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l4zyb0n35 · 7 months ago

Text

THE BREAKING POINT

SMUT FIC

PAIRING: Alastor x F!Reader

SUMMARY: Y/N is a diligent worker, much to the chagrin of her partner, Alastor. Despite his efforts to get her to stop for both their sakes, Y/N remains steadfast in her duties. However, Alastor finds a loophole to this situation.

WARNINGS: Really really great awesome writing skills, Established romantic relationship, (can be seen as dating, fiancé, or married), AFAB reader, usage of Y/N, Sexual content (obv), Mature themes, Mature language, Nudity, Breastfeeding, Unprotected sex, MINORS DNI FOR UR OWN SAFTEY, Alastor manipulates her but only to get her to stop cleaning the hardwood floor, Alastor kinda controls her but not too much. Let me know if i missed anything :3

NOTICE: please don't copy or steal or translate any of my work or you will be haunted in your dreams and i will spawn something unpleasant at your porch the next day. But...thanks for liking my work !! >.< Property of @l4zyb0n35 and @genderlessdude92

WORDS: 2.4k

Requests are open, support is highly appreciated!

〰ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭ ..。.:*･ﾟ♫₊ ♪ *♬‧₊enjoy!~

You were a very hardworking woman around the hotel, to say the least.

Your excuse? “Well, Charlie is just dealing with so much, what’s my help going to harm but not… help?”

Ever since your dear partner, Alastor, invited you to live with him in his hotel room at the Hazbin Hotel, just to be closer as a couple,

You would not stop fucking working.

It’s driving him mad.

He has recently tried everything to get you to relax, to take it easy for once, but you were too stubborn for that. He couldn’t even believe how much work you did for such a small pay. It was honestly ridiculous since you weren’t even a maid, if that was what you were thinking.

So what if you were a bit of a clean freak, it wasn’t any reason to clean the entire damn hotel every day, including the outside, may we add.

You wouldn’t listen to his advice though, no matter how many times he told you to stop.

“Y/N, I swear if you keep cleaning the hotel I’m gonna…do something very bad,” he threatened one day while you were scrubbing down the lobby.

You chuckled, ignoring his threat.

“Don’t worry about me, sweetheart, m’ not gonna lose a limb.” you said with a smile.

Alastor sighed, watching as you continued to scrub the floors.

“You’re just being stubborn, Y/N,” he mumbled under his breath.

‘My last resort, I suppose.’ he concluded in his thoughts, looking around to make sure nobody would hear them.

After making sure that they were alone at the scene, he walked back over to you, trying to fix his composure.

“…When will you come back to bed with me, dear? It’s been cold without you.” Alastor said, kneeling down to her level as he put on his fake facade.

You paused for a moment and turned to him, “Aw, Al, you miss my spot being filled in the bed?” You said, rubbing his shoulder.

He nodded, “It’s never the same without you, I’m afraid.” He tried to soften his smile.

“…You’re not just saying that, right?” You said, losing your smile and pausing your hand.

“What? No-no. I would never lie to you dear.” He said, defending himself.

“…When do you want me in bed, hm?” You said, picking up your supplies and ignoring your suspicions, “I need to shower, after all.” You added.

Alastor stood up, “Now?” He asked, trying to sound hopeful.

“Mm, sure.” You nodded, walking off with your bucket of cleaning supplies.

He silently celebrated his victory.

* * *

Alastor’s ears perked up as he heard the shower turn off.

He was currently laying in bed with only a robe on and some boxers, staring off into the bayou and he brainstormed what he could do to get you to stop working.

He decided a couple minutes ago that his only option left were to ‘have intercourse’.

It was quite smart, actually. All he had to do was take your ability to walk.

So he waited as your blow dried your hair, trying to ignore his unpleasant boner from beneath the cloth of his boxers.

He waited even more when you picked which robe to wear to bed,

which, as you stepped out the steamy chamber, was a red silk robe with Alastor’s initials on it, your favorite.

He had a smug look on his face, seeing you step out in his clothing.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were waiting for me.” You said, seeing Alastor sitting up in bed.

He smiled at you, “No worries, dear,” he said, standing up and putting his hands on your hips.

“I was just waiting for you to come to bed.” He said, bringing his lips close to yours.

You laughed softly, pulling back after a moment, “What’s the occasion, dear?” You rested your forehead on his, closing your eyes.

“Hmm?” He asked, confused.

“Why are you acting so lovey-dovey with me? Is it Valentine’s Day already?” You laughed again, resting your head against his chest.

“Oh, don’t act so surprised, darling.” He said, leaning forward and kissing your temple.

“But, really, what’s the occasion?” You asked, moving back to give him space.

“Well…” He said, thinking quickly, “I figured you deserved a break after all of that hard work you put in recently.” He said, smiling again.

“Oh, your so sweet, Al.” You commented, caressing his cheek.

He leaned into your touch, “Yes…so i decided, what better to do so than taking your ability to walk for the next morning?” He sighed sweetly.

You paused, “…forget about Valentine’s day, did rut season come early?” You said, raising an eyebrow.

Alastor grinned, “It’ll definitely feel like it.” He said, grabbing your waist and laid you flat on the bed.

He moved down to your neck, kissing and suckling on it.

“Alastor…” You laughed out softly, more in a mumble.

“…Sshh, just let me do my thing, okay?” He whispered in your ear, continuing into your neck until he was sure to leave a mark, latching off of it with a ‘pop’.

He then made his way down, stopping at your breasts, cupping them in his hands and giving each nipple a gentle tug before resting his lips onto one of them.

He sucked and nibbled on it, moving to the other breast and doing the same.

He stopped, hearing you moan quietly under him, “Are you enjoying yourself?” He asked, looking up at your face.

“Oh, yes,” you gasped out, feeling your legs go weak as you lay there, “Keep going.” You added, running your fingers through his hair.

Alastor smiled, continuing to kiss your breasts until he felt you get wetter and wetter.

He sat up, sliding your robe off of you and throwing it somewhere across the room, leaving you in just your panties.

His eyes widened a bit at the sight of your body, “How did i end up with a sinner so beautiful.” He said, resting his head on your stomach, giving the fat of your hip a squeeze.

He ran his hands up and down your thighs, stopping at your panties and pulled them off of you, tossing them aside.

He then spread your legs apart and started to rub your clit gently with his thumb.

You let out a soft moan as you let out a jolt throughout your body from the contact, “F-fuck…” You breathed.

Alastor smiled and brought his free hand to your mouth, “Lick.” He commanded, placing his index finger on your tongue.

You obeyed, tasting your juices on his fingers.

He swiftly pulled the claw out your mouth, then slowly slipping two of them into your gummy walls.

You moaned out again as he curled his fingers inside you, thrusting them in and out of your hole.

He pulled his fingers out of you, sucking them clean as he moved your body to the center of the bed, sitting on his knees atop of you.

“Now,” he grabbed your left left, throwing it stop his shoulder, “You know the safe word, dear?” He said, grabbing ahold of his member and teasing your entrance with it.

You nodded, moving your hips for some more friction.

“Needy, I see…” You pulled his cock farther from her, “I need words, dear.”

“Y-yes, Alastor…” You struggled out.

He started to fist his member slowly, “Wouldn’t want to hurt my prized possession.”

After a moment, he pulled his hand away to put another leg up on his shoulder, scooting in and rubbing his duck along your slick folds.

“O-oh….” You breathed out as his meat hit your nub, “P-Put it in, Al…” You mumbled.

“Hm, what was that?” He stoped his member, resting it upon your nub as a tease.

You bit your lip, grinding against his dick, desperate for him to put it in.

He chuckled, pulling it back, making you stop.

You let out a whimper.

Alastor looked at you with a lustful look, his smile widening. “I need you to beg for it, dear.” He claimed, enjoying the moment.

You blushed, looking away for a moment.

Alastor tilted his head, grabbing his member again and started fisting it slowly.

You gulped, looking back at him, still not meeting his gaze, and whispered something incoherent.

He grasped your chin, turning it so you would look at him. “What’s wrong dear? losing interest in my so suddenly?” He said, making you shake your head, “Hm…then beg for it.”

"Please, Alastor, put yourself inside of me, fill me up, fuck me, please!” You begged, moving your hips for a feeling.

He stopped your hips, growling as he pushed himself inside of you without any warning, making you moan loudly.

“F-fuck…” you cursed from the sudden movement, trying to squirm away automatically.

Alastor noticed this, pausing his movement as he grabbed your arms, then your hips and waist, getting you to stop, “What’s wrong dear?”

You looked at him, “…k-kiss me?”

He smiled softly, “Anything for my doe.” he said, leaning down and kissing you directly on the mouth.

Although, as he leaned down, his dick moved further inside you, causing you to let out a jolt once again.

He caressed your hair, “It’s already in, dear,” he mumbled lovingly on your lips, “you’ve done your work, now just relax. I’ll do everything else.”

Waiting until you nodded, he pulled away and slowly began to pull out, before thrusting in swiftly, but gently.

You whimpered softly, gripping the sheets under you.

He pulled out and pushed in again, slowly building a rhythm.

He began to thrust faster, more cruel, “Oh, Alastor…” you moaned out, holding your hands around his neck.

Wet skin slapping together filled the room’s noises, alongside the crickets in the bayou, making you blush from the awkward noises.

Alastor noticed this, beginning to buff out his breaths and growls, and silently sent over his shadow to turn on the radio to a quiet, intimate jazz station.

“Hah…Alastor…” You breathed out as he shushed you, thrusting faster.

His cock rubbed against your walls, hitting all the right spots.

After a while, Alastor started to feel a familiar coil in his abdomen, grunting as he forced his hips to go at an ungodly pace, making your eyes roll to the back of your head.

“Gonna fuck you so good, darling…” He huffed, “Fill you up…you won’t be leaving this bed, understand?” Making you look at him directly and he moved your head with a tendril.

“Y-yes, Alastor…” You mumbled, trying to hold eye contact.

“Good girl…” He awarded verbally, growing another tendril into sight as he moved it down to run your clit, getting a high pitched moan out of you.

“F-faster, Al…I feel it…” You tightened your legs on him, tensing up.

As your tits bounced up and down from the thrusts, you couldn’t help but have to cover them because of the breeze from the bayou-

“No,” he immediately said, lifting one of his hands from clawing at the sheets and placing your hands around his neck, immediately diving down to suckle on your breasts.

“O-oh, yes!” You cried out, feeling his tongue circle around your nubs as he switched between the two.

You groaned as you felt the familiar coil in your abdomen grow after a couple thrusts, “I’m g-gonna cum soon, Al…” You scratched at his back in pleasure, trying to chase at your orgasm.

That’s when he didn’t switch to another breast, but kept sucking on one of them, rubbing and squeezing the other with his hand, making you wonder what he was doing,

Until you felt some milk come out of them.

“Ah-Ah! Alastor! I’m close!” You said, your legs shaking violently as you felt the intensity of him suck and squeeze milk out of you.

He growled, fastening his pace even more, making them even more tougher and he enter and exited your womb space, “Come for me, darling, let me hear you sing for me…”

His dirty talk only got you closer and closer to your edge, until,

You threw your head back into the mattress, arching your back as you let out a blissful cry of pleasure, clenching around him as you rode your orgasm, struggling to even keep your eyes open.

Alastor let out a beastly growl as his form quickly morphed to a more intimidating one as he shoved he cock into you one last time, releasing his seed inside you.

His cum leaked out of you as he slowly pulled out, quickly stuffing his fingers inside your hole so the cum would stay.

“What a good little for you are to me…” He said, admiring the mess you both made on the bed, and then just you laying there.

Noticing how you were still breathing heavily, not moving your body unless a little twitch, he leaned down to whisper softly, “How about some cold water, dear? Think this’ll help you relax?” He asked dotingly, making you nod instantly.

That made him chuckle, moving over to the edge of the bed as he stood up, going over to the nightstand and placing a water pitcher there from the shadows, and walking over the the bathroom for a towel.

***

As he came back from the bathroom with a hot rag in the hand, he noticed how you were half asleep, yet still conscious, which made him laugh softly as he place the rag down by the pitcher, crawling over to you.

“Mon Cher, you’re all fucked out by yours truly.” He smiled softly, fetching the rag from the nightstand with his shadow as he began to wipe your cunt clean.

When he was done, he then took notice of your breasts, how there were some stray milk on them.

Shrugging and tossing the rag aside, he leaned down and softly licked the milk off your chest.

You giggled softly in your daze, “Alastor…” You rubbed your eyes.

When he finished up, he filled a glass of water from the pitcher and turned back to you, sitting you up gently as he tipped the glass of water to your lips.

“Think you’ll be walking tomorrow?” He wondered aloud.

“Hm…will you stay with me here if i don’t?” You asked as you finished your glass.

He placed the cup down, “Of course dear,” he promised, crawling under the sheets beside you, sending his shadow to turn off the lights in the room as he cuddled close to your fragile state,

“Sleep well, dear.”

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END NOTES: I LEARNED HOW TO SPELL AWKWARD FROM WRITING THIS LETS FUCKING GO!!!! All jokes aside, (not really, now clap), i hope this fic actually turns out well because i spent 5 minutes trying to copy and paste this into a word counter and then 2 more minutes pasting this fic here because my phone sucks and it’s broken and i hate it and abuse it but like…i just hope it does well. I (hypothetically) put blood sweat and TEARS into this fic and idgaf what you think because it’s amazing for a first fic on this blog. Notes and comments, maybe even reblogs *wink wink* and also REQUESTS!!! Requests are my best friend, and always open unless I’m on vacation (which i’ll always announce). I love you guys ^^ !!

-Lynn Lazybones

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thebearer · 1 year ago

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i saw a few tik tok parents saying like parenting has made them feel like they were healing themselves. and i feel like carm would do like little affirmations with baby bear in the mirror like “i am pretty. i am strong(and it would be funny for her to say ‘like uncle richie).” and it like eases his anxiety and his mind for some reason

carmen would 10000% heal his inner child that way, and he's a fucking die hard "i'm gonna break this cycle" type guy bc chaos and all of that is obv not good.

sometimes he has slip ups, he'll yell or get irrationally mad (like his mother) when she does something that she doesn't really understand, but he tries not to. he really fucking tries.

just picturing carmen changing baby teddy bear or holding her while he rocks her to sleep, maybe feeding her a bottle in the morning so they start off on a good note, he'd do these little affirmations. you started it and he caught on, felt a little silly at first, but that's his baby. she's perfect to him, so he'll let her know that.

"you are the light of my life. you are so loved. your parents are so, so proud of you- let me say that one again, because mommy and me will always be proud of you. you know that? no matter what." carmen coos, in a soft tone just looking down at her. the rational side of him knows she doesn't understand, but the way she's staring back... he feels like she does.

"you can be anything you want. your life is fun and filled with joy. you are smart. you are kind. you are beautiful- so beautiful, teddy bear, look just like your mama, thankfully-"

"-carmen," you cross your arms in the doorway, catching his attention. "it's not a good affirmation if you put yourself down."

he sighs, a little embarrassed, mostly because he knows you're right. you walk towards him, gently running a hand over her soft hair. "you are so talented, like your daddy." you gleam at him. "and you are so loving, like your daddy."

"and like your mommy." carmen adds, your hand squeezing his shoulder gently. "and you are so loved."

"so loved." you mutter, kissing the top of her head. you tilt your head towards carmen, so close your noses are touching. "and you are too, carmy. so loved. by me and teddy and everyone else." he blushes at your words, head reeling into your kiss.

sometimes when his mind is racing, telling him he's no good and filling with bad thoughts, he'll think back to you two, looking at his phone or the nearest pictures. the words and phrases he says to teddy coming back to him, soothing him gently, pushing away those thoughts- your voice trumping over them telling him how loved he is, how proud of him you are. it's grounding, and it fucking works somehow.

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fxckn-sxck-fr · 16 days ago

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id lovee to hear ur rankings of the comic book men from appearing to be the most normal to something is obviously wrong w them (if that makes sense... like,,,, who is and isnt an obv red flag)

ur writing keeps me fed :3

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐂 𝐁𝐎𝐎𝐊 𝐌𝐄𝐍 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐌𝐎𝐒𝐓 𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐅𝐋𝐀𝐆𝐒…

!!! GN reader, manipulation, gaslighting, mentions of stalker-ish picture-taking, mentions of schizophrenia and anxiety, poor treatment of mental illness, mentions of violent behaviors, murderous Bucky Barnes, Tim Drake (he’s just a problem), mentions of suicidal tendencies, can be translated as platonic or romantic.

EAAAAATT!!!!! EEEEAAAAATTTT!!!!!!!!! EAT MY WRITING!!!! CONSUME IT!!!!!!!!!!!

Remember, this is from least to most, meaning we’ll talk about the seemingly well-adjusted folks first and gradually move up to the, “okay, what the fuck is wrong with him” peeps.

Wally West: The way he’s playing everyone like a fiddle is downright disrespectful. He’s filled to the brim with green flags, easily appearing as one of the safest guys on the planet. Even when you start to suspect something, you have to constantly second guess yourself, because come on… it’s Wally. What the fuck can he do wrong? Don’t even bother voicing any of your concerns. No one — and I mean no one — will believe you. Having problems with Wally West? The embodiment of a warm summer evening? Damn, that sounds like a you problem. Poor Wally, having to deal with a crazy weirdo.

Dick Grayson: He’s got an amazing personality and pretty privilege working for him. At this rate, the masses manipulate themselves. Only those who are extremely perceptive will pick up on the cold glint in his eyes, and even then, the mystique only adds to his charm. By the time you realize he’s been hiding a darker side, it’s too late. Everyone’s too captivated by how endearing Dick is to hear you out. Even those who know him personally — who know about his struggles and rough patches — think you’re full of shit. Dick’s an emotionally mature man, so why don’t you just talk it out with him?

Steve Rogers: This is a bit unfair, considering the leverage he’s granted as Captain America, but hey… work what you got. While it may seem obvious to you that he’s way too overbearing and protective, good luck trying to get other people on your side. Everyone else thinks it’s a part of his 40s charm. Social norms were just different back then; why can’t you be more appreciative of his old-fashioned care? Besides, you’re probably overreacting. Is it really that bad? Steve is the leader of the Avengers, so maybe you’re just taking his authoritative demeanor the wrong way.

Clark Kent: I’m gonna be so for real, any man from a fuckass state like Kansas is going to come with some personality quirks. People will probably give him the benefit of the doubt by default. Just a farm boy trying to navigate the big city and can’t even hurt a fly. Sure, he can be odd at times, but nothing makes him an inherently bad guy. This is the same man that helps old people cross the street, for god’s sake! He most definitely means well, it’s just a matter of setting boundaries with him. What’s the worst he can do?

Remy LeBeau: Despite what differing opinions may say about The Gambit, Remy seems like he’s got his head on his shoulders. His “red flags” are more on the blurry side. Do you count excessive flirting as a red flag? What about hiding behind charisma and a fake ego instead of going to therapy? Some people may say yes, others no. But in terms of glaring red flags, Remy’s relatively clean. We’ve all got our issues, no? Being a thief doesn’t make you a psycho. That being said, due to Remy’s shifty past, people may be more inclined to listen should you ever express that something’s wrong.

Peter Parker: Honestly… he’s a bit of a weirdo. Nothing obvious at first, but the longer you know him, the more behaviors you may pick up on that make you go, “oh… well… that’s weird”. Take his Polaroid obsession, for example. He’s got at least one photo in every jacket pocket, dozens in his wallet, and a fuck ton in his desk. Poor guy accidentally spilled them all over the ground once, which naturally sparked rumors. But Peter’s a sweetheart. Clingy, but still a sweetheart. Maybe he’s just a little messed up due to everything he’s lost in his life.

Bruce Wayne: Okay. Red flags in the playboy billionaire Bruce Wayne? Absolutely unheard of. He’s an absolute angel. According to all of the stan accounts out there, he could do nothing wrong. But red flags in the real Bruce Wayne? Where do we even begin. Distrusting as fuck, paranoid, argumentative, the occasional fit of violence, a known manipulator and liar… want me to keep going, because I can. It’s very hard to rank Bruce due to the ginormous contrast between general public opinion and those who actually know him, so he goes smack in the middle. Billionaire Bruce Wayne would never be a horrible person to you, but the real Bruce Wayne 100% would.

Jaime Reyes: Because of how mental illness is stigmatized, Jaime’s unfortunately labeled to be dangerous. But it’s not really his fault. That damn scarab has him muttering to himself like a crackhead, and naturally assumptions will be made. When actually given a chance, people will learn that Jaime’s a nice kid. He just probably struggles with schizophrenia or really bad anxiety. Yes, his paranoia can get bad, but again; mental illness. He’s never proven himself to a threat, despite what others may think. He just needs help (but there’s no way to combat the manipulation of Khaji Da. Jaime lost that battle the moment he became Blue Beetle).

Hal Jordan: Oh, yeah. He’s got red flags alright. But they’re mostly normal ones, like his ego and horrendous stubborn streak. Lots of guys out there are like that, and are they considered freaks? No. Well, not all of them. However, it is a bit concerning that he’s willing to throw hands at the drop of a hat. Bro’s one major freak out away from catching assault charges like they’re Pokémon. But if it’s any consolation, it should be noted that he hasn’t gotten into major legal trouble. On Earth. Yet. Some call him rough around the edges, others call him a severely troubled individual. Either way, he definitely needs to seek professional help.

Scott Summers: MAJOR red flags. He’s an overbearing control freak that really needs to work on his… well… his everything. Emotional intelligence, temper, daddy issues… yeah, no. He’s an amazing leader, but probably someone you should steer clear from otherwise. Most wouldn’t be surprised if you two were having issues. It’s not like he wears all of his problems on his sleeve; the iceberg goes much deeper than that. Though he sure as hell doesn’t present himself as a well-adjusted member of society. Proceed at your own risk. Don’t say you weren’t warned, because you probably were.

Bucky Barnes: This is the opposite of Captain America’s case. His reputation as the Winter Soldier kind of skews the perception of him to be a walking red flag. And you know, he really is. Bucky is extremely dangerous. Down to snap necks anytime, anywhere, no amount of charm or endearing quirks will make people feel fully safe around him. His history of violence did not stop post-brainwashing. And it’s not like he’s hiding it, either. There’s this crazed gleam in his eyes that just screams “fuck around and find out,” no matter what his mood is. Who in their right mind would involve themself with THE Winter Soldier?! Yeah, no shit you’re having issues with him. He is an issue.

Tim Drake: Bro is the epitome of “you’re scaring the hoes.” He could be walking down the street — face neutral, hands in his pockets — and total strangers will get the sense that something is deeply wrong with him. The aura around him exudes the reddest of flags. Yes, his face and intelligence are attractive, but even those who have fallen for his pretty boy swag can’t help but sigh dreamily and think, “he really needs to be institutionalized.” Disturbing humor. Creepy staring. Mood swings. Suicidal tendencies. Sadomasochism to the max. The list goes on and on and on. If Dead Dove: Do Not Eat was a person, it’d be him. What were you expecting? It’s Tim fucking Drake.

#❥ CALL INCOMING: DO YOU LIKE SCARY MOVIES?#❥ TW: YANDERE #❥ YANDERE CHARACTER #❥ PLATONIC YANDERE #❥ ROMANTIC YANDERE #❥ YANDERE BRUCE WAYNE #❥ YANDERE BUCKY BARNES #❥ YANDERE CLARK KENT #❥ YANDERE DICK GRAYSON #❥ YANDERE HAL JORDAN #❥ YANDERE JAIME REYES #❥ YANDERE PETER PARKER #❥ YANDERE REMY LEBEAU #❥ YANDERE SCOTT SUMMERS #❥ YANDERE STEVE ROGERS #❥ YANDERE TIM DRAKE #❥ YANDERE WALLY WEST #❥ YANDERE VARIOUS X READER #❥ GN READER

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awkward-tension-art · 6 months ago

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bad batch x artist (painter) reader?

I am SICK and have been traveling so please excuse any typos

Hunter

He’s gonna think your so talented, whether you paint land scapes, abstract, flowers, people etc

And he’s absolutely going to fuel your painting

Whenever the batch are on a planet with a market, he’s gonna try and find new paints for you

Even some brushes too!

I Hc that as a cadet, Hunter would doodle in his free time, so he might get back into it whenever you paint

So, some times, whenever your painting, he’ll sit nearby and start to doodle. Just the two of you in comfortable silence as you each do your own thing

Echo

Like Hunter, he’s going to also look for paints and stuff to gift you whenever the batch are on a friendly planet

He’s gonna go for the truly expensive, nice stuff. I’m talking stuff made from diamonds or shells or something

I can see Echo sitting next to you as you paint. There’s something so relaxing about the movements the brush makes on a canvas

Keeps whatever you paint. Unless you want to sell it, in which case, he’s gonna help you do that. Make sure you aren’t underselling your work

“Echo, we need the credits” “not at that price. You worked on this for several rotations. It’s worth at least double.”

Wrecker

Fascinated by everything you paint and how you paint it.

He is amazed by every work of art, no matter the style or subject matter

Gonna ask you to paint him. If you do he’s keeping it forever. For years. It’ll be hung up on the Marauder.

He’ll also brag about you and your talent a lot.

“My Cyare? Most talented artist. You want to see their work? Of course I’ll show you!”

He might accidentally break a few of your paint brushes. They’re fragile to him and sometimes he forgets his own strength.

But don’t worry! He’ll find you nicer, stronger ones to use!

Tech

Working on stuff together? Working on stuff together.

He will want to work on his own projects while you paint. You guys just spend relaxed, quiet time together as you do your own things.

He honestly loves the sounds of you painting. The brush on canvas. Mixing paints. All of that.

He might try his hand at painting if you teach him. He knows he’ll never be as talented as you, but he’s a quick learner

Painting isn’t something he’ll particularly stick to though. He prefers his own projects, but he really enjoyed learning from you.

Crosshair

Not going to lie, he’s actually kind of interested in painting when he sees you paint for the first time.

He has the eye for detail, and the patience for it as well.

So, after a while of being together, he’ll sheepishly ask if he can paint with you too. Just to try it, of course!

Turns out you might have found him a new hobby he enjoys

Like his brothers, if he sees some quality paints or brushes, he’ll get them to gift them to you.

Sometimes he likes to play a little game and at the beginning of a new painting, he’s gonna try and guess what it is

He gets it right a lot of time, to be honest. Like I said, he has the eye for detail.

Bonus:

Omega (platonic obv)

Gonna want to paint

She wants to learn! And ends up really enjoying it!

I mean, her brothers s/o is a talented artist! She wants to do what you do!

And she loves it. Is super proud of her first painting. Your the first person she shows <3

#reader insert #the bad batch #the bad batch x reader #tbb x reader #tbb headcanons #hunter x reader #echo x reader #tech x reader #wrecker x reader #crosshair x reader #tbb hunter #tbb echo #tbb wrecker #tbb tech #tbb crosshair

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syoddeye · 9 months ago

Text

useless

Part one of my submission to @glitterypirateduck's O, Captain! Challenge. I rolled a d100 to select three prompts. Part one uses two:

42. The story spans over a period of 10 or more years

14. Opposites attract

~2k words, Price x f!Reader. Some liberties were taken with canon, obvs. Please enjoy!

You meet John Price when you're fifteen years old.

Being the new kid is never easy, but you have some practice. This is the fifth time your family has moved since you were born. Such is life when your mother's an ambassador. However, it is your first time attending an actual school, and it's miserable. It doesn't matter who your mother is when your peers are the children of millionaires, celebrities, and executives. Compared to them, you're a nobody, just easy pickings.

But compared to John, you might as well be a princess.

The son of your mother's assistant, you see John almost every day. You do not attend the same school, of course. Despite the awfulness of its students, your school has standards, after all, but every day after the last bell, you and your security detail fetch John to rendezvous at your family's sprawling home. Since both sets of your parents work long and odd hours, you spend a great deal of time together. Usually, you study, eat dinner, maybe read or watch television, but you do not necessarily talk. He's as surly as an old man, unpleasant on good days and unbearable on bad ones.

You don't look at John when he slides into the car anymore. You're enthralled in Sabriel, too busy to acknowledge him, that is until you feel his eyes on you.

"What?"

"Didn't say anything."

"You're staring," You huff, lowering the book, only to almost drop it. "What happened to your face?!"

A purpling, inky black bruise covers John's swollen left eye. It's nasty, but he looks bored by the question.

"Scrapped. Some idiot ran his mouth."

"So you hit him? Then he hit you?"

"That's generally how it works," He says dismissively, crossing his arms and leaning into the seat to stare out the window.

You roll your eyes and return to the Abhorsen. "Your mom's gonna kill you."

He doesn't have a comeback for that.

Predictably, his mom loses it when she arrives to pick him up. Throws a fit, her anger evenly split between John and his school. You watch from the top of the stairs as your mother consoles her friend and offers advice before they leave. John scowls, the expression deepening when he catches you listening in. You give a shit-eating grin before retreating to your room. Serves him right for fighting. Boys.

Of course, though, in a rotten turn of events, his mother leverages her position, and John enrolls in your school. Due to your relationship, you're naturally coupled together both in and outside of the classroom. It isn't for lack of trying on your peers' parts. You can grudgingly admit John's a good-looking boy. He has all the makings of a popular kid. Athletic, intelligent, and withdrawn, just enough to make people wonder in a good way. He's regularly asked out, the invitations often extended in your company. You don't miss how other girls look at him or glare at you.

Jokes on them, he's easily the most unpleasant person you've ever had the displeasure to know.

"What are you putting down on the careers interest form?" You ask one afternoon, sprawled on the couch while John sits with his back to it, reading.

"SAS. Enlisting next year."

"Military? How noble." You muse. "Your dad's not–"

"No," His head turns a fraction. "But my grandfather served. North Africa."

It's the first you've heard of it. John doesn't talk much about his family, nor do you make a habit of asking. You don't pay close attention to the adults' conversations either. "Well, you're pretty strong and clever, I guess," you temper the compliments, uneasy about doling them out to him. So you'll fair well, I bet."

He doesn't respond for a minute before a quiet "Thank you," ekes out.

For whatever reason, your face heats. How embarrassing. You tap your pen against your blank form, grateful he faces away. Yet as a silence follows and stretches, irritation sidles alongside discomfiture. Honestly, this is what you'd like to show the girls at school. Prove that John's actually quite annoying.

"Now's about the time another person would ask what I'm putting down."

John doesn't look up from his book. "I know what you're going to write."

You bristle. "Oh, do you? Enlighten me."

"Artist. Writer. Actress. Something useless."

In one fluid movement, you sit up and strike him across the crown with your notebook. "You're such an asshole!" You quickly create distance between his stupid, stunned face and yourself, stomping all the way to the stairs. Halfway up the steps, you crouch, pressing your face between the balusters. "You're not going to amount to anything!"

You don't speak to him after that—not entirely, of course. Your families are too intertwined to avoid him completely, but the incident strains your already tenuous relationship. It's awkward and tense, though neither of your families notices the shift. You sit in silence at joint dinners. You leave him alone in the den after school. You latch on to other singletons in class, avoiding him in the halls.

Months pass, and as John declared, he enlists the moment the school term ends. Freshly sixteen, and scheduled to ship out to basic.

The morning he leaves, your mother drags you to his house. You stand speechless on the walk outside when he marches out with his rucksack. His head's shaved. He grew an inch and filled out some in the last few weeks when you weren't paying attention. Still a boy, but clearly on his way to becoming a man.

His mother all but shoves him at you to say goodbye. He stares down at you now, the twit.

"Good luck." It's the nicest thing you can manage.

"Break a leg," He responds, hauling his bag over his shoulder. "Don't be useless."

You're too busy noticing how his eyes are the same color as the sky to feel even a twinge of irritation.

When he files into the waiting taxi, his mother bursts out into sobs. You watch the car until it disappears down the next street, trying to understand why your chest is so tight.

It’s a decade before you see him again.

"I told the Prices you'd pop by."

You nearly fumble your card, phone cradled between your shoulder and ear, and clumsily tap it against the scanner. Mouthing an apology to the disinterested cashier, you take your bag and find your words.

"Why would you do that?" You ask, unable to completely mask your disdain. "I told you I have plans for New Years."

Your mother tsks. "Surely you can pencil in some of our oldest friends for an hour tomorrow."

The automatic doors open, and the wintry air envelops you instantly. The plastic bag taut in the crook of your arm, you flip the collar of your coat and start the return trek to your flatshare. "I haven't seen them since graduation, since we moved back to Virginia."

"And you moved back to London, what, eight months ago?" Her end muffles a moment while she says something to her aide. Her voice is sterner when she speaks again. "They've been asking about your job, how acting's going…" Her voice trails, leaving the works or not going unspoken.

You swallow, tucking your chin into your scarf to consider the remainder of the conversation. "Fine. I'll stop by tomorrow afternoon. But I'm not staying late. I have plans." You don't. You did have an invite to a party a week ago, but that was before Jeff decided Jane from work was 'more his speed'. More 'conventional'. Though you'd seen the breakup coming for weeks and the relationship only a measly six months old, it still stung. Since coming back to London, you've had more than enough rejection.

Dozens of auditions. Dozens more interviews. Zip, zilch, zero. No callbacks, no non-speaking roles. And while you are the favorite stage manager for several small local theaters and Yes Woman, you weren't any closer to the stage. Something your mother loves to remind you of. Between her rapid ascent up the career ladder and your decision to study theater, an uncrossable gulf cropped up between you. It grew with each passing day. Moreso, when you reject every offer of financial support or connection. Her support means control. Ownership. You won't have it.

The conversation drifts to other topics—Dad, mostly. He's still putting around after her, content in his retirement. They'll spend New Year's at the White House, of course. You're pushing through the door to your place when she drops the bomb.

"John'll be there, too."

This time, you drop your keys.

There is no excuse you can make to back out now. You wait on the top step of the Price's home. It's smaller than you remember. You hear people inside, music, and laughter. You hesitate. Given what you told your mother, they probably expected you far earlier than nine, but you barely mustered the courage to leave your room. You practically blacked out on the tube, leaving the station in a daze with your cheap bubbles. Taking a deep breath, you reach for the door. No time for stage fright.

The foyer is a time capsule, aside from the dozens of coats hanging on hooks and a coat rack. Framed photos of the Prices throughout the years line the short corridor leading further into the home. John's center stage for most of them. You hang your coat and slowly edge down memory lane, pausing when you see your own face looking back at you. Aged fifteen, the first day of school. You and John in different uniforms, sulking for different reasons. It was the last time you were the same height.

There are a lot of photographs of you in the hallway gallery. Ones you didn't know existed. You get stuck on a still of you and John from behind. It's from the London Zoo, from some ridiculous event your mother's work mandated you attend. The photo is simple, accidentally composed almost professionally. You and John lean against the rail overlooking the lion exhibit. You excitedly point at the pair lazing about in the shade, and John…John's focus is on you.

The sound of your name rips you away from the moment, and Mrs. Price beckons from the doorway to the living area.

The reunion between yourself and Prices is sweeter than you thought it would be. It's odd to see them older. As jarring as it is when you see your own parents, as sparingly as those visits are. Wrinkles, spots, graying hairs…But unlike your parents, none of the familiar warmth is missing from the Prices. They fuss, complimenting your secondhand dress and gushing over the bottom shelf champagne. They awkwardly introduce you to the closest guests, some claiming to have met you as a teenager. But you feel Mrs. Price's hand on your back, gently ushering and ushering, until you arrive at the threshold of the kitchen.

He's taller, tanner, and a hell of a lot broader than you remember him.

"John? Look who's here!"

You step into the kitchen with a gentle nudge from Mrs. Price, and the figure from many memories and more than a handful of confusing and mortifying dreams turns to face you.

Your name slips from his mouth in an arrogant purr, and the little tug of his lip into a smirk instantly pokes at your patience. He's literally only said your name, and already he's resurrected the same shade of vexation you felt ten years ago.

You're going to need something stronger than champagne.

#ocaptainchallenge #john price #john price x reader #john price x f!reader #price x reader #price x f!reader #lieutenant john price #smug lieutenant john price is so important to me #i'm also obviously not british and i'll admit i did maybe 10% of the research i usually do.....apologies #lightly edited i was too excited

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nibbelraz · 9 months ago

Note

I thought about something the other day which I nearly wrote but I don't have the patience for- what if Mobei had a sudden epithany while snooping qinghua's house? cause obv hes gonna snoop. sqh is mad sus, and mobei has trust issues with his trust issues. but it suddenly occurs to him that the bed that he constantly steals from his little human is very much rather. luxurious. The mattress is thick and expensive, and sqh rotates and flips it frequently so it doesnt get lumpy. it has a topper(1)

(2) with cooling talismans all over it to make it a good temp for mobei any time he decides to sleep in it. the sheets are silk, soft, and light. they're in his colours. his shades. it's a huge bed- long enough for mobei to lay down fully stretched out and still have room. theres countless pillows made of whatever is best for mobei's hair. they're piled up and spread out in a decadance fit for royalty. its always clean. it always smells like him. hes never seen qinghua in it once.

(3) and surely, he must use it, right? it's still his bed, no matter how mobei frames it. But he knows what sqh smells like, and that scent has never been anywhere but in the fleeting touch of someone who changed the sheets. there's never been a lingering warmth from his humans body on the mattress. its the most luxurious, extravagant, expensive thing sqh owns. its not his. looking around the bedroom- is this his either? can he see anything that he might say with confidence is the cultivators?

(4) the answer is no. There's peak lord things in here, yes, but by the nature of being a spy, that's mobeis as well. So he looks- where does sqh sleep, if not a bed that (should? could?) be his own. The answer appears to be a cheap, small little daybed. It's uncomfortable. Mobei knows how big his human is, and this wouldn't fit him well. It's made well enough, but next to the actual bed in the room? It's a grade up from the floor. If Mobei laid on it he'd be off of it by his hips.

(5) honestly its not even good as a chair. It's uneven and kinda lumpy. There's a vague pillow- flat and showing signs of being folded often. A blanket that looks more like a repurposed curtain. It it bad so sqh doesn't lose it to mobei's wants? or worse, is it what he feels like he deserves? He already knew qinghua wasn't one to spend on himself but, he didn't think it was a possible fear of having it stolen from him. Does he have anything of his own worth having at all? Mobei doesn't know.

(6) anyway this obv leads into a comedy of errors where mobei is like. "qinghua. get into bed." and the man positively bluescreens because ??? literally how is he supposed to take that. and when he sorta makes a movement to just lay down on the day bed mobei is like. do you even fucking have any night clothes or do you just sleep like that. get night clothes. get into my bed. you're being cringe. my king with all respect due; crack? is it crack that you smoke? ))

-------------------------------------------------------

He wants QINGHUA TO BE COMFY AND SLEEP GOOD IN A PROPER BED WITH PROPER CLOTHES AND WARM BLANKETS

Knowing them both it really would take Mobei an extremely long time to figure out that wait a minute, Qinghua doesn't sleep here at all?? Especially realizing the bed doesnt even smell like him, but the thought of him trying to fix that is so cute

I can also see him just picking Qinghua up throwing him into bed, Wrapping him up in furs and blankets and then tugging him to his chest

Yes he's comfortable now

ALSO QINGHUA BEING SO CONFUSED BECAUSE HE JUST UP AND DOES THIS WITHOUT ANY WARNING NOT EVEN SAYING ANYTHING

Ah I love how Mobei shows his love by trying to take care of his scared sweaty human

#svsss #shang qinghua #mobei jun #moshang #him thinking Qinghua doesnt properly own anything because he fears losing it could also lead to a bunch of gift giving #with Mobei stating that its Qinghuas and thay no one else would be able to take it from from him king will MAKE SURE OF THAT #and Shang Qinghua is just shaking cause he thinks its a threat to him but no jes showing that you dont have to WORRY ABOUT ANYTHING BEING #sTOLEN #I wonder if Mobei either stops using Qinghuas stuff to show that to him or shares more of his things to get him to use more stuff #anyways i love this idea SO MUCH #long post #ask

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tigerf00d · 1 year ago

Text

UNBEARABLE

George Karim x Fem!Reader

Tags: Smut! Aged up characters obv :), no use of y/n, all of Lockwood & Co., Brief Quill Kipps interaction.

6.7k words

a/n: I love George and just had to get in on the fun.. crossposted on ao3 as well, so if you've come from there and already read this, hi!

George Casper Karim was unbearable. There’s simply no other way to put it.

His big stupid head was always getting in your way, correcting you, and complaining when you forgot who took the biscuit last and helped yourself. You could hear him in your head, “Really, you ought to have gotten it by now!”

But oh, how you loathe to admit that you needed him, how helpful it was when he ironed your clothes before a client came round, and the comfort of coming home from a particularly draining case to warm food placed wordlessly in front of you.

And he could be sweet. He could. As uncomfortable with touch as he was, he’d brush your shoulder with his hand if he could tell you really needed it; he’d stand close on cold nights walking home, Lockwood and Lucy would too, but they readily shared their space like that, George didn’t.

It didn’t help that sometimes you’d catch yourself watching his side profile as he researched or the quiet admittance that he looked like an Angel as the sun illuminated his hair in a halo of curls as he helped you up after tripping and landing on the pavement, even though he was laughing at you.

There were just no other words. He was unbearable. You had the inability to bear him.

You wanted to take him by the shoulders and shake him so hard his world spun so he could feel just a fraction of what he did to you. Shrink him down, trap him in your pocket, and feed him to his heart’s content so he is always warm, safe, and happy. Ugh, he was just the worst. Ever.

So it’s safe to say you have no idea why you agreed to this.

Rotwell’s was holding its annual celebration, and Lockwood & Co was invited. Well, most of Lockwood & Co, Skull obviously couldn’t come, no matter how annoyingly they asked. Despite the agency not being in any immediate danger, for once, Lockwood still deemed it essential to be partially undercover to try and snoop out new cases that were particularly interesting (read: dangerous, life-threatening or otherwise malignant), and for some reason that meant George and you had to be a couple for the evening.

Anthony Lockwood wouldn’t get to be a ghost. You were sure of it. He was going straight to hell. Sorry, Luce.

“I’m going to die.” The pillow muffled your voice as you lay face down in Lucy’s bed,

“Oh, come on, it can’t be that bad.”

“It’s not like you’ve had to pretend to date one of them, Lucy.”

“Well…”

You stared at the girl opposite you, “He’s… done this before…?”

She nodded solemnly, betrayed by her eyes sparkling with mirth. Groaning, you rolled back over.

“Did you have to be with George?”

“No, mine was with Lockwood.”

Deep down, you refused to admit that that made you pleased. If she had said otherwise, it might have stoked useless jealousy in the pit of your stomach.

After a moment, you sat up, nodding and looking at what was prepared for tonight. You thankfully had a nice dress already, a velvet cranberry coloured thing with mesh sleeves that opened at the elbow and draped elegantly. It'd been a gift as congratulations on joining the agency and moving out from your family. Lucy had painted your nails with some sheer iridescent polish, matching the shine to the silver on your accessories.

George’s outfit remained to be seen, but the way Lockwood smiled when you showed what you’d be wearing, it matched somehow.

“Uhm, Luce?”

“Yes?”

“What– what is that?”

That was the two-piece set on top of your dress, but it was clearly meant to be worn beneath.

“Oh.” She smiled awkwardly, “There was a two-for-one sale.”

“I see.” Accepting this, you picked the garments up, and she turned back to fixing her makeup. “How did you know my size?”

She froze.

“Lucy?”

“You aren’t gonna like it.”

“What did you do!”

“You aren’t the… only one that does your laundry.”

George.

You turned to face her fully, “You. You.” The words wouldn’t come out.

“It’s fine! He just checked for me quickly. He probably doesn’t even remember.”

Eyes unblinking, you stared at her. “I don’t think I can do this.” having said that, you flung yourself back onto the bed.

“You don’t even have to wear it, I just saw that the colour I picked out matched your dress, so I put it out for you. Please get up.” She pleaded. “I don’t think I told him what it was for, either,” she was speaking like she was conversing with a wild animal.

Relenting, you got back up. “These feel expensive.”

“Hence the two-for-one,”

“They won’t show under my dress?”

Lucy grinned wolfishly, “The plan is to be hidden until the last moment, so no. They’re pretty comfortable too. I’ve worn mine a few times.”

“Oh ew, Lucy.”

“All I’m saying is it’s a hit for both parties.”

You couldn’t help but make a face.

“Not that George will be seeing them, anyway… but I guess it’s good to be in the right state of mind…”

She dragged out the E in “Exactly.”

��☽────•⋆°˖⋅✹⋅˖°⋆

You felt pretty. The lingerie did match your dress nicely and fit perfectly, you noted with mixed emotions. And your hair, makeup and accessories all seemed to be working together and playing nicely for once.

“Don’t you two look excellent!” Lockwood said, sidling beside Lucy and giving her an affectionate kiss on the cheek, “Come here; I want to look at you both properly.”

You did as he said, pretending to be doing it unwillingly but feeling very pleased inside.

“Yeah? D’you think it’ll go with George’s?”

“Oh, you haven’t seen him yet, have you?”

You shook your head no, and he turned to holler the other man’s name through the house. George, to his credit, arrived very shortly after. You half expected him to be in a too-big dress shirt and borrowed pants, but you were begrudgingly surprised.

“Oh.” You whispered.

“Oh?” George answered from the doorway.

His suit was a rich burgundy, and while you wore silver, he wore a simple gold chain. The shirt was off-white and a wispy ghost-patterned teal tie.

“You look smart.” You provided.

“I am smart.” He deadpanned.

To that, you rolled your eyes, “You know what I mean. You look good. Clean up well. Whatever,” you averted your gaze and waved your hand in an ‘and so on’ motion. You could feel your face warming, avoiding Lucy’s all-too-knowing expression.

“Ah. Thanks,” and after a moment, he quietly added, “Your dress is nice.”

“Thank you.” You looked up to see his eyes already waiting to meet yours, goosebumps dancing on your skin in reaction.

Lockwood groaned loudly.

“Shut up, Lockwood.” Lucy chided.

“Are they going to be like this all night?”

George broke his gaze first, turning his attention to the taller man. “You’re the one that wanted us to be dating.”

Temporarily throwing your nerves to the wind, you decided that maybe you could have fun with this. You walked to stand beside him, dramatically throwing an arm around him before facing Lockwood and Lucy, “Yeah, what my honey said!”

“My honey?” George questioned, a confused smile on his face.

“We need pet names. If we were really dating, I’d settle for nothing less.” You smiled resolutely, then added. “You don’t like honey? What about… snookums?” He shook his head. “Sweetie pie? Light of my life? My heart? All I hold dearest?” He shook his head no to each one, pausing at my heart, which you would definitely be filing away for later.

“Any normal one like love or babe will do fine, thanks.”

“You spoil my fun, love.”

Distantly, you could hear Anthony retch as Lucy and George sent him twin glares.

“What about you?”

“Hm?”

“Well, you need a pet name too, don’t you?” He asked, and you realised that you hadn’t really put much thought into it. You tried to think back to things on tv or in books.

“Um, I’m not sure. What do you think?”

The pair of you continued to ponder when you stumbled on the memory of when he’d made you both laugh so hard your sides hurt.

You’d gone to Arif’s with him, eating one of the doughnuts as you walked back to 35 Portland Row when you’d unexplainably dropped it and, in your effort to catch it mid-tumble, tripped on a gap in the concrete and fell yourself.

Annoyed and hurt, you’d looked up at George to see him already offering a hand to help you up, but he was laughing. And as much as you wanted to pout, his laughter was infectious. The sun behind his head illuminating the edges of his hair and the sides of his face, which had a chocolate smear and sprinkles on either side of his mouth from his own doughnut, and you couldn’t help but laugh too. The memory made you smile even now.

“What about angel?” You said softly.

“Angel? I can do that.” He nodded, eyes narrowed in curiosity, having noted your mood shift.

With a clap, Lockwood announced, “Great, well, now that that’s settled, we better get going. The gala starts soon, and we wouldn’t want you two lovebirds to miss your first public appearance as a couple.”

You made a face alongside George.

“No… we wouldn’t want that… not at all…”

✧☽────•⋆°˖⋅✹⋅˖°⋆

The gala was bustling. Rotwell’s was flaunting a new hall they had built recently, a temporary centrepiece to the room being a large fountain that was probably meant to be some sort of vase but ended up looking like an urn overflowing.

Standing at the entrance nervously, you felt George’s hand slip into your own, and you tilted your head in silent question, to which he’d shrugged and simply said, “Looked like you needed it.”

You smiled gratefully and began walking in, greeting a few people you only sort of knew and avoiding the ones you wanted to.

“So, what’s the plan again?”

“Lockwood wants us to schmooze, basically. Find out what the top agencies are interested in. Personally, I want to know what technology is coming out soon.”

“Course you do, babe.”

His eyes flicked to yours briefly before focusing ahead once more.

“So…” You started nervously, “Who to speak to first?”

“Rather the devil you know?” He answered, and you saw him nod his head to the left, which made you turn and see Quill Kipps walking straight for you.

You smiled at the offending man before turning to your date and whispering, “Great…” smiling wider when you realised that George held back a snort of amusement.

“Fancy seeing you two here tonight. I don’t suppose Lockwood’s here.”

“He’s around somewhere. Why d’you ask Kipps?”

“Oh, nothing.” He was pretending to be distracted. That much was obvious. “You look good, by the way.”

That was not what you were expecting. You could feel George wrap his arm around your waist, the palm of his hand warm on your hip, and you could tell that the action wasn’t unnoticed by the other man.

“I– Thank you, Quill.”

He nodded, then answered your earlier question,

“I’m surprised he’d let you off without a short leash, is all, after what happened last time.”

The last time he was referring to was you shouting rather angrily at someone holding up the line at the toilets, who happened to be an honoured guest of that event. Not your finest moment, and the reminder caused your cheeks to heat furiously.

“Well, he did, something about my George being able to keep me in line.” You smiled fondly at George as you worked your budding relationship into the conversation.

“Not that they need to be kept in line, anyway.” He added.

“Ah, well.” Kipps nodded in faux disinterest before tacking on, “Never thought someone would go for you, Karim. But I suppose desperate times call for desperate measures.”

George opened his mouth to retort, but you interrupted before he got the chance,

“Excuse you? What did you just say about my boyfriend?”

Quill seemed genuinely surprised at your aggression, floundering to come up with a witty remark as you continued.

“I’ll have you know that your failure to recognise his brilliance is going to bite you in the arse one day. He is more caring, more funny– more intelligent than you will ever be.” You turned to George, who was wearing a similarly surprised expression, “C’mon love, let’s go speak to someone who won’t behave so rudely.”

And with that, you pulled him off to somewhere secluded, shadow barely disguising the two of you as your own expression slipped, revealing your nerves. “Was that ok? I didn’t push it, did I?”

“No, no, you were great. Very believable…” He trailed off, “Did you really mean that?”

“What? Of course, I meant it. I wouldn’t have said it otherwise.”

He nodded wordlessly, not making eye contact. “Well, it definitely started the rumour mill. At this rate, we’ll be in one of Lockwood’s gossip columns by the end of the week.” You followed his eye line to see Kipps speaking to another agent and glancing at the pair of you, and you groaned, resting your head on George’s shoulder.

“Should we put on a show for them?” There was something about the way he said it that you knew meant trouble.

“You’re starting to sound like our fearless leader.”

He huffed at that, but you could tell it wasn’t without humour.

“Just trust me, yeah?”

You moved your head and looked into his eyes.

“I already do.”

He pulled you until your back was against the wall, and his back was to the crowd. His face was so close now. Had he always had a freckle there? It was so cute… Oh please, please don’t be thinking he was cute right now. You made eye contact, and he smiled reassuringly, murmuring, “Trust me.” His expression went serious once more before leaning down and kissing just below your ear, causing you to make a small noise of pleasant surprise. You felt his lips curve into a smile when he kissed you lower against the side of your neck.

“George.” his name came out more breathily than you had hoped. Another soft kiss, barely grazing the skin this time.

“Yes, angel?”

“I think. I think you’ve made your point.”

“One more for good luck.”

Surprising you with his boldness, he kissed you again before standing up straight and reverted to his usual awkward forwardness.

“I, um, didn’t want to kiss your lips in case that wasn’t alright with you, first.”

“So you… kissed my neck?”

“It’s more intimate than kissing your cheek.” He said as a way of answer.

“True.” You conceded. “And for future reference, I’m ok with kissing as long as you are.”

He nodded but didn’t continue, turning around to the sea of people and searching for the other members of the agency.

“Should we see what the others got up to? Hopefully, they spoke to someone better than we did.”

George did a thin smile before turning back and saying, “I think I can see Lockwood and Lucy.”

“Lead the way.”

As you walked behind him, you couldn’t help but gingerly raise a hand to touch where he’d kissed you last.

“So, how lucky have you two been?” You asked the other couple, and Lucy smirked.

“Not as lucky as you. I saw that.”

“Saw what?” Lockwood asked, and she rolled her eyes.

“Those two necking it in the corner.”

“What?! And you didn’t point it out? How could you, Lucy? I thought we loved each other.”

“I’ll have you know those were tactical kisses.” George butt in.

“Yes. Kipps was rather rude, and Georgie here was displaying gratitude for me defending his honour.”

Anthony grimaced at the mention of the other agent but brightened again, “Defended his honour?”

“Apparently, I’m caring, funny, and intelligent.”

You were either on fire or just embarrassed.

“Why’d you go and tell him that? Now he’s going to get a big head.”

“Bigger than yours?” You quipped, and Lucy smiled. “And it’s true, anyway.” You shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant.

“Hence us ‘necking’ in the corner,” George added. “More fuel for the gossip train.”

“Besides, it’s not like getting kissed was terrible.”

“Oh really?” Lucy raised a brow at you, and you silently tried to blow her up with your mind and then yourself for bringing it up. Out of the corner of your vision, you saw George studying your face.

“And it’s good for our cover.” You deflected, watching her eyes glint as a silent reminder that this conversation was not over.

“You didn’t happen to bring makeup with you, did you?” Lockwood asked, suddenly distracting you.

“Uh, no. Why?”

“Just that ol’ loverboy may have overdone it.”

At that, you slapped a hand over your neck, “George Casper Karim, did you give me a hickey?” You hissed. Surely you would have noticed, and Anthony was just ribbing you.

George rubbed his neck awkwardly, “I– maybe? I couldn’t tell ‘cause we were in the dark, and now you’re covering it.”

You turned to Lucy and Lockwood with pleading eyes, Lucy shaking with repressed silent laughter.

“He staked his claim.” That was all you got out of her.

Hesitantly you removed your hand and tilted your head to George in resignation.

“Oh yeah, there it is.” He brushed two fingers over the tender spot so casually, in a way that melted your insides had you not been so mortified.

“George!”

“My bad,” he added apologetically.

Lockwood smiled ruthlessly. “Well, now there’s no doubt about who’s dating who.”

“This is maybe the most embarrassed I’ve ever been.”

“I thought the kissing wasn’t so bad.” Lucy teased.

“It wasn’t, but now I’m going to have to cover it up to leave the house.”

“Or don’t.” George shrugged, and you looked at him. That, combined with the continued hold around your waist was definitely another thing to file away, even when in a fake relationship, George was a little possessive. “‘S not the worst state anyone’s ever seen us in.”

“But what if Arif asks?”

Anthony and Lucy stared at you quizzically. Silently asking, ‘That’s what you’re worried about?’

“Just tell him I gave it to you.” he paused as if remembering that the circumstances weren’t exactly common, “For a case.”

You nodded defeatedly.

“I suppose.”

“Besides.” George had that look in his eye. “You’re the one that liked it.”

Causing the others to laugh as you swatted his arm.

“And you didn’t? One more for good luck?” You reminded him. And he smiled in a way that had heat stirring in your belly.

“I think that was the good luck one,” and he touched the side of your neck again before letting the arm fall to his side. And you struggled not to react so visibly that the others would tease you for it, avoiding Lucy’s eyes specifically.

Something in the air tonight was making George cheeky and touchy, and it was turning you into a swooning damsel. To combat this, you rolled your eyes at his smile, turning to your friends and wrapping an arm around George’s as a tether at the same time.

“But really, did you find anything out?”

“Not much, no,” Lockwood answered.

“He’s lying. Someone from Fittes said that Satchell’s is going to be coming out with some kind of iron tape so that we can do perimeters easier. But that’s still in development.”

Your focus drifted in and out as she recounted what they’d learnt, Lockwood and George’s infrequent additions sometimes catching your attention as you gazed at the closest reflective surface you could, trying to catch a glimpse of the lovebite he’d given you.

“Hello? Is anybody home?” Lucy was waving a hand in front of your face.

“Sorry, what was that?”

“I asked what you’d thought of going to the archives with George and me tomorrow, research some of that case I was just talking about.”

She’d been talking about a case? Oops.

“Oh, uh, yeah. Sorry, I think I’m just more tired than I realised.”

She looked at you suspiciously but ultimately relented. “Ok. I’m about done for the night, too. Lockwood?”

“I’m more than happy with how tonight’s turned out. I’ll have to figure out how we can use you two to get more cases.”

You looked at George worriedly and saw him reflect your expression.

✧☽────•⋆°˖⋅✹⋅˖°⋆

The cab ride home made you realise how overwhelming the gala had been, even in the short time you’d been present. When you’d gotten home, you’d changed almost immediately. You truly were tired of being there, at the very least. And damn it. You were getting all worked up again thinking about earlier. You closed your door, too distracted to notice it didn’t click shut as usual.

Whilst you had changed out of the dress and bra, you couldn’t be bothered to change out of the underwear, vowing to properly clean yourself in the morning and into your comfiest pyjamas. The night was warm enough for cotton shorts, a loose top covering your torso.

Thus faces your new dilemma.

Trying to calm yourself and focus on something other than the sexual tension so suddenly evident between yourself and George without acknowledging tonight’s event, which is precisely how you ended up with a hand in your pyjama shorts.

Your hands moved lower, under the lingerie Lucy had so graciously gifted you— fuck, don’t think about her right now.

You bite your lip to stop a whimper, panting heavily as your fingers move against you as you try to recall the way he’d repeatedly placed an arm around you possessively tonight, the warmth of his hand against your hip still being fresh in your memory.

Vaguely, you could hear footsteps in the hallway, trying to be quieter as you continued to work yourself and resuming once you thought you heard the footsteps fade.

Your eyes squeezed shut, imagining it was George’s between your legs.

Maybe you’d be able to run your hand through his hair and see how soft it was for yourself as he went down on you.

Moaning softly as you tipped your head back onto your pillow, exposing the very neck he’d kissed earlier, and if you focused, you could feel his answering smile against the column of flesh.

“G.. ge-“

You couldn’t bring yourself to finish stuttering out the whisper of his name, trying to imagine what his touches could have been if you’d both not been fully clothed. Wishing that you hadn’t stopped him earlier to see truly how far he would have gone.

The sound of your door swinging broke through your thoughts, your hand stopping as you paused, opening one eye slowly to see George leaning smugly against the doorframe. Your legs clenched together.

“No, please, don’t stop on my account.”

You let out a long, low groan, sliding your hands out of your shorts and rolling over to hide your burning cheeks in your bed.

“How long?”

“Long enough.”

You groaned again. This was beyond embarrassing. It was humiliating. Sure, he’d been in various states of undress around you. But that was just normal stuff, coming out of his room not wearing pants, he’s done that around everyone, and he certainly hadn’t been caught pleasuring himself by the person he was jerking off thinking of.

“You. You should’ve knocked. You can’t just come in!”

George huffed a laugh, “Your door was unlocked, and you weren’t answering. I wanted to see if you needed anything washed to go to the archives tomorrow.”

He paused, apparently intent on enjoying the moment, “But it seems you need a hand with something else, don’t you, angel?”

You would have to move to another country. Wales could always use agents, right? Surely? Maybe there you could find some other hot guy to pine over and hope he gave you his affection. Because this was getting to the point of mortification.

George chuckled, and you heard the floorboards creak, then felt the bed dip down. Your eyes widened where you were hiding your face. Was he sitting on your bed?

“I take back what I said earlier, this is officially the most embarrassed I’ve ever been.”

“Look at me, please?”

Slowly, you turned your head to face him. His expression was unlike anything you’d seen from him yet, he looked like he was going to eat you alive.

“You don’t need to be embarrassed. We all do it.”

He said matter-of-factly, and despite yourself, you nodded.

“Even you?” You wrinkled your nose and made a face of mock surprise, which had him wryly looking at you.

“I’m not going to answer that.” He said, moving further up your bed, gesturing for you to sit up.

“What are you doing?” Your eyes narrowed as you watched him, face still hot despite him assuring you.

Surprisingly forward tonight, George hummed. “Well… clearly, I interrupted you while you were doing something you needed to finish.” He paused, readjusting your pillow. “And I’d really like to help you finish. If that’s alright with you.” One of his hands touched the bare skin on your thigh, watching your reaction for any hesitation.

“That’s alright with me.”

It was astounding how quickly your embarrassment had snapped back into arousal.

You shuffled closer to the centre of the bed, and he slotted himself behind you. His legs wrapped around your own as he pulled your torso so that your back was flush with his chest.

You swallowed hard.

“Are you sure, angel?”

“Yes. Please.”

His face was just beside your head, above your right shoulder. Gradually, his hand snaked underneath your shorts, a soft “Wow,” escaping his lips as his fingers grazed the dampness of the underwear covering you.

You rested your head on his shoulder, exposing your neck again, which he rewarded by peppering it with kisses and soft bites.

His other hand moved to touch the soft skin underneath your shirt, and you could feel your breathing increase rapidly. This was real.

“Were you thinking of me?” He spoke so quietly you almost missed it, and you whimpered. “Hm? Were you touching yourself while thinking of me?”

“Yes.” You responded, already feeling lightheaded under his care.

Beside your ear, he inhaled sharply. “All this just thinking of me?” He seemed in awe.

“Yeah, Georgie.” You confirmed.

He shifted his hands to pull the shorts down and kissed your neck in a way you knew it left another mark.

Briefly, he felt the material of your underwear again, running his finger along the underside of the elastic.

“These feel special.”

“They’re— Lucy got them for me.”

“You were wearing lingerie tonight?”

“You knew that she was buying lingerie?”

“Yeah? She asked me what colours you liked, and I… prodded.”

You didn’t know whether to focus on the fact that he had known what she bought you, or that he had informed what it was that was bought, or even that he knew what you liked to the point of being consulted.

“If it’s anything, thank goodness you didn’t tell me.”

“Huh?”

“We wouldn’t have made it through the gala.”

You turned to look at him and realised he was being serious. His desire to see you in them would have been made into his most recent obsession.

“M— maybe I’ll put the set on for you some other time.”

He smiled, moving your shirt collar so that he could kiss your shoulder.

“I’d really like that, sweetheart.”

His hand slipped into your underwear, mimicking your earlier motions of collecting from between your moist folds. His fingers slid back and forth a few passes until you whined impatiently.

“So wet,” he murmured. “I think I can get you wetter.” He whispered against your ear, a promise.

The pad of his middle finger drew slow circles around your clit, and the hand in your shirt moved upwards to gently knead your breast, causing your nipples to stiffen.

“Oh, George.” You sighed pleasantly, and he groaned quietly in response.

“Have to be quieter for me, love. Not that I don’t want to hear you, just that I don’t want the others to as well.” He increased the pressure, and you fought back a moan, “Think you can do that for me, angel?” and you nodded quickly, not trusting your ability to speak at the moment.

“Such a good girl for me,” he praised.

You didn’t even remember how he’d ended up on your bed, embarrassment lost under his skilful hands.

“Please.” you whimpered, hips squirming against him, his fingers moving faster against you. Simultaneously, he rolled the nipple in his hand between his fingers, causing a low whine to slip through your lips.

“Shhh, that’s it, love.” He nipped at the skin of your neck softly, soothing it soon after by placing soft kisses against it. “Let me take care of you, yeah?”

You turned your head, wanting to see him even if it was through half-lidded eyes.

The sight of him had you sucking in a quick breath; his eyebrows pinched together, mouth slightly ajar, and cheeks reddened. His eyes had that look in them again, which you were quickly realising was something akin to heat or desire. George looked almost blissed out as he focused on giving you pleasure.

You released a soft moan, panting as he continued, and his brow creased further. His eyes snapped shut as he listened to the broken noises you struggled to suppress, causing you to realise that he was getting off on this. He was enjoying making you fight not to make pleased little noises, the evidence of the effect of him on you. You wanted to kiss him desperately.

Your left hand moved sluggishly upwards, hesitantly cupping his cheek, and you gently traced your thumb down the cheekbone. His eyes flew open, and he turned slightly so that his gaze landed on your face. Fuck, he looked so good. He raised the same brows you had been observing earlier in silent question, and you felt yourself growing shy despite the circumstances you were currently in.

“Mm?”

You bit your lip, still gently tracing the shape of his cheek and being partially distracted by his actions. Tentatively you moved your face closer to his, lifting slightly off of his shoulder and tilting your head for a better angle. Your gaze kept flicking to his lips, then back to his eyes. He licked his lips, readjusting slightly so you could continue forward more comfortably.

“Please?” You whispered, and he nodded.

Your lips barely connected at first before moving ever closer, George finally understanding your earlier wordless begging and further uniting the two of you. Urgently you tried to convey your feelings for him in this– possibly single– kiss. The hand that was on his cheek was now against his jaw, fingers playing with the hair peeking out from behind his ear. Your other hand now came to a loose grip around the wrist that was down your shorts, taking pleasure in just feeling the rotation before falling to your side again.

You moved back to take a breath, his hand that was under your top moved around your waist, pulling you closer to him. You could feel him hard against your back. Then, it moved to join his other hand under your underwear, avoiding the wonderful movements made by his fingers, rubbing along your folds, and a moment later, you felt one of his long fingers pressing into you, both testing and teasing. A pleased sigh slipping out of him as he realised how easy it was for him to move in and out of you before he added another finger, making your jaw go slack as you fought off the noises he was willing to escape.

He took that reaction as an opportunity to kiss you deeper, lips moving languidly against your own, drawing soft aborted moans from you.

You pulled back again to look down at yourself, his tan arms against your skin, shirt ridden up from his earlier touching.

Breathlessly, your gaze shifted to his face again and whimpered, “George.”

He looked into your eyes and smiled. That had your heartbeat quickening, the butterflies in your stomach causing your orgasm to approach more rapidly. His smile grew as he felt you clench down on him.

“Just for my smile?” He looked pleasantly confused. And you groaned against him.

“Y’r so pretty.” You slurred against him, lust-drunk. “‘S not my fault.”

He hummed in amusement.

Your eyes fluttered shut, hips moving against him as his fingers pumped in and out of you, his others working just as relentlessly against your clit. Shuddering as he kissed just below your ear, where it connected with your jaw. Breathy whines became quiet needy moans, and you couldn't help but tilt his head so slightly to press your own kisses to the side of his mouth and cheek.

“So good to me. Y’r so good t’ me, George.”

And you heard him groan in response. Once again, you clenched in reaction.

“Let go for me, angel.” He murmured, softly biting where he could reach. “I know you’re close. I can feel it.”

He was right, you were close. His warmth pressed against you, combined with his hands and the kisses and bites he had been determinedly leaving on your throat, had you just at your tipping point.

He increased the pressure of his fingers, angling the others just so, and you couldn’t help but moan at it as your back arched.

“Geo— Georgie.” You whispered, the pet name sounding all the more affectionate in your haze.

“Let go for me, please? I’d really like to see it, love.”

And you did.

His odd fascination with you spurring him to continue his ministrations in order to draw it out as long as he could, watching your face contort, and your chest rise and fall, not stopping until you shook in his arms.

Slowly, he removed his hands from your shorts, leaving you to recover in his embrace.

Your mind was completely devoid of comprehensible thoughts, face angled into the crook of his neck as you regained sentience after the mind-numbing orgasm he had just gifted you with. You kissed at the skin there, the pair of you sighing contentedly at the feeling.

You felt him shift behind you and started to awaken further from what felt like a very strange but very good dream, and you realised what had just happened between each of you.

He has just caught you masturbating to him, and instead of running for the hills, he… did that. You had let him— invited him to do that. You must have stiffened against him because he asked, “What’s wrong?”

“You… caught me in a private moment and stayed, is all.”

“Mm? All of which I thought was quite nice.”

You frowned at him, but you knew he could see you didn’t mean it.

“‘S just odd. That’s all.” Then, quieter as you looked away, you added, “I didn’t know you even liked me.” And he scoffed, drawing your attention once again.

“I lay into you like a vampire in public, and you didn’t think I liked you?”

“Well, when you say it like that.”

He shifted, and you felt the bulge of his hardness against your back again. He had gotten hard just getting you off. Your eyes widened as he stuck the two fingers he’d just been fucking into you inside of his mouth. His eyes shut briefly, and you saw his cheeks hollow as he sucked your arousal off of his fingers.

“Oh, that’s trouble.”

“How do you mean?”

“You taste really good, angel.”

You inhaled sharply, a second wave of lust washing over you, and he opened his eyes to do that small, knowing smirk at you, the same one he did when he knew something you didn’t, which was often.

You could feel your heart hammering in your chest.

“I’d like a repeat of this if you don’t mind.”

You rolled your eyes fondly at him. “You just reduced me to mush, and you think I wouldn’t want that to happen again?”

He huffed a laugh, gently nudging you to get you to flip over and lay properly onto him, bringing his hardness back to the forefront of your mind.

“Do you..?”

“What? Oh, no.”

You deflated slightly.

“As lovely as that would be, angel,” he continued, “I’m knackered, and I want your energy up for tomorrow.”

“What’s tomorrow? Besides the archives, I mean?”

“Oh, didn’t you know? You’re feeling kind of feverish, so I have to stay home and look after you, and would you please go with her, Lockwood? The archives can be terribly boring when you’re alone.” He was smiling at you as though recounting a funny story, and he pulled blankets over the pair of you, so he was planning to stay the night, it appeared. Or at least until early in the morning when he woke.

“George, are you trying to get me alone tomorrow?”

“Yes. Wasn’t that obvious?” he deadpanned, and you couldn’t help the fond smile in response, and you hummed instead of answering.

“Besides, if not tomorrow, I’ll find some other way to hear those pretty noises you make while you’re under me.”

Your cheeks burned, and you buried your face under his jaw.

“You’re going to be the death of me.”

“I certainly hope not, I don’t want to experiment on your ghost.”

“That was almost sweet?”

“I meant it.”

You were just dozing off when he broke the silence.

“Why angel?”

“Hm?”

“Your pet name, why an angel?”

“Oh.” You moved to get more comfortable now that you were more aware of your surroundings again. “It reminds me of you.”

He waited for you to continue, not letting you out of that so easily.

“Do you remember the time we went to Arif’s together? The grocery boy had left out some things, so we decided to pick up doughnuts on our way home.”

“Last summer?”

You nodded against his collarbone.

“And when we were walking home, and I dropped it for some reason–”

He cut you off, silently adding, “A bird flew right in front of us.”

“And I got so surprised I dropped it,” you amended, recalling the bird now, too. “But I tried to catch it and went tumbling into the pavement?”

A faint exhale of a laugh came from above you, and you knew he was laughing at you even now.

“When I looked up at you, the sun was right behind you and…” Suddenly shy, you drifted off.

“Yes?” He prompted.

“You were laughing, and I couldn’t find myself to care because the sun was behind you. It lit up the edges of your hair like a halo, that’s why. It’s… I really like that memory.”

“Hm.”

“What?”

“I… may have asked Lockwood to stay home so I could take you instead. You’ve liked me since then?”

You laughed suddenly, surprising yourself. “We’re totally useless. Probably longer– I bet if I asked Lucy to take Anthony instead of us tomorrow, she would. She’s probably sick of me pining.”

“She’s got no ground to stand on. She and Lockwood were way worse.” He complained.

“Yeah?”

“And I had to deal with it alone.”

“But not anymore,” you said softly. “You have me now.” and he hugged you tighter to him. “We might have to buy me a scarf, though.”

“Oh, definitely. Don’t let them see tomorrow, I’ll never hear the end of it.”

George Casper Karim was unbearable.

His big stupid head still told you off for taking the biscuit, but now it would bend down and kiss you softly too.

And he still was so helpful, but now you could really see how he picked favourites and was secretly incredibly pleased he chose you, even if it meant investing what must count as an industrial-grade concealer so that his dutiful ironing was the only thing that made an impression on the client.

But now, he was even sweeter. His touches lingered and were more frequent. He still wouldn’t touch the others as openly, but your space and his space soon became shared. He was unbearable.

He still rolled his eyes as you tried to find a nickname of his very own, admonishing you with a heatless “Angel.” but you knew, you just knew you’d find the perfect fit one day.

He made your world spin, and you couldn’t help but always feel warm, safe and happy with him.

Which, without your knowing, was infectious. Spread to him like a leaf unfurling.

You were unbearable.

#lockwood and co #anthony lockwood #locklyle #george karim #smut fic #i might do another but dont get your hopes up #george karim x you #george karim x reader

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xo-cod · 1 year ago

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A fantasy that has been on my mind for some time is being in the poly with the tf141 and having 4 kids that clearly belong to each one of them but all of them treat the others like their own.

I'm just gonna put that idea in your head and run away do what you want with it👀👀👀

ps: I love aaaall your fics but especially how you write the poly ones 😘👌

thank you, my love <33 i hope you enjoy this, i think i misinterpreted this but i loved it so bad :")

4 men + 4 children + you = a recipe for disaster (lovingly)

they all treat the children as their own, there isn't any favouritism shown in front of the children (obvs the dads to each corresponding child would bond a little more closer to them but you get the gist)

it's simply a tradition for each child to receive a kiss before the men go off to work. soap and ghost have rushed out in a hurry but quickly do a u turn and come back to press a tender kiss to the children and then you and then they leave in a hurry

it's a loud chaotic house (assuming you all live together) but you're never alone in taking care of the kids

simon does cooking, price does the cleaning, gaz and johnny washes up and you entertain the children and get them all ready for bed (yes they do the cooking and the cleaning ‼️)

bedtime stories. all the babies cuddled up on their own dad's chest while you read a story for them, resulting in most days waking up to see them sleeping all in one bed since no one had the heart to move the sleeping babies from their chest

deployment can get very hard even if their hours are cut and it draws heavy on their hearts too, being away from you and their baby. each man makes it up to you always <3

but each of the children taking after their dad :") i made the kids into girls, they're such girl dads 😩

price's daughter: a gem. naturally a little more quiet but she's compassionate and a great listener. her heart is gold, always making sure that those around her are good and well. she's is a natural charmer, an observer and a listener. somehow always knowing the solution to the problem wherever all the kids get into trouble.

simon's daughter: she's got the sass from her father. doesn't take shit from no one but a total affectionate baby underneath. loves deeply, always wants the best for everyone. fiercely protective even from a tiny age, somehow always managing to get into trouble in wanting to use the "grown up" weapons instead of the baby ones simon had to buy to make sure there were no injuries since she was so curious. get into a lil bit (or a lot bit) of trouble because they want to train like the soldiers

gaz's daughter: a curious little thing, she is. her eyes always hold interest in whatever is placed in front of her. interested in how everything works, a hard worker. albeit she get into trouble sometimes because she likes testing her limits and somehow always falling off from things which results in her dad getting mini panic attacks everytime she isn't in sight.

johnny's daughter: a breath of fresh air. so much laughter packed in her tiny lungs, hyperactive always, trying to make the best of every situation. always able to make you smile, no matter what state you're in. little ball of sunshine, giggles sure to put you out of a bad mood. and the total prankster of the group. so very sneaky but so innocent looking so nobody suspects a thing

and then imagine if the kids all had total different personalities. price's kid is like gaz, simon's kid is like price, gaz's kid is like johnny and soap's kid is like simon lmfao. it would be so fun to see how they react <3

#asks #i loved this sorry if it was all over the place 😩😩#i'm in the biggest mood for dad 141 :“)#simon riley #simon riley x reader #john soap mactavish #john price #kyle gaz garrick #dad!simon riley #dad!price #dad!gaz #dad!soap #dad!141 x reader

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whatsk-poppinhomies · 10 months ago

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Pairing : Boyfriend!Kang Taehyun x F!Reader TW : reader depression ; other members being jerks ; Taehyun is kind of oblivious ; angsty ; fluff ending ; Word Count : 2.3k Request : @moon0fthenight : Can you do a fic abt txt taehyun, where reader comes to dance practice room but overhears some OTher member badmouthing her, twice, so just stops coming and just starts pulling away (ofc reader has depression but tae obv doesn’t know), and taehyun realizes

You sat in the corner of the practice room, your eyes turned down to look at your phone as Taehyun went to get drinks for himself and the guys. You hated when you got left alone with them, the last time you had been in a situation like this, they had gone about making you feel so unwanted and unwelcome in the room that by the time Taehyun came back you were on the verge of tears and ended up going home early.

Today felt like it would most likely go the same way. You could feel their eyes on you, and the only feeling that you got from those eyes was annoyance and such a strong sense of dislike that it had your skin crawling. “Talk about a stage five clinger. Does she have to come to all of the practices?” They spoke about you as if you weren’t there, or maybe they just didn’t care enough to keep their shit talking to a level where you wouldn’t hear them.

“She’s gonna ruin it for him since she’s always up his ass. Enough pictures come out about them all of the fans are gonna turn on him.” They made it seem like you were forcing Taehyun to take you with him to all of his practices when it was quite the opposite. Not that he was forcing you to go with him when he went, but he asked you every time if you wanted to go, and even if you found a reason to not go, he’d give you a million other reasons why you should go.

You tried so hard not to let it bother you, but it seemed like at this point they were trying to hurt you. You weren’t even sure why they seemed to hate you so much, maybe it was just fun for them to see how much they could break you down, or maybe they just didn’t want Taehyun to be with anyone. Either why, they didn’t have to go as far as they were with the insults and the shit talking. “It probably wouldn’t be so bad if she were famous or something… But she’s just… She’s a nobody. What does he even see in her?”

It didn’t even matter to you who was saying it, and it’s not like you wanted to look up to see exactly who was bad mouthing you. All you did know was that you wanted to get out of there as soon as possible, you couldn’t handle listening to anymore. You didn’t bother to find Taehyun to let him know you were leaving, you just had to go. You were sure he’d figure it out, or you at least hoped he would.

When he came back with the drinks, his eyes scanned the room, his smile so bright until he had done a full 360 and realized that you weren’t there. “Did she go to the bathroom or something?” He asked, his eyes glancing to the door every couple seconds just in case you walked back in. It wasn’t like you to just up and leave without letting him know, and he worried that something might have happened to have you just disappearing the way you did.

“She just ran off. I’m sure if it were a problem she’d be blowing up your phone. Don’t even worry about it man, we’ve got more important stuff to work on.” Yeonjun said, and the rest of the guys nodded their heads in agreement. It was a problem, no doubt, the way they all seemed to think that whatever could possibly be going on right now didn’t hold any kind of importance. Maybe it didn’t to them, but to him you were the top priority.

Taehyun shook his head, trying not to get too annoyed with them as he pulled out his phone. “I’ll just call her real quick, make sure she’s okay.” He said, about to walk out of the room so he could talk to you in private out in the hallway, but Beomgyu snatched his phone out of his hand and shoved it into the pocket of his sweatpants. “What the he-”

“Call her later.” Beomgyu mumbled, moving to the center of the practice room to get into position. “She’s a distraction even when she’s not here, jeez.” He mumbled to himself, but all of the guys had heard it, Taehyun included, and his agitation levels were rising as the others laughed at what seemed to be a joke, but he wasn’t the biggest fan of their comedy if it meant putting you down.

“That’s not even funny.” Taehyun said under his breath, getting into position so he could start rehearsing the new dance. As much as he wanted to call you and make sure everything was okay, he knew that it would be faster if he just got practice over with so he could get back home to you as soon as he could.

Did he even notice that you weren’t there anymore? You thought that maybe he would have tried to get in contact with you once he noticed you weren’t in the room, but your phone hadn’t gone off at all. Maybe he just didn’t care anymore. Maybe the guys had talked to him and made him finally realize just how useless you were to him. They were right. You weren’t an idol, you weren’t famous in any way. You weren’t even sure what he saw in you. You didn’t deserve him, you didn’t even deserve to be in the same room with him, let alone sleep in the same bed as him every night. The only thing you’d do by continuing to stay with him was jeopardize his career, and you didn’t want to do that. You wanted him to be successful, and with you in the picture, you knew he would never get to where he truly could be.

Part of you wanted to stick around, just long enough to tell him that you were leaving, and that part of you also hoped that maybe he’d beg you to stay, that he’d tell you that you were being crazy. Then there was the part of you that was more realistic, the part that told you that he wouldn’t care if you stayed or left. You weren’t helping him in any way, it’s not like you were the one going on tours and concerts and performing for millions of people. You were disposable, he didn’t need you at all.

Sadly there wasn’t much that you could do this late at night, and there was nowhere for you to go, so you’d at least have to deal with whatever was to come, at least for one more night. Your phone started to vibrate and Taehyuns picture illuminated the screen. Would he tell you that he wasn’t coming home tonight? Why would he want to come home and see you anyway? He could do better than you… And you didn’t want to answer the phone to hear him say that, so you let it ring until the notification came up that you had a voicemail, and you didn’t want to listen to that either.

The front door opened slowly, maybe he thought you were sleeping and he was trying to come in quietly, or maybe he was trying to sneak in so he could avoid you and go straight to the bedroom. It’s not like he’d want to see you anyway, you were nothing special, you were nothing in general. “There you are, I thought you were sleeping since you didn’t answer…” He said, sighing after the words had left his mouth. Was it a sigh of relief or a sigh of disappointment that you were still awake, that he’d still have to deal with you?

“Was just getting ready to go to bed.” You said, pushing yourself up off the couch. “Goodnight.” You added as you walked past him, heading down the hall towards the guest bedroom. Who would want to wake up next to you? Surely not him. He was too good for you, too perfect. He didn’t deserve to have to see you in the morning when he just woke up from his dreams of being with someone better, someone prettier than you.

“Hey…” He whispered, quickly kicking off his shoes and following after you. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?” He quizzed, and you didn’t want him to pretend to be worried about you, you didn’t want him to ask questions that you knew he didn’t care to know the answers to. Plus, those questions were just enough to have you getting choked up as you shook your head, trying to walk faster to get away from him, but he was faster, moving in front of you and putting his hands on your shoulders to stop you from going any further. “You’re really worrying me now… Can you just talk to me?”

“There’s nothing to talk about. I’ll be gone by tomorrow, you don’t have to pretend to give a shit anymore.” You tried to sound strong, to sound unbothered, but your voice broke, and it felt like you were breaking too. The entire life that you had lived with Taehyun, the life that you were dreaming of for the future, it had all been a lie, but for what? “I just want to go to bed.”

“What the hell are you talking about? Why are you leaving tomorrow? Where are you going?” He asked quite urgently, his eyes wide and the corners of his lips pulling down, not into a pout, but he just looked sad. You had never seen him look that way before. Maybe it was because he finally was getting caught, the truth was going to come out. “And what do you mean I pretend to give a shit? What the hell happened? Where are you getting this from? Just talk to me, dammit.”

You rolled your shoulders, causing his hands to drop to his sides dejectedly, the look of sadness on his face only growing more prominent as you stepped away from him. “I know what you and the guys talk about. I heard them. I don’t know why you’re with me either… But you don’t have to keep playing this part or this role or… Whatever it is you’re doing. I know you’re famous, I know that you’re above me in every single way… But that doesn’t mean that I don’t get hurt by this shit. Was it a bet? Was it a game? Why did you let it go so far?”

His eyes widened along with his mouth, his head shaking profusely. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, but if they said anything that hurt you, tell me and I’ll handle it. I’m not with you for a game or a bet, and I sure as hell am not above you. I’m not above anyone. I love you because I fell in love with you from the moment I saw you… I wanted to be with you and only you. You have to talk to me though… Tell me what they said. What did they say?”

Was this what the guys were talking about? You’d ruin the group. Is this how it would be ruined? If you said anything, if you told Taehyun what the guys had said, he’d surely be pissed if what he was saying was true. It would completely destroy the friendship that the guys had. You didn’t want to be the cause of that. You didn’t want them to be right. “It’s nothing… Don’t worry about it.” You mumbled, trying to move around him as he stood in the center of the hall, you were so close to the guest room door, but he refused to let you go.

Taehyuns arm shot out, his hand landing against the wall to block you from leaving the conversation. “It’s obviously something. How the hell am I supposed to not be worried when you’re talking about leaving me? You’re doubting that I ever loved you, and you’re still trying to sleep in a different bed than me, and you want me to believe that it’s nothing? Regardless of if you tell me or not, I’m going to find out because I’m pissed at them now for even causing this in the first place. But, if you tell me, I can make sure you know that everything they said, whatever it is, it’s not true. It’s not true…”

The urge to cry had been building the entire time, but now the tears were finally being let free, trickling down to hang from your chin as you shook your head. You felt absolutely pitiful right now, and all you could think of was how pathetic you must look. “I’m not good enough for you… I’m annoying and I’m clingy and I’m a nobody… I don’t know why you’re with me… Nobody knows…” In your own ears you sounded so whiny, which only verified the truth that only you believed in, that you were annoying… Why would he want to be with someone like you?

His arms wrapped tightly around you, his hand gently pressing your face into his chest as he held you close. “It’s not true… None of that is…” He repeated for what felt like the hundredth time. “You are good enough for me, if anything, I’m not good enough for you. I’m always so busy and I can’t be here for you like I want to be… But you’re always here for me, and you never left my side, and that makes you more deserving than anyone else to stand by my side… Which is where I want you to be always. And that in itself proves that you’re not the clingy one… I am. I like having you with me, and if they guys have a problem with that… They’re just gonna have to deal with it, and part of me thinks that they’re jealous because they don’t have someone as amazing as you to support them and love them unconditionally like you do for me. I’m with you for a lot of reasons, but the most important reason is that I love you, and there’s nothing that anyone can say or do to change my mind. All I want is you, forever and ever…”

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inchidentally · 4 months ago

Text

replying to asks abt the Drama today so pls skip if you're fully over that salfgjlagf (and bl 'tricky asks' to not see me respond to stuff like this - but I always put under a cut as well!)

oh my god this is a whole epic jfc and I'm p sure I repeat myself a lot I'm sorry <3

and for anyone who sees the walls of text below and is like pls tl;dr it for me bitch: today is one of multiple examples proving that Lando and Oscar are exceptionally able to maintain perspective and genuine consideration of each other given their situations and their ages. and that while they, like all teammates, will have ups and downs that they are FAR from the kinds of teammates to ever let the bad times linger or fester. I'm not going to be participating in flipping out or overreacting to it when it does inevitably happen but that it hasn’t even happened today! so I just don’t see a point in projecting the rare examples of melodramatic teammates onto Lando and Oscar as teammates. esp today when they both could quite easily have sniped at each other a bit even indirectly and yet they didn't! Lando at the team? absolutely! but like for anyone feeling sad or upset in terms of the landoscar of it all, I'm genuinely baffled ?? bc I'm personally out here impressed yet again at how well they've handled this ?? so yea <3

just to say, if you're someone who truly loves the Epic Highs and Lows of Formula One then good on you and continue having fun! some people live for The Drama and obv I'm not addressing or criticizing that at all!

but since I'm out here being regularly openly insane about landoscar and I've gotten these asks and seen people feeling upset, I def feel like it’s fair that I bring reality and reason into my posts as well being stupid akfgsalfg

so I've grown up with F1 passively in the background of my life (as in on the main TV in my house) and I'm still mostly a fake, but I've picked up some things over the years and one of them is that the average set of teammates aren't the melodrama ones. most teammates who enjoy genuine competitive closeness on the track just tick each other off sometimes but mostly like each other and hang out a bit - overall the average dynamic ranges from mildly indifferent to good buddies.

(brocedes and sebmark are outliers for a reason. and they did NOT just turn bad overnight. that toxic soup was brewing from the very start. but more about that later in this gigantic ass essay)

so once I realized last season that Lando and Oscar genuinely like each other and weren't gonna pop off over everything, my assumption has always been that they would have their tiffs and snipe to the press or avoid each other for periods but then get over it and go back to liking each other again - rinse and repeat! from a driver’s pov it's way more enjoyable and preferable to NOT be fighting w the guy you spend so much time and share a car with.

but !! that didn't happen and hasn't happened! with Lando and Oscar it very quickly went beyond just passively okay w each other - they've made active choices to show respect and fairness and consideration that for me has truly been exceptional.

and while I'm insane about them for narratives and rpf, the not insane part is how these two fit together so beautifully? like, Lando knows and says how his feelings and his brain can just take over sometimes and he struggles - that includes his feelings of anger and resentment. Oscar's primary trait is being calm and being able to be circumspect even under stress. Lando's actually said that he's learned from Oscar remaining calm. then you've got Oscar's 'hearteyes' and genuine admiration of Lando that shows up not in loud PR ways* but in quiet respect and standing back for Lando to shine and giving Lando his full dues. over time, Lando's come to 'hearteyes' right back bc of the respect and ngl genuine affection he feels for Oscar's fairness and respectfulness and his persistence in showing up and being happy for Lando no matter what. like, none of that requires embellishment and it's said by pretty much everyone including each other!

so to me, that means that when they do inevitably have 'moments' at the front of the pack together in future they'll ofc be grumpy w each other or resentful but it'll all be okay once they've cooled off.

but !! that was not today !! my entire day of reblogging is just a nonstop bam bam bam of them looking out for each other in the face of this drama and taking care to not feed the media who have been dying for them to hate each other since day one. Oscar apologizing and if anything being less celebratory today than he was in Monaco for his second place. keeping the post race short and simple** and not going over the top celebrating after the team photo. Lando repeating in his post races that Oscar deserved the win and that he didn't want the issues with team orders to overshadow that and literally reaching out to Oscar to say 'we're okay' right out of the car <3

so yea in the years they are teammates they will definitely have their off days and probably that'll happen at certain points this season - but genuinely ! it should not be taken for granted how mature and considerate and kind they've remained w each other since basically Austria last year ! that counts for a hell of a lot in terms of not assuming they're "over" every time team strategy screws one or both of them, or that they will become different people and suddenly cultivate melodrama.

and sure, anything can happen etc etc but I don’t see a point in just aimlessly waiting for the absolute worst to happen unless you actively want them to hate each other which seems like a huge waste of time but to each their own ldgfjlagfljsfg

guys… things like "why didn't he spray Oscar with champagne first" and "they had a moment where they weren't smiling" or "the cool down room was awkward" "Oscar didn't thank Lando like Lando did in Miami" “Oscar hasn’t liked such and such on instagram” is not only pointless self-torturing it's also all pretty easy to debunk by someone like me who follows a lot of teams and drivers and sees a ton of different sides to these things every weekend:

- as for the comment likes, Oscar hasn't liked everyone's comments that he should have - I did a quick pass and the standouts are he still hasn’t liked the comment from opeightyone (his own brand company!), still hadn't liked the Australian GP comment last time I checked, or Kym Ilman, literally a fellow Aussie who he talks to at every single race and who left a heartfelt comment. we need to give this poor guy a break and not ignore how much he was laughing and smiling with Lando just bc he’s struggling with the alerts on his phone !! (and as always, we have absolutely no way of knowing anymore when we can say how much the driver is doing vs what their sm team is doing. I saw in a story the other day that Lily had stopped doing her usual emoji replies to his posts for a while (she started up again after quali this weekend) and clearly there's been no issues between them so it's safe to say Oscar's sm officially isn't the true measure of his current relationships!)

- Lando and Oscar were already joking and smiling together before the champagne! so why would Lando then get mad and show it by not spraying him first? (EDIT: as an anon pointed out, when Lando runs over to the McLaren team member Oscar is laughing and follows him! so the plan was to drown the poor guy all along lol.) Lando and Lewis have a special bond from long before Oscar and Lewis and McLaren have had a bond even longer. if I hadn't seen ppl be upset about this I wouldn't have thought twice about Lando running to Lewis after having spend the first half the podium chatting to Oscar!

and just a quick side note, Lando had NO problem showing how mad he was before Oscar came into the cool down room when he threw down that hat and got huffy with Lewis when all Lewis did was say how fast the McLaren is! but every time Lando interacted with Oscar, he made sure to keep it together and be happy for him bc as he strenuously made clear in his interviews, his upset was at the team's directions but he didn't want it overshadowing Oscar's well-earned win. so if anything, view Lando rushing over to Lewis as an apology for somewhat biting his head off over a compliment lfgjflgsalf

- the drivers are exhausted and their default mode after a race is to be not smiling, like not even Lando smiled the entire time following his win. add to today that Lando hasn't been happy with second place for a long time and Oscar isn't an effusive guy and it's weird to think they'd be laughing and smiling nonstop.

- cool down rooms are literally always awkward ?? the drivers hate that there are cameras and conversation is always stilted. it’s where they go to … y'know, cool down, not get hyped lol

- Lando thanked Oscar in Miami bc Oscar showed what the car could do w his overtakes, guys. it was VERY sweet but it wasn't like 'thank you for my life Oscar' or even 'thank you for my win'. but even apart from that, Lando has fully taken on the rightful 'I'm the more established F1 star and the face of McLaren and it's my job to let the new guy know when he's done well' even back before he and Oscar had much of a relationship. but… and I’m about to spin off on this topic now… Lando does very well with this sometimes yes, but remember that the majority of his own feeds are also solely focused on himself like Oscar's and like most driver's are! and that he and Oscar both forget to like McLaren's content most of the time!

but also like……….

please let us please remember Oscar has the same rights to putting himself first as every other driver !! he may be remarkably mature and respectful to Lando and McLaren and exceptionally able to get over being set aside or even screwed over, but he's not a worm!

as far as questioning if him not 'thanking' Lando somehow negates his literally non-stop hearteyes-so-blatant-that-casuals-comment-on-it that he has for Lando every single week... guys.. Lily. like I'm positive he'll make a special post or story with her soon but he only said a quick "hi" to Lily after Ted brought her up and then did a generic thank you to everyone LIKE ?? the guy isn't even effusive about his beloved long time gf !! his love language is not in words* !!

but I also feel the need to bring smth up here bc there is a definite lean happening in some quarters of fandom into fully expecting and taking for granted Oscar's patience and maturity and ability to be happy for Lando no matter how much he's hurting or upset for himself. and I've got to raise everyone who says that the fact that Oscar is allowed to be like every other driver including Lando! he is allowed to feel frustrated or not be a perfect saint! in the earlier part of last year, Lando openly said he was uncomfortable being 'the older guy' and he frequently left Oscar in the lurch not knowing where to go or ignored Oscar to talk to or about his previous teammates. when Oscar hadn't been told the correct time for that major meeting shown in DTS, Lando was not hiding feeling fairly smug after Oscar said "is Lando already here?" and in Australia this year, Lando fully forgot to have anything to do with Oscar in what was literally Oscar’s home town and home country race to the point ! that in the podium drivers conference when a reporter brought up if Oscar was bummed about missing out on a podium, Lando stiffly said that he guessed anyone would want a podium on their home race - but he was far from sympathetic!

now before anyone thinks this is me having a go at Lando, I am not. I'm literally reminding the people who are reading too much into Oscar not saying thank you specifically to Lando in what was a much shorter and less exuberant overall race win celebration and post race video than Lando’s win was: it is not a big deal !! it is not some huge thing that Lando would even notice and that Lando has frequently chosen to not include or show gratitude to Oscar at times when we expected him to and !! it's fine because it really is fine !!

but when Oscar is seen to not cover every single base of gratitude and inclusion for Lando, for some fans it's A Problem or A Worry. and for some people, a broader thank you to the team and not specifically to Lando** is reason why Lando should despise Oscar forever and even consider leaving McLaren like the comments sections are insaaaane bro

these are two Normal Guys who are each living their Own Careers and while it's wonderful to enjoy the things that bond them and are special about them, they are still going to be Normal! and they will not view these tiny insignificant moments where they didn’t fully acknowledge the other with any magnitude at all! they are not expecting a level of devotion to each other that certain fans are! Oscar didn’t notice or care that Lando didn’t make anything special out of his home race and their pre-race fan stage was funny and sweet! Lando didn’t notice or even assume that Oscar should thank him specifically for team orders when Lando himself didn’t thank Oscar for team orders!

like I just cannot emphasize enough the importance of separating fun rpf narratives from reality. Lando tried to mess up Carlos’ parking job before the race as a joke to get back at him over the sign the day before - and then Carlos very firmly said that Lando absolutely should have given Oscar his place back and he even commented on one of Oscar’s posts despite not following him. this does not mean Carlos and Lando are beefing or that Carlos is being mean by going out of his way for Oscar! will I run with that single comment for carcar fodder absolutely - but that is fiction! nobody's mad at anybody!

and then there's the things that don't exist in Formula 1: "Oscar shouldn't have accepted the orders" "McLaren are out to get Lando" "Lando already gets too much hate"

- Oscar apologized for his pace and complications and he gave a very subdued little speech over the radio which was very big of him (and very wrong of McLaren to put him in that position) but if someone thinks any driver including Lando would even slightly imply "nah give the win to my teammate not me" then they’re categorically living on another plane of stan-ism that I can't comprehend. Lando literally said multiple times after this race how he has been the one to benefit from strategy working in his favor - both by McLaren and other teams. he's many many times made a cheeky face or made a joke when he's gotten away with something that fans of a rival driver or team were rightfully furious about. and if a person thinks it was mean when some ppl criticized the role that serendipity played in Miami then maybe that same person shouldn't start biting chunks out of Oscar about the same thing idk !!

Lando repeatedly said how much Oscar has done for him and if his Oscar-hating stans choose to think he's wrong or lying then idk !! he's being mature and fair so like, live n learn from your idol !

and can I just echo everyone saying 'please stop comparing this to brocedes or sebmark' or honestly even charlos? I'm doing bullet lists apparently so I'll do another one lafgljsafgsa

- brocedes is entirely due to their complicated and abnormally intimate lifelong history together leading up to F1. they were already Not Normal Friends and that made for the tinderbox that was their F1 careers together. literally they were destined to have to rupture that level of intimacy if they weren't going to just like get married to each other. they always needed to turn that relationship into something milder and less intense and it would always have exploded no matter what adult lives they had. F1 just made the explosion more violent and public. there’s truly no comparing them with anyone else.

- Oscar bears no resemblance to Mark and Lando bears no resemblance to Seb. Seb as he was in his heyday was... not shy or bashful about being a madman. sebmark never once looked like landoscar and it wasn't this huge revelation that that relationship would end up where it did !!

- Charles and Carlos have a negligible career/experience gap compared to Lando and Oscar and their temperaments are as much primed for friction as Lando and Oscar's are complimentary to each other. not to like 'they're so continental!' charlos but like, their already passionate natures got thrown into a rolling boil of Italian heritage racing and it's why the whole love/hate being sides of the same coin thing always happens with them. their families are even houses alike in dignity etc etc. it's Pure Drama and Intensity and always has been, both good and bad. they’re as terrible at using PR to smooth things over as landoscar are at not even bothering with PR. when Charles and Carlos are good together they’re passionately all over each other and when they’re mad at each other it’s messy and all over the press like a warring celebrity couple. Lando and Oscar are still delicately pawing at their relationship to know what it is and they still shyly touch as if seeking permission. Lando and Oscar are so not PR friendly that even Netflix gave up on them as a narrative entirely. Charles and Carlos are Shakespeare. Lando and Oscar are Jane Austen. Ferrari is the Capulet/Montague pride before the fall. McLaren is Mrs. Bennett trying to social climb using her daughters as bait.

as someone who follows blogs for multiple diff teams and drivers, trust me I see a lot of "my opinion of him is gone forever after this!!!" about something their own fave driver did even just a few races ago and absolutely will do again. same with "the team is destroying him and favoring his teammate!" like I straight up will see that said by each teammate's fanbase of the same team about the same race. this happens at different times throughout the season in every single team I follow - it even happened w Williams of all teams (tho so far that's just the once).

I'm a fake so obv I'm not going to weigh in myself but my cousins and their friends who watch F1 on the app at my house - and who aren't represented ethnically by any driver or team so they don't have bias - always have a much more calm and nuanced take. they assume every driver is out for themselves and by that very fact alone, teams have to take sides when the gap closes. and !! that millionaires doing an elite sport aren't experiencing mental distress over this sport the way common people experience distress over real life !! they go and bury their "woes" in extravagant luxury and an entire army of hugely biased family, supporters and fanbases all of whom think said driver deserves everything.

and that it takes truly heinous betrayal or outright evil to make these guys hate each other with any serious level of depth bc they all know they're The Selfish Asshole just as easily as the other guy.

so I personally trust their takes on things and it's probably why I've always assumed Lando and Oscar would be Normal and have their little tiffs like everyone else does. bc it's rule one of making it to this level of the sport that you have to think selfishly. straight up I'm astounded at how quickly they've both been able to shake that 'visors down' mentality that Andrea referenced in the post race video and see the bigger picture and not be The Asshole to each other.

and overall I don’t mind my dash being a warzone of wild accusations immediately after a race bc everyone usually calms down.

but there are certain things I just do not want on my dash and it's actually not related to what driver a person hates or not....

because while it's silly to see any of these privileged little princes as A Victim and Would Never Do That To Their Teammate (which would honestly get you laughed at by said driver) it's pretty common biased fan behavior. even tho Lando literally kept reminding people that Oscar's swallowed his own pride over things for Lando's benefit many times and that he (Lando) has been on the receiving end of podiums that came from strategies working in his favor (McLaren’s and that of other teams).

and like the idea that Oscar is now some heinous human being bc he's behaving like every other driver including Lando by Lando's own admission is hysterical. the idea that F1 teams are ever in any way benevolent kindly forces or that F1 drivers have anything akin to 'selflessness' over race wins is hysterical.

but where I draw a line is stanning for men in this sport so hard to the point of insane amounts of agonized doomposting and biased venomous rage. sorry but most of us don't want our precious time wasted agonizing over which self-confessed selfish millionaire in a sport founded on and maintained by pure elitism is feeling So Bad and So Sad! that he runs off to be comforted by a beautiful woman/women and adoring family and coddling hangers-on and legions of worshiping, wholly biased fans and millions of dollars on gigantic yachts because the absurdly unnecessary sport he gets to do isn't "looking after him well enough" or "prioritizing his happiness" !!!!??????

like fuck I'm a callous bitch ig but I'm not feeling an ounce of genuine upset whenever one of these men experiences a level of "my sport makes me sad". "oh but it's all they've known !! it's all relative !! money and privilege don’t equal happiness and privileged men suffer too !!" oh stfu no it doesn't and no they're not like stockholm syndrom victims and if they're so unhappy then they can put on their big boy boots and take their money and go fucking do something else holy SHITTTTT

am I not here for allowing any portion of my human empathy to go to a fuuucCKING F1 driver jeeeeeeesusss. all of these men fully have the potential to get metoo’d or exposed about smth bc they're all capable of doing awful things by the time they're in F2 -male pro athletes are NOT objectively safe spaces to hang human morality or to assign automatic grace and good intent - let alone bleed pain or feel sadness for their race results or issues with their teams.

there is no acceptable moral relativity for me and these men and this sport are only of interest to me as a hyperfixation that gives me enjoyment in the form of narratives and a very specific, surface degree of enjoyment.

it’s fine if Lando or Oscar feel their feelings of frustration or anger etc but no way in hell am I going to feel remotely sad for them ??? they’re fine ?? there are genuinely sad things in my life and in the world and millionaires wanting trophies and points isn’t among them !! I’m not entwining my day-to-day happiness in any way with what they get up to and I’ll take what I can enjoy from them and ignore everything else.

and to wrap up this epic which I’m only indulging in bc I do feel like my blog sometimes seems like I’m pushing my own silly narratives on others and genuinely I’m not intending to - most of the reason I actually got drawn to landoscar and wanted to engage in fandom about them is precisely because their real life non-rpf dynamic is so unusually mature and considerate and not toxic or like, at all even overtly masculine. yea I originally got drawn into f1blr for the usual bromance rpf types like carland0 and dand0 etc but I didn’t rly care enough to engage in any way.

but I think this is why I know that the ppl wanting Lando and Oscar to become this insane toxic mess are going to keep raging with disappointment - kind of like how I knew Lando and Max would be perfect again after just a few days while so many ppl hoped it was the start of some battle royale to last years that would end their close friendship. and why I knew Logan and Alex would end up with a genuine, heartfelt friendship when so many ppl assumed Alex would see Logan as one foot out the door and just wait to bond with a more worthy teammate. now we’ve got Alex saying how he and Lily casually talk about Logan for no reason at all and their friendship surviving Alex being given Logan’s car <3

I genuinely don’t bullshit myself into enjoying dynamics unless they feel real - so whatever friction I ever sense between Lando and Oscar as a result of them pushing each other to be the best they can be and helping to bring McLaren from the back of the field to WCC contender, isn’t at odds with them being gentle and unusually private and earnestly aware of each other. bromances were always Lando’s PR insurance with his other two teammates - a nice bandaid to cover moments where cracks showed or Lando didn’t hide his emotions enough. it’s something a lot of teammates use for the same purpose. but Lando and Oscar deciding to forgo that and have their little privacy door to shut out everyone else but each other from their drivers rooms, and how they will be doing interviews and then get distracted talking to each other over things that only interest them, and traveling and hanging out together without giving McLaren PR any material to use… like that’s a lovely, tender little unpretentious narrative to enjoy. watching them tiptoe so cautiously around an almighty cockup on McLaren’s pitwall side and Lando trying to pull himself up out of murky defeat for Oscar and Oscar deciding to celebrate so modestly because what a mess that ending was for them both.

like I just don’t see a need for trying to invent ways to be unhappy or miserable or fabricate a doomed anything when they’re both still so sweet <3 <3 (and honestly it’s the same old tune of McLaren’s strategy needing a swift smack around the head)

tysm babe and I hope this one helped as well <3<3

#inchreplies #tricky asks #mamma mia atsa gigantic ass text post #inchidentallyanessay

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