#it's so hard on her because he DOES want to save the world
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more lads dad!au because dad!zayne and dad!caleb beef would be hilarious. spinoff from this drabble
The thing about heart surgeons was that they spent years in medical school, training relentlessly to save lives. But despite Zayne’s expertise, the one thing he couldn’t mend was his four-year-old daughter’s broken heart.
“Elsa, sweetheart, why are you crying?” he asked, crouching to her level as she hiccuped between sniffles.
“Because Archer doesn’t want to be married to me anymore,” Elsa sobbed, rubbing her fists against her red-rimmed eyes.
“He said he likes Cece.”
Oh. His heart.
His daughter was barely out of preschool, and she was already experiencing the crushing weight of betrayal. While he remained calm on the outside, Zayne was seething on the inside. How dare this boy break his daughter’s heart? Who did he think he was?
“Archer?”
“Caleb’s son,” you chimed in from the doorway, setting Elsa’s backpack down on its hook.
Oh. It all made sense now.
There were rumors that Caleb had been Mr. Popular back in high school, then again in college, and even at the academy. The kind of guy who could walk into a room and instantly become the center of attention, effortlessly drawing in mobs of adoring fangirls. His son, apparently, had inherited those same infuriatingly charming qualities.
Zayne clenched his jaw. No one, not even another four-year-old, was going to trample on his baby’s feelings and walk away unscathed. He turned back to Elsa, brushing a damp strand of hair from her cheek.
“Sweetheart, listen to me,” Zayne said gently, wiping away the last of Elsa’s tears with his thumb. “You don’t need to be married to Archer. You’re the most brilliant, kind, and incredible little girl in the whole world.”
Elsa sniffled. “Really?”
“Absolutely. Now, let me ask you something: does Archer know medical terminology?”
Elsa frowned, thinking hard. “No,” she admitted, shaking her head.
Zayne gasped dramatically. “See? That right there is a red flag, sweetheart. You’re already smarter than him! Do you know how many medical words you know?”
Elsa sniffled again, but a tiny smile started forming. “A lot.”
“That’s right! And what’s the big one you learned last week?”
“Myocardial infarction!”
Zayne’s eyes widened in exaggerated amazement. “That’s incredible! Now, tell me, does Archer know what a myocardial infarction is?”
Your daughter scrunched up her nose, thinking. Then she clapped her hands. “No!”
“Sweetheart, how could you possibly be married to someone who doesn’t even know what that is?”
Elsa giggled, wiping at her damp cheeks.
“What other big words do you know?” Zayne encouraged, leaning in.
She tapped a finger against her chin before her face lit up. “Hippocampus!”
“That’s my girl!” Zayne grinned, nodding approvingly. “Anything else?”
Elsa’s eyes gleamed with excitement. “Gluteus maximus!”
She giggled so hard at the meaning of gluteus maximus that she nearly toppled over, but Zayne caught her just in time, lifting her up and pressing a kiss to her forehead. Just minutes ago, she had been devastated over some preschool betrayal, and now she was giggling about medical jargon like the brilliant little girl she was.
It was far better than pining over a boy who didn’t even know what a myocardial infarction was.
☾⋆
“Hey, I saw Zayne today at drop-off, and he was squinting at me the whole time,” Caleb said, pulling Eden out of his high chair.
“Huh. Did he have his glasses on?” his wife asked, refilling Stella’s sippy cup.
Caleb furrowed his brow. “Now that I think about it…no, he didn’t. Oh! That makes so much sense! I waved at him, like, three times, but he just kept squinting. Poor guy was probably struggling to see without them.”
Cece - Sylus' daughter Eden & Stella - Caleb's twins
#zayne love and deepspace#love and deepspace#lads zayne#zayne drabble#li shen#lads#lnds zayne#lads drabble#Zayne#zayne fluff
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Oh dear. My brain gets easily overwhelmed by compound questions and I compensate by reponding in broad ways to cover as much ground as possible, but I think you had expected me to go deeper. My apologies. Let me see if I understand what you are asking precisely.
The explanation you are looking for is in how the Goetia function like celebrities, you meant that as a physical behavior? Because I admit there isn't a single one action that is a direct comparison to celebrities. In relation to Stolas' position, all we have is the Harvest Moon celebration where all Stolas appears to do is make a speech, open his portal, and then just hang out. It's a purely ceremonial and performative spectacle.
So going back to the original post where I deconstructed power, the question is what purpose does the spectacle serve? If the power was centralized in Stolas and his position in the aristocracy, then it should have been more focused on deifying Stolas for his magic and affirming the social dynamics of their society.
But it is precisely the fact this is so underdeveloped that we can't actually attribute any weight to it. So when you take away the power in a scene like that, it becomes entertainment.
And that's why I think the larger conversation with Elcee is relevant as the central focus of my position revolved around world-building and how the lack of it stripped these characters of the necessary context to elevate their positions to one of actual power.
Your next two paragraphs are a bit more closely related so I will treat those as a separate conversation, because what you are talking about here are the different types of power: Hard Power and Soft Power.
This is the archetypal duel between intellect and brute strength. The terms Hard and Soft power are coined in regards to international relations.
Hard power to a nation is their military. In an example, say America wants Canada's oil fields. Anything in relation to the use of one's military, even simply as a threat, is an expression of Hard Power. Trump lining up troops along the border would be a display of Hard Power.
Soft power is the socio-political side. It is NATO, the Red Cross, USAID. Soft power is charity in exchange for political influence. Financial and material support to another country that is experiencing unrest, famine, disease, and war. These business-style agreements and friendly negotiations are how power is maintained.
So in regards to Stella and Stolas, Stolas has all the hard power. The person in any true danger when the two of them are together is Stella. The only things that can kill Stolas are angelic weapons of a very high caliber. But Stolas could just turn Stella into stone. She isn't killed, but physically rendered completely incapable of causing him harm.
Or more in line with his show characterization, he could just leave. The leniency provided towards victims of abuse is the understanding that the abusers and victims are equals outside of the abusive dynamic. The tendency of abuse to psychologically disempower the victim is real, and why many victims stay in these dynamics. Let alone the ways the victims are physically isolated.
There is no "belief" in powerlessness with Stolas. This character reached across dimensions to reanimate corpses in order to summon himself the good old fashion way. That is cosmic levels of power. There is nothing stopping Stolas from just scooping up his daughter and hopping through a portal, save for his own arbitrary choice to stay and blaming that choice on his child.
If we switch to Stella's side, it's important to note what is and is not canon. What Andrealphus tells Stella is that she will lose everything to Octavia if Stolas dies. So that means Octavia, being heir, is entitled to everything that her father inherited from his father. So the title, Manor, money, and other assets Stolas inherited and accrued. Meanwhile Stella is only entitled to what she brought into the relationship. Because the noble lineage of higher rank has a winner-takes-all method of inheritance. It's why being acknowledged by one's parents' families was such a big deal.
And it is necessary to remember Andrealphus is a Marquis, meaning that is also Stella's rank of birth. The European aristocracy ranks from the top down:
As seen here, Stella was brought up the ranks to Princess. In a divorce, she would be entitled to some reparations in the form of monetary compensation, but would lose her title.
But if the title was so important to Stella, she should be wanting to protect it at all costs. The thing that contradicts that is how she embarrasses her husband. Because her title is one she acquired from him, devaluing her husband is directly going to devalue herself among the other Goetia. So we can't even get to the conversation of Soft Power because her canon behavior would have ruined her reputation alongside her husband's.
What would have been in line with this behavior would have been Stella seeking a divorce from the beginning. Making Stolas look bad would have only assisted in her being awarded more reparations for how terribly he treated her. It would be how Paimon would "clean up" Stolas' image in the courts.
And please note that I am focusing solely on titles, not sex. I am functioning on the assumption that if Stella was a princess who married beneath her, Stolas would be in the same position as she is in the canon.
On a completely unrelated aside, I am approaching the conversation of Stolas and his abuse from the duel viewpoint in how the show wants me to see him and what his abilities contextualize his actions. The only way to justify Stolas' cheating the way the show wants me to requires Stolas being trapped in the relationship due to forces outside of himself, or have him just admit that he cheated on Stella to hurt her. Which the show explicitly denies.
The show is too scared to just let Stolas be cruel in retaliation to her cruelty, and I think most Stolas Critics would be less hostile to the character if the show would just allow him to do terrible things for the sake of them being terrible. The aspect that endears an audience to problematic characters is the catharsis we feel through them. Him lashing out against Stella being acknowledged for what it was would have entirely changed my whole position on the show.
But because Stolas is magically and socially superior to Stella, you cannot argue that his cheating is also innocent. It's not removing the significance of his abuse. But his cheating is not excused by it due to the context. It isn't elevating cheating over abuse, merely saying they are unrelated and mutually exclusive. Those are two separate conversations in their entirety that cannot be used to justify each other.
But I think that covers all of it? I do hope I was able to give you a better response this time. My apologies again. Please let me know if I got anything wrong.
I've seen your tweet which criticizes the worldbuilding in Helluva Boss and how the Goetias feel like "Hollywood with royal titles" rather than true aristocracy, and I would like you to elaborate on that, if that's OK.
Thank you so much for this ask as I never got to expand on this point at the time. For those not in the know, the user is referencing this exchange on Twitter.
As much as the elites of our world would like to disperse the truth, the reality is that all societies are constructed around power. Who has power, how and why. That is the fundamental basis of every social dynamic from children on a playground to the politicians in our governments. So the very first thing we should even approach in regards to the narrative is how does power work in this universe?
So when I responded to Elcee in the tweet being referenced, I am evaluating power and power structures. Mainly there are two wholly different constructs of power between something like the aristocracy and celebrities.
The closest thing to an aristocracy we have in our modern day are the financial oligarchs of Capitalism. Elon Musk, Jeff Bezos, Bill Gates, etc. They have control everything from how our political parties engage with us to how we think based on the wealth they were born into. They curate our lives behind the scenes in ways that sound worthy of a tinfoil hat, but isn't a conspiracy. The wealthy were threatened in the 1970s by an educated proletariate. In response to our questioning the Vietnam war, the higher education that was once free or at least extremely affordable suddenly became prohibitively expensive.
So much so that only the financial aristocracy could access it. Whereas working class individuals are forced to jump through hoops and prove themselves suitably subservient to the existing power of the oligarchy in the form of scholarship applications, teacher recommendations and application letters before being granted access. This is not a mistake or how it's always been, this is by design.
Meanwhile, Celebrities are not elites. While we think of celebrities as being overpaid and living in luxury, it only takes a glance over at Chappell Roan to see the difference. When Jeff Bezos or Elon Musk or any large corporate CEO walks the red carpet, they are treated as royalty. When celebrities walk the red carpet, they are commodities.
Celebrity is the modern day face of the American Dream. Gone are the days of a single family home and a white picket fence. The boom of content over art, luxury over practicality, and excess over comfort is directly the result of selling to the world the idea of capitalistic success, which just amounts to perpetuating the system of turning humans into money. And for as much money as these celebrities make, it has been proven over and over again that they are just as susceptible to poverty as any other working class individual.
Celebrities are products we buy, and when we stop buying them, they vanish.
Meanwhile the aristocracy, the financial oligarchy, thrives in obscurity.
The difference in power is about who still has it when we no longer see them. And the more invisible and pervasive it is, the more real it is. However one as an individual thinks about the celebrity class, they are simple a different type of specialized tool to the true power behind the scenes.
With that differential in mind, the Goetia function more like celebrities rather than CEOs, and while Elcee fails to see the bigger picture, that subliminally tells the audience that someone with the title of prince, with armies sworn to his allegiance and infinite cosmic power, is no different than a working class joe.
This isn't intentional propaganda, however. It's not her trying to further the agendas of Jeff Bezos intentionally. Just like my other post covering how Medrano tries to excuse cheating, not realizing the only time one can argue such a blanket concept of forgiveness for such a betrayal can only happen when the option of choice is non-existent (ie Divorce is not on the table for reasons outside of the characters’ choices), this is the danger of not engaging with media with your mind turned on. You will innately, no matter how careful someone tries to be, engage with the material through the eyes of the creator.
Celebrities and average people are the same: commodities in the face of real power. But Medrano cannot tell the difference between someone like Elon Musk and his employees. She sees the aristocracy, the ones who were born into a legacy of wealth, as “hardworking average folks”. And if you aren't thinking, you might find yourself implicitly believing that too. Deeper entrenching the power they have over you as an individual and society as a whole.
How we got to where we are in our real lives is mirrored in the media we consume. And that isn't an accident.
#vivziepop critical#helluva boss critical#helluva boss criticism#vivziepop criticism#helluva boss critique#spindlehorse critical#vivienne medrano#stolas critical#power structures#world building
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we've talked a bit before about how obsessive scully is, that she's a zealot. and i was thinking about this when i posted about signs & wonders. it's how i think about her with mulder — specifically the idea that mulder is a (her) prophet, the way her faith shifts to him. she follows him, protects him, believes (in) him. the way that, in the show, he's objectively right so she's right to take his side. it's reinforced even as they're "punished" for it. is this what you mean or maybe something else i haven't really considered?? what scenes/episodes do you think this plays out most? (as always, love anything you have to say especially about scully <3)
yeah that's basically what i've been thinking about...but like, when you posted about signs & wonders, this was the ending dialogue that you shared:
Mulder: If this was some sort of test looks like I failed. Scully: I'd say if it was, you passed with flying colors. You're alive, aren't you?
and i think it gets bypassed a lot of the time how reductive "believer/skeptic" is, in that these are roles that they play but often not really who they are. mulder isn't actually a believer, per se. he's trying to be, and it's extremely fragile and difficult ("you think believing is easy?"). scully is a natural devotee. she's catholic, born and bred, and feels most defined in faith. not just a belief: a completeness, a trust, a reliance. "based on spiritual apprehension rather than proof." (dictionary definition)
it's been addressed throughout the series, that despite her job as the skeptic, the one demanding evidence, she does not feel the need to prove what she believes in. she tells him that she believes in miracles, even if they can't be witnessed. when he asks what she would do to prove the existence of god, she says that she doesn't think about it. she doesn't think it can be proven. believing isn't difficult for her, isn't fragile, isn't frantic.
but "zealot" means "uncompromising," someone who fanatically pursues their beliefs and convictions. and it isn't belief in god, or dedication to the mission, that scully is violently committed to. signs & wonders is a religion-based episode, where they don't catch the killer. he safely moves to a new city to continue his work. but scully sits in “blessing, tennessee” and calls it a win, simply because she can say anything to him at all.
(collateral damage by audries: "he tells her he loves her, and she thinks someday she’ll tell him that the rest of the world is collateral damage. she’ll tell him that her prayers are selfish and that she is not the saint he thought, the savior he expected. she thinks she’d destroy the world for him, rather than save it, if it came to that...they’d wanted her to love the whole damn world, but she won’t. she wants it all narrowed down to one man in a dim basement and the way he falls asleep with his head in her lap, his restless hands and warm insistence and the way his coat gets darker and darker as he leaves her behind.")
it isn't steady, rational, commitment to her god or her family or her country ("i left behind a career in medicine to become an FBI agent four years ago because I believed in this country"), that she gives her last rights to on her deathbed. that she froze for in the artic, that she inked into her skin. it isn't to save the world that she gives up her child. her job. her home. her identity. and runs.
people tend to think of mulder as obsessive and myopic and that's true, it's hard to always be seeking. to always be following is terrifying.
#prophets and converts#love you and i love to talk about scully i just hate how everyone else talks about her#lol#what did i used to say? there's grief in being starbuck?#asks#signs and wonders#it's so hard on her because he DOES want to save the world#and it's part of why she is so dedicated to him#but as we've discussed before he isn't ever going to actually belong to her#it would actually probably be easier to prove the x-files and end the conspiracy than it would be for scully to ever see him still and safe#in iwtb when she says that she does NOT chase monsters anymore and she does NOT go into darkness anymore#'we're not fbi anymore mulder. we are two people who come home at night to a home.'#and he says 'this is who i've always been' and she says that's why she's scared#and she's a devout believer who has searched her whole life for something righteous to devote herself to and she does see him as a prophet#but all it does is leave her chasing something into the dark forever#and in iwtb she says that it's why she's scared AND that it's why she 'fell in love' with him#who up......................our-ing their boros
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(Same anon) It's also just a lot harder for me because Solas in Inquisition was trying to take down the Veil in a world that was genuinely shitty to elves, mages, and spirits (nvm that until this game I was 100% sure that he was trying to do this more for the ancient elves, like why else imply there are more out there to Abelas? I guess he was just being polite?) Veilguard depicts Thedas as being largely okay with mages and spirits even outside of Tevinter and pointedly doesn't depict racism against elves outside a handful of throwaway lines. So they had him going at this with the same conviction from DAI, of a man trying to reverse the slow genocide of his people, but they've boiled his motivations down to "The Veil is unnatural" Like. How much more awesome if we could have convinced him not to destroy the world because of a culmination of choices in this game and all the others that made Thedas a kinder place idk man. ngnegnwgnf sorry for ranting in your inbox, I still liked Solas enough in this game but it was really bittersweet that they just dumbed down his motivations. I love your idea for influencing the Inky though, it definitely should have been a choice closer to the end and allowed for more variations (ideally all Inkies should have that, not just the Solavellans)
Hello again, Anon! :)
100% agree that the sanitization of the world and lore absolutely hurts Solas's motivations - especially if you look at it solely from what Veilguard gives us and with no background from previous games. All of the previous games, mostly Origins, were really effective in conveying how shit life could be for an elf - and how inbuilt this prejudice against the elves was in all aspects of Thedas.
The chant of light removing the canticle of Shartan, the march on the Dales, the struggles of the Dalish to simply live, the treatment of elves by the ruling class/chantry/ and others in general...it all painted such a bleak outlook for the elves and showed how ingrained this prejudice was in all aspects of Thedas. They had no way out - the structures of power in Thedas would fight them at every turn - which was why Solas being set up as a way for them to fight against all these systems was so compelling! You want the elves to win - but it will be at the cost of everything else if Solas goes ahead with his plan.
(You can definitely also make an argument that perhaps he's using them just to restore the world from before -> Felassan argued with him about this: to see the world as it was as real and worth improving.)
DATV felt divorced from the previous games, and its reluctance to meaningfully go into issues surrounding the lives of elves in Thedas - all the ugliness that brings - really did nothing to add to Solas's motivations for bringing down the Veil. If anything, I got the impression that he does not see anyone in Thedas as being 'real' and that he's simply doing it out of regret and to soothe his own ego/guilt. If this game wanted me to be sympathetic towards Solas it didn't do a good job of making me feel it, especially when you look at the totality of everything that Solas has done.
What I took from Trespasser was that Solas wanted to heal the wound he had left on the world - the Veil - and what he had inadvertently done to the elves. He had given everything he had to free the elven people from oppression and tyranny, only to inadvertently leave them vulnerable to the same oppression from others -> taking away their magic and long lives in the process. He was so blinded by his goal (stopping the evanuris) that he failed to see what his own actions might have wrought in the process.
Trespasser set up the 'Elven Rebellion 2.0' with a Solas who was torn between the world he once knew and the world it had become in spite of his intentions. Does he truly care about the elven people in current Thedas? Or does he just care about the world that came before? In DAI he was such a fascinating character because he could be so polarizing! People loved him! People hated him! Both were correct!
But starting the game with the ritual, sanitizing the world (no real signs of conflicts about spirits, mages, elves, anything really etc...), and simplifying his motivations to "fix fade -> be immortal/magic -> profit"...it just feels so shallow.
Solas: "Long before we met, I failed my oldest friend. She died for that failure. If I leave the Veil in place, I am destroying the world she wanted."
He spells his motivations out pretty clearly at the end and it's just...Mythal? He doesn't seem to care about the elves that are currently living in Thedas - not even Lavellan. Like you said, in Tresspasser I also got the impression that he wanted stop the slow genocide of his people. But apparently it was 'Mythal All Along'!
The lack of supporters/agents really gives him no credence to say that this is anything that the elves want - elven Rook can even call him out on it and he doesn't care. For a character whose own trauma began with bring coerced into a body he didn't want he doesn't give a shit about doing the same to thousands of other elves.
It's far less compelling, to me at least, than what I felt was set up in DAI: the Dread Wolf, god of rebellion, rallying elves after ages of systematic abuse and oppression with the goal of liberating his people and restoring the world that was - the world he inadvertantly denied them with the consequences of his actions. Instead it's just Solas doing his own thing because he's right and he needs to fix what he did wrong for Mythal.
It would have been great to be able to convince him to change his mind/ pursue another path as a result of the culmination of our actions throughout the series. It could be a nice nod to our past decisions and a nice conclusion to see the results of those choice in missives/codex entries. Same as the 'south can repel the blight' counter idea, have their be some kind of 'convince Solas to pursue another option' tally that demonstrates that this world is willing to change and he should be too.
#Thanks for the ask!#the same anon who asked about the lavellan ending :)#the sanitized lore/world absolutely hurt the game - especially the elves#his motivations could also extend to wanting to restore the titans but the game emphasizes that mythal is the key to what he's doing#which is weird since he ends up killing her in DAI?? lmao#solas is just really unlikeable in datv for me#his character regressed because they didn't want to address DAI and add nuance to how his relationship was with the Inquisitor + companions#so all that meaning behind 'you could all be real' is just gone#elven rook can mention how hard it is being an elf and then that's it basically - the game needs to show me this and not just tell me!#feels like solas just chose the most nuclear option to 'help' the elves#again if you like Solas/think this game handled him well this isn't an attack or anything! Just my opinion!#this game does so little to convince me that he gives a damn about anyone in Thedas as it is now - not even Lavellan#did a lavellan playthough -> did the 'happy ending' -> reloaded to a previous save and kicked his ass into the fade because i hated it lmao#he's the best part of the game - but any likeable qualities he had are over-riden by my dislike of everything else#one day i will be able to divorce 'dai solas' from 'datv solas' and enjoy him as a character again but it is not this day#working on another ask I got as well! it's coming I'm just slow and bad with grammar :)#asks#datv spoilers#datv critical#dragon age the veilguard#veilguard critical
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Ty for answering my asks! Recently, I saw some fanart of the gender bendered crew and it got me curios, how much would the plot change if Jimmy was a woman. I mean, she would still be emotionally abusive (esp to Fem!Curly), but at lest, I guess, the crash would've never happened (?)
Also, her relationship w/ Anya: if she was assulted still, it prolly would've been dissmissed, since it's between 2 women. Or, if Anya is male in this scenario, he couldn't really be able to talk abt it, since society decided that "women can't r*pe men", so it's not serious and he should suck it up. Man, it's just sucks to be Anya in any scenario my poor girl 😭
What do you think? If you have an opinion on that at all, that is
-💀
I think the scenario's where the gender was flipped or any level of gender based intersectionality is expanded makes it so much more complex.
If this is the scenario with fem!Jimmy, it comes with the territory of questionable internalized homophobia. Does Jimmy brush it off in this scenario because she doesn't think lesbian encounters are real ones? Is she struggling with her identity and taking it out on Anya who may be openly queer compared a fem!Curly who is either straight or just not interested in Jimmy? Perhaps it's a sort of weird entitled that can occur in female dominated spaces "We're both girls, I know what you have, it won't matter." It's still is something I don't see Jimmy denying in this scenario, he never really denies it in canon just talks around it with Curly. Here I can see it's less about the pregnancy and more so about the internalized homophobia. Not seeing Anya as anything but an unwanted aspect of her femineity and the allure of it, there's a lot more objectification of both Curly and Anya in this alteration as I would believe feels better thinking of them in that light if they are just fodder in her mind. Guilty pleasures that no longer bring her such. It's a careful situation because I don't want this to fall into predatory lesbian stereotyping, Jimmy is just a person who does not respect other people or their choice, if it conflict with what he wants or perceived is owed.
The idea of Curly having to report it and outing her not only as a rapist but queer and the denial, especially in the case Anya and Curly are both out as she feels a sort of resentment she can't be secure with herself that way. If it is masc!Curly, there could be the jealousy of him being able to actively pursue relationships he wants while she feels she can't, Anya and Curly playfully flirt, its casual but it's something she longs for in the same way she doesn't. She obsesses over Curly because she wishes she could be Curly in a social sense in both aspect male or female Curly.
If it's fem!Jimmy and masc!Anya? It's a much more delicate situation. In this scenario Jimmy gets pregnant. Maybe Anya does a blood test after the incident and finds out Jimmy is pregnant. It's a very sensitive matter because if it's fem!Curly her first assumption is Anya may have done something. That is just the immediate assumptions in cases like this. I think the fact that Anya is telling her would make Curly think it's not that simple, especially since Jimmy isn't brining it up or really caring but everyone reacts differently. Jimmy is pregnant however, and that's a big deal, she'll figure that out eventually on her own but how will she react? Curly knows it won't be good, Anya knows too.
I think the crash is instigated in this scenerio by fem!Curly actually doing more, refusing to sweep it under the rug because she can conceptualize that fear, likely she and Jimmy are the only girls on board. She trusts everyone, well did trust everyone, but it's just something you live with. She can't just live with that double standard but I feel like she really doesn't know how to address it. How does she bring it up to superiors without implicating Anya? What does she do with Jimmy, it still feels like she's catering to Jimmy but now the concern is primarily focused on the life this baby will be born into. If it is born at all. I don't think Jimmy would try to kill Anya in this concept but try to spin the narrative it was mutual up until she got pregnant. Curly doesn't really buy it but it's a lot of processing, a lot more he said she said but what Jimmy is saying just doesn't make sense. It gives Jimmy too much time to really settle with the fact she's pregnant and likely can't support a kid nor wants to give birth out in space. Jimmy feeling like she's being othered from the only other woman could also be a factor, maybe even starting into her thinking Curly is behaving like a "pick-me" for siding with a guy over her. The crash is more spiteful in terms of having to protect herself alone, due to Curly not outright supporting her delusions.
It really adds a certain horror to Jimmy's pregnancy hallucinations because after the crash they are about her, her symptoms the sign of showing. She doesn't want the child either and considering what being pregnant can do to your mental/physical state, especially some of the more negative symptoms, I doubt she is handling it well. A lot of Anya's struggles are with the stigmas around male victims. His body reacted so did he want it? He's gonna be a father and courts likely will make him pay or care for the baby even if they take Anya's side, their world is just like that. Would the other's blame him for not doing more, he is a man after all? Should he be considered lucky a woman was that into him? It's eating away at him because not only does he not feel safe, he actively blames himself.
In the case Curly is still a cis guy, its that weird feeling guys often get when talking about male victims of assault. I don't think he'd victim blame but he likely asks or thinks about how it could've happened, why wouldn't Anya just overpower Jimmy? Maybe he couldn't? Maybe Anya didn't have it in him to strike a woman. He wouldn't. Now he thinks of what he would have done if Jimmy did something like that to him. SImilary to my trans!Curly post, he's wondering if it could've been him. It's likely one of the first times in his life he has to think of that type of vulnerability in terms of himself and other men and against likely his girl best friend. I think that arm pat right before Jimmy crashes the ship would really make him feel weird, not like he'd have the time to really dig into those feeling but y'know WERE GONNA CRASH!!!.
In terms of Jimmy and Curly's specific relationship, it just gets messier if they aren't both guys or girls. There's a lot of misogny on Jimmy's side with fem!Curly. He often points out she's a woman captain or makes a point of her being one of the few independent woman in her field and how certain men hate that. It's insidious but Curly doesn't think about or like to cause she likes to believe Jimmy isn't one of those guys. He can be a bit antiquated, maybe a bit of a pig but no ones perfect! Here a lot of his resentment is more gear toward a woman having that power over him as Captain/filling the typical male roles he fails at. He can't stand that she's above him in almost aspect and he likely takes it out on other women. Similarly, fem!Jimmy and cis Curly is just as bad. It's a fact of not knowing if she wants to be him, wants him or wants to destroy him. It's obsession without anything positive. She feels entitled to his space and life and time and he has a hard time setting up boundaries cause, well, Jimmy's a girl, his bestfriend and it comes with all the stigmas around boygirl best friends. To him it's a sort of oppressive doting, he feels wrong telling her not to pick and like he's being controlling. That's how she'd spin it whenever he'd try to make boundaries with her.
They are still just friends but most people can't tell even if they can tell it's not healthy, in both cases. Either way I feel like if they were opposite genders to each other there would a specific infatuation Jimmy would have with Curly that would be less hidden but sort of unaddressed because the idea of Curly rejecting them would make them lash out in a way Curly may just leave for their safety. It's also Jimmy wouldn't want to be with Curly specifically but just want what would consistently provide/available.
If they are both girls, its envy. It's that sort of hate that someone fits the standards you don't, wanting them to be picked second or crack. She likes to get into Curly's head, point out flaws and act like it's just her being helpful. She wants Curly to be a girls girl but only for her. There's a sort of possessiveness like purposely jeopardizing relationships because why would a man come first? That girl hates me and is a pick me, why are you friends with her still, Curly? Like this is silly but think about how Regina George treats Gretchen Wieners and that's effectively how fem!Curly and fem!Jimmy would work but technically Curly has the sway of Regina.
I believe the crash would always happen. Jimmy would try to escape responsibility or really thinking about what they did in any world, any gender. It's about facing the consequences, losing things he refuses to let go of or having to deal with responsibilities he's not ready for. The switching of sex or gender really doesn't change those core aspects.
#this is long cause theres so many ideas to play with here and how jimmy and Curly would work but the specifc things happening with Anya#like if she wasnt pregnant thats a relief but its the sort of situation where she has to think about her own sexuality in the scenerio shes#queer and how Jimmy affect her. Its addressing it with Curly who may get it but maybe she gets it too much maybe its hard to hear about Jim#cause for all she knew Jimmy was straight and now she has to think of all the odd conversations and nights they shared beds and maybe#feelings she had but she has to focus on putting Anya first but what does she do? Outing someone is bad but this can be dismmised?#Would the pony express just punish both anya and jimmy and curly what if theres a dont ask dont tell policy? what if they dont care cause#they are all women. its not an issue if its just girls not getting along after “experimenting”. Back to male Anya and female Jimmy they wil#assume it was consensual and anya just doesnt want the kid often that is pushed on male rape narratives. Jimmy is pregnant and on edge#does Curly also have to factor in the child? I feel like the feast scene would be Jimmy delusionally thinking Curly is helping support the#child i mean he is the most well off the bread winner he puts food on the table he is the food! Would polle being Anya talk about how Jimmy#doesnt have it in her to foster a child to support one emotionally without damage? Why so focused on making Curly the idealized male#or provider in her life when she went after him? For female Curly is it envy that she did this to herself and Curly has even more prospects#than her now? What if Anya was fawning because he didn't want the kid but hated the idea of Jimmy killing it to spite him? Or perhaps using#it as a means of control because even if he doesn't want it i doubt he wants it to be punished or abused. It is a burden something no one#wanted but it is being fostered five months in and Jimmys showing a bump and Anya cant ignore all the implications of it being born to her#maybe he kills himself to avoid living in a world its subjected to that pain to to save himself from it. GOD the pills with Curly are worse#for male Anya fem!Curly because its so much more direct he cant shove something down a womans throat who is clearly unwilling it makes#him feel like Jimmy to watch her struggle against him and he cant do it and with Jimmy it is so much more direct about a mother feeding#theri child and abusing it like the nuance if any gender flipping was canon would tear this fandom apart now imma thinking crazy about this#thanks skull anon like really ur asks get me thinking#mouthwashing#mouthwashing game#💀 anon#ask#curly mouthwashing#jimmy mouthwashing#captain curly#nurse anya#anya mouthwashing
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First off, big fan. I enjoy reading your Tumblr posts and love your insight into the ATLA universe.
I appreciate your input on my post as this'll help me in my writing. I don't want to let Mai off the hook for her negative behavior. On the other hand, Zuko displays negative behavior as well. Both of them ought to be held accountable.
Yes, Zuko has undergone growth and development while Mai has not. In the show, Mai had not undergone her redemption arc yet. To give her a redemption, 3 things need to challenged; the stakes, her views of the world and of herself. When she saved Zuko, this was her stakes being challenged. Either she lets them drop Zuko into the boiling lake or she does something about it. In my fix-it Book 4 fanfic, I now have to address the other 2 components of the redemption trifecta.
Huh, I did not know about the history of the creation of love languages. Thank you for educating me. I'll give it a deeper look so my knowledge is more well-rounded. Despite the origins, I do still believe there is a kernel of truth in the idea of love languages.
I failed to mention Mai's love languages because it was hard for me to see initially. Upon reviewing my video, I think Mai's love languages could be physical touch and quality time. She is often the one to initiate touch and kisses. She seems to enjoy spending time with him where she has his undivided attention.
Zuko accepts and appreciates these things. However, when he tries to express his love languages, they are not accepted nor appreciated. Love is a two lane road, it takes two to tango, all that stuff. There is a point in which Zuko does pull away from Mai and her attempts to initiate quality time and physical touch. This may be the point in which he begins to not accept her love language.
If you could, can you clarify this line? "It doesn't become better just because a woman is acting this way towards a man instead of the other way around." It's a genuine question. I'm trying to derive meaning from this but I'm having difficulty connecting the dots.
I don't want to unintentionally promote misogyny nor radical feminism in my writing. I like to believe I'm egalitarian in my views regarding gender but I admit I'm not perfect and there are areas of knowledge I could improve upon. I'd prefer to hold Mai and Zuko both accountable for their negative behaviors and address their unhealthy relationship.
I'll also be giving the two characters separate romantic subplots with characters I think would be better matches for them.
Thank you for your input and helping me deepen my understanding.
My take on Maiko
Now this isn't meant to be a bash against Mai. I wanted to point out the hot and cold emotional rollercoaster that is Mai and Zuko's relationship. I believe they are not romantically compatible but it isn't any one person's fault.
They have different love languages and different relationship wants and needs. They also have opposing political views.
Zuko's experiences have changed him, what with being banished and life as a fugitive. He is no longer the boy Mai had a childhood crush on. People grow and change and so do too our interpersonal relationships.
Despite everything, they still care for each other. Keep in mind that caring for someone can be platonic or familial as well, not just romantic.
Simply put, they are not a good match for each other.
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ch.2: again &. again (platonic! yandere batfam x neglected! gn reader)
directory: preq, chapter one, chapter two, chapter three, chapter four
read until the end for an author's note.
*"XX/XX/XXXX, entry no. 13.
i hate everything. i hate my family. i hate my father, i hate my brothers, i hate my classmates, i hate alfred, i hate this place, i hate my mom, i hate everyone.
why can't i ever get what i wanted? what do i have to do? i tried so hard to be everything for them, but why do i only amount to nothing? it's been a year, or two, i don't know. it hurts trying to remember when was the last time i saw him. saw, not talk, because he never talks to me, bruce never even looks at me. and i hate myself for trying to get him to look at me.
is he disgusted at me? does he see my mother in me? does he hate me that much? i don't know, i don't want to know, it hurts to know. i don't know why i'm trying anymore, i don't know how longer i can last in this hell. i can feel it, the longer i stay here, the more i lose a part of myself. i don't want to be here.
i don't want to pray anymore.
so if there's any god out there watching over me, then i wish for you to burn, to suffer, to go through the same thing i have been experiencing for years— all for putting me in this place. i would've been fine living in the streets with my mother. i would've been alright providing for our small family, i would've known to never get my hopes high, but you took her away from me!—
i hate you."
"master (name), are you awake? dinner is ready."
you had to shut your diary at the sound of the knock and alfred's voice.
"alfr-"
a cough, hoarse and croaky, cuts you out from calling his name. it was accompanied by uncontrollable sniffles, mucus blocking your nose from breathing properly. your room was dark, save for the lamp that lights up your bedside, where you currently were seated on your bed to write another entry, grip on your pen unknowingly harsh. you didn't even have to look at your reflection from your phone laying beside the diary to know that hiding your tears were fruitless.
salty were the crystalline droplets that streaks your face, but bitter were the emotions that had your heart ache.
you hear a sigh from the other room. before he could muster a reply, you beat him to it.
"i'm not eating dinner, alfred," you hate hearing your voice, sounding so obviously scrathy from the hours of wailing. "at least not with them. i don't want to get out at all."
"then may i at least bring them over to you, master (name)?"
his answer was final, you have no choice on retaliating and starving yourself like you did for the past few days. but it wasn't your fault that you had forgotten your body's needs. it wasn't your fault that your mind blanks itself out on the dinner table. it wasn't your fault that bile quickly crawls up your throat at hearing their voices.
you simply lost your appetite seeing them happy without you.
alfred pennyworth would never play favorite.
it was drilled into his head ever since he had sworn to serve the wayne family and its extended members— he is to serve anyone and everyone, regardless if they respect him or they do not; as long as they do not pose any danger within the manor, then he is to attend to them.
you'd think that in his decades of service for the wayne's - with all the contrasting personalities he had to deal with - he would maintain professional standards and tell everybody in the world, "i, of course, do not favor anyone within the family, i live to serve and that is truth." when in fact, he wouldn't hesistate to admit that he does, in actuality, have a favorite.
and no, it wouldn't be the eldest child, dick grayson, as much as he is alfred's pride and joy, nor would it be the youngest, damian wayne, who had been slowly correcting his mistakes. it wouldn't even be the head of the house, master bruce.
it would be you, (name) wayne, the infamous, yet forgetten child of the wayne family.
it wouldn't be a far fetch for alfred to admit that you weren't like the others. in all of the years that he served the wayne's, you were a contrast of the family.
the first few hours that he had picked you up from the police department upon the news of bruce's secret child, he knew you were more than just a child raised by the brutal streets of gotham.
you pose secrets that speak of the underground.
he remembers your seated form on the stiff chair of the interrogation room, pose unnervingly straight, as if you had solidified yourself against the metal seat. your fingers were the only signs that showed life, twiddling with each other as if it's some form of distraction.
you stared at nothing.
not even at the police as your name was called for pick up.
it took merely a signature of confirmation to dictate the future years of your life.
what's left of your belongings were given to alfred. the police officer, a woman with a kind smile then had to walk across the interrogation table to pat your back, gesturing for you to stand up and follow her and alfred on the way outside of the station, where the car was parked.
you hadn't uttered a word nor snapped out of your dreamlike gaze. not even when you were greeted with a thousand clicks of the cameras, the buzzing crowd that drowns the police station, or the hundreds of voices that yell at you to look at them.
(name) (last name), now formally adopted by bruce wayne, would be (name) wayne. it wouldn't be a shock that your sudden appearance as the child of a scandalous relationship between a prostitute and a billionaire would cause immense reactions. news would be spreading left and right, most of which were negative on your side.
he had to shield you from the crowd of photographers and journalists itching their way to the crowd to get a glance on you.
yet you didn't display any discomfort. you had only sat on the car obediently, fastening your seatbelts robotically and ignoring the lenses that unsettlingly tried to poke through the car windows to take pictures of you.
you were more like batman than you were bruce.
alfred had tried to get you communicate with questions like, "how are you over there, master (name)?" yet you would only mumble unintelligible responses to his questions without any ounce of emotion. he had to look at the rear view mirror to take in your stiff form. again, your eyes were set on nothing, even if they were casted down on the carpeted floorboards of the car.
when he had first met bruce, that child was overflowing with anger and vengeance for his parent's killer, yet you, who refused to explain your mother's disappearance, are devoid of anything.
the silence was defeaning throughout the ride. the only comfort that was provided was the rain that began to patter against the glass windows.
alfred throught you would retain the same behavior the entire day.
yet it was only when you first walked up the steps of the manor did your demeanor change, fingers immediately reaching up to hold the cuffs of his sleeves, pulling it as if you were hesitant to step in.
the first emotion you had shown him was concern, like a switch had flickered you out of your trance. it was the first time in a while that alfred had to do a double take to check if what was happening was real.
"can you... hold my hand?" and it was the first time he had heard you speak, voice unnaturally scratchy from the lack of water. you stared at him with wide, doe eyes that refused to blink, waiting for answers. alfred had to gaze at your entire body to finally notice that you were covered head to toe in sloppy bandages with blood seeping through the grime-filled gauze. your shoes were worn, your clothes were ripped, and other uncovered scars littered your body.
the most conspicuous color on your shirt was crimson red.
yet you do not display pain.
a child, five years of age, had been through more than enough anguish to know how to block their pain out.
you were unlike the rest, truly, you were unwavering of the world's cruelty.
the world does not deserve someone like you.
alfred takes it in himself to always hold your hand after that.
through the mansion doors, inside the kitchen, on your way to school; whenever and wherever, as long as he had time.
even if it were filled with scars and bruises, dirt and grime, he will always hold your hand if it meant guiding you through the darkness of the manor.
you may not consider yourself bruce's child, but you will always be alfred's.
another knock on your door had you snapping out of your trance. time passed by so quickly in the manor. well, it does when you have nothing to do but stare at your diary, draw on your sketchbook or scroll through your phone. yet time would always be the quickest whenever you drown in your own misery.
"come in," you croak out, aware that it would only be alfred who would come by your room. it was long ago since you had given up on awaiting for dick's visits.
a turn of the knob, then the door swings quietly; the hinges creak, you need them oiled sooner. alfred walks in, you notice he holds a tray that contains two cupcakes and a plate of your favorite dish, but you don't notice the small box with a bow hidden skillfully from the back of the tray. from over your seat, you could already smell the aromatic herbs that flutter in the room and see the colorful frosting from both cupcakes; an already lit candle sticking in from one.
the candle at least provides just a split second of light inside your dim room; the moonlight just like your family, absent.
alfred graciously places the tray on your nightstand, on the left of your diary. your room was still too silent.
you could only hear yourself.
"master (name), are you simply going to sit there and stare? or would you rather i spoonfeed you like i had when you had broken your wrist?"
you blink it out again, oblivious to your very own hyperawareness. alfred's still here. you hope that, in the presence of darkness, he wouldn't see just how much of a mess you are. how your hands could barely grip onto anything, hair unwashed, face stained with tears, difficulty breathing through the buildup of mucus, foot tapping up and down erratically— you wished he would pretend to be blind about your suffering for just this once.
"no—" came your sudden reply, "i can- yeah, i can eat by myself."
it's harder to lie to yourself than it is to others.
he looks at you with doubt, it makes you shiver.
despite you wishing for company inside the manor, you could never be used to attention. it would never be normal for someone like you. though, you wish it was. you wish you never hesitated when someone gives you attention.
you hear your mattress creak, there's a dip on your bed. alfred sits beside you, only then did you realize just how quickly you lean into his side, craving for warmth in the solace of your empty room.
everything hurts, it truly does.
you wish you were strong enough to cease the sudden burst of tears when his one hand circles your shoulder and the other holds the cupcake with a candle near your face. and you wish that you weren't so weak in the presence of another, trying to find a semblance of your worth in their attention.
you at least try to stifle your sobs—
"happy birthday, master (name)."
— but you were always weak, yet alfred never seems to mind, patting your back to console you from your wailing.
you blow the fire out with a single promise to yourself, crying a bit more when alfred had given you a gift box, laced with a ribbon of your favorite color.
it was one of the few gifts you would cherish, fondness seeping into the cracks of your heart.
though it wouldn't erase the bitterness that fills your being either way, knowing your family is still downstairs, unaware of the anguish the torment that they have put you through— it's still enough to let you hate alfred a little less.
"alfred?"
it was your meek voice, one that was always drowned out by the sound of the dishes clanking.
"yes, master (name)?" yet alfred could always strain out the sound of anything just to hear your talk. after all, you were a silent kid throughout your childhood.
"—if i move out of this place; would promise you wouldn't forget about me?"
... (name) wayne was full of surpises.
even at the ripe age of seventeen, and in the near fourteen years of raising you, alfred could never predict your words nor your actions.
you had always said things spontaneously, carrying an aura of awkwardness in your tone, reminiscent of someone who had their personal growth (moreover their social life) stunted.
but now, with the way you had said your resolve so confidently, it felt like he was looking at a different version of you; all the more confident and resilient.
except... you were behind him when you had said that - so he wasn't really looking at you - eating the first batch of his cookies whilst he was polishing the dishes with a cloth.
when he had turned around to look at you, though, you were still the socially inept child he knows and love, sitting on the breakfast bar and twirling around the stool as you attempt to not get crumbs everywhere. you were still so young in his eyes.
it's just, the way you had looked at him expectedly like you needed his approval that shocked him. it was always your eyes that had expressed the most emotions, glazing with anticipation for his response.
he knows it when you lie, and right now, you were dead serious in your resolve.
alfred had to relax the crease on his brows before he ages faster than he already is.
"well, master (name)," he continues, turning back to wiping the dishes clean before he could fully face you. "i would fully support you in your... journey, but what warranted you to be suddenly motivated on moving out?"
alfred had finished setting aside the dishes, but he still doesn't look back.
"i mean, i thought i already told you? i have a scholarship for college but it's on the other side of gotham and...
— i kind of don't want to be chauffeured by a limo around the campus everyday, you know? so the next best thing is to get a dorm."
alfred knows it when you lie. and right now, your hesitance tells him everything he needs to know.
you may have proved a point, but that point was an entire lie. with a person name wayne flaunting across a city whilst riding a limousine, you might find yourself into more trouble than anything else.
but he had always been the one to pick you up and drop you off from elementary and halfway through your highschool life— and you never seemed to mind until now.
it doesn't take a genius to know that you had already deviced a full plan of moving out and taken it into action; all you had to do was confront the only man in the manor who had cared about you enough to raise you about your worries.
it wasn't enough to convince him to let you go, though, especially not right after an incident that had occured prior to you highschool life. if he allows you to gain independence in gotham, he wouldn't know how long you would last.
but when he looks back at you again, he couldn't bring it in himself to oppose to your whims. you need a new environment; one that provides you a way to gain independence and, most preferably, social skills. staying cooped up in a manor with barely anybody talking to you does more harm than good.
and being ignored by your own family for almost fourteen years wouldn't be a great way to celebrate your already nearing eighteenth birthday.
alfred doesn't want to admit it, but if he keeps you here any longer, you would never grow up. one person could only do so much.
he whips out a sigh, looking at you with resignation in his eyes. but you know it in yourself that he swears his life on the promise.
"master (name)," he walks over to you, eyes darting at the cookie crumbs that litter around your mouth making a note to scold you on your manner later. he sits directly in front of you, hand patting your head as you merely stare at him expectedly.
"i have raised you for almost fourteen years, it's like you are my very own child. i would never forget you." he takes your hands in his. "but you have to also promise me to stay safe out there, master (name). call me once you're there."
alfred would find a way to get you to come back eventually, even if it meant utilizing your family's neglect, which was primarily the reason why you had moved out on the first place.
he just hopes you wouldn't connect the dots and pin the blame on him once you're back and safe in the manor.
and now, it had only been months since you had gotten away from the manor. he was proud of your development, of your choice and overall, you, but he wouldn't lie and say he doesn't miss you.
he misses hearing your voice directly, the line on the phone being too blotchy to properly hear you. he misses it when he would sit on your bed as your only audience whilst he watches you paint on your canvases, drawling on and on about highschool's latest drama. he misses it when you would always be the first to taste his dishes, face lighting up whenever the food was seasoned up; now he has to constantly remind you to eat a nutritious diet, even offering to send you money whenever you mention you were short on it.
in the good of your heart, you would always decline, even going as far to deny him of any liberty to track you down and bring you a meal himself.
alfred misses you.
does he regret allowing you your freedom? not really, no. but he knows it in himself that a greedy part of him prefers it if you were would visit the manor occasionally during your vacations, at least to bond with him. but you simply chose not to, even going as far to legally change your name once you had become eighteen so you wouldn't be associated with your father's last name.
but that wouldn't erase the past you had tried to meticulously cover.
(name) wayne may have been a name forcefully deleted off of the face of the internet, but that doesn't mean it doesn't have its conspiracies of its own. nobody knows who you are beyond the blurry, unsolicited pictures of you. it may have been a photograph of your back, or articles published in unknown websites and buried at the far end about a kid leaving a police station and entering through the fancy gates of the wayne manor.
and most importantly, you are a product of a one-night-stand.
but they don't know who the mother is, don't know your age, or where you come from, and what business bruce has with the woman to guarantee your adoption at the instance she had disappeared without warning.
your existence was a mystery most would like to solve. after all, it was your picture that was plastered all over the newspapers and articles, it was your name that journalists whisper and it was a silhouette of your face that the underground knows by heart. every known information about you was shared discretely yet efficiently like some sort of virus.
you were a target for interest, a large sum of money if they will. and alfred had taken it in his hands to make sure there would never be a repeat of what had happened before.
it was a clumsy mistake, one that cost you your memories, and one he swears on his life he'll never make again.
the first course of action he needs to arrange, which may seem difficult for most; he needs to confront bruce.
after all, your freedom is your doom.
the wayne manor, in all its glory, could only be described as this palace overflowing his its abundant history and fame.
it was a castle that houses a boy who had lost his parents and became gotham's very own vigilante who stalks through the night to lessen the very evil that devours its citizens. it was the training grounds where the robins, sidekicks dressed in colorful attire, opposite to batman, were raised to be worthy enough to stand by the dark knight's side. but most importantly, it was a home for troubled children who were in their journey of their very own personal struggles.
yet even in its exterior splendour, it would always be innately overcome with loneliness.
for someone like bruce wayne, he embraces this desolation just as he embraces his alter-ego, batman, who wears a suit of black and dons an aura that demanded fear.
even if he carries the persona of 'brucie wayne' a ditsy, playboy who enjoys galas and sleeping with women every other night, he prefers solitude over the sea of interviewers who throng around him like he was a piece of meat.
it would be the only time he could focus on his countless of stacked paperworks to sign and his plans to ransack another criminal's master plan.
before winter could cover gotham in its sheet of pure, white coldness, rain would always terrorize the skies. he finds this the perfect atmosphere; dark grey clouds prevent the sun from peaking through, droplets of rain would pelt against the vast windows that surrounds his study, and there was enough background noise to block out any sounds that would pass through the door.
bruce wayne was focused on his work, and that meant disturbance wasn't allowed inside the manor. thankfully, it was a quiet, uneventful afternoon today.
in fact, it was all too abnormally quiet.
his scarred hands work through signing papers effiently and effortlessly, practiced fingers signing papers after he would meticulously scan over the paragraphs of texts that scale from business deals to partnerships to buying a piece of land. then later, once the moon rises, he would have to patrol with damian and disrupt another drug trade that had been recently dealing with children on the alleys of gotham.
that means he has to sign or reject at least half of the papers before evening falls through, so he could have alfred send them over through the post office tomorrow morning.
he was at least a quarter way through his work, though, when his flow was disrupted by a courteous knock by the mahogany doors.
he didn't have to look up or ask who it was, knowing it was alfred, his butler.
"master bruce, i have your tea ready, along with news to bare," bruce could hear the tone of urgency and a tinge of sullenness in alfred's voice. it was rare for alfred to be emotionally distressed, as he was typically the most composed out of everyone in the family.
"come on in, alfred," bruce's vocal chords were gruff, raspy whenever he's too engrossed in whatever he was doing.
but he was piqued at the news alfred was eager to share, the butler expertly turning the knob and entering with a tray that holds a hot serving of tea.
bruce stopped signing the papers, putting down his pen as he watches alfred, composed as always, place the tray down on his desk, not a single clank that was produced from the metal sheets. he watches as alfred reflexively pours him a cup of tea.
it was only after that action that the two share eye contact, alfred stationing himself to the right of bruce's desk.
if he wasn't a detective, he wouldn't have noticed the furrow of alfred's brows, which was uncharacteristic of the composed butler.
he reckons he should address the elephant in the room.
"what is it that you want to tell me, alfred?" bruce swivels his chair to face alfred, fingers tapping the mahogany desk rhythmically.
"master bruce, i figured you should have known this for quite a long time ago, but your third child had moved out on their own and now lives at the opposite side of gotham. right now, they may have been struggling to make ends meet."
huh?
"what do you mean, alfred? you're aware that tim is currently living in the manor—"
"no, master, i am talking about your third, not fourth child; master (name)."
... (name)?
ah, his... other child.
alfred looks at his seated form, expecting the befuddled reaction from bruce.
it doesn't take long for bruce to recover from his thoughts, eyebrows furrowed the same way as alfred as he leans against his chair.
"and what of (name)? why was i not updated about them?"
alfred had to stifle a groan as he then glares at bruce with what he could suppose was exasperation.
"i had already told you about their leave months ago, master bruce. you had simply waved me off whenever the topic is of master (name)." the butler's glare hardened, reminiscent of the times where bruce was scolded as a child. and like a child, he doesn't know what he had done wrong.
"i feel it is time for you to take it into your hands to deal with master (name)'s situation right now. i do not have access to their location and just like you, they are stubborn and refuse to accept any financial aid that comes to them in any form—"
to make matters worse, alfred had the gall to stop midway into his explanation, sighing and blinking unnervingly which catches more than bruce's attention.
"they would rather not admit it, but if they were to fail to pay for this month's rent of their apartment, they would get evicted from their very own living space."
at pretty much the last sentence, bruce's gaze hardened. not at alfred, no, but at the thought of you; his... forgotten child. if it was money that you need, why had you not ask for any allowance in the first place? bruce would admit that, well, it had been too long since he had last seen your face, nor even... remember it—
but you were still a child of his and he wouldn't deny you of an allowance if it meant persuing your... highschool or college dreams...?
shit, what grade are you in?
why didn't he know you moved out in the first place? wait—
"alfred, how long has it been since they had last moved out?"
"roughly six or seven months ago, master."
"ah, but having a place of your own as a minor would be prohibited by law."
"master bruce, they're eighteen. they're old enough to live in their own apartment."
eighteen years old...? how long had it been since he had last seen or heard of you? if what alfred had said was true, that the butler had attempted to reach out to him about you, then why had he not remember in the first place? you were a quiet kid, sure, but for someone like bruce, people would always not be overlooked.
it wasn't in him to easily forget, but he hates how he couldn't muster up a single memory of your face— not even your hair color nor your eyes. did you even... exist in his eyes? there was not a single memory of you that he could come up in his head.
his child was eighteen now, how could he not have known in the first place? how could he not recollect a single birthday of yours? or any celebration or gala that had you in it?
alfred's sigh snapped him out of his trance once more.
bruce looked up, seeing resignation upon alfred's face. he simply stood there, posture straight as always, but bruce couldn't wash away the shame that cages his heart when there was not a single image of you that pops up in his mind— alfred's disappointment merely worsened
the tea in his desk had long since gone untouched, but bruce couldn't bring it in himself to drink a single drop of it, even if his lips were dried and his throat was begging for even a single droplet of water.
he denies himself of any relief.
"i figure i should leave you in your own, master bruce, to at least compose yourself before nightfall. please do take your child into consideration, though, enough time has passed since you have last seen them." alfred states, as if it was a matter of fact. and it was, bruce should've known about your leave, as your father and as the man who took you in, he should've.
so before the butler could even take a step, bruce hastily stands up from his seat, pen long since discarded on his desk and a quarter of the papers are now messily stacked upon each other, but bruce pays them no mind.
"take me to (name)'s room right now, i need to see things for myself."
if bruce couldn't even remember a single instance of you, then maybe a trip to your room would be enough for him to remember.
but if that doesn't work then... bruce would a find a way, he always would.
and as your father, he needs to at least support you, even financial no matter your stubbornness? even if the shame he feels right now is so immensely disturbing, and the migraine is quickly finding its way into his head— he needs to know more about you, his actual third child.
bruce wayne needs to see your face just once.
reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.
a/n: 5k+ words. no beta, we die like jason todd with a crowbar. my least favorite part of writing the chapter is literally starting it. i had at least 5 drafts all lined up and it took me an hour in the bed to think about how should i start it. i literally hope you guys enjoy the chapter hehe, and start to yk, notice the patterns and the parallels between your perspective and bruce's perspective bec ur literally his child, u guys share some habits even if u never once talked to him lmao. the most emotionally draining scene was writing the birthday scene, i had to take breaks from typing it out hehe. bruce's descent to yandere-ism isn't as quick as dick's but it would be worst in the next chapter.
also, i hope you guys are able to notice the bad habits that the reader eventually collects because it's important for the next chapters. it would be better if anyone of u could... point them out in my asks or comments, i love rambling about it yk, and a lot of you are absolutely brilliant in making theories that are absolutely right. anyways, i hope u enjoy this chapter because this was one hell of a ride for me and i appreciate all the reblogs and comments despite me not replying to a lot of yall but u guys truly are my motivation so thank u lots :(((<33!
taglist: @lilyalone, @secretomelettetroops, @earlqurl, @simpingfor-wakasa, @amber-content, @ruiroku, @okaybutfullhomo, @trasshy-artist, @obsessedwithromance, @jjsmeowthie, @fairy-lenaa, @maicenitas, @ilovvmyhusband, @6uuyuuhgy, @plsfckmedxddy, @lavender-moony, @sweetheart-era, @chemicalsandghosts, @darling006, @starringyau, @rosecentury, @jaythes1mp, @pi1nkl0ver, @i-thirsty-boi, @sharks-r-cool-l, @silverklaus, @samanthathanes, @traumaramacenter, @maddimoon, @anxrq, @thedarknesslord, @h0rr0r-10ver-69, @lazy-idate, @googeecat44, @simpingfor-wakasa, @zvghfgn, @0patito0 (if i had forgotten to put any of u in a taglist please forgive me, it's hard to keep track !!)
#🌷... yael's works#series: again & again#yandere dc#yandere batfam#soft yandere#yandere batman#yandere bruce wayne#yandere alfred pennyworth#yandere batboys#yandere#yandere x reader#yandere x you#yandere x y/n#yandere x gn reader#yandere x male reader#platonic yandere#yandere angst#i appreciate all ur comments and reblogs and asks and i heavily encourage it for faster updates !!#imagine crying at you own writing lmao#im so poetic core u totally did not see me rhyme like one paragraph
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i know if i just started drawing them elio mavis and atlas would take the world by storm (unrealistic) but that would require drawing them regularly.
#.text#itd be so easy.#the boy that is doomed to end the world no matter what he does to try and save it#and his future self who had died to travel back in time with the chance of changing fate. by killing the person who causes the worlds end.#himself.#and the girl who wants to save her best friend so badly she would have the world end if he could have the chance to live.#elio who wants to save people. who wants to live. but cannot do either. he is not meant to. but he tries. so hard.#and atlas who hates himself so badly. who is filled with so much guilt. that he doesnt blink at being told that he#- or rather his younger self - needs to die. and he who is willing to do it himself. he who cannot get himself to do it.#he loves elio. it is strange for him to say because he was elio. at one point. he isnt anymore. maybe thats why he Can say it.#it is easier to love someone who isnt you. who is better.#and mavis who stole elio's memories away from him because she knew what he would do if he kept them.#and she wants him to live more than anything else in the world. she would fight all who threatened him#and protect him with all she has. and yet. in the end. it is she who holds his blade up to his heart.#you dont even get it.my funny oc's.#they mean everything to me
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BED CHEM— geto suguru minors dni. art by to00fu !
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/d2d1a2e41873e3f2aec227ccc7ba5c05/b9ca4c160498765e-32/s540x810/85ca27a7fadb105a7c8a0032a8e5607a61e5e082.jpg)
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/3ab9970bafba3b88728f9c7ce86c1aa4/b9ca4c160498765e-f4/s540x810/cdb53aae655a2825caa2b7df37a555ebec6c88c6.jpg)
welcome to the christmas tour ! take a seat in section (b) and let the show begin !
prologue. → ditching your friend's christmas condo party for your scrumptious, needy boyfriend? yes please!
want to try sitting somewhere else ? take a look at the ticket chart again !
pairing. geto suguru x afab!reader
warnings+. awful usage of brainrot slang to weird geto out (mission successful), making out, messy sèx, crèampiè, nothing crazy !
word count. 5k! song inspiration. bed chem — sabrina carpenter
a/n. happy 1 month birthday to this blog!!!!!! 😭 kind of fitting that i celebrate with a geto fic <3
mp3. where art thou? why not uponeth me? see it in my mind, let's fulfill the prophecy !
"hey," you say, holding up the dress and crinkling the red satin in your fingers, "what'd you think of this one?"
it's a gorgeous number, a sheer, corset bodice with a daring thigh-high slit, all set to softly drape off your shoulders. the kind of dress that screams 'sexy without trying too hard' and 'television heroine vampire heiress'. your goal in life.
geto doesn't even glance up from his latest obsession, crouched by the kitchen counter. he's eye level with a pavlova, drizzling raspberry glaze over it like he's performing surgery. without missing a beat, "it's cool. for someone desparate in witness protection," he deadpans.
you scoff, clutching the gown like the aforementioned television heroine, "you just say weird shit sometimes. what does that even mean? and a day one hater, didn't even look up..."
"and yet," geto mutters, still hyper-focused on his dessert, "i know i'm right."
you throw the dress onto the couch dramatically, "suguru, you bought this dress for me."
that gets your boyfriend's attention and he looks up, catching the gleam of familiar red satin, and visibly gulps, "oh. my bad. it's, uh, hot you'd look hot, i mean."
"nice save, baby," you arch a brow.
he tosses his inky black hair back, some of it falling right back into his face, "what's it for?"
you sigh, propping your legs up on the worn couch, "that big party, remember? my friend who got married and had a kid last year, y'know her right?"
geto hums, popping a fresh blueberry into his mouth, without taking his eyes off the pavlova, "mmph," he says through a mouthful, "the one who married the guy who cheated on her like thrice?"
you grin, delighted he remembers the gossip you've spoon fed to him over time, "yeah, well, apparently he tried making it up to her by buying her an entire condo."
geto wrinkles his nose in disgust, "tacky. ya' just can't buy class."
"totally," you sigh, "but it's so nice in there. and when she hosts parties there, i can't really complain. it's like, so gorgeous."
then, you glance back at your focused boyfriend, watching as he artfully arranges more berries atop the meringue, "mhm, speaking of gorgeous, are you gonna stand there making love to the pavlova all night, or are you gonna help me accessorise this thing?"
geto glances at you, his violet eyes narrowing playfully, "why so needy? jealous of whipped egg whites and sugar?"
you flop your arms to your sides with a dramatic sigh, "what if i am?"
geto exhales as though you are his most tiresome, and favourite thing in the entire world. grabbing a silver spoon from the cutlery rack, and dipping it into the sticky-sweet raspberry glaze. he's striding towards you, and there's that signature air of both exasperation and amusement, "open."
you comply, simply because dessert trumps dignity, and not before biting down on the spoon with unnecessary force just to mess with him. the glaze simply melts on your tongue, and you smack your lips, "mmm. wait, this shit's really good. what's it for?"
geto laughs, stepping closer to swipe his warm thumb across your bottom lip to catch a stray bit of glaze, "for us, jus' us. thought we'd have something sweet for christmas."
you clutch your chest like a damsel, "i thought i was your sweet thing for christmas."
your dear boyfriend rolls his eyes, swatting your arm lightly with the sticky spoon, leaving a smear of glaze, "tch, what am i gonna do with you?"
you gasp in mock outrage at the sensation, but geto's expression shifts, softening as he swings a knee up onto the arm of the couch, "wan' me to come with ya?"
you blink, thrown off from his hauntingly beautiful features that you'll never get tired of, "come with me where?"
"that party, love."
your jaw practically hits the floor, "wait, really? you actually want to? thought you hated these things?"
geto's lips quirk upwards, shrugging a shoulder, "the things i do for my pretty girlfriend."
cue the squeal. exaggerated just enough to irritate him, just a bit. you clutch his arm, bouncing slightly, "aw! you really do love me!"
geto's exasperated look cracks, softening into something far more quiet and fond. he places a hand on your head, ruffling through your hair just enough to make you scowl at the mess, "don't push your luck," he warns. but his tone betrays his amusement, "i just feel bad i haven't gone to any of the others with you."
"i'm glad you said that, though, suguru," you start, already scheming as you lean forward and rest your head on his knee like its the most natural pillow in the world. he lets out a soft puff of breath, almost instinctively leaning down to press a kiss to your temple.
"remember those high-waisted pants i said would look really good on you?"
geto frowns, "the ones you said made me look like a...and i quote, a slutty mushroom?"
"bingo. you should wear them. the world deserves to see your delicious gyatt —"
your baiting words are accentuated by a pinch to the back of his dark sweatpants but cut off by his sharp exhale, and the way his fingers, which had been lazily tracing the curve of your ear, freeze mid-motion.
"my what, love?" geto asks, his tone a mix of suspicious and the kind of dread reserved for people who know they're about to regret asking a question.
"gyatt," you repeat, completely unrepentant, no shame nor misery, "it means —"
"i know what it means," geto cuts in, deadpan with a faint and tell-tale blush creeping onto his tan skin, "i'm cutting off our wifi. all our electricity actually."
you laugh, patting his muscular thigh lightly before squeezing it again for good measure, "oh, so you do know what it means. that's embarrassing for you, babe."
"and yet, somehow, i still have the moral high ground," geto grouches, pinching the bridge of his nose, "and you say that i say weird shit. now you're bringing gojo's tiktok fuckery into my own home."
"first of all, it's our home," grabbing the red dress and standing, almost knocking him off the couch's arm, "second of all, my big and tall and beautiful boyfriend is such a cutie patootie when he's embarrassed."
geto groans, tilting his head back, "stop. you're emasculating me."
you pause in the doorway, "you cry everytime we watch strawberry shortcake. you do that shit to yourself."
"that was one time!" geto protests, but you can hear the smile colouring his voice.
"two times."
"the mermaid episode was emotionally poignant. power of friendship and moral honesty despite the promise of treasure," he calls after you, "you wouldn't get the timeless themes!"
well, mission accomplished. the dress fits you like a second skin, hugging all the right places. and you're not even ashamed of how long you spend admiring yourself in the mirror. the way the corset lifts your chest, well, it's definitely giving hot and sexy vampire now.
you delicately pat a glitter bomb compact over your skin, letting the soft shimmer catch the light on your collarbones and shoulders. it's a fine balance, you think, but you know there's a fine line between 'faintly glittered-up' and looking like 'fenty beauty just projectile-vomited rosé rave' all over you.
"suguru!" you call out, expecting a snarky reply but hearing nothing. typical. "suguru!" you yell again, just because you can. you wander out of the bedroom, only to find him already in position: stretched across the couch, legs draped lazily over the armrest.
and fuck, he looks good. wearing those wide-legged pants you suggested, and obviously, you were right about them. a crisp white top with the sleeves rolled up just enough to show off his forearms. geto's hair is pulled back into that high, slightly messy knot he's so fond of, but a rogue and choppy strand has escaped, brushing against his cheek.
the whole look screams 'effortlessly hot' and you can imagine how smug he'd be if he knew what you were thinking.
"oh. hey, love," he greets casually, scrolling through his phone and still draped over the couch like a catalog model who knows all his angles. but then geto looks up, and the phone nearly slips out of his hand.
"uhhh, hey," he says, his eyes widening as he takes you in, and his rosewood lips part, as he says it again, clearly dumbfounded, "hey."
you laugh, crouching down next to him, amused by the way he's visibly short-circuiting, "not bad yourself," you tease, "what were you looking at?"
before he can stop you, you lean in to peak at geto's phone, pressing yourself against his side. glitter from your collarbones transfers onto his skin, but you're too busy laughing at his dimly lit screen to notice.
"suguru!" you gasp, your shoulders beginning to tremor, "fuckass yahoo answers, of all places. wait — i can't believe people still use that. stop moving your phone, let me read!"
is it good or bad if my girlfriend says i have a gyatt?
geto's ears turn deliciously red, and he locks his phone with an exaggerated click, "okay. nosy mcgee," and he's grumbling, "makin' me sound like a loser."
you pat his cheek lightly, grinning like a cheshire cat, "it means i think you're scrumptious," you say with mock seriousness, "like top-tier snackish. like, as in, i like your ass."
geto huffs, his lips twitching despite himself. and then, leaning forward, he presses a soft kiss to the tip of your nose. you wrinkle it instinctively, thinking of all the concealer and powder you had layered earlier.
"well," he says, as he brushes a strand of hair from your face, tucking it behind your ear, "i think you're pretty too."
you sigh dramatically, "just pretty? why did i end up with a nonchalant man?"
geto gasps, his mauve eyes widening in mock offence as he juts his lip forward, "hah, 'scuse me. i'm not nonchalant. i'm like the total opposite of nonchalant. i'm like...chalant."
you snort, catching his stray fingers as they linger close enough to your lips for you to playfully nip at them, "yes. you are. my very chalant boyfriend. what a hero."
geto rolls over to his side, so he's facing you. absolutely wrinkling his white shirt, "thank you for recognising my efforts."
but then his tone shifts, his gaze running over you, "but seriously, you look hot. like crazy hot. like wow, my girlfriend is insanely hot," and he leans in slightly, "and i jus' can't stop looking at your two, beautiful, perfect..."
it hits you that his gaze has dropped to the swell of your chest.
"suguru! my eyes are up here, you dog."
"shit, been caught." and he's still laughing at your grumbles, grabbing your wrist and gently pulling you up in one swift motion, dragging you alongside him towards the bedroom.
"hey!" you protest half-heartedly, trying to dig your heels into the carpet, "the front door's the other way, genius. we're gon' be late."
geto doesn't stop his stride, glancing back at you with a pleading look that's also smug at the same time, "yeah, but you're the one who looks like that. don't think i can function. i need a minute."
"geto suguru, everybody. one-minute wonder. all he needs to finish."
you hear your boyfriend's scoff, as a teasing laugh escapes him, "hah, can't help being like this, can ya? got a gold medal when it comes to pissing me off."
you smile sweetly, "it's because i love you."
geto rolls his rich-plum eyes, his hand guiding you towards the bed as he shakes his head, "you know i love you too, right?"
"duh."
"good," geto says, and with that, he's leaning in. pressing a hot kiss to your jaw, then moving to your waiting mouth. it's messy, sloppy, the kind that makes your pussy clench a bit. sue you, eh? it's just the effect that geto suguru has on you.
you let out a soft whine as his tongue smears across your satin-finished, ruby lips, perfectly lined not ten minutes ago. but then geto's pulling away, circling his finger lazily in the air. a wordless demand that leaves your thighs clenching in anticipation.
you playfully huff, but spin yourself away from him. planting yourself on all fours, hearing geto grunt as he seems to appreciate the view. tsk, your predictable, eager boyfriend.
his large hand is running slowly down your spine, like he's savouring the way the satin clings to you. it's sending shivers down your body, and you're certain that if geto were to push your dress up and cup your core with a large hand, he'd pull it away wet and dripping.
"ah, pretty. so pretty, aren'tcha?" and his fingers are tugging taut at the ruched dress, like he can't quite believe you're real and his. despite three smooth years of professing your love to one another.
"suguru," you protest, "y'know 's not a cheap dress, babe."
you can hear the amusement tinging his smooth voice, "i know. i bought it, remember? don't want you worryin' your pretty lil' head over it."
you let out a soft sigh as you feel him entirely lean his weight over you, enveloping you in that heady scent of leather and cardamom. scooting your ass back, so tight satin would faintly drag across his very pronounced erection.
"f-fuck," and geto's laugh is sharp, disbelieving. half a huff, and half a chuckle, but entirely in awe. broad, warm hands are gliding over you before the gentle press of his palms come to rest on your hips. he's sliding your dress up, letting satin rustle with a soft, whispering sound. leaving your skin exposed to the sudden and sharp kiss of the christmas air.
"wow," geto whistles quietly, appreciatively. he seemed to be enjoying the sheer red thigh-high tights that clung to the plush of your thighs like a second scarlet skin, and you gasp as he hooks a long finger underneath the lace border, snapping it once briefly in a mild sting.
his hands are so close to where you need them most, and it's so utterly infuriating. he's practically dancing his finger tips over your inner thighs, ghosting so close to your underwear. panties that were surely languid, weighty by now. you could feel the damp cotton growing far more slippery and tacky as geto suddenly ran a finger over your clothed cunt.
and you can hear the elation in his voice as he lifts a finger up to his mouth, swirling his tongue around your syrupy taste, "hah, you're practically a super-soaker. that's pretty cool."
you scowl, fighting the urge to swivel around and pounce him in retribution, "y-yeah, thanks," but the bite in your words is tempered by the lazy heat that coils in your stomach, "but you're taking too l-long, baby. can't you jus' -"
and you're deciding to take matters into your own hands, as geto seems fascinated by how thin, clear strands create small bridges between his fingers. you reach for the waistband of his high-waisted pants, running your own hand down his absurdly slender waist, right over a godly chiselled torso.
"y'got impatient, didn't you, love?" and now geto's scowling, hauling your wrist back to pin it behind your back like you foretold. but not before planting a soft press of lips to your inner arm, gentle and tender.
but you flex your fingers behind your back, stretching them out, groping at the air. your boyfriend must have noticed, almost immediately because of course he does, and you can hear a soft, knowing coo from behind you.
"ah, 's what you want, right?" he teases, sliding his cool, slender fingers over yours, intertwining them effortlessly, "just wanted me holdin' your hand, how cute."
"maybe i was j-just stretching," you huff, but squeezing his hand tighter.
geto hums, unconvinced, as his thumb brushes lazily over the back of your hand, and you can hear the sound of fabric rustling behind you, "sure. totally not begging me to hold your hand like some lovesick, little dove."
but any retort falls away from your tongue, right when you feel something heavy, and hot smack against your tailbone, leaving a faint, moist kiss that feels cold when it patters off, "now pay attention."
you muffle a small, desparate whine, as geto has one hand tangled with yours and the other being used to hold and smack his thick cock once more over the base of your spine, "hope s-she's ready f' me now."
you feel as though all the air has been utterly pushed out of you, just from geto practically splitting you in two. you don't even have to look at geto to know that he's absolutely wrecked already, just from the throbbing, curved tip of his cock pushing past your tight walls, snagging with only the mildest resistance.
you can almost see it in your mind's eye, picturing it all just from his low curses and gasp.
how his chin must have tucked low enough to kiss his sternum, feathery strands of hair spilling over his forehead. those inky lashes fluttering in disbelief and surrender over hazy mauve eyes.
"s-she's always so eager to take me," geto croons, and his eyes are practically glued to the way your puffy folds bulge and drool over his shaft slowly feeding inches into you, "almost there, love."
"look at, hah, t-that," your boyfriend drawls, but you can hear how entirely undone he is, that tremour cutting off the end of his words in a sharp gasp as you arch yourself into him, letting that stretch take you so deliciously.
"keep your back arched like that, love," geto murmurs, and his hands are guiding you, pulling your hips back in a gentle, rhythmic push-and-pull over his cock. leaving you to feel his girthy shaft rummage and jostle around your insides, leaving a hefty divot at the edge of your cervix in a way that has you suddenly keening out a faint moan, "doing s-so well for me."
and fuck, the sound of his groin smacking wet kisses against your ass has you feeling like your head was going to explode, and your heart was going to give out, pressing right up into your throats. but you can tell geto is pleased, ruined even as he slowly drags his cock out of you at a filthy, slow pace.
if only to make you feel every throbbing vein on him, and how it imprints on your gummy walls.
there's something just so right about him being in you like this, having his pretty love bent over and absolutely stuffed full of his cock, something that just makes sense.
and right now, nothing else in the world matters save for you, and geto can't bring himself to even care about deadlines, or a decent and sensible christmas dinner, or some stupid party. not when he's letting his weighty, drooling tip loll out of your folds.
thick and heavy like a heated rod in the cool air of the evening, as he pushes two long fingers to spread open your syrupy folds, running the angry-red tip over your gloss, before finally pushing himself back inside.
"i w-was gonna say it was this dress, love," geto stammers, swirling his hips around, trying to rustle right into you, "but i think it's just you. ya know w-what you do to me right, hah, don'tcha, pretty?"
oh you are more than aware. and that heightened sense of perception is only exacerbated by how the thick curve of his cock is bruising into you. slamming into you with a heavy smack!
geto's world tilts, leaving him teetering on the edge of an embarrassingly early orgasm. but he feels little shame, not when his head is so heavy and his lips sting, caught under the desparate press of his teeth. every shallow breath he takes feeling like it's just unravelling him further, circling the tips of his fingers over your clit, just so you can whine and arch yourself into him more.
geto decides to play that card more, wrapping a thick arm around you to pull you into the air slightly. that faint increase in angle making you buckle as his weeping tip pulls symphonies of thick, angry squelches from your sensitive cunt. each jostle of his sharp, staccato hips feeling more and more shaky.
"not too much, r-right?" geto's breath hitching in uneven bursts, caught somewhere between delirious laughter and incredulous, overstimulated sobs.
that sweet, and unsteady wheeze results in tears pricking at geto's eyes from the delicious heat of your pussy, falling over the feverish nape of your neck, "know you wanted to go o-out, wanted to wear this pretty dress but i think 'm gonna d-die if i stop now, 's okay with you, yeah?"
"not t-too much, suguru," you hiss, feeling crystalline tears pool in your own lashes, just from pure please, "f-fuck, 'm already so close."
and you truly are, he's drilling himself into you at a beastly place, jostling a large hand over your chest, brushing over the lace lining the corset bodice, as if he's desparate to get his hands into your dress, to brush his thumbs over sensitive nipples.
his cock leaving searing trails of precum against your drooling, fluttering walls, leaving behind a wet trail that almost burned you. the force of his crashing hips leaving stamps in their wake, and geto's gasping and groaning at the faint cling of your dewy pussy, snatching him in quick, forceful bursts.
you shuffle precariously, still jostled against him, as you push down the bodice of your dress. probably damaging the framework a bit, but it's so worth it to hear geto almost sigh in relief, letting his hands run over the fat of your tits. pinching, swirling his fingers over the soft skin.
geto thinks he might just collapse over you in a weak heap when he hears your whine, "wan' more, s-suguru."
yes, more. that's exactly what geto wants to give you. he wants to see you milk him dry from the heavy balls swinging against your skin, wants to see you heave breaths of air as his seed drips out of you. wants to have you pressed against him for hours on end, to flip you over so your ankle lock behind his neck.
his imagination must have been working overtime. for like the peak specimen of male virility that he is, geto suguru just ends up cumming instead.
and with an embarrassing, heady grunt from him, geto's pulling his pulsating cock out of your folds, doing his best to keep himself steady enough to use his other hand well.
to keep running his fingers in tight circles around your clit, while he lets his spurting cock pump load after load of translucent, white fluid paint your spine a pretty pearly sheen. coming right on you.
it's so messy, it's so filthy and geto feels mildly numb as he decides to push his still throbbing cock, one that is still spurting right back into you, as he pushes his weight onto you, taking care not to force you too harshly against the crumpled sheets.
and geto just can't help himself, can't stop himself from leaving sloppy, wet kisses to the back of your neck, to your cheek. can't help himself from tilting your face back so his mouth can meet yours, and he can taste that raspberry syrup from earlier on your tongue, sweet and tangy.
and geto doesn't even care that he sounds ruined, raw and brittle. absolutely tattered as he whines, "we d-don't have to go to that party, right? hnngh, jus' need to hear you say that we don't have to, i think 'm gonna need some more of her. milking me so w-well."
he doesn't hear much apart from your gasps, your short cries like a mantra of "ah, ah! suguru!"
you weren't even sure how much time had passed, an hour even. or more. and you vaguely wondered if your friends were still there. sitting at some christmas party in some luxury condo, whispering over flutes of champagne, wondering about where you were. unaware that your adonis-esque boyfriend had been pounding himself into you, stretching you out over his cock until you were seeing heavenly stars.
until you were feeling thick ropes of white paint your insides once more, and streaks of dark dimmed your vision, and mauve and violet flashed behind your eyes.
you're tugging at the hem of your dress, still laughing fondly as you watch geto. his tousled, choppy hair falling out of its knot, and his eyes half-lidded and blissed out. his crumpled white top clings to his lean frame, and he's propped up lazily against the headboard with his other thick arm slung back behind his head.
"give me another hour, and we can do it again, love," geto huffs, his voice still a little raspy from earlier.
you shake your head in amusement, despite the mildly uncomfortable feeling of slick sticking beneath your thighs, splattered over your beautiful dress, "mhm, what a nice way to spend christmas, huh?"
geto stares at you adoringly, and his eyes are heavy with contentment, like he can't quite believe that you're here, and for a second, you think maybe the world would stop right there, in this perfect moment.
he runs a thumb over your face, pressing down on your lower lip, "i think it's better than some party," and geto's tone is dreamy, lazy, "no offence to your friend."
you snicker, thinking about whether you're going to need some well-thought excuse for your dear friend. or whether you're going to spill the whole truth for her.
but just as you're about to pull geto's plush mouth into another lazy kiss, his brow furrows. a sudden, concerned shift in his expression.
"hey," your boyfriend mutters, reaching to find his phone, "what's the humidity like tonight?"
you blink, caught off guard, "humidity? what's it matter?"
well, your skin feels unusually sticky, like the air itself is clinging to your sweat-dampened skin. despite the cool air of the december night. and there's that sweet, pleasant tiredness settling into your bones.
geto's suddenly sitting up, his eyes wide with realisation, "wait, love. fuck," he's muttering, scrambling up to his feet, "the kitchen!"
before you can process what's happening, he's racing for the door, and you stare at the empty spot on the rumpled sheets where your broad boyfriend was sitting not ten seconds ago.
"what is wrong with that man?" you murmur, but you hear a panicked cry from the kitchen, something about that damned pavlova going limp and soft with the heating on.
you bite back a small comment about something else going limp and soft, deciding to save that one for later when he's back in bed.
#geto suguru#geto x reader#geto smut#geto suguru smut#jjk smut#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen smut#geto suguru x reader#suguru geto#suguru geto smut#suguru geto x reader#geto x you#works#daphworks
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it helps me to remember when i get sad about how annoyed lydia gets in s4 is that she’s fourteen at that point so she is ACTIVELY going through puberty. and we’re all kind of annoyed with the world at that point, even the people we love.
that's very true. she's also known him for years at that point, and he can be uhh a lot. he can't get away with displaying his huge flaws as often as he used to, lydia doesn't allow it, and when he DOES get away with it, the episode ends with lydia disappointed and even outright mad at him. Midnight Scum in particular is so hard to watch, you can see her losing respect for him as the episode progresses and...then it ends. episode over. beetlejuice is horrible, what did we expect?
but yeah season 4 is. whoof man.
sure, you can chalk up part of it to teenage hormones making her more irritable, but i really do think she's just like, at her limit sometimes. i can't blame her, i too want to strangle him a lot of the time and i'm not even the one putting up with his shit, babysitting him or having to deal with the consequences of HIS actions.
this isn't Critter Sitters anymore, she is simply not having it and she won't make a cute little excuse for him "oh he makes me laugh and eats bugs hee hee"
season 4 lydia reacting at his jokes like 😒🙄
she's probably heard that one a thousand times by now. beetlejuice is a static character; he doesn't change, he doesn't go through character development, he doesn't learn his lesson (outright refuses to) but lydia DOES change. and she will continue to change as she grows older. and i KNOW this is a sad theory but i can't help but think that, as she grows and moves forward, she's just...gonna leave him behind.
it'll be hard for her not to. not only is she starting to make her own life and will continue to get busier and busier and not having time to hang out with her ghoulish best friend...she's also maturing. something beetlejuice has never done, and seemingly never will. and as she grows more mature, those puns and pranks and hijinks will become less funny, and his lying, clinginess and refusal to grow will become more evident. season 4 has lydia expecting better of him and being let down, constantly. if it's exasperating for us imagine how it must be for her.
at what point does it become too much? how often has lydia sat and thought about this kind of thing? considering how intelligent and sensible she is for her age, probably more than a few times. this dead guy inadvertently saved this depressed little girl by becoming friends with her and giving her the confidence to be herself and make her own friends. does she know that though? beetlejuice does, he saw it when they showed him the reality in which lydia never meets him. but lydia has no idea (and he will never tell her) so sometimes i wonder if she's missing that key aspect of why he's so important in her life. it's possible she might've come to the same conclusion herself; but even then, these things can be hard to remember when you're having to, once more, clean up after him and the messes he gets them into because his chaotic impulses are always stronger than him. you can tell she's very tired of this. and she will become even more so as time passes.
best friends forever though.
...
...right?
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Don't Go Disappearing On Me Again
Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader
Summary: Jason's lost too much to lose you, too. (We stan healthy communication in this house)
Word count: 2.3k
Ow.
You've never worked Friday nights before at the restaurant, and you never want to again. And you'd thought Saturday mornings were bad.
But one of your favorite coworkers had called you in a panic early this morning, begging you to take her shift, because her lab group's department at GCU was going out to bowling and it would be a great networking opportunity. You were the last person she called, but everyone else before you had declined because they were either scheduled or determined to avoid the shitshow.
And because you were weak, you gave in and said you would cover her Friday night shift as long as she covered your Friday morning shift.
So you two swapped shifts, and you went into your library internship in the morning instead of the evening. It wasn't a particularly hard job, but end-of-week returns had you dashing all over the three floors, so your feet already hurt before you walked into the restaurant.
Right before coming in, you'd texted Jason that you'd gotten held up, and it was a good thing you did, because you haven't had a single break to look at your phone the whole shift. He likely wasn't even awake yet—last night's patrol had been tough on the both of you, him because he came home half beaten to death, and you because you'd had a heart attack waking up in the middle of the night to your bloody boyfriend passing out on top of you in bed. But you usually got home around six from the library, and it was looking like you wouldn't be back until ten at the earliest, so you wanted to let him know. It was going on hour seven after starting at two p.m., when the restaurant switched from its brunch to dinner menu. Personally, you think two p.m. is obscenely early to eat dinner, but apparently rich people loved eating at weird hours, because you had had nonstop tables the entire night.
But the good thing is that the restaurant closes at nine, so you’re almost there. After your last three tables eat and leave, all you have to do is clean your section, close your checks, and clock out.
In the kitchen, you lean against the fridge, rubbing your hips and knees. You’re a little too young to feel so creaky after seven hours on your feet. After all, Jason works all night, doing athletic feats you could never dream of.
You can't really complain, though. You'd gotten lucky with your tables; they'd all tipped well. Maybe you could even add a little bit to your savings account instead of shoving every paycheck right at your student loans, which just keep growing, no matter how much you pay.
“Oh, no,” says Charlotte, one of the other veteran servers at the restaurant. She’s staring at the camera feed display, which is tuned to a livestream of the restaurant’s entranceway. “Don’t you dare seat me now, Ashley, I swear to God.”
“What time is it?” your head jerks up. “We’re about to close, right? Is someone looking for a table?”
“Yeah,” she says, pointing to the screen. “The hottest man in the world just walked in our front door.”
You just hum, not bothering to look in favor of pulling out your phone. You know for a fact that the hottest man in the world is actually at home in your bed right now. “The kitchen’s stopped receiving tickets. No way Ashley seats someone right now.” The screen doesn't light up when you click the power button. Well, shit. It's dead.
“I can’t tell what he’s saying.” Charlotte squints at the screen. “He’s, like, huge. Does Ashley look a little scared to you?”
You’re out of the kitchen without even looking at the screen. You speedmarch right past your tables, ignoring one man’s halfhearted attempts to flag you down for more ketchup. A righteous fire is boiling in your gut. You’ve been here long enough that the managers won’t fire you for telling off any customers that harass the younger workers that are more scared to stand up for yourself.
Your mouth is already open, ready to spew forth the beginning of your tirade, when you recognize the man in front of Ashley at the host stand.
Dressed in gray sweats and a dark T-shirt, slouching slightly, he looks even worse than when you kissed his forehead goodbye that morning. The bruise on Jason's face has properly colored now, purple and blue along his jawline. His hair looks a little flat, like he's been wearing his helmet, which is strange.
Jason's eyes snap onto you the second you appear, and you falter at the intensity there. Something has happened, but you're not sure what.
"Hey," you say, a little hesitant. "What's up?"
Ashley exhales with relief. "So you do know him."
"Yeah," you say without breaking eye contact with Jason, who's staring at you with the same expression you think a wolf would wear when stalking a hare. "He's my boyfriend."
You expect Jason to tell you that someone was in an accident. Someone's in the hospital. Something terrible happened to your apartment while you were gone.
He says none of those things. Instead, Jason says, "I didn't know you picked up a Friday shift."
Ashley's face goes blank.
"I told you I would be home late."
“No,” he corrects. “You texted me that you were being held up.”
“Yeah, at work.”
“And then you disappeared.” Jason’s jaw clenched. “Did you know that a bank was held up this afternoon? Your bank?”
“Oh, shit,” your hand flies up to cover your mouth. “My phone died, I don’t know when. You couldn’t check my location and see I was here?”
He just shakes his head, stiff and wordless.
“Hey, Y/N.” It’s your manager approaching the host stand now, customer service smile on and eyes taking in Jason’s appearance. “What’s going on up here?”
“Hey, Steve,” you say. “Sorry, this is my boyfriend Jason—Jay, this is my manager, Steve—”
Jason gets the hint and smiles close-lipped, reaching to shake Steve’s hand.
“My phone died so he came to see if I needed a ride home.”
“As soon as your tables leave and your section’s clean, you’re good to go. Oh, and you have to roll silverware.”
“It’ll be at least another hour,” you say apologetically to Jason.
“Okay.” His eyes keep boring into you like he’s trying to send you a telepathic message. He’s mad, you get it, but it makes you a little mad, too. You’re a grown adult. Yeah, the miscommunication was your fault, and it’s fine for him to be worried, but he looks close to Red Hood levels of anger, which is totally unwarranted for this situation. “Is it cool if I wait at the bar for you, then?”
“Of course!” Steve answers for you. "Our bartender, Lacy, will be happy to serve you while you wait." He checks his watch. "Until last call, that is."
"He didn't scare you, did he?" you ask Ashley as soon as Steve leaves. You smile at Jason, trying to tease him, but his expression doesn't twitch. "He looks mean, but I promise he's a big ol' softie."
Jason just grunts, but on his way to the bar, he doesn't forget to drop a kiss to your forehead. It warms you from the inside out.
As soon as he's gone, Ashley blurts out, "What happened to his face?"
"Motorcycle accident," you fib. "Oh, my table's calling me."
You rush over to take care of the poor man's ketchup—he's been waiting almost five whole minutes—and check out another party. The back of your neck prickles as you do. Every time you glance at the bar, Jason's green eyes are locked on your every move. It flusters you so much that when your table leaves, they say thanks, and you respond with, "Good morning!"
"What?"
"Thanks, you too!"
You run back to the kitchen, and everyone immediately starts interrogating you about your 'huge hunky boyfriend' (Charlotte's words, not yours).
By some miracle, all your tables clear out by closing time, and you’re out by 9:20. There are still a couple people at the bar, but Jason’s up immediately to walk out with you, leaving his water glass on the counter.
He doesn’t say anything, though you can feel his eyes on you whenever you aren’t looking. You won’t fight in public, so you follow his lead and stay quiet.
He drove your car to pick you up, and even though he’s obviously mad, he holds the passenger door open for you before getting into the driver’s seat.
The drive home is silent. He parks in the spot for your shared apartment, then immediately, quietly, asks, “Why’d you pick up a shift without telling me?”
"It was super last-minute," you say. He's still facing forward, so you do the same, eyeing his profile out of the corner of your eyes. "Like, it happened this morning. I thought you were sleeping, so I didn't want to blow up your phone with texts. I thought you'd just check my location and see where I was when you woke up."
Jason's hand clenches on the center console. "I woke up and I was terrified."
"I'm sorry—"
"And the bank, and your wording, and your phone was off—"
"I know," you say, putting your hand over his fist. He unclenches immediately to lace his fingers with yours. "I'll make sure I tell you next time."
Jason takes a deep breath in, then lets it out. In a rush, he finally turns to face you and says, "I don't mean to be controlling."
You blink. "I don't think you're being controlling."
"You don't?" Jason frowns. "Then why were you so mad when I walked into your work?"
"Mad? I'm not mad—you're mad at me."
"I'm not mad at you, what are you talking about?"
"You've been glaring this whole time! And you didn't say a word this entire car ride."
"Because I thought you were angry. I wanted to give you space."
"Okay, wait, wait, wait." You hold up a hand. "Let me get this straight. You're not mad at me?"
"No," he says earnestly. "I was worried and scared, but you're an adult. You don't have to ask for permission if you want to pick up a shift at work." He makes a face like the thought disgusts him.
"Okay," you say. "Okay, well if you're not mad at me, I'm not mad at you, either."
"Then why did you look so pissed when I walked in?"
You press your lips together to keep from smiling. "Well, we have cameras that show us up front while we're in the kitchen, right? One of my coworkers was watching and said 'the hottest man in the world' walked in and I didn't look because I thought the hottest guy in the world was still asleep in my bed—"
Jason covers his face with his hands. You can't stop your smile now, and you pull them away so you can look at said handsome face. "And I didn't even look because I'm such a loyal, awesome partner—"
"You are pretty awesome," he agrees, trying to sound serious, but he's grinning like an idiot, too. His cheeks are flushed pink.
"I know I am. But then Charlotte said that the hostess, Ashley, looked a little intimidated by him, so I walked out to see if she needed help."
"Aw," Jason says. He lowers his chin to look at you from underneath his lashes, pretty as a picture. "Were you going to give me a stern talking-to?"
"I can still give you one," you offer.
"Maybe later."
He's still grinning, and you're still grinning, so the both of you are grinning at each other like idiots in the car.
You want to kiss him, and he's your boyfriend. You're allowed to do that whenever the two of you want, so you take Jason by the chin and pull his mouth to yours.
Jason sighs against you, and it's like all the tension in his body melts away. One hand comes up to cradle your jaw, the other on the back of your head.
You break away to murmur, "Are you patrolling tonight?" He's still so beaten up.
"No," he whispers, voice low and gravelly in a way that has butterflies whipping around like a tornado in your stomach.
"Good. Wanna go up and be the hottest patient in the world while I look at your wounds?"
"Only if you're the hottest nurse in the world."
"Oh, but then who will be the hottest chef in the world who makes dinner?"
"The hot chef is on vacation right now," Jason joked. "But I can be a really hot food-orderer. What takeout are you in the mood for?"
"You're the injured one. What do you want?"
"I want whatever you want."
You narrow your eyes in a glare. "Well, I want whatever you want."
"You gotta make a decision," he says, already on his phone. "You're the hottest decision-maker in the world, I'm the hottest food-orderer."
"Chinese?"
"You got it."
Right before he dials the number, you grab him and kiss him again. When you pull back, he chases after your lips. It's so tempting that you give him another firm peck before you pat his chest once.
Jason blinks twice, looking dazed. "What was that for?"
You shrug. "I just wanted to kiss the hottest man in the world."
"Oh, my God." He groans and covers his face again, but you can see his red ears. "You're never gonna let that go?"
"Mmm." You pretend to consider it. "No."
DC taglist:
@evalynanne @mismatchsposts
Forever taglist:
@lemirabitur @annymcervantes @queenmissfit @iksey @thehyperactiveteen @luxmoonlight @andreasworlsboring101
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ੈ✩‧₊˚ CONTENT CREATION (CL16)
pairing: charles leclerc x f!reader
summary: when ferrari hire a new content creator to help their social media presence, fans start noticing a certain friendship developing between her and their star driver.
*face claim: dina denoire (but please imagine her as you see fit)
scuderiaferrari just posted a photo ੈ✩‧₊˚
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/37845c9af77125a688e7a1a7ed2c03ad/c8ef1d7a4055cccf-42/s540x810/0dcf74ff88ed4c62c6d80f941c4e021def57bf84.jpg)
liked by 209,885 people
scuderiaferrari we’re all smiling and relaxing on media days📸
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user who is taking such good photos when did ferrari care about their social media
user okay loving all this content we are getting lately but what changed admin
user charles wearing white jeans gives me anxiety
user ferrari cooking something
ferrari just posted a reel ੈ✩‧₊˚
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/b7b453a3dd15afcfc222678b25100681/c8ef1d7a4055cccf-d2/s540x810/efb66edbb44b53ef9c19c69d8b4cb19643eee281.jpg)
liked by 451,209 people
scuderiaferrari charles’ comments after the race have left us craving something 🍕
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user SO THAT WAS A GIRL’S VOICE RIGHT.
user IS THE NEW HIRE A GIRL
user so you DID hire a new media person… i knew all this content was too good to be true
ferrari just posted a tiktok ੈ✩‧₊˚
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/f9b3a122b71fd6eb6abb0c1f145acbc8/c8ef1d7a4055cccf-b8/s540x810/c4dceee128424fa7dd1761c8d8af68f7e5860f72.jpg)
84k likes, 1.2k comments, 1k shares
video captions:
[carlos: is my person attractive?
charles *laughing*
carlos: that tells me everything!
charles: yes she is!
carlos: is it y/n then?
charles: i’m saying nothing]
ferrari charles and carlos play who am i featuring the members of our ferrari team!👀
top comments
user CHARLES WHAT DO U MEAN UR SAYING NOTHING.
user WHO IS Y/N AND WHY DOES SHE HAVE CHARLES LAUGHING LIKE THAT
user okay but carlos knowing he was immediately y/n from the way charles blushed👀 what does he know that we don’t she must be hot
user admin give us a y/n reveal💳💳💳
ferrari just posted a tiktok ੈ✩‧₊˚
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/339863ef03abf555d2ded3866ee6fc24/c8ef1d7a4055cccf-98/s540x810/d3143c6244c47a211a6b1e83d85ece523449f1e4.jpg)
39.8k likes, 415 comments, 890 saves
ferrari what time do our team arrive for our meeting?
top comments
user THIS IS THE FAMOUS Y/N???? SUDDENLY I UNDERSTAND CHARLES
user UMMM WHO IS THE GIRL
user double checking their team on the website it would appear she’s the content creator👀
user the one charles keeps mentioning???
user wait what time did the meeting start���
yourusername 5… some of us were late
user IS THIS HER ACCOUNT BC IF SO…???? IM PANICKING SHES SO HOT
yourusername hi😭😭 yes this is me!!!
user oh my god she’s so hot
yourusername just posted a photo ੈ✩‧₊˚
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/c7003cb660a8b38b63fee38755cc830f/c8ef1d7a4055cccf-bc/s540x810/1636ad4885848007877bf089dd1f85114e36ca2c.jpg)
liked by charles_leclerc and 56,408 others
yourusername first few months of many travelling the world have been a dream. grazi ferrari❤️
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user FINALLY FOUND UR ACCOUNT IVE BEEN WANTING TO SCREAM ABOUT HOW HOT YOU ARE FOR AGES
user was so focused on you i didn’t even notice the photo of charles
charles_leclerc no photo credits?
yourusername WAH WAH WAH
user how does it feel to liVE MY DREAM
yourusername pretty incredible tbh
ferrari just posted a video ੈ✩‧₊˚
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/aecdf0def5db95f431ed8ed2ac169905/c8ef1d7a4055cccf-38/s540x810/54327818a496fb88fe27ef6d7e7a9b2d91317574.jpg)
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/1c94c16e5c77d9f2b46a8a86115e1812/c8ef1d7a4055cccf-5c/s540x810/edbd83034bace96b9ef0c6d8ad8fdac2f0ba65bf.jpg)
[video captions:
CARLOS: who is most likely to be late because they overslept?
CHARLES: *laughing* probably y/n. she’s always late. i don’t think i’ve seen her be on time to a single meeting yet. she’s also notoriously hard to wake up and sleeps through her alarms and being shaken!
CARLOS: *teasing* you speak from experience, no?
CHARLES: *laughing* i’ve definitely struggled to wake her up a few times!]
twitter reacts ੈ✩‧₊˚
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/679e289567d27e021a7824aef26f5e3e/c8ef1d7a4055cccf-1f/s540x810/7faab83cc39a33e5d4747d8c7990e959bb80c6df.jpg)
charles_leclerc just posted a photo ੈ✩‧₊˚
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/80fe65282746d2424591088ba23709a5/c8ef1d7a4055cccf-04/s540x810/cb5bb64d92d5278f6a8e2cb7b5fabf86a059af5e.jpg)
liked by landonorris, carlossainz55 and 561,356 others
charles_leclerc enjoying the summer break
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user IS THAT Y/N?
user so ferraris content creator gets to see charles shirtless ? where do i apply
yourusername nO pHoTo CrEdItS?!😤😤😤
user GET HIM
user not to be that person but if they went on holiday together that means they probably shared a hotel room right���
user oh they’re totally doing it
user can’t blame her at all i would too
yourusername just posted a photo ੈ✩‧₊˚
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/e842e120fc1e1ae91a0b06fd57f379ef/c8ef1d7a4055cccf-2d/s540x810/3d9ca70b5549153a99b900ac5667680074b29468.jpg)
liked by charles_leclerc and 98,406 others
yourusername some well deserved time off🫶
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user UMMM THE SECOND PHOTO??? ITS GIVING BOYFRIEND
user BESTIE WE ALL KNOW UR TOGETHER JUST MAKE IT OFFICIAL‼️
user this is confirmation in my head
formula1 just posted a video ੈ✩‧₊˚
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/6e75d2b6d730e4b865b3f90d3e414091/c8ef1d7a4055cccf-d1/s540x810/30b648a2573574b39a924be744b4233361b793a7.jpg)
[video captions:
CHARLES: y/n how do i look?
Y/N: you look alright.
CHARLES: just alright? oh my god my heart is broken.]
top comments
user WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOUR HEART IS BROKEN CHARLES WHY IS HER OPINION SO IMPORTANT TO YOU👀
user oh so they spend the whole summer break together and now they’re in love????
user charles and y/n just announce you’re dating already i beg
user a whole formula 1 video and the first thing charles thinks of is to ask for y/n’s opinion… yeah we’ve lost him guys
user fr and i can’t even blame him have you SEEN her
yourusername just posted a photo ੈ✩‧₊˚
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/c750b35947c50ac26962ea522883e779/c8ef1d7a4055cccf-ed/s540x810/dfb79fb4aae97c132dbcbc9729514775e943e37d.jpg)
liked by charles_leclerc and 98,406 others
yourusername thanks idiot for mentioning my name constantly on the internet. glad to know i’m always on your mind (you’re on mine too)
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user OH MY GOD I KNEW IT
user TEARS THEYRE SO CUTE
user not ferrari playing matchmaker😭
charles_leclerc i love you. sorry i had to scream about it, glad i can do it double time now
charles_leclerc just posted a photo ੈ✩‧₊˚
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charles_leclerc shout out to ferrari for introducing me to the girl of my dreams and only being minorly annoyed when i decided to make her mine
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user SO REALLLL
user MOTHER AND FATHER!!! ITS OFFICIAL
user when will I have my fanfic worthy love story
carlossainz55 i can’t wait to third wheel for the rest of our career together
yourusername you love us really
carlossainz55 i do. i really do
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taglist (found here): @sunflower-golden-vol6 @six-call @skatingiswalkingincursive @peqch-pie @m0cha-bunny @ironmaiden1313 @champagnelovers101 @alessioayla @hobiismyhopeu @mingkyungseokie @woozarts @he6rtshaker @iluvvmeeee @goldenalbon @lucyysthings
as always, comments, likes, reblogs asks etc etc etc always greatly appreciated🫶 had a lot of fun w this one hehe
- giselle xx
#charles leclerc smau#charles leclerc scenario#charles leclerc one shot#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc imagines#charles leclerc imagine#charles leclerc#f1#f1 x reader
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Not to be the little gremlin obsessed with Chappell Roan BUT… reader thinking Logan is too cool to want a proper relationship with them, so when things get physical they insist things are just “casual” in order to protect themselves from getting hurt. But secretly you’re in love with each other, so honestly, neither of you want things to be casual at all… (mutual pining my beloved) please & thank you!! Love you!
ahh hi hi avo I LOVE this song, and this request, and you - I could so see this being a situation that Logan and reader find themselves in. I had so much fun writing this, I hope you like it! (I added a couple winks to the lyrics as well.) 💖 thank you so much for sending this to me!!!
casual | variant!logan howlett x f!reader
1.2k | posessive!logan, fwb(???), use of alcohol, mutual pining, references to oral sex and PiV.
It doesn’t matter that your heart flips when you look at him. It’s Logan. It’s just casual.
It certainly feels like a dream, watching your worlds collide.
The heft of Logan’s palm fitting into your friends as he shakes their hand - the five of you squeezed into your usual booth in the corner of the bar.
You’d say the past couple weeks had seemed that way, as well. A late-night dose of bravery spiraling into something so raw and intense and real, that you feel like you could choke on it.
Even now, there’s heat in your cheeks as your eyes flick his way. Something stirring in your chest at the way his other arm slings across the back of the booth almost possessively.
But like all dreams, there comes a moment where you have to wake up.
Because you know it’s not.
Because you know your feelings aren’t requited. How could they be, when it’s Logan you’re talking about?
A legend.
A lone wolf.
Someone important, someone whose name carries a weight. Who saved the world, from what Wade tells you.
And you’re - you.
So even if you know what he looks like beneath that flannel, know what his mouth feels like when it presses against yours - what he sounds like, when he comes - you know that this is nothing.
It’s casual. A distraction, for both of you.
And if that’s how it has to be, then you’ll do your best to show him you’re cool with it.
You just hadn’t expected this moment to come so soon. It had been a genuine offer, your “you wanna come with?” when the hour rolled around for your weekly trivia night.
Not thinking his head would cock to the side. The look he’d give you - that arched brow, as his fingers splayed out across your bare hip. Still crowded together on your couch, sweat-dewed.
The “sure, sweetheart” that slipped out.
And now you’re introducing him as your friend - that quick history you’ve perfected - rattling off the “you know, Wade from work’s roommate” even though Wade didn’t work at the dealership anymore.
He had made enough of an impression that none of your friends had forgotten.
And you ignore the bitter jolt in your stomach, when all Logan does is hum.
You think you must have assumed right.
He doesn’t correct you.
Logan quickly solidifies himself as an asset to the team. He gets a lot of the history questions that you’ve always struggled with. A shy quirk of his lips when your friends cheer, and you get swept along with it.
His hand ending up on your thigh along the way. Squeezing, when you chime in. Almost as if forgetting - it’s easy to, when you’re having fun like this.
A low rasp in your ear, when the host takes a break.
“Lemme get you another.”
You can only nod, as he eases out - taking your glass with him.
It only takes a second, before MJ’s hand slaps down on yours.
“That’s Logan?” She hisses - leaning forward, “The one who-”
“Yes.” You cut her off, ignoring the sideways glance her boyfriend gives you.
You never should have told her about that.
Had a hard enough time climbing into your car without thinking about it, yourself - the way he had man-handled you in the passenger seat. Thighs thrown over broad shoulders.
Fingers twined in his hair, as he made you moan in the dark parking garage. Too eager to make it up to your apartment.
She frowns, the words petering out, “But I thought-”
Your teeth worry at your lower lip.
“Yeah. Me too.” You sigh.
MJ knows how much you like him.
Really like him - butterflies, and everything. How it’s been years since you felt this way - slipping from you during that rushed phone call at 6 am the morning after your first night together.
Her eyebrows raise, and it’s a look you know well.
“It’s, you know.” Your hand waves, “It’s casual. It’s-”
It’s easier, this way.
Maybe if you keep repeating it, it won’t hurt as much when he moves on.
The look she shoots you is one of pity, just as a drink is set down in front of you.
Your teeth clicking against each other as the words are swallowed. Forcing a smile as Logan slips back in the booth next to you.
The next round starts a moment after, and it’s a welcome reprieve.
You miss the way his eyes narrow, as yours fix firmly on scorecard in front of you.
But you don’t miss the way his hands stay folded on top of the table, for the rest of the night.
You suppose he must have remembered where he was.
“You wanna come up?”
He lingers outside your apartment door, hands jammed into his pockets. That look from the bar is back - all dark, narrowed eyes.
A low sound in his throat, close to a scoff.
“That what you want, sweetheart?”
Your eyebrows raise, “Well, yeah. I mean-, that’s what we usually do, right?”
He’s spent just about every night at your apartment. His things still scattered across your room. A leather jacket slung across the chair that’s tucked against your vanity.
Logan’s lips twist at the edges, eyes dropping.
“Suppose we do.” Those hands slip from his pocket, crossing over his chest, “Back when I thought we knew what we were doing. But now…”
His head shakes. A tick in his jaw.
Your stomach drops.
“What do you mean?”
Logan huffs, “The bar, baby. Is that how you really feel?”
A step closer, until he’s caging you in. Voice dropping, rough and low - near gritted out.
“Does this,” His fingers flick between your chest and his, “feel casual to you?”
Your heartbeat gallops behind your ribs.
“I thought-,” You manage, “Thought that’s what you wanted.”
He’s too close, now. The dip of his head, those eyes burning in their shades of brown and gold.
“Now, why would you think that?”
You swallow, “Because you’re you, and I’m-”
“You’re?” He prompts, but you go silent.
A sigh, when your head dips.
Unable to say it out loud.
“Driving me crazy all night, you know that?” He rasps, “Giving me those looks. Calling me your friend, when we both know your mouth was around my cock this morning.”
A low rumble in his throat, “When I still taste like you.”
Your breath hitches, as his hand thumbs at your jaw, tilting it up.
“Lemme ask you again.” His mouth is close enough now to ghost against yours, “Is that how you really feel?”
Your head shakes.
“Wanna be yours.”
It’s breathed out, just as he kisses you.
His body pressing flush, as your hands twine around his neck. A palm around the back of his neck, pulling him closer as he deepens it.
Desire thrumming to life inside you, washing out the dregs of insecurity that you’ve been carrying this whole time. Melting them away completely with the hungry sweep of his tongue, the way he swallows your soft moan.
There’s a flash of white when he finally leans back, with the curve of his lips.
“Good.”
His hand closes around the knob. A rough twist, as his another arm wraps around your waist.
Walking you backwards, into the dark.
“Then let me show you exactly how I feel.”
thank you so much, again!! 💖
#logan howlett x reader#logan howlett x you#logan howlet smut#wolverine x reader#logan howlett fanfiction#requests#avocado-writes#eupheme answers#xmen x reader
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The pub scene is even funnier when you consider that poor Mr. Brown of Brown's World of Carpets has likely had this longtime pash on Aziraphale and, like everyone on Whickber Street, he has no idea who exactly The Ginger Goth With The Old Car is. He knows the prevailing theory is mafia but Mr. Brown of Brown's World of Carpets has seen Ginger Goth hanging around Mrs. Sandwich and her "Sandwich Shop" and also around the bookshop a bit and also some naked guy was also at the bookshop recently, so... what's the likeliest conclusion drawn by Mr. Brown of Brown's World of Carpets? That the old bookseller's lonely and paying for it.
He sees them come into the pub and thinks Aziraphale is classy like that and is taking the sex worker for a drink first or maybe that's part of it-- he's gone the whole 'boyfriend experience' route. Mr. Brown of Brown's World of Carpets sees Aziraphale with that chest stroke of that Thin Dark Duke he's paying and while Mr. Brown (of Brown's World of Carpets, just FYI) isn't here to judge and gets it as he's lonely, too... and while he does think the bookseller picks some hot ones... he wants to give Mr. Fell the real thing. The kind of love you can only get between two middle-aged, still-sorta-closeted queers like they are. He'll be someone the bookseller can talk to and find some genuine chemistry with, Mr. Brown of Brown's World of Carpets will be, so he decides to shoot his shot and knows the bookseller is skittish from their past interactions, so he goes for the meeting option. He'll have to come over to drop off the chairs, of course. Give them an excuse to talk more, alone, when Mr. Fell is not, erm, entertaining.
And poor Mr. Brown--President of the Whickber Street Shopkeepers and Traders Association, Mr. Brown of Brown's World of Carpets is-- fine, upstanding, boring as all holy fuck fella... He's met by Crowley coming over with drinks and a greeting that says this is neither the first time, nor, he doubts, will it be the last that he's had to Husband the bookseller but again, Mr. Brown of Oh, You Know By Now thinks this is a bit, so he's not intimidated.
"I was just absolutely hitting on him for real, unlike you," is what he basically told Crowley when explaining what they were chatting about.
And Crowley's like lol you got him flustered enough to host this meeting. Good on you, Mr. Whoever the Fuck You Are from Whatever Shop You Run. Look at you *go*. 😍 I've got a new favorite human, Aziraphale.
He's all "you astonish me" to Aziraphale, teasing him like you're leading the poor, balding bastard on, angel. I know it's hard for you to reign in your divine sex appeal but you should maybe try. His heart is only human, after all.
Mr. Brown still thinks Crowley's a sex worker though so he doesn't give up and is all like remember, Mr. Fell, our date is right after work on Thursday in a group setting to set you at ease but I'll see you first to set it all up because I want you and I want to make sure you know I'm not just here for the business meeting.
Crowley: That's it-- I'm adopting you, Ballsy Mr. Carpet. I like your style. But you'll never wear my angel down. We've been married for 6,000 years. I am definitely up for saving you from some demons on Thursday though and making it rain on you and literally any fruity, single shop owner in the greater metro area next season. You're on the deck after my shop lesbians. Now piss off, Mr. Barnes. We haven't been to the pub in ages and you're in my seat.
#ineffable husbands#good omens#crowley#aziraphale#mr brown#of Brown's world of carpets#good omens 2#aziracrow
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NCT Dream as Girl Dads
Headcanon: what would nct dream be like as girl dads?
content warnings: none that i can think of, its literally just how i think the members would behave if they had daughters so it should be fine unless you've got daddy issues (which is valid because so do i lol)
word count: 840
Mark:
Mark is completely enamored with anything his daughter does, whether it be big or small. Mark thinks that any little thing she does is a sign of who she’s going to be in life. She giggled at him when she was an infant? She must have a great sense of humor! She made him a fake lunch with her kitchen playset? She’s got the mind of a chef! She gets excited for the ride to visit grandma? She’s gonna travel the world one day! Mark as a dad can be summed up in one word– enthusiastic. His train of thought may be a bit idealistic (just because she likes playing on the swingset doesn’t mean she’ll be a pilot) but at least you know he will happily support her in whatever she does.
Renjun:
Gifts, gifts, and more gifts. Renjun’s daughter will always be dressed to the nines, even before she’s old enough to eat on her own– he’s got designer bibs at the ready. If she wants a dollhouse that’s 4 feet tall and takes up more space than her bed, she knows dad will get it for her (you told him to at least save it until her birthday, but he couldn’t wait). Renjun doesn’t see the harm in spoiling his little girl. Why would you not want to treat your daughter like a princess? However, Renjun is certainly not a pushover; his number one rule is bad attitude = no gifts, and he doesn’t tolerate brats.
Jeno:
Jeno is his daughter’s number one protector. No one is going to hurt his little girl on his watch. If any playground bullies push her out of the sandbox, it takes everything Jeno has to not lose it on the kid’s parents. In fact, he’s already… unpopular with the neighborhood parents, after he glared at a kid a little too hard for catching an attitude with his baby. It’ll get annoying when she’s a teenager and every boy at school is terrified to ask her on a date, but Jeno will say its good to be selective– because there’s nothing that would break his heart more than seeing his little girl in pain.
Haechan:
Haechan is his daughter’s best friend. As soon as she was old enough to walk, he was planning all sorts of fun father-daughter activities. He’s gonna take her to the carnival, and the water park, and the mud flats, and the fairgrounds, and anywhere else that his daughter might want to go. Of course he’s going to raise her on good music too, and one of her favorite memories will be going to her very first concert with her dad. As she gets older it might take him time to understand that teenagers need privacy– she’s not so little anymore, and he can’t expect her to tell him everything she thought and felt like she used to. But that doesn’t mean he’ll ever stop being his babygirl’s best friend.
Jaemin:
Jaemin has very high standards for his precious girl. She’s the daughter of Na Jaemin after all– she only deserves the best! He makes sure she gets home cooked meals (and only the finest restaurants if they choose to go out), he takes advice from Renjun to get her the finest clothes, he only gets her bedsheets with a specific thread count and skincare products with specific ingredients. He may go a bit overboard sometimes, like when he tries to forbid her from seeing certain friends or from watching certain tv shows, but you know it comes from a place of care. He just wants the best influences for his little angel.
Chenle:
Chenle wants his daughter to be amazing in everything she does. He’s going to encourage her to pursue anything, as long as she’s pursuing something. He’ll have her enrolled in a variety of clubs and activities, he’ll help her study to get the best grades, he’ll do volunteer work with her so she can experience many different paths her life could take her. Sometimes you have to pull him back a bit when he’s putting a little too much stress on her, but he just sees so much potential in his daughter.
Jisung:
Jisung lets his daughter get away with everything, for better or worse. Jisung is not much of a disciplinarian… and it drives you a little insane. He just hates seeing his baby with tears in her eyes, even though you’ve explained that she’ll be fine in 5 minutes and move on to something else. She took a toy from another kid? Well… maybe we should just buy her that toy instead of scolding her. She’s refusing to lay down at bedtime? Well what if we just let her watch a movie with us? Jisung just wants his little girl to always be happy, and turning the dial from sweet dad to mean dad kills him. But he knows its his responsibility to raise his daughter, not just fawn over how cute she is. So he will turn into mean dad when he needs to. Begrudgingly.
#nct#nct dream#nct fanfic#nct fluff#nct imagines#nct scenarios#nct smau#nct texts#nct x reader#nctzen#nct dream x reader#nct dream smau#nct dream imagines#nct dream fluff#nct drabbles#mark lee#huang renjun#lee jeno#lee haechan#lee donghyuck#na jaemin#zhong chenle#park jisung
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as a big fan of you Viago Posting I gotta ask, how do you think Viago feels/reacts to the news of Rook de Riva romancing each of the various companions? I feel like the guy would absolutely have Opinions on all of them lol
i keep receiving asks addressed like this as though i am some kind of Viago Whisperer, which i find both funny and an intimidating task. nevertheless i shall do my best.
i don’t think he would react well to any of the options here, but that’s not necessarily damning, because viago does not react well to basically anything. roughly in order from Least Viago Stress to Most Viago Stress:
1) emmrich seems, in banters with lucanis, to have been emboldened by lucanis’ confirmation that viago posssesses a rosseletto painting and gone on to actually discuss art with viago himself. (lucanis later lets emmrich know from viago that a painting he ordered for vorgoth’s benefit has come in.) emmrich is a man of culture with a very respectable necrotic damage specialisation. he comes from a politically powerful organisation that can defend itself, yet is not personally ambitious in a way likely to drag house de riva into trouble or use rook for his own ends. sure i think viago would make a little fuss about the age gap because he’s judgemental like that but i don’t think there would be much passion behind it
2) bellara’s bubbling questions and excitable nature would be personally a bit startling and maybe slightly grating to viago but i’m keeping her pretty high up because i think lucanis is right and that viago would eat up her knowledge about taste profiles for his usual Nefarious Purposes. once he realises she genuinely is asking questions about house de riva proprietary poisoning tactics for writing research, of all things, i think we can get these fantasy scientists chatting and then she’d charm him against his will.
3) taash’s general bluntness would startle viago even more. their interactions would be pretty hysterical, because taash is so straightforward and viago is so paranoid, and i think viago would leave all of them confused and slightly intimidated. if you send taash with the crows in the final battle, they and teia have a cute interaction about taash getting honorary crow rights, as a conclusion to lucanis and taash’s banters. so this has Teia Approval, which causes viago grumbling but does have a positive viago effect overall. the lords of fortune are friendly with the crows so i don’t think there are major occupational objections here
4) harding is an inquisition agent, which i think viago probably has both condescending and paranoid opinions about. i.e., the inquisition are a small band of fading influence but they also have a history of insane power grabs out of nowhere. neither of which are exactly what you want your protege to marry into. her inability to cook suggests very little skillset bonding. she’s an ordinary farm girl from ferelden and viago’s an antivan elitist so no discussion of their relative backgrounds is going to go very well. HOWEVER, there are saving graces here. she’s a rogue, which is the viago equivalent of dating someone who’s made good career choices. they briefly worked together in the comics with no issues and happily shook hands at the end. he would find her powers conceptually interesting. she’s the type of person to make an effort with in-laws. (hysterical image of her somehow getting viago to her ma’s house for a family gathering. his spindly legs not fitting under the dwarven table. him testing the world’s most earnest fereldan soup for poison. endless potential here.)
5) neve is a detective. viago is a poisoner and rook is his assassin. these are not particularly compatible life paths and i believe viago would point this out with increasing volume as nobody else seems to take issue with it. her canonical willingness to work with the crows would mollify him a bit. every other aspect of her life would not. maybe avoid her mentioning that she lives in a dock town apartment and makes no money because she’s too busy picking fights against impossible odds out of the goodness of her heart? like just don’t bring that up over dinner.
6) davrin made life choices against his own clan’s wishes, greatly approves when you knock his boss out cold, and has zero respect for the crows. davrin does not want viago’s approval. davrin cannot even pretend to want viago’s approval. viago thinks he has the right to be insulted. let alone the insult of his protege ending up with someone with the zero lifetime prospects of a grey warden monster hunter. does rook even know what happened the last time a crow lost their head over a warden? perhaps rook would like the crows to bury as many fifth talons as they did eighth talons! <- said in increasingly hysterical tones, as teia pats him on the back comfortingly while giving rook a thumbs up for picking out a handsome one
7) viago’s fairly sure you’re publicly dating the first talon because you want him personally in an early grave
#veilguard spoilers#viago de riva#okay i mostly put lucanis last for the bit i don’t know if that’s necessarily true#depends a lot on the rook and also how the first talon situation is being handled in your personal post-canon imaginings#but as soon as you make the crows even slightly more crow like in your mind. most reasonable viago paranoia moment ever i fear#hes right this time. why are you doing that.
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