it would be like to have sex with you sober before?

It’s the most insufferably shallow thing to take away from what was said, barebones as it was and truthfully it’s less about what his words were and more about the uncharacteristically sheepish and hurried manner in which he spoke them - like he was making a confession and not an apology.

Shaking your head, you rise just as he did and toss your own cash down on the bar. At bare minimum you can say that the mutual axe sharpening appears to have ceased for now.

#bakugou x you #bakugo x you #bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #kendall writes #by heart

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daycourtofficial · 11 months ago

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Laborious anxieties

Eris x Rhysand’s Sister!reader

Summary: based on this request - Eris is riddled with anxiety leading up to your labor, but what happens when some of his worst fears come to fruition?

Author’s note: this is technically a follow-up to A Starfall in Autumn, but could be read as a standalone 🥰 I kinda tore through writing this. I got the request at 7:45 and finished writing at 9:30. Forgive any spelling errors, I have ✨sick brain✨

Warnings: pregnancy, labor, blood loss

The last two weeks of your pregnancy had been a time riddled with anxiety.

You were fine - it was Eris who was unable to stay calm. It felt like a stranger was consuming your mate’s body the way nervousness radiated off of him these days.

And the way he clung to you was very unlike him.

He stepped back from High Lord duties for at least a month, delegating responsibilities amongst his brothers and advisors. He receives a summary of the day’s activities during dinner, and except for a trade agreement his brother signed that was less than advantageous for Autumn, everything was running fine.

Which meant your mate could spend all of his time worrying about you, following you around. He’d gotten so absurd he began having his hounds check you for any abnormalities, doing a ‘daily check’ where they sniffed you to ensure you were okay.

The moment you had told Eris of your pregnancy, his joy was very quickly eclipsed by his very sudden interest in providing you with more security. You had been able to talk him down from the initial twelve guards he wanted trailing you at all times to two guards and at least two of the hounds.

“One hound will stay and defend me, the other one will find you,” you had argued. He relented, but as you got closer and closer to your due date, his attempts at renegotiation were increasing by the day.

You had now agreed to four guards and six hounds with you at all times, unless you were with him.

Between the massive bump on your belly that makes maneuvering around very difficult and the entourage you’d have to take, you opt more often than not to stay in your chambers for most of the day.

One of Autumn’s advisors had suggested the birth be a public spectacle, and Eris grabbed him by the back of his shirt and threw him out of the room, stating, “you’ll be allowed back in when you’ve recovered from your sudden onset stupidity.”

You were glad, because even laboring privately didn’t keep it from being quite the spectacle. Three high lords were to be in Autumn around the birth: your brother, Rhysand, and Eris’s brother, Lucien.

Lucien offered to be available to you in any way he can be, so you took him up on that offer and begged him to take your mate away for an hour or so every day.

So every day at an hour past noon, Lucien would retrieve Eris, and they would play some sporting game they invented when Lucien was a child. They tried explaining it to you, but it never made any sense to you, so you opted to just let them enjoy themselves.

Today, Eris was running through the halls of the Forest House, cursing himself for putting his chambers so deep inside. The house was more fortified the further in you went, with many foxholes that can take you throughout the court. Now it was just a pain to get back to his mate who was definitely not okay.

His fingers made quick work of ruining his hair, a light sweat coating his skin as he flung open the door, preparing for the worst.

Instead, he found his insufferable brother in law opposite you on the bed playing a card game.

“Hi Er,” you say, lighting up at the sight of him, but quickly going back to the cards in your hand, determination in your features.

Clover, the eldest hound and your personal favorite, currently had her head resting against your bump. Her eyes tracked the room, searching for any movement that could be perceived as a threat. Her tail wagged softly at Eris’s entrance, but she remained fixed, guarding your unborn babe.

“Hi Er,” Rhys offers, not glancing up from his cards, “did you run here or do you get winded from these elaborate halls?”

Eris straightens his vest, closing the door behind him as he walks further into the room. “Someone was sending some very distressed signals down the bond.”

He keeps his eyes on you as your face softens, “oops, I was so focused on our game, I didn’t mean to. It’s just not fair because he cheats!”

“I have done no such thing! How dare you accuse a high lord of such a crime?”

You stick your tongue out at him, which he immediately returns. Eris rolls his eyes, well aware of how being around your brother turns the two of you into children. He heads into your private chambers, heading towards the bathroom to bathe.

After bathing and putting on fresh clothes, Eris is about to head back to the two of you, when he hears your soft voice whisper through the door, “I miss mother.”

He’s sure you’re curled up into Rhysand, peering into the violet eyes you both inherited from her. He turns back into the chambers, allowing the two of you to share your grief. As he retreats he does hear, “but I’ll have Eris’s mother. She’s not, y’know, but she’s great. If I can’t have mother, she’s a great stand-in.”

He smiles to himself, finding the book on his bedside table, and settling into the couch, letting the two of you have your privacy.

Rhys travels between Autumn and Night every morning and every afternoon, keeping you company during the morning as you become more and more confined to your bedchambers.

You weren’t technically ordered for bedrest, but moving about was incredibly taxing for you, especially when trying to wrangle the large entourage Eris insisted on.

Fortunately, or unfortunately, Rhysand happened to be with you when your water broke.

Eris was at court settling a dispute between his idiotic advisors that they insisted required his input when Rhysand’s claws tapped his mind. Upon allowing him entry, he hears Rhysand’s voice trickle in.

It’s time.

Your contractions began, slow and unhurried, the cramping abismal. The contractions came quicker and quicker, time between shortening until your nursemaid tells you to start pushing.

You cry out as you do so, an intense pain coming from your pelvis. They tell you to stop, as they check to ensure your dilated enough to continue.

They motion for you to continue, but the pain only gets worse.

“She’s tearing dramatically,” one of the nurses says.

“What does that mean?” Rhys asks, holding your hand.

“Her circulation’s poor, likely because of the bedrest. She’s losing a lot of blood from these tears.”

Eris felt the primal rage of the mating bond heating his blood. They were talking about his mate in such a sterile, clinical way. Eris bared his teeth at them, but they did not back down, they would not back down, even to the commanding presence of multiple high lords.

“I need the two of you to leave, now. I need to focus, and I can’t do that with two high lords breathing down my neck.”

“Everyone here has her best interest at heart - I promise you, high lords, we will do our best for her,” another nursemaid says.

Eris’s eyes are fixed on your pale face, drained of any color. He doesn’t feel Rhys’s arm wrap around him, dragging him out of the room, nor does he feel the wall Rhys presses him against, giving him something to support his weight.

He can’t let that be the last memory he has of your face.

Lucien is in the hall, and Rhys is updating him on how much blood you loss. “Can’t Feyre’s blood heal? Can she come help?”

Eris snaps his eyes up to Rhysand, whose eyes have a vaguely glossy look to them.

“Please, Rhys.”

Eris did not beg. He accepted the hands he was dealt. He did not plead with his father, as the whip would strike his back. He did not plead with the Mother when he had to chase Lucien into Spring. He did not plead with the Cauldron or the stars asking for help.

But he would ask Rhysand.

“She’s on her way, she just has to get someone to care for Nyx.”

“Hel, she can bring Nyx and I can care for him,” Eris offered, reaching out to hold tightly onto that golden string connecting the two of you.

Rhys’s eyebrows raise, but Lucien cuts in, “brother, you are in no state to watch over a young child.”

“Since when have you had any experience with young children?”

Lucien balks, “the children of Spring were quite fond of me.”

Eris smirks, “pity the children of the court you preside over do not feel the same.”

Lucien is about to bite back when Rhys comes back to them.

“Okay, she’ll be here any minute now.”

Eris hated to do it, tampering with the wards of the Forest House to allow any member of your family entry in the past month.

Never has he been so grateful he did something he so staunchly opposed when Feyre appeared in front of them, a cooing Nyx in her arms that she quickly hands off to Lucien. She briefly lets her hand touch Rhys’s shoulder as she nods to Eris before running into the room.

Lucien holds Nyx, the young toddler providing amusement to the three high lords.

“Do you have a name?” Rhys asks, trying to distract Eris from the nervous meltdown he understood all too well.

“For a girl, we like Hestia Seline.”

Rhys’s eyes snap up, but Eris continues.

“Some ancient humans believed in multiple gods, one of which was the goddess of the hearth, Hestia. And Seline for..”

He gestures towards Rhys, letting his sentence finish there.

“You would allow a Vanserra to be named after my mother?”

Eris nods, “if she insisted,” a finger was pointed to the door you lay behind, in what condition Eris had no idea, “I’d let her name a Vanserra ‘Rhys Azriel Vanserra.”

Rhys grins, “but not Cassian?”

“We all must draw lines somewhere, Rhysand.”

Lucien hoists Nyx up into the air, his little wings fluttering, and Eris watches.

“I helped raise all of my brothers,” he states to no one in particular. “It would have been utter carnage if they had wings.”

“And Cassian only makes it worse.”

“Color me surprised. Don’t allow him home alone with Nyx, I’m sure he’ll throw him from your tallest balconies.”

Rhysand breathes through his nose, and Eris knows there’s a great possibility it is something that has already happened.

“What if it’s a boy?” Rhys asks, “you have Hestia Seline.”

“Jasper Camden.”

“Didn’t want another Beron around?” Lucien asks, pushing Nyx into the air on one arm.

“The day I give a child that name is the day I have been possessed.”

The conversation was helping distract Eris, but he kept a tight hold on the bond, ensuring you felt him no matter what.

Eris feels intense pain through the bond, and without thinking, he shoots up off the ground, and opens the door, promptly running into one of the nursemaids.

“High lord, she’s pushing again. The tears were healed, and she’s doing much better. I was just about to get you.”

He comes over to you, holding one of your hands. Feyre was tightly holding your other, holding a damp cloth to your forehead.

“Hello, my love.”

Eris isn’t sure when he started crying, but he knew he was when you smiled back at him, color back to your beautiful face.

“Haven’t you heard? I’m a vampire now- ah!”

You breathe out slowly, and Feyre begins whispering words of encouragement to you.

“But my dear, you love the sun too much.”

You nod as you push, and the nurse tells you you can stop for a moment. You catch your breath, looking towards your mate.

“But I would have really cool fangs. I could taste your blood.”

He strokes the back of your hand, kissing your palm. “Anything you want, my love.”

Your labor continued, much faster now as you held onto Feyre and Eris’s hands, frequently apologizing if you break any fingers.

Eris never got to be around for this part. He was always kept in front of closed doors, anxiously waiting for his next brother, uncertain as to his mother’s state. His anxiety reprieved only hours after the actual labor, when he was allowed to visit his mother and new brother.

Now he was here, the bond thrumming between you two, as he got to hear the first cries of his babe. You almost fall back in exhaustion as your babe slides out, but Eris slides behind you, allowing you to rest against his chest.

He holds your sweaty face in his hands, hair damp, kissing your forehead, telling you how proud of you he was and how incredible you were.

The two of you listen to your babe’s cries as the nursemaid brings the babe to you, placing them on your chest.

Every exhalation is accompanied by a wailing too large for the small body as they breathe air into their lungs for the first time.

Eris places a hand on the babe’s back, hoping they’ll remember his touch from the womb. The babe was covered in birth, but Eris didn’t care. He knew being around for this part was a privilege he had never been afforded before.

He kisses your head again, as the nursemaid smiles at the two of you.

“It’s a boy.”

#acotar fanfiction #eris vanserra x you #eris vanserra x y/n #eris vanserra x reader #eris x reader #eris x y/n #eris x you

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theinfinitedivides · 3 months ago

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wi papa look a thing there for me. awa.

prefacing this with a PSA that i'm going to try and keep short but basically regardless of anything i say here let me make it known that i do believe he should apologize. whether or not he's still actively saying that word in 2024 it is something he's used in the past even if he isn't performing said play anymore/saying things like that so flippantly. granted if he does apologize there's always going to be a section of fandom that's like 'he only apologized bc he got caught' yes?????????? that's what always happens????????? lbr you're not going to get on IG and announce you killed your ex two decades ago and you'll be turning yourself in when there's an entire true crime community in the depths of the internet who will dig up the cold case + the suspiciously convenient alibi anyway without you lifting a finger. politicians who get called out for blackface in college do not go around telling people they did blackface in college. celebrities who were homophobic on this hellsite in high school back in the early 10s before they realized they were gay are not going to let you know what their handle was. this is how the world works.

that being said i must confess i caught wind of the stirrings of this a bit early bc during the clusterfuck that was the Jam vs Zamasian RPF poll (i did not go in the notes. rancid ass shit) someone had taken a screenshot of a reblog made as a 'gotcha' to Zamasian voters by implying that they were anti-Black for voting for a ship featuring an actor that said the n-word in a play he hasn't performed for several decades since, with a short taped example that the general public was not going to know how to find unless they were on a mission. i poked around, saw a couple hints here and there that implied that the clip actually existed, marked that down for future ref and went about my business. disappointing? sure. run of the mill especially among people his age in the industry from that time period who are perceived to benefit from white privilege? absolutely. the former bird identified app dragging all of this back into the light (including the interview with Chris Rock. which i have not seen though there's no way it was within the last few years for AMC to still hire Eric if they had seen it. correct me if i'm wrong pls) is unexpected but tracks for the fandom on there.

generally i don't believe in cancelling someone for things they said or did more than ten years ago if they are no longer the same person they were back then. i don't believe Jacob or Assad or any one of the staff of color who may have been working behind the scenes would have agreed to continue interacting with Eric if he had the same attitude as he did when he first wrote and performed the play. i don't believe his Black comedian niece would continue to talk about him and share photos with him if he was calling her or the Black side of her family the n-word. i am willing to give the 'Eric Bogosian n-word' reply tweet he reportedly made before deleting it shortly after the brief benefit of the doubt bc it was 1. supposedly under someone else's tweet talking about the play incident and 2. i cannot count how many times i have accidently commented/almost posted something on here or YouTube or Reddit or ao3 bc i was on mobile and once the keyboard's open the app/browser flips the fuck out and puts the search bar and the comment box too close together. now if his ass shows up and shows out and stands ten toes down while he's currently on time-out or doesn't address any of this we're dealing with a different story. if more examples of him acting like this come out i'll drop him faster than you can call the election it will be that serious.

anyway for now i'm choosing to keep an eye on this while acknowledging that us Black folks do have the right to be upset and pissed as fuck. we deal with enough racism/microaggressions in fandom spaces as it is we definitely don't need new ones, and we don't need them from the past career choice of the main cast of a show a lot of us enjoy. amen

#tv: interview with the vampire #interview with the vampire #iwtv #eric bogosian #what a lovely start to the 5th already (derogatory)#i've said what i needed to say. i'm leaving reblogs on for now but if people start clowning in my notes it's going off i ain't here #for any of that shit. bitch if this was another cast member we were talking about i'd say the same thing don't get it twisted #if i even smell one of you about to be like 'i always knew—' 'i never liked him—' 'DM fans—' it's an instant fucking block. shut up.#you're not helping thank you #edit: typo located in the second to last paragraph that i just fixed..................... this is what happens when you type out what #you thought out in the shower i'm cryingggggggggggg

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cringefailvox · 4 months ago

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my ultimate fantasy for hazbin s2 is a reveal of something in alastor's past that he can't explain away or justify, something genuinely morally reprehensible, and he and the other residents of the hotel have to navigate around each other with the renewed sense of "right, he's actually a bad guy."

i feel like the show and the fandom both sometimes forget that alastor is actually legitimately morally corrupt because he's superficially nice and abides by certain rules and social mores. but he like, does murder people. that's a real thing that he does.

i feel like he can get woobified a little and portrayed as like, a byronic hero who's always actually in the right but judged and misunderstood. there's an element of truth to that, but he's mostly a selfish and cruel person who does awful things because he doesn't care.

it would be personally EXTREMELY satisfying to see him face real consequences for the way he treats people, especially from the hotel that he seems to have grown to care about. fuck that deer UP!!!

REAL AND TRUE. it's always interesting to me the way murder is evaluated in fandom next to like, sexual assault, as being the more redeemable crime somehow, which i think is quite evident in the way people talk about alastor vs valentino -- neither of these characters is remorseful or even particularly in a hurry to justify the horrendous things they do, and yet i've noticed a general tendency towards letting alastor off the hook for the serial killing but not budging on the line that val is irredeemable. and like, ofc with the caveat that this is fiction and neither of them are real, but it's interesting sometimes how people measure crimes with a value system predicated on distance, where serial killers are so removed from the average person that it's nearly outlandish, definitely a spectacle, but sexual assault is real and immediate in a way that hits people harder. there's also the matter that alastor is part of the main cast and val is a secondary antagonist -- but anyway this is getting off topic from what you were asking

i absolutely agree that i'm excited to see the show really begin to grapple with the ethics of the main cast, esp alastor, because it's like. we know he's a terrible person. the gang knows he's a terrible person. but it really comes back to the bit in episode five, when lucifer (rightly, in this case, but unhelpfully) points out that alastor represents all the worst things about sinners, that he epitomizes everything lucifer loathes about hell, and charlie's response pivots neatly away from that ethical problem: "he's defending this hotel. it might be a bit more sadistic than i'd hoped, but he's doing it for me." alastor can be as morally bankrupt as he wants so long as it's in the service of a cause that charlie perceives as good

this actually makes perfect sense for charlie's character and it's sooo fascinating. she doesn't actually seem to care about how horrific everyone in hell behaves all the time -- what she cares about is those people dying en masse without any value judgment from heaven, she's affronted that it's all numbers to them, she really seems like she's only spearheading this redemption program because she thinks it'll bring down overpopulation and stop heaven, not because she was genuinely bothered by the rampant sin before. "happy day in hell" is all about how much she loves hell and keeps putting an optimistic spin on all the property damage and cannibalism and public bdsm. she doesn't care about alastor being evil because he's not her redemption poster child, but she DOES care about angel getting into turf wars and doing drugs in the hotel because it reflects badly on her. girl i need to see your personal ethics and values get cracked the fuck open so bad

#i do love love love alastor being the token evil teammate btw if that wasn't clear #i just want to see the team actually grapple with what that means. considering the show's whole premise is about redemption #alastor #charlie morningstar #lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel #angel dust #ask #valentino

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rileyslibrary · 1 year ago

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can you maybe do something where like, things simon does when he realizes he’s falling for you? :,)

Let me start by saying that I see Simon as someone more accustomed to others falling for him than the other way around. Like, he is the one who tends to be pursued rather than being the pursuer, if you know what I mean? I don’t know why but I feel he doesn’t have to put too much effort into wooing someone (and he probably knows that). A tall, beefy dude with a rugged appearance and that voice of his? The guy has it easy.

Now, what if he’s the one who falls for someone first? Aha! Well, He doesn’t even realise he has feelings for you, but they manifest in other ways, mainly through actions.

Ghost, as your lieutenant, for example, starts assigning you to low-risk missions or insists on accompanying you to ensure you’re safe.

In a more personal context, Simon offers to pick you up from your home so you don’t have to walk or take public transportation. He might even escort you to your car at night to protect you.

He tells you jokes he thinks you’d enjoy. He absolutely loves it when you laugh; he feels defeated when you roll your eyes and even a bit salty when you already know the joke (or fail to “get” it.)

He pays close attention to the details. He remembers your favourite food, how you like your coffee/tea, and your pet’s name. No, he won’t cook for you (yet), but he’s taking mental notes, studying you.

However, he’s not aware of what he’s doing exactly (or why he’s doing it, for that matter). It’s not until the rest of the team notices and insinuates that there’s something more between you two that he comes face to face with his emotions. Emotions he’s not ready to accept yet.

He rejects the idea that he has developed feelings for you and hopes that by suppressing ignoring them, they’ll fade away. But, as my boy Freud once said, “unexpressed emotions never die; they are buried alive and come forth later in uglier ways.”

He begins distancing himself from you. He rebuilds the walls you once torn down and returns to treating you just like everyone else. He had people he loved before, and it’s only brought him pain. His past experiences have left deep scars, and he’s determined not to go through that again. He’s not just doing it just for himself, though; he also wants to protect you from him and the pain.

Him. Pain. What’s the difference?

You, on the other hand, pick up on his behaviour but don’t confront him about it. “You know how the lieutenant is,” they once told you. “Sometimes he’s all jokes, other times he’s just business.” Maybe, you think, he needs his space. So you begin mirroring his actions, pulling away and giving what he seemingly wants.

But he secretly doesn’t want you to do that. Contrary to what he hoped to achieve by distancing himself from you and, therefore, from his feelings for you, he falls even harder.

Once cocky and arrogant, now he’s insecure. He starts projecting his fears onto you, feeling that you’re the one pulling away, even though you’re merely respecting his unspoken need for space.

So he confronts you. He wants an explanation for the change in your demeanour. And you? Well, you tell him the truth; you thought he needed some space. Right?

Who knows. Maybe you were just respectful. Perhaps you were giving him a taste of his own medicine.

It doesn’t matter. What does matter is that he gets it now. Running away from his feelings or those he cares about doesn’t work, just like ignoring his emotions won’t make them disappear. On the contrary, they directly affect both him and you.

Of course, he doesn’t admit it. No, he wouldn’t be caught dead doing that.

Yet, he decides to (re)open up to you, this time gradually, bit by bit, at his own pace. Just for a chance that this calculated, ruthless operator that many perceive him to be can finally transform into a genuinely emotionally invested human being for the first time.

#i won’t tag this cause i don’t know what it is exactly #but i like it #so there you go #thank you for the ask nonny :) xx #the librarian answers

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spatialwave · 9 months ago

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"baby, don't you know? that you're my golden hour."

pairing: pre-war!cooper howard x ftm!actor!reader word count: 2.5k summary: being an up-and-coming actor had you fighting tooth and nail for opportunities. you were young, though, still had much to learn and people to impress. you were surprised when cooper howard took it upon himself to mentor you. the cowboy star supported you through thick & thin — a light in your life that reminded you everything would be alright. warnings/tags: sfw, implied transphobia, angst, grief, mention of death, hurt/comfort, fluff. notes: as a transmasc enby, i get very passionate writing ftm!reader stories. this had been sitting in my brain for awhile, so thank you to anon for sending an ask that kicked my ass into gear and write it!

“what do you mean? they told me last week that i had the goddamn job,” your voice was loud and snappy, jaw clenching as you fell back into the chair with a heavy thud, “i did three goddamn auditions and even did a table read, now they’re saying i’m not the right fit? what the hell is that supposed to mean? i put in the fucking work already.”

you were sitting in your agent’s office full of luxury furniture, expensive paintings and the gaudiest decorations. with a red face, you huffed as he explained to you the situation at hand.

your next movie had dropped you as the supporting actor. it would’ve given you enough screen time for it to be your real breakthrough role and shoot you up into the fame and glory you’d been fighting for.

“well,” your agent sighed, leaning forward against his desk, “there’s been word going around about you.”

defensive, you furrowed your brows in confusion, “what word?”

he’d grown uncomfortable, putting one leg over the other as he rested into his chair and thought about what to say next. he needed to be careful with his words, seeing that you had been ready to knock shit off of his desk if he angered you anymore.

“i think you should read this,” he murmured, filtering through papers on his desk until he grabbed a folded newspaper and pushed it toward you.

your heart sank as you snatched the paper, eyes wide and shaky when you read the front page. it was all about you. your deadname was plastered in large text as the article detailed your past that you had gone lengths to keep out of the public eye.

you changed your name, moved away from home and started your transition quietly. you had done everything to make sure that people perceived you the way you wanted.

but life was never that easy.

your eyes settled on a few words, ‘a trusted source confirmed.’ thoughts ran through your mind, thinking of any person who you’d grown up with, family members, ex-friends—anyone who would be willing to spill career-ruining information for a quick lump of cash.

“i had no idea—“ your agent spoke, but you cut him off.

“i was hoping to keep it that way until i was in a damn grave” you said, voice calm but cheeks red and breath heavy, “fuck this.”

there was nothing worth sticking around for, who the hell would want to hire you now? there were too many close-minded people in the world, and you could already imagine the headlines of them lumping you right in with the opposition. a trans, american communist.

fucking christ.

the following week you isolated yourself in your apartment, high-end and expensive. you couldn’t even feel comfortable in your own home because the looming possibility of being unable to pay rent was alive and very real. you stayed in your bed, wondering how on earth you thought you’d be able to careen through life without anyone finding out.

you were lucky that your mother supported you every step of the way when you were a young, confused teen. she helped you navigate your feelings and even urged you to talk to a professional. one year later, you’d started testosterone injections.

she passed three years ago, leaving you with nothing but her memories and the devastating reality that you’d be alone from here on out. you always hoped your secret died with her.

you melted away on your bed as the sound of thunder boomed loudly and shook your apartment, rotting into nothingness. sleep was on the horizon, but you’d been interrupted by a buzzing sound vibrating from your intercom. you didn’t move, keeping your eyes shut tight and hoping the sound would stop.

buzz.

“who is it?” you asked tiredly, pressing your forehead against the buzzer.

“a friend,” a southern voice replied, full of static.

you let go of the button that connected your voice to the intercom at the entrance of your apartment, closing your eyes and wishing that cooper would turn around and leave. His pity was far from what you needed

you were angry at the world, and that included him.

swallowing a lump down your throat, you pressed the door buzzer, feeling it vibrate beneath your finger until you were certain the cooper was inside the apartment and out of the rain.

with a blanket strung over your shoulders, your bare feet padded against the hardwood flooring as you unlocked your door. three locks for safety.

you waited to hear footsteps, your ear pressed against the door while your gazed focused on nothing in particular. a shell of a human was the only way you could describe yourself.

you’d never felt this dark before.

a gentle knock rapped against the wooden door, and you had to force yourself to open it up slowly as the lights from the hallway spilled into your dim apartment. meeting cooper’s gaze left you feeling like the smallest man in the world, even if you were the same height.

“you look like crap, kid,” cooper sighed, getting a good look at you. you hadn’t showered in a couple of days and your stubble had started to grow out. for years, you’d been so meticulous with how you looked, never once letting someone see you less than your best. not even cooper.

“stating the obvious,” you murmured, stepping back to give the older man time to step in. you didn’t bother sticking around for a proper greeting, already heading back to your bed so you could collapse on top of it, burying your face into your pillows.

the sound of cooper’s footsteps made you queasy, curling into a ball and peeking out as he turned on a lamp near the doorway.

“why didn’t ya’ tell me?” he asked, rolling up the sleeves of his button up to his elbows, having discarded his coat and hat. you rarely ever saw him dressed so casually.

through furrowed brows, you glared at him, “i didn’t have to tell anyone a goddamn thing, you know. it was my secret to keep.”

“i didn’t mean it like that,” he sighed, stepping close until you felt the bed dip down next to you, “you’re not obligated to tell anyone your secrets,” his voice was so soft, it made your stomach twist, “but you’ve been ignoring my calls. why?”

a deep, shaky breath came from you as you looked at the man sitting next to you on the bed, his face lit up by the warm lamp, “i don’t need your help. i’m fine, cooper.”

“you’re a terrible liar,” he murmured, a tiny smile on his lips, “you always have been.”

you hated how well his voice and presence soothed you. for the first time in days you felt a spark of hope in your chest, but you stomped it out before it could burn bright.

“i know,” you whispered, moving to rest upright against the headboard with the blanket tight around you, “i figured you wouldn’t want to be seen with me.”

you didn’t dare look him in the eyes because the last thing you needed was for him to feel sorry for you. it wouldn’t be the first time someone questioned your identity and been turned off by it, many of your old friends had left you in the dust. considering you some kind of freak.

yet, there was cooper howard loyally at your side, his hazel eyes showing nothing but compassion and care for you.

you could remember it clear as day, the first time you filmed a scene with him. it was your first big movie gig after years of ads and small roles on television shows, a character that would be memorable if you played it well. cooper was the lead, a sheriff with a heart of gold, and you were his loveable, naive deputy.

feeling sick to your stomach was an understatement, you vividly remember looking in a mirror and seeing how sunken in your eyes were. you’d been trembling all morning, repeating your lines under your breath as you sweltered underneath the heat radiating from the floodlights that lit up the desert scene.

cooper approached you with that big smile of his, his teeth perfect. everything about him was perfect.

the two of you had run lines weeks and days before, but as you stared at him then, you felt your mind draw a blank. you weren’t going to make a good impression on anyone, especially him.

“you good, kid?” he asked you, head tilting as the makeup department did quick touch ups before the cameras started rolling.

“yeah. i’m great, never been better.” you forced a smile, which got a snort of laughter out of the esteemed actor.

“you’re a terrible liar,” he laughed, reaching over and giving your shoulder a few strong pats, “don’t worry, alright? remember that you’re here because you deserve it. you’ve got skill.”

the rest of the movie was a breeze.

cooper had stuck by your side since then, taking on a role like a mentor. he gave you acting tips, took you for coffee to meet with a better agent, and made sure you had all the connections you needed for making your career even bigger than his own.

you’re not even sure of the exact day you fell in love with him, but after a year of pining for him in secret, you knew you had to end things before trouble found its way to you.

then, he and barb divorced. so, like the devoted little mentee you were, you stayed by his side.

you helped him start up his gig work, which took weeks of convincing, and it only paid just enough to get the alimony to his ex-wife. you’d even started purchasing the dinners and coffees that you two love to frequent, knowing that at some point he wouldn’t be able to treat you as much as he used to.

cooper had become your lifeline, and this was the easiest way to repay him.

“why would you think that?”

cooper’s voice snapped you out of your daze, eyes readjusting to focus on the man sitting in front of you. he sat there with his brown eyes big and wide, the golden glow from your lamp creating a halo around his head.

“well, uh, you wouldn’t be the first to think that,” your voice was barely above a whisper as you dropped your gaze, full of shame.

he exhaled a heavy breath out of his nose, “i’d never do that to you, you know that,” his voice was a comfort to your broken heart, “look at me, i need you to see me say it,” you listened, eyes flickering up to meet his, “i will never ruin what we have over something that makes you… you,” he whispered, his hand holding yours, “you’re the same kid in my eyes and always will be.”

your bottom lip trembled as he spoke, his words digging deep into your heart and leaving you in a mess of emotions. you’d spent the last three days convincing yourself that life was over as you knew it, that all you worked for was just a heap of wood burning away into a pile of nothing.

cooper was a testament to the fact that things would be okay, even if the world wasn’t fair. after his divorce, you knew that he’d lost out on role after role, and if he managed to keep his pride, so could you.

“shit, coop, you’re so stupidly kind,” you laughed, tears rolling down your cheeks as intense emotions flooded you for the first time in months. you weren’t much of a crier, but these wouldn’t stop, “i don’t think there’s anyone in the world who’s as goddamn nice as you. it’s almost sickening how sweet you are.”

the man grinned, “don’t go rubbin’ that in, you’ll inflate my ego and you do not wanna’ see me like that.”

you let out a god-honest laugh for the first time in days, one that made your stomach flutter and leave your cheeks a little sore.

the days got easier after that night. cooper visited you every day, bringing you a coffee and lunch, not leaving until he got a smile out of you. the two of you would sit around chatting for hours, he’d tell you all the bullshit stories of the gigs he’d picked up. he shared how barb was going to let him take janey to the gigs, too, and you saw how bright his eyes shined at the thought of getting to be with his babygirl, even for just a few hours in a day.

cooper reminded you that it was the little things that made life manageable.

a week later, he’d convinced you to go with him to see sugarfoot at her stable the day before a birthday gig, his first time that janey would tag along.

“hey, coop?” your voice was quiet as you sat in the passenger seat of his car, eyes watching the trees pass by as you made way for the stable in a secluded area outside the city. the evening was warm and bright, filling the sky with hues of orange, red and pink.

“hm?” the man hummed, tilting his head to you, but not taking his eyes off the road.

“why me?”

his eyes flickered to you, “what do you mean?”

“why, uh… why’d you choose to mentor me?” you mumbled.

the car slowed down as you approached the turn-off to the stable, cooper looked back to road, “guess i can’t really get away with saying it was just outta’ kindness, huh?”

you chuckled, “i want the real answer.”

as you approached the ranch, cooper rolled the vehicle to a stop and shifted into park. you moved to open up the door, but his words interrupted you.

“you reminded me of myself when i was younger,” he answered honestly, turning his head to look at you, “i figured helpin’ you out would heal my soul, or somethin’ like that.”

“how selfish of you,” you snorted, “and to think i thought you did it out of love.”

you kept laughing to yourself after you spoke, opening up the passenger door and getting out to stretch your long limbs. you turned to look over at cooper, able to see him over the roof of the car, and it was then you noticed the red blush that coated his cheeks. he couldn’t hide it from you, even if he tried.

“c’mon, coop,” you smiled, feeling your heart flutter in your chest as you stepped around the vehicle, motioning for the older man to follow, “you don’t have to admit your love to me yet, just shower me in presents and i’ll know it’s true.”

“you’re a real pain in the ass. you know that, right?” he chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief.

neither of you needed to admit it out loud just yet, the look you shared spoke more than words could.

“i do,” you said through a smile, leaning into his touch as he wrapped an arm around your shoulder and placed a gentle kiss to your temple.

you leaned back, taking one long, good look at cooper. he was breathtaking under the evening sun, his skin radiant. you’d never seen him so happy.

“thank you for everything,” you said.

the colour of my sky. you set my world on fire. and i know, i know everything’s gonna’ be alright.

#cooper howard #cooper howard x reader #the ghoul #the ghoul x reader #cooper howard fic #the ghoul fic #pre war cooper #fallout fic #angst with a happy ending

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mullermilkshake · 2 months ago

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The rose garden - Chapter 2

I will be uploading the whole thing here, it's just going take a little time, but if you want to read more right now, there's more on my AO3 <3

Summary - You are just an author wanting to put your writing out there and carry on with your life, but when two people end up murdered, things you write about seem to be more real than just pure fiction.

Pairing - Yandere!Suguru Geto x Fem!Reader / Detective!Satoru Gojo x Fem!reader (Sort of. One sided)

Word count - 3.9k

Tags (master list for the entire fic, will add TW for significant tags) - DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT!!! PLEASE READ THE TAGS!!!,NSFW,SMUT,NO USE OF Y/N,Yandere!Getou Suguru, graphic depictions of violence, major character death, Porn With Plot,Porn with Feelings,Established Relationship,PleasureDom,Codependency,Murder,Torture,Conspiracy,Cunnilingus,Orgasm Control,Multiple Orgasms,Minor Original Character(s),psychiatry,Medication,Power Imbalance,Vaginal Fingering,Disembowelment,Manipulation,Gaslighting,Rimming, Praise Kink,Grinding,mentions of blowjobs,Dry Humping,thigh riding,Dark,Autopsy,Aftercare,Hunting,Guns,Perceived infidelity,Body Horror,Smoking,Vaginal Sex,Misogyny,Public Stimulation,One sided sexual tension,Invasion of Privacy,Strangulation,Reader-Insert,Serious Satoru Gojo,Orgasm Edging,Obsession,Accidental Voyeurism,Angst,Questions of masculinity, stabbing, shooting

An evaluation.

Suguru goes to work.

Tags for chapter - Domestic sort of fluff, Yandere!thoughts, Obsession, sex addict, lewd and dark thoughts, mentions of infidelity, Murder, hit and run, Suguru being a therapist

Hello Love,

I adore you. Your work is everything to me.

I loved the part about how the bodies were found, the dolls were a creepy touch.

Keep up the good work.

—

Suguru’s alarm tore through the bedroom.

One more day.

Another day at the office and he’d be off on vacation for almost a week. A week, undisturbed at the cabin with you. Perfect . Suguru couldn’t wait to leave work later, leaving behind all of the tiresome groaning and complaints of infidelity or odd patterns in behaviour that indicated acute behavioural issues at the door.

Suguru loved his job, but he loved you more. Any time away with you was time incredibly well spent.

Except you weren’t in the bed when he rolled over. Your side was empty, cold. Suguru rubbed the sleep from his eyes and braced himself to sit up, he didn’t bother to slide into his robe and wandered off to the bathroom.

His hair was loose, falling past his shoulders in a rut, you had put him in a rut, looking the way you did in that dress last night. Lavender was always your colour, it did something to make your complexion glow and made all those little freckles stand out. Suguru would have kissed every one of them if there was enough time in the day, well, he almost did not eight hours ago.

Turning the shower on, the glass still steamy from where you had previously used it, Suguru climbed in, a little disappointed he wasn’t bestowed with the chance of joining you. Though, he’d still have an entire week to make up the lost time.

Today, he had a whole slew of clients, last minute appointments and referrals to make before Manami would take over from her usual secretarial work, manage his calendar and more confidential records while he was away.

The shower warmed his muscles through to their core, adding a pleasant sting to a remarkable night. You were far too easy to please, and it pleased him . Suguru could have thought about you every second of every day and it still wasn’t enough to put into words. He adored you, every breathless gasp and subtle touch of his shoulder or sudden pull of his hair, he treasured it.

And you were just an amazing person he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.

Soon enough, you were going to be his wife. Mrs Geto.

Suguru washed himself and dressed ready for the office. He neatened his hair and tied it professionally so that it was kept out of his face and slipped his glasses on to the bridge of his nose, tucking the spectacle cord over his neck.

One more day. Another day of seeing you potter about downstairs just wearing Suguru’s shirt from the night before while the radio played along in the background. He loved the way it rode up each time you reached to open a cupboard or bent down momentarily to pull something out of a low drawer, he hadn’t realised he’d been staring.

“Morning.” You smiled, resuming your activities.

Were you making pancakes, or breakfast muffins? “You’re proactive this morning.”

Yeah, they were definitely muffins. “I thought I’d use up some of the stuff in the kitchen before we leave tonight. Take some stuff with us.” You sucked some of the batter that stuck off of your finger.

Were you purposefully trying to stop Suguru leaving for work? He thought so. Maybe something quick would tire him over, make you squirm all bent over the kitchen counter. “Perfect, as soon as I’m home we’ll leave. I’ll try to get out early.”

Should he? He could realistically turn up to work at any time. He owned the place after all.

“Sounds good, I’ll get our things packed. Call me when you’re on your way home.”

What if he pulled out that remote controlled toy and used it on you periodically while he was away, you seemed to really enjoy it last time. Getting multiple messages from you was not a common occurrence, especially when you were writing. But that day… he enjoyed the control.

In the end, seeing you pleasured was what got Suguru off.

But, he pushed against his better judgement and decided to leave for work before you ended up keeping him all day. Again, his week off would make up for it. He would make sure you were entirely looked after.

“Alright then.” He picked up his briefcase from the hall and you were already by the door waiting for him.

He took one brief glance at his watch. Last chance to initiate something before I go.

Before he could, you did. And abruptly too. Pulling him down to your level, you wrapped your arms around his neck and rubbed your nose on his. Suguru naturally held you flush against him and inhaled everything.

“One more day of work, and then we’re all alone.”

“Don’t tempt me to leave for work late, I may not even make it in.” Yep, against his better judgement. Now all he wanted to do was stay here with you.

“You’ll have me all to yourself when we get there… undisturbed.” You weren’t usually this forward.

Suguru tried to suppress a growl from his throat, thinking of all the ways to stop himself from getting hard, because then he would definitely be late. And you would be a messy heap on the bed for at least an hour.

“You’re treading dangerously if you want to make it to the cabin before it gets late. I may not have a choice but to show you how serious I am in the car.” Hot and sweaty car sex to watch your knees buckle. One of his favourites.

You bit your lip. God, you bit your lip. “Maybe you should do that later anyway.”

Maybe he would.

One sweet peck to his lips and you were off back towards the kitchen, grabbing a bag from the counter. “Here, make sure you eat today.”

You’d packed him lunch. “I’d rather have you for dinner, sweetie.”

Suguru loved that smirk of yours. “You’re already running late. Go now before the traffic hits. I’ll be waiting right here.”

“Don’t work too hard.” How Suguru had the willpower was beyond his comprehension.

He blew you a kiss and left, making his way to his old mint vintage car and slapped his briefcase down in the passenger seat.

It was going to be a long day.

He knew as much when he arrived, Manami already nipping at his heels the moment he stepped in. “Geto, you have an extra client needing to see you, it’s an emergency.”

Great. “Who is it?”

She said a name but Suguru but it didn’t particularly translate well because his mind the whole way over was still thinking of you. Thinking of you more would only drag the day out, so he grabbed some coffee and cleared his head at his desk.

“Right, who was it?” The coffee steamed in the mug on the table, almost audibly while Manami searched through her notes.

“Mr Simmons?”

“Ah yes.” The sex addict. “Did he give any particular reason to why he needs my services today? He has a session next week.”

“He didn’t. He was just panicking.”

“Very well then. Make him my last, will you?- Oh and can you get a dozen roses ordered for me to take home when I leave?”

“Sure thing.”

Mr Simmons was a handful at the best of times. It was better to have his session last and run home afterwards, otherwise the day really would drag on.

It still didn’t stop Suguru from dreading whatever the man wanted to speak about, right up until he knocked on his office door that evening and even after that.

“Thanks for seeing me, Doctor Geto. I-I don’t know what to do.” The man was a sex addict with a thousand crude thoughts a day when he wasn’t using his dick to either fuck or masturbate.

“Take a seat Mr Simmons. Make yourself comfortable and tell me what’s on your mind.” Suguru took up his usual seat as soon as Mr Simmons laid himself down on the chaise lounge.

He crossed one leg over the other, staring gormlessly at the ceiling while resting his arm on his forehead. “I’m panicking because this is all new and I need to know what I’m feeling is right. It doesn’t feel right.”

Oh dear. Suguru was in for a long one. “Go right ahead.”

“So… I started a new hobby, like you suggested.” He paused hesitantly and eyed Suguru for a moment before continuing. “I-I took up reading and I’m enjoying it.”

A good start for someone who needed to masturbate at least 3 times a day just to get by. “That’s great. But I feel there’s a ‘but’ coming on?”

“I picked up this book. ‘A fate sealed’.” The title made Suguru finally pay proper attention to him.

That was your book. Mr Simmoms even said your name.

“Alright.” Not exactly the best book for a sex addict, but a better start than fucking everything that moves. It was your book too, so he wouldn’t complain in the slightest.

“I like the dark stuff, and what the main character did with those bodies, making them look like dolls. And then it got me thinking of dolls in general… sex dolls… then I was thinking about sex again and tried really hard to finish the book and not touch myself.”

“Self control is the first step to conquering an addiction. It takes practice. Full control is a daily battle Mr Simmons, you won’t get on the right track straight away and it’s alright to question your ideals. But what I’m unsure of is what you think is so wrong? What do you assume isn't right?”

Mr Simmons shuffled on the chaise lounge and turned his back to Suguru. “It’s the horrid thoughts. The more I think about them, the further I read and I just can’t put the book down.”

“How so?”

“The author.”

“Right…” It was a book not suitable for young audiences, maybe he wanted to thank you for writing it perhaps?

“All the things in that book, after seeing her author picture. I wanted to do those things to her- I still do. Sex. Rough and hateful. I want to pour hot wax all over her tits and lube them up so I can fuck them, but not just anyone, just her. Her picture is to die for and I can't stop thinking about it and it’s so wrong; god it’s getting me hard just thinking about it. I don't know what to do!” He shot up from his prone position and began to pace the office.

Candle wax? That wasn’t something you were into, even Suguru hadn’t experienced that with you. He enjoyed taking control and being dominating, but he’d never harm a hair on your head. And this asshole wanted to do some harsh things to your body.

Suguru had read your book. He knew the type of depraved stuff that was in there. No boundaries and non consensual stuff the fan base loved, but it didn’t represent you at all. But this man. He had thought about hurting you, desecrating you in the worst way and Suguru had to be professional about it.

Mr Simmons paid a lot of money to visit Suguru twice a week for an hour and speak of all his insecurities and perverted fantasies he was trying to curb for good. Of course that wouldn’t work. He was incredibly weak willed. Especially if he was getting aroused by a dark romance thriller and using your picture as a tipping point.

Had he masturbated to your picture? Suguru dreaded to think.

Despite Suguru’s fortunate position to have the real person at home, he couldn't deny that there was a small pang of annoyance in his heart. To think men were imagining you like this. A perfect, talented woman who had your own struggles in your field of work, just to have men touching themselves and objectifying you.

Suguru allowed Mr Simmons a moment. “I just don’t know what to do anymore. I’m trying to stop the sex and it’s only leading to more sex. Please help me, Doctor Geto. I-I don’t know what to do.”

“First of all, maybe you should stop reading the rest of that book.”

“I finished it last night.”

Great. “And were you able to refrain from touching yourself?”

“No… But I only jerked off twice. That’s better than nothing right?” He really was a pathetic man.

Suguru knew he should keep his emotions and feelings to himself and out of the workplace, though this was the first time anyone from the outside brought you into his office. “Give the book to someone else and practise the self help techniques we discussed last week.”

“They never work! Sometimes I just want to go to a bathhouse and stick my cock in every glory hole in the place and come everywhere. But it’s not who I want to be, it’s not what I wanna do, I have a fucking wife, man.”

“I think, just for now, try those techniques, and maybe try taking up a new hobby with your wife. Every time you feel the urge outside of the bedroom, with your wife, go for a walk and take in the scenery with her. I’m sure dedicating some time with her could change your perspective, at least until the urge begins to fade.”

“I guess so.” That seemed to calm him. “I guess I jumped the gun, huh?”

“Not at all.” Suguru put his best foot forward with a smile and stood up to mirror him. “Sometimes we just need that floatie to hold on to when the water gets a little too high.”

Ask your wife.

“Thanks for seeing me on such short notice… I’ll try that walking thing with my wife and see how it goes.”

“Yes. Let’s meet next week and see how you got on.” Another smile and he was practically herding Mr Simmons out of his office.

“Thanks again, Doctor Geto.”

As soon as Mr Simmons left and the door closed, Suguru’s smile dropped and slow deep breaths were not working. A man fantasized about touching you, fucking you. But more so, hurting you.

He knew there were plenty of ingrates out there willing to hurt someone, but when it came to you, it made him anxious, short of breath. What if Mr Simmons found out that you were Suguru’s partner and decided to follow him home?

It was a stretch, but still a possibility. Once that made him sick to his stomach.

Mr Simmons posed a danger to other people. But mostly you.

“That bastard!” He cleared his desk in one swipe, no prisoners.

There was one thing you had never seen from Suguru. You hadn’t ever seen his temper. And he had a fucking temper.

Manami didn’t know and slipped right on through the door with a bouquet of roses in her arms. “What the hell is going on in here?” She laid them down on the table.

She hadn’t seen his temper flare either. He curbed it in an instant. “I fell. I guess I’m more exhausted from the week than I realised. Don’t mind me, I’ll clear this mess up.”

There wasn’t much to clear besides papers. No mess, just an outlet for his anger.

Manami scoffed and knelt down to scoop up the paper dashed about the place. “Yeah, of course. Go home, Mr Geto. I’ll get this sorted.”

He chuckled softly and rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. He made a pretty big ass of himself. “I owe you one, Manami.”

“Yeah, yeah. Just buy me a drink when we all meet up for drinks at Christmas and that’ll square us off.” She spoke your name with sincerity. “Go home to her and enjoy your time off, you clearly need it.”

He did. He was counting down the hours until he could go back to you and here he was throwing a tantrum over some guy who never had a chance with you to begin with. How foolish.

“Thanks, I’ll let her know. See you next week.” With that, he shuffled around the mess, took the roses and left the office, trudging out of the lobby and back down to his car.

Thicker fog started to settle in the air, lingering past the car's front window. Just then Suguru’s phone vibrated. He carefully placed the roses down on the passenger seat alongside his briefcase.

You - It’s foggy, be safe, see you soon x

He was far too lucky. You really were an angel.

Suguru decided before coming home, he would pick up some sweets from the store. There he would let you know he was on his way home and surprise you coming home early, and bearing gifts.

Setting off slow, the fog loosened up a little by the time he’d gotten past the long lane road. His office was a way away from the main town to which he enjoyed, it was closer to the cabin too, being in the same direction, it wasn’t far should he be called in for an emergency.

Turning left, it was far longer than any other road he had to drive down. This time of night, there was hardly anyone driving the other way, especially in this fog.

But someone was there. Not driving. But walking.

Suguru narrowed his eyes as he drove by and recognised Mr Simmons trudging back down the lane. What a stupid place to be heading home, along with traffic too. Had he never heard of road safety?

He was in two minds in offering Mr Simmonds a ride, but he drove past him, thinking back on his conversation, the man didn’t deserve the courtesy.

In fact, the little intrusive thoughts made their way and burrowed in his brain that the man deserved to be run over for the vile things he wanted to do to you. So many fucked up things.

If he did those, the beautiful and pure breaths and gasps that left your lips when he made you feel good would cease to be and disappear. The man would ruin you if he ever managed to get his grubby claws in you.

Suguru promised himself he would remain professional and open minded.

But it was gnawing away at him, far too corrosive for him to ignore.

“Motherfucker.” Suguru applied the brakes and spun the wheel, turning the car around and speeding back the way he came.

Mr Simmons remained on his side of the road, traipsing in the dark with a hunch in his shoulders. He didn’t even see the car coming and bounced off of the side of the hood upon impact.

“Whoops.” Suguru slammed the brakes and trained his eyes on the rear view mirror, watching the body in the middle of the road unblinking to make sure he didn’t get back up.

Of course the bastard did.

“Really?” Suguru yanked the steering wheel to the side and turned the car back around.

It was as though Mr Simmons was drunk, he got up and stumbled away with no sense of urgency or panic. So Suguru hit him again. His poor vintage car.

The damage wasn’t as bad as he initially thought. The beautiful thing about vintage cars, as they were truly built to last. That’s why he always tuned it up when he went away to the cabin. TIme away and space to work on his baby.

But, he did promise himself that he would stop doing this. Hitting people with his car messed with the grill on the front and he could only say he ‘hit an animal’ so much. Two times was the charm and he hoped he wouldn’t make it a third time, but here he was.

Oh hell, now he needed to hide the body too and clean the car before going back to you.

Suguru looked down at the smushed pile of meat on the floor. “All you had to do was stop tugging at yourself and maybe you would have gone home to your wife tonight… You have yours, so leave mine alone.”

It was a pain to clean up impromptu. Still, Suguru got to work.

“Hey, Doctor Geto! I haven’t seen you in a while.” The shop clerk waved to him with a smile as he entered after leaving the lanes.

“It’s good to see you, how have you been?” Suguru wiped the back of his pants with his hands and walked up to the register to pick up the sweets to take home.

“Ah, same old. How’s that special lady of yours?” He bent down and fished out a special box, Suguru was somewhat of a regular after work.

“She’s doing great thanks. Uh, any chance I can use the hose? This fog is crazy and I clipped a deer out on the lane.”

The clerk scratched his head. “Damn, again? Of course you can… That lane sure is dangerous, huh? I hear that bends pretty bad on a good day, I never go down it myself in case I see something I shouldn’t. I’d hate to hit a poor animal.”

“Yeah, it’s not pretty.” He pulled his wallet from his pocket and laid some notes down. “Thanks, I’ll be quick, I’ve got to get home soon enough. I’ll take my usual too. Keep the change.”

“Any time, say hello to your girl for me!” He waved Suguru off as he made his way out of the store and bought the car around the side.

That’s when he called you.

“Hey hon, it’s late, are you alright?” Your concern came through obvious enough.

“Sorry Sweetie, I had a bit of a hiccup, but I’m fine, just got the car dirty. I’m getting her cleaned now so you don’t see all the animal yuck all over it.”

There was a pause on your end. “Did you… Did you hit something? I knew this fog was bad but-”

“I’m fine, don’t you worry. I’ll be twenty minutes, tops.” He really had to sell it. So he sang it a little. “I have sweets, I hope that makes up for my lateness? We still have time to drive out to the cabin tonight.”

You sighed audibly. “I guess we do have time.”

“I still have to show you just how dangerously you were living, don’t I? Can’t do that if we don’t have a car to do it in. Be ready when I get home sweetheart, I’ll make it up to you.”

Your silence was everything to him. You were contemplating it, he knew it. You’d take it, because you took everything Suguru gave you.

“I guess we could come to some sort of arrangement… But don't take too long. I miss you.” That was your own code and words for ‘don’t make me wait, I want your cock’. You were just that easy to read.

“Of course. Anything for you, Dearest.”

That made you chuckle. “Well get home safely. Everything’s packed. I love you.”

“I love you too, see you soon.” Suguru clicked the phone off and threw it into the centre console.

The next week was a break well worth it. All that stood between him and his time with you was washing Mr Simmons' guts off of the car and a few scattered teeth.

Then Suguru could finally rest from his impulses.

Prev <- -> Next

(Master list)

Taglist -> If you want to be tagged, let me know! <3

DISCLAIMER - I do not own any of the characters of Jujutsu Kaisen. This is a work of fan fiction and is absolutely not representative of the views or intentions of the original creator(s).

The side characters and advanced plot is my own work. A gift for @vampir-queen and original idea for this fic is their's.

Also Please don’t post any of my work without permission thank you!

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #x reader #geto #geto x reader #geto suguru #jjk geto #jujutsu geto #fem reader #suguru geto #suguru x reader #suguru x you #reader insert #no use of y/n

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gachagon · 2 years ago

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Manager!AU | Oliver Aiku x Fem!Reader | NSFW (18+)

___________________________________________________________

"Oliver Aiku eats you out in an elevator before an important interview..."

Pairing: Oliver Aiku X Fem!Reader

Words: 2.1k

Warnings: Smut, NSFW, 18+, kissing, thigh fucking, pussy eating, hickeys

Being Oliver Aiku's personal Manager was a hassle but it's a job you've grown used to as your job demands you perfect his image. You've scheduled a very important meeting for him, an interview that's bound to put him in the public spotlight once and for all! However right at the moment of truth, you both get stuck in the elevator and must wait for help to arrive. If only you could be on time for once...

Being Oliver Aiku’s personal manager was a hassle, but you were willing to put up with a lot of his antics. You’ve recently gotten him to stop having so many scandals abroad in clubs as he’s a bit of a flirt, and paparazzi love catching him with random women all the time. Now, however, you had to work on making him show up on time for his usual interviews and photo-shoots. Since the invention of Blue Lock TV, Oliver has been pretty popular. You’ve been hyping him up as this lone, mysterious player with an aloof yet humble attitude, but he’s not exactly the best at keeping the image up.

That and…sometimes he can get a bit side tracked with other things, and it’s mostly your fault. When you first started as his manager, Oliver would flirt with you in private, complimenting the way you look, your hair, your eyes. And it was a lot of fun talking with him casually outside of work, when neither of you had to keep up the soccer talk. Soon thing’s progressed far past flirting, and one thing led after another. Soon you were regularly sprawled in various places around his office, whenever there was the chance of no one bothering you for a while.

Oliver was particularly addicted to catching you off guard and making you come in the most unexpected places. While most of your meetings happened in his office, sometimes he’d find you in an empty hallway, or alone in the staff bathroom. The Blue Lock facility was ginormous, so very rarely were there other people in all corners of the building.

Today, however, you had made it quite clear to him that you couldn’t fool around at all. A match was soon to start, and his public image was of the utmost importance. That meant you actually had to make it on time to the interviews and photo-shoots this week, otherwise he’d lose out on potential sponsorships in the future (Which would make the JFN really annoyed at him, and by proxy you.)

“Did you go over your lines like I asked, Oliver?” You glance back at him as you both crowd into the small elevator. The interview was thankfully being held at the Blue Lock facility, so there was no need to commute anywhere.

Oliver yawned as he leaned against the back wall of the elevator. “Yeah, yeah. I stayed up all night and everything.” He said, tiredly. “Do we really have to do all of these interviews? They ask the same questions every time…”

You smile, “Well starting today we’re going to work on how the public perceives you. Right now they ask the same things over and over because they don’t know you that well…” You said. “But if you follow my directions perfectly, and if we make it on time…then surely this will make people view you differently!” You were confident in the notes you had given him, and Oliver was dutiful enough to study over them. He’s got a good memory, surely he won’t forget what to say…You think, but a small hint of doubt still gnaws at you, which says something could go terribly wrong any moment.

As the elevator rumbled downward, you noticed it’d been taking its sweet time to get to the bottom floor. Normally you’d have made it by now, and would already be herding Oliver towards the board meeting room where the interviews for the Blue Lockers were normally held. And then, all at once it stopped completely. You felt your heart drop to your stomach as you waited for the doors to open, but to no avail. The dial up above which showed what floor you were on blinked in between 2 and 3.

“Oops…looks like we’re stuck.” Oliver smirked. “Man, ain’t that just our luck. I hope the interviewers won’t be disappointed.”

You groan inwardly as you press the button again, but still nothing happens. With a sigh, you resign yourself to calling for help on the intercom. However, the news from the front desk who are going to help is no better.

“Sorry Miss Y/N, but it looks like the repair crew won’t be able to arrive for uh…another 30 minutes.” The receptionist’s kind voice spoke from the intercom's speaker.

“30 minutes?!” You let your head rest on the doors of the elevator. “We’re definitely going to be late…again!”

“I’ll let the interviewers know about your predicament Ms. Y/N, don’t worry!” and then the intercom fell silent as the receptionist went off to explain the issue they were having.

Oliver chuckled and walked up from behind, “Aw, cheer up Y/N, I’m sure the interviewers will understand. Besides, maybe you can work it into this new persona you’re trying to sculpt for me.” He said with a sly smile. “Maybe they’ll like it if I’m a bit of a delinquent.”

You shook your head, “No, absolutely not! Besides you’re…not good at pretending to be a bad boy. We tried that once, remember? It completely backfired.” Oliver may be a bit of a flirt, but he was too kind to people to be perceived in such a way. “You’re too much of a gentleman. Nobody would buy it.”

“Oh? Is that how you see me?” Oliver wrapped his arms around you and rested his head on the crook of your shoulder. “Nice to know I’m not hated by my favorite Manager, at least.”

“I’m your only manager, Oliver.” You stifle a laugh as you try to push his head away from kissing your cheek. “And knock it off, would you? An elevator is the last place I want to be caught.” And I can’t imagine that’d fly over well with anyone at the JFN.

Oliver persisted, however, and hugged you closer to his body as he peppered soft kisses along your neck and shoulder. “We have some time to kill, help’s not coming for another half hour or so…” He says as he lazily sucks into a spot on your neck. You feel his hand drag along your body upward to your collar where you’d buttoned your shirt, and your breath caught in your throat as he pulled on the first one with his fingers.

You shook your head again, “No, no we shouldn’t! I mean, what if the repair crew comes earlier than expected?” You asked, and Oliver chuckled.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be really quick.” He said, leaving another mark on your neck. You silently debated on it for a short moment, before giving in.

……………………………………………………………………………………………

Your legs trembled slightly as you braced your back against the elevator wall, your hand curled into a fist against the cool metal. Your attention was purely on the man below you, however, as Oliver knelt on the floor and hitched your skirt up to reveal your panties. His hands were on your hips so as to steady your shaky legs, and you let out soft weak mewls as he mouthed at your clothed pussy.

You weakly ground down onto his mouth, “Stop teasing already…” You said in a breathy tone. You let out a soft moan as Oliver chuckled into your mound.

“So impatient…” Oliver said as he gently pulled the thin strap of your panties to the side, and delved into your folds with his tongue. Your breath quickly became labored while Oliver’s tongue worked its way deep inside of you. You had always loved it when he would go down on you, because Oliver had an unusually long tongue that would twist and lick its way to your core. Oliver had a tendency to smile at you whenever you both caught each other’s eye, which only heightened the pleasure you felt from his mouth.

Your voice began to break as his tongue ghosted against that special nerve, and you thrusted weakly against his mouth, fucking yourself against his tongue. It was never enough, however, and frustration began to claw at your mind as you tried desperately to come.

“Please, Oli- I need-” You couldn’t get the words out entirely as your hips worked hard to grind your pussy against his lips. You could feel them quirk into a smirk as he continued to lick up into you, his tongue reaching hard to brush against that special spot each time. He brought his hand down from your hip to the top of your pussy and rubbed the pad of his thumb against your clit in slow circles. “Ah!” Your voice became louder than you wanted it to be in this small elevator, and you quickly clamped a hand over your mouth.

You felt tears prick in your eyes as Oliver watched your every move with a satisfied grin on his face. He picked up the pace with his thumb, rapidly rubbing against it now while he pushed his head deeper into your pussy. His tongue reached deeper than it had before this time, and now you could feel it push against that bundle of nerves with each stroke. With a muffled cry against your palm, you came on his tongue, your walls squeezing around it as if it were a real dick.

Oliver hummed against your pussy again, giving you one last lick against that spot deep inside before he slowly pulled away. He looked very debauched with the remnants of your orgasm still on his lips, and you had the decency to blush a little. As Oliver stood up, he towered over you, and swiftly turned you around so that your palms were braced against the wall. Your legs felt weak, but he supported you with a hand on your waist.

“Put your legs together, sweetheart.” He whispered into your ear, and you complied immediately as you straightened your legs, despite the weak jello feeling in them. You heard the faint rustle of clothes, and then felt something poke at the back of your thighs. Oliver gripped your hips, and dragged you backwards so that his cock could slide easily between your clenched thighs. Your pussy leaked and helped glide his cock along, and you began to feel that familiar heat rush to your clit as his dick brushed against it with each thrust.

You covered your mouth again as your voice rose higher. Oliver’s own voice became urgent as he thrusted faster and faster, jolting your body forward lightly. The elevator soon filled with the lewd noises coming from between the both of you, and you couldn’t believe how close you were to coming again. Oliver pressed your body up against the wall, and you let your cheek rest against the cool metal as your breasts were squished in a tense press. He thrusted harder and faster between your thighs, and let out a breathy moan as he came profusely, his cum leaking down into your panties. You came with him as his hips stuttered a few more times before stopping. Your moan escaped from between your fingers and you hunched your shoulders, afraid someone outside of the elevator might walk by and hear.

Oliver rested his head on your shoulder again as he tiredly slumped forward and hugged your body closer to his.

“Ugh…” You looked down at the mess he had made of your panties, inside and out. “Well, I guess we can clean up later…” You muttered. You had no wipes or tissue with you in your purse, seeing as you hadn’t planned on even doing this. But it seems neither of you were the best at keeping up with plans.

Oliver hummed against your shoulder contently, “Yeah, clean up later…besides, I wanna see you work all day with my cum in your panties. Think you can control yourself?” he asked with a lecherous smile. You scoffed and playfully pushed his head away from your shoulder as you pulled your panties up. You tried to suppress the shiver that racked along your body as you felt his still warm cum seep along your pussy.

“You're the one who can’t control himself. You’re just also…very convincing.” You said with a poke to his chest. Oliver laughs, and the two of you are brought out of your moment when a knock resounds on the elevator door.

“Hello? It’s the repair crew, Miss Y/N. Don’t worry, we’re here to get you out of there!” A gruff voice came from the other side of the doors.

“See? I told you they’d show up earlier than expected…” you said with crossed arms.

Oliver kissed your cheek, “And I told you I would be really quick.” he smirked against your face as he kissed your cheek again.

Just as the repair crew pried the doors open, you had both gotten yourselves presentable. At least he can be punctual about something, you thought as you both walked out of the elevator finally and into the hall.

#bllk smut #blue lock smut #bllk x reader #oliver aiku x reader #oliver aiku x you #blue lock x y/n

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emswritingsstuff · 6 months ago

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i saw ur head canon requesttttt, could u do something with carol x singer reader. like she was a famous singer before the outbreak 🫶🫶🫶

this is such an interesting idea i LOVE it

carol peletier x fem!singer!reader :

it was safe to say that really no one knew who you were when you joined the group. or at least they weren't outright about it

you heard some of the mumbles about it, but just from one of the younger girls. which was beth

she swore up and down she knew you and knew your voice. she could never place it, only having the realization when you started singing with her one night

she kept quiet about it though, really only telling maggie. which you were internally grateful for

despite being famous in the past life, it felt great to be treated "normally" and not having to worry about public opinion or how you were perceived

it was comedic to you, that it took the end of the world for you to be treated like a regular person

more times than not, you would catch yourself singing to yourself doing chores. just singing random songs that you had remembered, most of the time they weren't your own

while folding laundry, you sang gypsy by fleetwood mac to yourself. and when you did that carol walked past, stopping to talk to you

"i love that song, missed hearing it. you have a beautiful voice by the way."

your face instantly getting red, you took the compliment saying "thank you, i actually used to sing before everything"

that made carol smile, just thinking the singing you did was karaoke with friends

but it seemed carol always found you when you were singing, whether it was singing to judith, when you were doing chores, or just sitting by yourself in your cell

your voice relaxed her, it was like she could listen to you sing all day and she wished that was possible

when talking to beth one day, she let it slip that you were a famous in the past

carol was confused for a few reasons. why did you never talk about it? did she even know any of your song? and the most important one

how can she get a recording of you singing

before going on a run, carol enlisted the help of daryl. simply just asking him to look for a cd or anything like that of your music for her

he thought it was an odd request but kept it in the back of his head. and by the grace of god, he had found a cd of an ep you did a few years before the fall

once carol got her hands on it, she was quick to borrow (steal) rick's cd player for a bit, just wanting to listen to the music as soon as possible

to put it simply, she loved it. hearing your voice like that made her feel on cloud 9. and she even found herself remembering some of the songs

out of excitement and just pure happiness, she rushed to your cell to show you her finding

when your brain registered what she had, it all hit you. "you found out?"

"beth let it slip. can i get your autograph though?"

and of course you gave it to her

you would ask carol her favorite song, and she had to admit. her favorite was one she had heard so long ago

"the cheesy love song, my daughter liked it. every time it was on the radio she made sure it stayed on"

from that point on, you felt so comfortable to sing around her. sometimes even singing for her, which she enjoyed a lot more than what she let on

"taking any requests?"

"not usually, but for you i will"

#carol peletier #carol peletier x reader #twd carol #carol peletier headcanons #the walking dead #the walking dead x reader #headcanons

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iamnmbr3 · 3 days ago

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14, 31, 34 for post-canon Draco? 👀

-14- goals and intentions

To try to pull his shambles of a life into something vaguely resembling order, to be a better person - even if no one will ever give him credit or the benefit of the doubt or believe that he isn't up to something - and to try to make up for some of the harm he contributed to. He's pretty pessimistic and doesn't expect much. He's pretty sure he's condemned to life as a pariah living on the edges of society and that he'll never succeed at much of anything ever again - and he thinks he probably deserves it - but he's determined to try anyway.

-31- way they are perceived by others

Not well for the most part. Death Eater loyalists hate his family for being traitors and having failed the Dark Lord and everyone else hates them for apparently having been highly favored members of Voldemort's inner circle. No one's in the mood to listen to sob stories or excuses. The only way he manages to avoid Azkaban is Harry showing up at his trial and providing critical evidence that gets him off with only a year of monitored probation without his wand.

He writes apology letters to the people he wronged, not expecting any of them to believe or forgive him. He decides to study to be a healer, never expecting any program to accept him (who'd want to let a Death Eater near vulnerable patients?). He tries to help people where he can, not expecting anyone to see it as anything other than a cynical but doomed effort to pretend he's changed his ways.

Most of the letters go unanswered, or get the kind of answer he expected - letting him know in no uncertain terms that they are not buying his false attempts to ingratiate himself and pretend he's changed. But not all of them. Some people do offer him forgiveness or even well wishes - including Hermione Granger of all people, despite the fact that he'd been half afraid to even open her reply for fear touching it might unleash some terrible vengeful curse. He gets top marks in his exams but he's right that no Healer program will accept him.

He does get a job as a curse breaker though. Some of the skills are similar since of course Healers deal with cures and he was always good at Charms and he does, after all, know an awful lot about Dark Magic; his experiences as a Death Eater probably helped get him the job. The job's alright, though he wishes he could have escaped his past. His colleagues think he's useful but not trustworthy. Some won't speak to him but some warm up to him eventually.

He also spends time in the muggle world, where no one knows him or hates him, never expecting anyone in the wizarding world to see it as anything other than a suspicious plot from a known muggle hater. It's nice to have friends, even if they can never truly know him since there is so much he can't tell them. Sometimes when they aren't looking he casts helpful little spells to ease the troubles of his muggle friends, knowing no one will ever know.

The years pass. He finds Harry again. Because they always find each other. Christmases with the Weasleys are fraught but get easier over time. He and Ron form something like a truce since they both love Harry. He strikes up a friendship with Daphne & Astoria Greengrass now that, as Daphne puts it, he isn't a massive prat anymore. When he an Harry announce their relationship much of the public reaction isn't kind. But he finds he doesn't care much. He's found his people.

-34- feelings about themself

Not great. Draco feels a great deal of guilt and self hatred and a need to atone for his actions. As things get better for him it lessens somewhat, but it always lingers there as part of his post-war self.

Ask game here

#asks #ask game #drarry #hpdm #Draco Malfoy #Harry Potter #Draco Malfoy headcanons #my headcanons

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hautevaux · 5 months ago

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OOC: Vaux, when it comes to being in the public eye, is all smiles and waves for the cameras, cheeky winks and flirty smiles. He's happy, he acts exactly as the fashion icon he is perceived as, he's relaxed with it all - as if it's perfectly natural.

But inside he absolutely detests it, hates the lack of privacy, finds half of the questions diverted at him to be awful breaches to his personal life, can't stand the constant and unending need to keep up appearances wherever he goes.

And it's why he relies so much on the persona of Vaux that he has built, because without it he wouldn't be able to continue. He puts on that persona the say way one would out on their shoes in the morning before leaving for work.

Sure, he's still fashionable, he still adores his work, he loves the clients he gets and the little bit of limelight that comes from being recognised as so-and-sos stylist at x-gala, or whatever. But ultimately, Vaux hates the fact that he always had to pretend to be exactly what people and the media believe him to be.

The real Vaux, under all the showmanship, is just a guy with a lot of terrible insecurities that I think do gradually get worse over the years because of having to ignore them and parade as something else.

But he carries on in that lonely little bubble of his, just idly hoping that one day maybe someone might notice that his bright and flirty smile isn't genuine, that his eyes look like those of a man haunted by the past... That he might be able to show a little genuine bit of himself to make a connection.

Because, yanno, any potential connection he makes - romantic or platonic - he always ends up afraid of because those people don't know the real Vaux. They fall for the persona, and that alone always ends up making him feel so much worse because it isn't him... And he does strongly believe that the real him just isn't attractive or worthy of that love and adoration in the same way his persona is.

He's lonely. He's isolated. But you wouldn't know it, not from his media coverage or blog, not from his website, not from his catwalks or submissions to fashion week. That's... Just the way it has to be: he sees no light at the end of the tunnel, no better scenario where he can have a happy life and be successful.

#lyrieux talks bullshit || ooc ||#Idk I'm having Vaux feelings today OK? 🥹

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dukemeropide · 6 months ago

Note

24. How do they present themselves socially? What distinguishes their “persona” from their “true self”, and what causes that difference?

Character Dev Questions | no longer accepting

There is a stark line between "the Duke" and Wriothesley. Something that a lot of people (in general, not just in the game) don't realize is the necessity of a persona when you're a public figure. Cultivating a character separate from whatever you consider to be your "true" personality eases the strain and stress of making difficult decisions, the constant barrage of public opinion and scrutiny, and interacting with others. It's easier to separate your personal feelings from that of public persona because at the end of the day you recognize that the persona is just a mask made for a specific duty. For example, the Duke must punish rule-breakers, sometimes rather cruelly, to uphold peace within the Fortress but that does not mean that Wriothesley is himself a heartless or cruel person.

A public persona also gives some degree of control over how people think about and perceive you. The Fortress' Duke has a reputation of being elusive, intimidating, powerful, and omniscient. Wriothesley himself refutes the idea that he knows about everything happening in the Fortress at any given moment, yet the inmates believe this, and fear of being discovered keeps most of them in line. That reputation serves Wriothesley rather well, so if anything, he feeds into this perception.

I'm straying from the question, however.

The Duke of the Fortress of Meropide is an illustrious leader, as innovative as he is terrifying. He runs a tight ship though, and is quick to fix anyone whose numbers in the production zone are lagging. While judgment and corrections are rarely handed out by the Duke personally, the loyalty of his many guards lends the impression that he has eyes and ears everywhere. His office situated in the center of the entire prison bolsters this idea as well. He is loved by the people for the quality of life improvements he's made to the Fortress, but he is equally feared for his power, which has no checks. To earn a personal visit from the Duke often means that one's fate is on the line, and this often causes inmates to stumble over themselves to try to impress him.

Wriothesley is likewise conscientious of his appearance as the Duke. He dresses in a style that balances practicality with finery, because looking too much like a snobby noble will lose the respect of the people who will see him as out of touch, but dressing like another inmate will lose the respect of the people who will see him as too much like themselves. He instead presents himself as wealthy, yet ready and able to work hard. Clean, but not sterile, put together but not stiff, he shaves daily to maintain this aspect of his appearance. Additionally, the occasional flash of his boxing gloves - whether for maintenance or for use - will straighten out any inmate who knows the Duke's reputation as a Pankration champion.

Behind the mask of the Duke is someone who is softer and easier to get along with. Wriothesley is, in general, a laidback man with a good sense of humor. He's hospitable and friendly, he empathizes with the people of the Fortress, because this is his home as much as it is theirs, and he has a curiosity and willingness to learn that he keeps separate from the Duke's steel-clad image. However, this, too, is another persona. I would argue that "Wriothesley" is a character he adopted on the day he was sentenced to the Fortress. Discarding his name, his birthday, and all of his past connections and being thrown into a place where no one else knew him allowed him to be reborn as someone else. Wriothesley is the wily inmate who overthrew the previous administrator, the quiet boy who learned through observation how to wield the elements without a Vision, the constant underdog in the Pankration ring, and the bullheaded, tenacious, almost masochistic teenager who refuses to give up or rest no matter how many times he gets knocked down.

According to his character stories though, Wriothesley has never forgotten who he was before he came to the Fortress. At the very center of his person, he holds onto his old name and memories of his old family. He is the "young psychopath." The "culprit of coldblooded patricide." The "sewer trash." The "scummy urchin." All the things he had been in an old life. He's still all of that, neither good nor bad.

#out of character #headcanons #// this was a really good one - thanks so much for sending sen!#// self-fashioning? in my fontaine?#// rai and I have talked a number of times about how all the characters in fontaine play characters for the public eye #// and wriothesley is no exception #// with that my inbox is CLEAR #// time to work on gallagher's next

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crumbsssscookie · 4 months ago

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🩵 here!

Please steal whatever ideas I send in my asks lol it's an honor since most of these are just random things that pop into my head!

Anyways, I was wondering how/if you were going to continue to explore how Logan feels being a woman in her new life? Obviously, she's used to being one of the boys, but does that mentality ever cause her to slip up?

For example:

Would Logan occasionally forget that her body has changed? I mean, on OG Logan posted a lot of shirtless pics or stripped his race suit and fireproofs down in certain Williams videos, so he was comfortable like that. Do you think she'd ever forget and just take off her fireproofs after a session when she's exhausted and feels gross in the Prema drivers room without accounting for the fact that Oscar is right behind her and that she's a girl now? (Poor Oscar would do a very quick turn around and face the door until she realized what'd she'd done, but that'd take a minute imo)

Or during interviews when she's asked about her struggles as a woman in racing or when the press/fans/randoms are misogynistic to her, would she get thrown? Would others, like her PR person or Nico, point out things that Logan hadn't noticed because she's still getting used to perceiving herself as a woman?

Sorry for the deep thought questions! Just really interested in your take on things!

🩵

Omg, that’s a hard hitter if I ever seen one 😅 I've put it all under the cut, because I feel this could double as my dissertation...

To be honest, I hadn’t planned on explicitly exploring Logan’s feeling about being a woman now. At least not consciously. I’m very go with the flow with my writing rather than planning all out down to a T. When I’m brainstorming for ideas, I usually write what feels right and fits for my characterization of Logan in that very moment. But it will be a part of the broader character evolution I have in mind.

Broken down on just the gender aspect of things, right now Logan feels very content with being a woman. In my head there are three distinct Logans. OG Logan, AU Logan and Post-time-travel AU Logan who exists ever since the memories and experiences of the first two were merged in chapter one.

Our Logan, the post-time-travel AU Logan is well aware that she is a woman and doesn’t really mind it. I didn’t exactly write it out, but I imagine in those first few days where she was holed up in her room, unsure how to handle Morgan or her family, she had enough time to mull over her new identity and get acquainted with her new body.

Although she makes up only about one third of Logan’s overall part of herself, AU Logan had a higher impact on how Logan handles herself in the beginning. Because the challenges she faced as a girl in motorsport and her place in it, are the “newest” information. It makes Logan approach her goals for this life consciously and methodically. Up until now, Logan is not one to pull the big spotlight on herself. She is happy with following her plan and is fine with performing well but would do nothing controversial that would pull the focus too much. But over time, as she meets the people she knows from her past life, OG Logan’s characteristics will gradually come forward as well. Like in the scene with Jenson when she acts impulsively because she forgot that he doesn’t know her yet but is desperate to have a similarly tight relationship to him as she had in the original timeline.

So with time, I see Logan forgetting not that her body changed but absolutely the part about how the public’s perception on her body changed. Seeing as this is technically the body of AU Logan, who had insecurities concerning her body like every woman on earth, our Logan would be aware of them too and acknowledge them. But paired with laid back, content with his body view of OG Logan, it makes her feel confident in her body bc it’s not like she can change them. She can only love herself for being who she is.

So yeah, this is just a roundabout way to tell you, that if she can’t be bothered, she’d act first and think later. Her own comfort is in that case more important than adhering to nonsense patriarchal norms. It’s not like she’s naked, she wears a sports bra underneath, and a fresh shirt is quickly on hand. (So unfortunately, no sudden undressing in the boy’s Prema driver’s room but the boys could get the occasional glimpse of sports bra Logan in the hallway before she reached hers.)

Also, she wouldn’t change shirts on air, but the common after race move of pulling up the hem of the fireproofs to “air out” with the abs on full display, Logan would absolutely do as well. (I also see her getting community service at least once for this in F1 because MBS feels uncomfortable with women living their best lives).

Our girl Logan is also an avid surfer and still a Floridian, so bikini pics on Insta would be a regular occurrence. Her PR agent would eat this up too, because it fits Logan’s brand of being the people’s princess of motorsport or F1 in particular.

The two situations Logan would be out of her depth, even though she’s comfortable in her own skin, is one, when the media would really lock onto the supposed “blemishes” in her appearance, and two, when she has to interact with people in a “dressier” environment.

The first situation would probably arise when she has created enough buzz to gather the attention of the non-motorsport outlets. Like she could be ridiculed for her paddock fit in a dodgy fashion magazine or the common weight related articles paired with blurry paparazzi pics. And it would put her in serious distress because why do people care for this shit, why not go and criticize her for her objective race results rather than this subjective bullshit. It would also make her angry and see her snapping at journalists if they dare to ask her something related on media duty. Nico would be the one to point out to her, that although he can understand her frustrations, she can’t behave like this. But rather than make her shut up, he would ask her to tone it down, because it’s better to still show defiance without getting personal.

The second situation would be public events that aren’t racing related bc OG Logan is already one of the drivers that falls into the category that doesn’t really like this whole part that comes with the job. So when Logan now has to wear a dress or being otherwise dolled up would make her even more uncomfortable. I think her mom or Morgan or even Nicole could help her overcome that, reminding her that almost every woman feels that way and that it isn’t something she should feel bad about. In my head, that would also fit in with AU Logan’s part of the characters, since she’s a teenager. Because when I think back to how I was at 18, I hadn’t figured out yet that other girls also felt uncomfortable in those situations, even if they looked like the most confident creatures on earth.

I hope that answers your questions bc they definitely melted my brain 🙈 Not mad though, I simply had to take a few days to mull it over like Logan did when she was brought back in time 😉

#~ cookie answers 🩵 anon ~#~ cookie answers ~#girl!logan #fem!logan #first I thought I could answer this ask before the race #think again cookie #think agian #think again

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