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occamstfs · 8 months ago

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Spanish Shortcuts

Heyo, Here’s a Latino cultural/racial change, also my first foray into a possession transformation! Lessons to be learned about clicking dodgy links and letting spirits walk all over you!

¡Espero que lo disfrutes Atajos en Espanol! -Occam

The foreign language requirements of any American high school are guaranteed to be lackluster. It is no wonder that a nation so fixed on instilling American and English supremacy was so wont to neglect the study of foreign languages and culture. For his part Claude had just about forgotten all the Spanish that he learned not too many years ago. At the present moment he is browsing the web looking for some way to reclaim and improve on his meager knowledge. Despite his desire however, he is shockingly unwilling to do much at all to pursue this end.

Rather than the tried and true method of studying each day Claude is instead looking for not only the easy way, but an instantaneous way to regain his lost knowledge. This is obviously a beyond foolish endeavor, though having long heard tales of people waking up speaking in languages they hadn’t learned he was deep in rabbit holes online scouring for a ticket to bilingualism. Unwilling to admit that they were just old wives’ tales or shitposts he clicks link after link sure the next one will lead to some fruition.

Deep in websites he certainly should not be visiting without a firewall he actually stumbles on a thread in Spanish. Hastily translating the page through Google it promises the fluency of a native speaker through a single click. Claude scratches his cheek wondering whether or not to go through with it, could be malware, probably just a link to a meme or the like. He looks at the link in blue text, it’s just a name: Carlos Herrero. With little further ado Claude decides fuck it what’s the worst that could happen and clicks the name in blue.

The lights in his room flicker as his hand holding his mouse is promptly shocked. He pushes away from his desk shaking his hand in pain as suddenly there is a chill in the air. He shivers as he hears a voice, deep and unknown, whispering in his ear. “Hola hola hola mi perrito.” Claude shakes his head feeling the tickle of a beard on his cheek and swats at the air. “Ay! Lo siento, ah- ¿cuál es su nombre? Claude ¿Verdad? ¿Me entiendes?” (Ah! Sorry, uh- What is your name? Claude, is it? Can you understand me?)

Claude looks around his room in shock at this mysterious voice, immediately assuming he’s lost his mind. He shakes his head trying to wake up or come to his senses, after a few shakes he feels a cold powerful hand grasp his jaw. He hears the voice continue to speak in words he couldn’t understand and did his best not to process lest it worsen the state of his mind. His eyes widen in shock as he stares into the space, feeling the skin on his face contort in response to a hand that is not there. He feels the grip tighten and his breathing accelerates as he starts to hyperventilate.

As if in response to his fear the hand disappears from his face and he feels a heavy arm around his shoulder. “¿No querías saber español?” (Do you not want to know Spanish?) Claude’s ears pick up as he hears Spanish he can just about recall. In doing so his brain immediately reprocessed the preceding events in order to maintain any semblance of sanity. The link must have worked! This is just a dream or something that will end with him knowing Spanish, just like a video game. He just needs to play along until he wakes up. Neglecting how real everything clearly is he addresses the voice, willing himself to believe whatever it is that it’s not malevolent. “Okay, uh I’m down for whatever, thanks for your help, uh, ghost?”

“De Nada, Claudio.” With this Claude’s visions flicker as the chill in the air fills him. He gasps and sees his breath condensate as every inch of his body is ice cold. Claude falls out of his chair and scratches at himself, instinctively trying to claw something out of his body. He rolls onto his hands and convulses, retching as if trying to throw something up. As the seconds pass he feels his body rapidly warm from the bitter freeze, unsure if this is a mirage of heat like the comfort one feels in the throes of hypothermia he paws at his chest.

Before finding confirmation in any way Claude hears the alluring whispers once more, though this time not tickling his ear. Rather it is now a voice within his own head. “Testing testing, ah would you look at that. Now I’m speaking a language you can understand huh? Hahah!” Claude’s brow furrows as he wipes spit from his mouth. This was not the easy nap and wake up anew process that he was promised. As if it had access to his thoughts the voice responds to this. “Ah sorry if I misled you little guy, this is going to be a bit of work. Trust though! It will certainly be easier and quicker than wasting your time studying!” Claude rolls his eyes before remembering since this is probably a dream that at the very least in reality this will be over briefly.

Claude then tilts his head and asks out loud to the voice in his head, “Why are you speaking in English now?” It sounds just like the one he heard earlier, if not a little more playful as it responds, “Ahh language processors, something or other- Don’t worry your little head about it, in time we both will be thinking in Espanol ya? In the meantime why not jumpstart it!” Claude purses his lips trying to find the inscrutable voice’s intentions as he does so the heat in his body begins to convert to energy.

He suddenly feels as if he’s had enough caffeine to power a body three times his size. He feels every muscle in his body demand attention and exercise as his hands start to shake. “Oh would you look at that! If it’s any help any time I used to get excited or stressed I’d always hit the gym, ya dig?” Already motioning to get changed for the gym to blow off some of this energy Claude pauses to once more try and understand the implications of the voice’s statement. “Sorry, what do you mean you used to?”

There is then a jarring silence in his mind. Claude stands, gym clothes in hand, without a thought in his mind before the voice replies trying its best to disarm him despite its deep gruff tone, “Ah well, you know how these things go, it’s just dream logic right? This is all lucid dream, the quicker you stop questioning the sooner you’ll be a pro.” He feels a vein of chill air dash through his mind once more and he nods in agreement. His eyes lose their sharpness as he decides to just listen, throwing on some clothes and heading out.

Heeding the voice he endeavors not to question his circumstances. He gets in his car and does not wonder why, if he is truly dreaming, that he did not just poof over. Feeling his heart start to beat quickly in his chest, in response to anxiety in his chest or to the energy only continuing to course through his veins he is not sure. He looks in his rearview mirror to calm himself and sees the same reflection he always has. Claude smiles at himself seeing at least his appearance is static in this dreadful dream and heads in to get this over with, the voice in his cheering him on as he makes his way in. Increasing in fervor and volume with each step towards the door.

Once inside he Claude is shocked as the voice suddenly drops out of his head leaving him once more with the harsh silence of but his own thoughts. After having such a loud visitor in his mind he is almost uncomfortable with the feeling. Stepping up to the counter to check in he greets the receptionist, “Heyo! It’s Claudio hermano!” The receptionist tilts his head as for a second it’s almost like two voices came from the man in front of him. Claude looks down at himself and clears his throat before trying again, “Lo, Urgh, Sorry about that, Um It’s Claude Smith.”

The receptionist checks him in and Claude goes off to stretch. He doesn’t usually spend much time at the gym, just enough to stay thin. But something inside him tells him that today will be different. Something inside him. His head twitches to the side as the idea washes across his mind. Looking around the room to ensure he’s alone he tries talking to the voice, doing so he does not notice that his pitch has lowered, “Hey uh, I know you told me not to ask questions. But did you make me call myself Claudio earlier?” Having paused his stretches he feels a burning in his arms and legs demanding they keep moving. Obeying the pain, his lips quiver as if he’s about to speak and the voice responds, “Ay ¿Crees? (You think so?)Es just a slip of the tongue ya?”

Claude continues stretching carefully, taking deep breaths to assuage the anxiety building in his chest. He is facing away from the wall of mirrors, unintentionally or through some subtle manipulation. Otherwise he may notice as his hair slowly begins to darken to a deep shade of brown. The blonde locks he has always been proud of maintain their length as they darken unnaturally. The thought pops into his head that he would look good with brown hair si? He shakes it away as soon as it appears though, biting his lip to avoid voicing his concern at how much power this “voice” has over him.

Trying to center himself he closes his eyes as he continues to stretch. The companion in his mind is thankfully quiet as he pushes away the discomfort at the silence and instead appreciates the freedom. Little does he know the presence is simply acting on him in other avenues as he stretches. Claude smiles as he feels the burning relief of his stretches, grunting quietly enough that he notices not how his voice has continued to deepen, inching closer to the voice that is not his own.

The pleasant burn of his legs as he stretches them becomes almost intoxicating as he leans against the mirrored wall. Were his eyes open he would see his calves begin to grow beyond those that he wakes up to every morning. They begin to bulge larger and longer as he extends them. Muscle the size of a baseball forces its way onto them as he stands smiling dumbly. His thighs then stain larger to match pace as they expand to hold the weight of someone a foot taller than he. The soothing burn of stretching hides the soreness that should be apparent and Claude begins to sweat as if he has been heartily working out for some time now.

Not to be outdone there is a whisper in his head that he should stretch his arms as well. Without a further thought, almost without his mind even sending the order to do so, his arms are out in front of him. Each second his arms lie extended they stretch further out from his torso. Claude motions to stretch his shoulders, wrapping one arm around the other, his biceps rub against each other as he squeezes his arm tight to his chest. His arms begin to show a bulge of muscle as he stands there biting his lip at the pleasure being wrought upon him through simple stretching.

Finally he raises his arms above his head to stretch his meager chest, struggling to do so as his larger muscles have begun to impede his dexterity. With his arms in the air and his pits exposed he notices that something has begun to stink up the locker room he’s been stretching in. Claude opens his eyes looking for the assailant, to no avail. He turns his head to the side thoughtlessly putting his nose in his pit, finding the scent closer he takes a deep breath before finding himself starting to chub at the scent. The voice in his head laughs, “¡Jajaja! ¡Nice brazos (arms) perrito! ¿A ti también te gusta mi olor, eh?” (You like my smell as well huh?)

Despite his best efforts at centering himself during his stretches, he is once more consumed with anxiety. He looks down at his body that he knows should be petite but instead finds one that does not go two days without hitting el gimnasio. He flinches as his mind automatically went for the word in Spanish. Wait, did the voice in his head just say his smell!? He sniffs the air and a thought forces itself to the front of his mind, Well this is what I wanted wasn’t it? His ears ring as he is not sure if those are his thoughts or ones implanted by whatever monster is doing this to him.

Claude feels an itch on his hand and he looks down to see the hand that clicked that link some time ago as it begins to darken. He sees a rich tan begin to spread up his suddenly muscular arm as veins throb down it aiming to increase the mass. “Q- What es, happening!?” Claude turns to look in the mirror and finds the tan racing across his body. He sees the patches of his unmistakably white skin tone become naturally sunkissed as his eyes widen in shock. He freezes up and the voice in his head takes advantage and tries to seize control outright, flexing his arm and revealing the thin patch of blonde hair in his pit as it grows dark as the hair on his head and thickens beyond the pale. The voice speaks in his mind deeper and stronger than ever as he begins to outright vie for control, “Tranquilo Claudio. (Chill out Claudio.) Let us see what I can do jaja!”

It takes a bit of concerted effort but the voice, who outs himself unsurprisingly as Carlos himself, step by step forces Claude’s body across the room in his catatonia. Claude feels a smirk on his face as Carlos positions him at the bench press. He clumsily lays back on the bench before checking the weights. Looks like some cabrón left his weights on the bar, though actually it's fortunate as Carlos doubts he has the ability to do such complex motor functions as he feels Claude start to wake from his stupor.

Carlos feels an itch on Claude’s face and he begins to smirk as he feels facial hair begin to grow, “Ay he might have cojones yet jaja!” Claude feels his mouth move of its own accord and finally notices that his voice has lowered considerably and he feels his body struggle as he tries to gasp as hears it develop a deep accent.

Before Claude can wrestle control back Carlos grabs for the bar and starts to do a rep. He grunts as he realizes this body is simply not strong enough at the moment to manage the weight that was left on the rack. As the pole is just about to pin him however Claude senses the peril and both minds in the body force the bar up. “¡Bien Claudio! Let’s see what we can do juntamente si?” (together yes?) Claude tries to grunt out a protestation but is suddenly racked with pain as his body must grow larger to force the bar up.

Both men feel as weight begins to pile onto the twink’s only recently muscled body. Claude feels as pecs develop on his chest, totally ripping the tank top that had grown tight while stretching. Carlos feels as his biceps surge larger than the thighs this weak body had not two hours ago. The expression on his face flickers between ecstasy and concern as he lies on the bench doing repetitions as his core strengthens and puts on mass.

After his chest and arms grow large enough to send existential fear into Claude’s mind and a hungry lust for more into Carlos’ balls, Claude stumbles off the bench and falls to the floor, letting the weights crash next to him. He feels pin pricks as tattoos begin to stain his tanned skin and he cries out in his changed voice, “No! Este es- This isn’t right!” with each word his voice cracks deeper and the English words become a tad more difficult to maneuver his mouth around. Without a beat, Carlos immediately takes control of his mouth and responds as his voice finishes changing to match the one in his head. “Ah, ahí estás equivocado amigo. Esto es perfección.” (Ah, there you are wrong friend. This is perfection)

Claude stands to stare in the mirror watching sweat trail down his body and ink rise in his skin. He looks at his chin as a beard begins to shadow his face. He sees his eyes as they flicker and begin to darken to a deep cacao brown. His lip quivers as if he is about to cry before without any input from him it turns to a sneer as he feels Carlos chastise him without words. Claude feels a pit in his chest as not only does he not need to hear them, he begins to feel the disdain himself. As if the will of Carlos was starting to become his own.

This causes a surge in his crotch as he feels in that regard Carlos has already wrestled full control. He feels his balls that are not his begin to grow and demand attention. They feel full and needy as pre begins to leak out of his growing erection. That happens anytime he goes to the gym si? As his eyes shift down to see his bulge make itself known his facial hair expands and his pubes begin to crest above his waistline. The small bush of pit hair begins to grow into a jungle as his balls work overtime to produce testosterone to power his poderoso body.

Feeling the hormones from Carlos’ balls pump through his veins Claude realizes what a losing battle he faces. He feels his thoughts begin to mingle with the man he foolishly allowed into his body as he begins to feel himself overwhelmed with the pressure and lust issuing forth from his crotch. He feels his fluency in English begin to wane as Carlos begins to overpower every aspect of his personality. Claude continues to stare at his reflection in the mirror and the anxiety and fear rapidly dissipate as he enjoys the power that he wields. “¡Dios estoy tan chacondo!” (God I’m so Horny) The two men voice as one, his voice reverberating through his chest as he feels power continue to surge through him.

Claude watches as his body flexes itself in the mirror without a single thought or any input from him. Not that he minds, it’s doing exactly what he would be doing anyway si? He smirks seeing his cock bob up and down as he struts across the gym floor. Every thought in his head is in fluent Spanish as he feels his identity fully mingle with Carlos’ as they truly become one. Despite this originally being Claude’s body he feels himself shrink and mold as he becomes an aspect of Carlos’ personality. Every action, every word, every movement will be crafted by the two of them. Though altogether Claude will just about always find himself thinking just as Carlos does, and both minds will more often than not be ruled by the powerful hormones coming from below.

“Debería haber preguntado sobre los términos y condiciones, Hermano.” (Should’ve asked for the terms and conditions bro.) He thinks to himself as he makes his way to the gym’s showers to pump one out. Over time even Carlos would forget that this has not always been his body. Each day he would continue to make it his own, increasing his mass and power. Outgrowing a wardrobe of clothes he would never be caught dead wearing. It did not take long at all to establish his supremacy as Carlos Herrero. Though there was some inherent difficulty navigating this land only knowing Spanish, Carlos managed well enough, confident that if needed he could perhaps let his passenger breathe enough to regain some English. At this point however it’s hard to say if any remnants of Claude remain, and moreover if he would even desire to emerge back into his own mind, it is of course much easier to simply indulge in the ceaseless pleasure he has found for himself within Carlos’ mind.

#male tf #cultural change #racial change #masculinization #hair growth #race change #mental change #possession #jockification #muscle tf

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baelabong · 5 months ago

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ᴄʟᴜᴇʟᴇꜱꜱ

ʀɪᴄʜɢɪʀʟ! ʏ/ɴ x ᴏʟᴅᴇʀꜱɪꜱᴛᴇʀꜱʙꜱꜰʀ!ᴋᴀʀɪɴᴀ

Plot: Y/N lives a life of luxury, lounging by the pool in her mansion, completely at ease. But when her sister’s best friend, Karina, shows up, everything changes. Y/N tries to keep her cool and act like the perfect spoiled princess, she finds herself struggling with feelings she doesn’t want to admit.

Warnings: no, fluff, lowkey angst, y/ns a bitch lowkey

wc/rq: 7.5 k words/no, i was just watching clueless again Notes: guys pls teach me ho tochange the colour of the text in tumblr also this took me FIVE DAYS OMG

it’s another perfect day as you lounge around your mansion, well…. your dads but whatever, and you’re in your element. lounging by the pool is practically a full-time job for you, and honestly? no one does it better. your designer sunglasses sit perched on your nose, your iced drink sits on the little table next to you, condensation sliding down the glass, while your phone is buzzing nonstop with notifications. friends asking about plans, people wanting your attention—it’s exhausting, really. but you couldn’t care less at the moment. the world is yours, and you’re revelling in it.

you stretch out on your lounger, flipping through your phone without much interest, skimming texts, and rolling your eyes at half of them. you don’t feel like replying. it’s one of those lazy afternoons where you can just exist in your little bubble, and everything is going your way.

until you hear her voice.

karina.

the sound of her laughing from inside the house catches you completely off guard, and suddenly your perfect little world feels a bit too small. her voice cuts through the air, light and casual, like she owns the place—and you already know she’s probably leaning against the kitchen counter, looking effortlessly cool, as she does.

god, she’s so irritating.

you sit up a bit, tugging your sunglasses down your nose, the slightest frown creasing your brow. you try to ignore the flutter in your chest, that annoying little skip your heart does whenever you know she’s nearby. it’s stupid, really. she’s your sister’s best friend. she’s here for her, not for you. but for some reason, your body never seems to get that memo.

you roll your eyes at yourself, huffing as you grab your phone again, pretending to be engrossed in something important. but it’s useless. you scroll without really looking, your mind racing ahead of itself. the thought of karina, her presence this close, makes your skin tingle in the most frustrating way. it’s like she invades your space, even when she’s not physically next to you.

snap out of it, y/n, you think, shaking your head. but the moment’s already ruined, and lounging by the pool doesn’t feel as serene as it did five minutes ago.

you sigh dramatically, slipping your sunglasses back up and fixing your hair, running your fingers through it like you’re preparing for battle. because, honestly, that’s what it feels like whenever karina’s around—a constant need to look your best, act your best, even though she’s never actually paying attention to you. at least, not in the way you wish she would.

so you push yourself up, deciding it’s better to face whatever weird feelings are bubbling up rather than sitting here, stewing in your own frustration. you stand and slip on your sandals, adjusting your swimsuit just so—because even if you’re annoyed, you’re still going to look flawless. that’s just who you are.

as you stroll into the house, your head held high, your heart’s racing, but you force yourself to look as unbothered as possible. you walk with purpose, sunglasses still on, acting like nothing could possibly faze you.

and then you see her.

karina’s leaning casually against the doorframe, arms crossed, her black cropped top showing just enough of her toned waist to make your throat go dry. her jeans hug her in all the right places, and her dark hair falls effortlessly over her shoulders, making her look like she just stepped out of a photoshoot without even trying. of course she looks that good. she always does.

and what’s worse? she’s laughing at something your sister just said, completely relaxed, as if the world hasn’t just tilted on its axis now that you’ve entered the room. ugh.

you can feel your stomach flip, but you swallow it down, refusing to let it show. you are y/n, after all. you’re always in control.

"y/n, finally. we’re going shopping," your sister, ningning announces, not even bothering to look up from her phone. she says it like it’s the most natural thing in the world, as if she hasn’t dragged you along on three separate shopping trips already this week.

you roll your eyes dramatically, making sure everyone in the room feels it. shopping? again? it’s like your sister has no sense of boundaries, always assuming you’ll drop everything to go out with her. you love her, obviously, but sometimes she just doesn’t get it.

"ugh, shopping? again?" you groan, exaggerating every syllable. you throw yourself into your usual bratty mode because it’s easy, it’s safe. and more than that—it’s your way of keeping karina at arm’s length. you know if you act like a spoiled little princess, you can keep the attention off how much she messes with your head.

karina glances at you, and you can feel her eyes on you before you even meet them. when you finally do, she’s got that smile on her lips—that tiny, knowing smile that drives you insane. like she can see right through you. like she knows exactly why you’re acting this way.

god, she’s so frustrating.

"you’re coming whether you like it or not," your sister chirps, still absorbed in whatever text she’s typing, oblivious to the tension bubbling under the surface.

you huff, flipping your hair over your shoulder with a sharp toss. "fine. but we better not spend all day in some tacky boutique."

you strut past karina, making sure to give her the cold shoulder as you do, acting like her presence doesn’t bother you in the slightest. like the fact that you’ll be stuck with her for the next few hours isn’t making your brain short-circuit. you feel her eyes linger on you as you walk away, and it takes every ounce of willpower not to turn around and meet them again.

you know what she’s thinking—that you’re being a brat, like usual. that you’re throwing a tantrum because things aren’t going your way. and maybe she’s right.

the drive to the shops feels like it drags on forever, but you manage to keep your cool. you’re in the backseat, legs crossed, uour white crop top hugs you perfectly, and your leather skirt shows just enough skin to catch attention without begging for it. it's the kind of look that makes you feel in control, like the world bends to you.

your phone buzzes again, and you glance at it with a small smile. some boy you barely care about has been texting you for days, throwing compliments like they’re going out of style. he’s sweet, but he’s not who’s really on your mind. you’re only half paying attention to the conversation, lazily scrolling through his messages, while your eyes flick towards the front of the car.

karina’s sitting there, chatting with your sister, her voice low and calm, like she has all the time in the world. she laughs at something your sister says, and it’s the kind of laugh that makes your heart skip for a moment—annoyingly effortless, just like the rest of her. her dark hair is pulled back, showing off that ridiculously sharp jawline, and she’s dressed in this casual, almost too-perfect outfit that only adds to her coolness. you hate how much it affects you, but you’d never show it.

instead, you lean back, subtly watching her from behind your sunglasses, acting like you’re completely disinterested. every now and then, you catch her looking at you through the rear-view mirror, her gaze flickering over you just long enough for you to notice. she’s not obvious about it, but you know. she’s watching you, and it sends a little thrill through your veins, though you’d never admit that either.

as the car slows to a stop at the shopping centre, you apply a quick swipe of lip gloss, making sure your lips are shiny and perfect. you don’t even look at karina when you do it, but you know she’s paying attention. her gaze lingers again, longer this time, before she quickly looks away, focusing back on whatever your sister is babbling about.

you step out of the car with a smooth, practised ease, swinging your small designer bag over your shoulder as your sister immediately grabs your arm and pulls you into the first boutique she sees. you roll your eyes, but follow her, because it’s easier than making a fuss.

inside the shop, your sister flits around like a kid in a candy store, grabbing clothes left and right, already talking a mile a minute about some guy she’s obsessed with. you’re only half listening, the same way you do with the boy who’s been texting you. instead, your attention keeps drifting back to karina, who’s moving between racks with her usual calm and collected grace.

you can’t help but watch her, even when you pretend you’re not. everything about her is so annoyingly perfect. you find yourself bristling at it, at how unbothered she looks, while you’re stuck in your head, trying not to let her get to you.

as if on autopilot, you grab a bright pink dress from a nearby rack and hold it up, not even thinking about it. it’s not your style at all—too loud, too flashy, too... obvious. but you’re not really shopping for yourself at this moment. you’re trying to pull karina’s focus, to force her to engage with you, to get her to stop being so damn aloof.

"what do you think of this?" you ask, holding the dress up in front of her, your tone casual, like you couldn’t care less what she says. but your heart is already beating a little faster, and you hate that she has this effect on you.

karina looks up, her eyes flicking to the dress, then to you. she takes a moment, her lips curling into a tiny, almost imperceptible smirk. "it’s cute," she says with that maddening calmness. "but... i think you’d look better in something less... obvious."

you blink, momentarily thrown off. "less obvious?" you scoff, tossing the dress back on the rack with a little more force than necessary. "i think i know what works for me."

"i’m sure you do," karina replies, moving to the next rack like your little outburst didn’t even faze her. she’s so damn unbothered, and it’s infuriating.

you huff, crossing your arms, watching as she walks ahead. she’s already browsing something else, her attention completely shifted away from you, leaving you stewing in your own frustration. who does she think she is, telling you what looks good on you? it’s not like she’s some kind of fashion expert. she’s just... karina. your sister’s best friend. and yet, here you are, letting her opinion mess with your head.

deep down, you know you’re overreacting. it’s not really about the dress. it’s about how karina makes you feel, like she’s always two steps ahead, always so calm and cool, while you’re over here, constantly putting on a show. and the worst part? you care what she thinks. way too much.

you glance at her again, catching the way she moves, so confident, so sure of herself. and for just a moment, you wish you could be that unbothered. but then, you shake the thought away, smoothing down your outfit as if it’ll somehow fix the mess in your head.

"ugh, whatever," you mutter under your breath, striding past her like you’re completely over it. but even as you move to the next rack, you can feel her eyes on you, and it makes your heart race all over again.

you move to the next rack, pretending to focus on a row of dresses that all blur together in your head. your sister is off somewhere, chattering away to some salesgirl, and you’re left alone in this silent tension with karina. you know she’s watching you, even if she’s not making it obvious. but you refuse to give her the satisfaction of looking back. not yet.

after a few more minutes of awkward browsing, your sister finally appears, holding up two completely over-the-top outfits. “which one do you think i should get? i have a party this weekend, and i need to look amazing,” she says, thrusting the clothes at you and karina for judgement.

you raise an eyebrow, barely glancing at the dresses. “does it really matter? you’ll look fine in anything,” you say, a little dismissively, still annoyed at the whole situation.

karina, on the other hand, takes the time to actually consider the options, glancing from one dress to the other with her signature calm. “i like the red one. it’s bold,” she says, giving your sister a genuine smile.

and just like that, your sister beams at karina, completely smitten with her opinion. “ugh, i knew you’d get it!” she squeals, already grabbing the red dress and skipping off to try it on, leaving the two of you alone again.

you roll your eyes at the whole interaction, crossing your arms as you turn back to the rack. “she acts like she’s going to prom or something. it’s just a party,” you mutter, but there’s no real bite in your voice. you’re more distracted by how casual karina is, how her attention shifts so easily from one thing to the next, while you’re stuck here, hyper aware of every little thing she does.

and then, out of nowhere, she’s beside you, close enough that you can feel the warmth of her presence. “you didn’t answer me earlier,” she says softly, her voice low enough that it makes your skin tingle.

you glance up at her, confused. “about what?”

“about why you’re really upset. it’s not the shopping, is it?” she asks, tilting her head slightly, studying your face with those dark eyes that seem to see through you.

your stomach flips, and for a second, you can’t think of anything to say. because she’s right. it’s not the shopping. it’s not even the dress. it’s... her. the way she gets under your skin, the way she knows how to push your buttons without even trying.

you bristle, putting up your usual front. “i’m not upset,” you say, but your voice wavers slightly. “and i’m definitely not interested in whatever psychoanalysis you’re trying to pull.”

karina’s lips curl into that infuriating smirk again, like she knows you better than you know yourself. “sure, y/n. whatever you say.”

and with that, she steps away, her attention shifting back to the clothes, leaving you standing there, heart racing, your mind spinning. you hate how easily she can mess with you. how, with just a few words, she can throw your whole mood off balance.

you let out a frustrated sigh, grabbing a random dress from the rack and heading toward the fitting rooms. you need a minute to collect yourself, to get away from karina’s stupidly perfect calmness, and figure out why she’s making you feel so rattled.

but as you walk away, you can feel her eyes on you again. watching, waiting. and it only makes your pulse quicken even more.

as you step out of the fitting room, tugging at the hem of the shirt you just tried on, your sister's voice cuts through the air. “you should just tell her how you feel, y/n!”

your eyes widen, and you freeze on the spot, glaring at your sister as if that would make her shut up. she says it so casually, like it’s no big deal, but your heart is practically pounding out of your chest. what the hell is she thinking, dropping that in front of karina?

you sneak a glance at karina, who’s standing a few feet away, arms crossed over her chest. she’s leaning against the wall, her black leather jacket making her look effortlessly cool as usual. her expression doesn’t give much away, but there’s a small quirk of her eyebrow that tells you she’s definitely heard what your sister just said.

“what the hell are you talking about?” you snap, rolling your eyes and giving your sister a hard shove. “you sound ridiculous.”

your sister just shrugs, clearly not picking up on the tension between you and karina. “i’m just saying! it’s obvious.”

you scoff, crossing your arms and glancing at karina again, trying to read her. her jaw is clenched, and she’s staring right at you, not saying a word, but that stupid smirk she always has is creeping up.

“let’s just go. i’m hungry,” you mutter, eager to change the subject. you brush past your sister and head toward the exit, not even waiting for karina to follow. but of course, she does, her boots thudding against the floor behind you.

outside the store, you try to ignore how close she’s walking next to you, her presence making you feel both irritated and flustered at the same time. why does she have to be so... calm? like she knows something you don’t.

“you’re acting real bratty today,” karina finally says, her deep voice low, like she’s amused by your attitude.

you stop in your tracks and glare at her. “i’m not acting bratty. i’m just not in the mood for this,” you snap back, refusing to let her get under your skin any more than she already has.

karina’s smirk grows wider, and she steps closer, towering over you just enough to make your breath catch. she reaches out and flicks your forehead lightly, like she’s teasing you. “sure, whatever you say, princess.”

your cheeks flush with both embarrassment and frustration. “don’t call me that,” you mutter, though your voice lacks the bite you want it to have.

karina just chuckles, sliding her hands into her jacket pockets as she keeps walking, clearly unfazed by your attitude. you bite your lip, feeling even more annoyed that she’s so good at getting a reaction out of you.

by the time you all pile into the car to head home, the tension between you and karina is palpable. you slide into the backseat, crossing your arms and staring out the window, pretending like you’re not bothered by her.

but every now and then, you catch her eyes flicking to you through the rearview mirror. she doesn’t say anything, but you can feel her watching you, and it drives you insane.

later that day, while you're lounging on your bed, phone in hand, you scroll through your social media feed without much thought, until a particular post makes you stop. it's from the new girl at school—a blonde who's been turning heads since she arrived. what catches your eye, though, is the company she’s keeping. in a series of photos, she’s with karina. they're both laughing, standing way too close, and sharing what looks like an inside joke. karina’s usual cool demeanour is softened, and it rubs you the wrong way.

your stomach churns as you swipe through more pictures. the blonde has tagged karina in a couple of them. in one, their shoulders are pressed together, and in another, karina’s hand is casually resting on the back of her chair, almost possessively. the knot in your chest tightens, and you toss your phone aside, sitting up as if that will shake the irritation building inside you.

why does she look so comfortable around her? you wonder, pacing your room as your thoughts spiral. you try to brush it off—karina’s popular, after all, people gravitate towards her. but this feels different. the thought of this girl spending more time with her than you makes your chest ache in a way that catches you off guard. you hate that it's bothering you this much. i don’t even care that much... right? but deep down, you know that’s a lie.

the next day at school, the nagging jealousy follows you around like a shadow. during lunch, you find yourself sitting across from karina, your eyes scanning her face as she casually eats, scrolling through her phone like nothing's on her mind. but it’s all you can think about.

you take a deep breath, trying to sound casual as you speak up. “so… who’s that new girl? the blonde.” you fiddle with the fork in your hand, poking at your food without really eating.

karina glances up from her phone, raising an eyebrow. “new girl?” she echoes, almost like she’s oblivious. she’s toying with you. you know she remembers.

you clear your throat, trying to sound nonchalant as you add, “you two seemed pretty chummy on her post.”

karina’s lips curl into a small, amused smirk. “oh, her? she’s in my biology class. we worked on a project together. no big deal.”

“no big deal?” you echo, feigning indifference, but you can’t stop the edge from creeping into your voice. “she seems pretty into you.”

karina’s smirk only grows. “what? are you jealous?”

you scoff, rolling your eyes as you lean back in your chair, crossing your arms over your chest. “me? jealous? please. i just thought it was interesting, that’s all.”

karina sets her phone down and leans in closer, resting her elbows on the table, her gaze never leaving yours. “you’re cute when you’re jealous, y/n.”

your cheeks flush instantly at her words, but you refuse to let her see how much she’s getting to you. “i’m not jealous,” you grumble, though even you can tell it sounds unconvincing. “i just don’t like the idea of you being so... friendly with random girls.”

karina tilts her head, her gaze softening slightly. “random girls? she’s just a friend, y/n. we worked on a project together, nothing more.” she sounds sincere, but her playful smirk never fully disappears. it’s like she’s reveling in how worked up you’re getting.

“yeah, well,” you mutter, playing with the edge of your sleeve, “she looked pretty cozy for ‘just a friend.’”

karina leans even closer, her voice dropping to a low murmur that sends a shiver down your spine. “you know,” she says, eyes flicking down to your lips before meeting your gaze again, “if you want my attention, all you have to do is ask.”

your breath catches in your throat. you’re not used to karina being this direct. she’s always been confident, sure, but this—this teasing, almost predatory energy—is making your heart race in a way you weren’t prepared for.

“who said i wanted your attention?” you try to snap back, but your voice is quieter, weaker, and you can tell karina’s picking up on it.

karina leans back, her smirk widening as if she’s won some silent battle. “oh, trust me, y/n. i can tell.”

you huff, crossing your arms tighter over your chest, but you don’t argue further. the truth is, you *do* want her attention—have wanted it for a while now. but admitting that feels too much like giving her the upper hand, and you’re not about to hand that over so easily.

karina watches you for a moment, her eyes twinkling with amusement. she knows exactly how to push your buttons, and she’s enjoying every second of it. “don’t worry,” she says, voice softer but still teasing. “you don’t have to be jealous of anyone else. i’m not going anywhere.”

you bite your lip, trying to keep the blush from creeping up your neck. “i’m not jealous,” you insist, but even you can hear how weak it sounds now.

karina just chuckles, shaking her head as she goes back to her phone, but not before giving you a knowing look that makes your heart skip a beat.

“sure, y/n,” she murmurs. “sure.”

the sound of the door dings again, the cheery chime contrasting sharply with the heavy sigh you can’t help but let escape your lips as you settle back into your chair, stirring your iced latte without any real interest. the hum of the coffee shop, alive with the chatter of customers and the clinking of dishes, fades into a dull background noise as your attention drifts elsewhere. your sister, ningning, somehow managed to drag you into this little outing with her friends—definitely not the most thrilling way to spend your weekend. sure, the place is cute enough, but after an hour of listening to them ramble on about the latest trends and drama, you feel like you might just slip into a coma.

“thanks again for dragging me here, ning,” you mutter under your breath, leaning back in your chair and crossing your arms. “really doing wonders for my social calendar.”

ningning, ever the optimist, just rolls her eyes playfully, busy laughing with her friends as they chat animatedly about something you couldn’t care less about. you zone out, drumming your fingers against the table as the door dings again, signalling yet another group of people entering.

your gaze drifts lazily across the table to where karina is sitting, completely engrossed in conversation with the new girl—some blonde transfer student who’s been soaking up attention like it’s her job since she showed up. karina, for her part, seems to be enjoying it far too much. she leans in a little closer, her expression relaxed, laughing at something the blonde said.

you can’t stop the eye roll that follows. typical.

karina’s never like this around you, but here she is, laughing like she’s never had more fun in her life. you shift in your seat, your annoyance simmering as you watch the two of them. they’re sitting just a little too close, and karina’s smile is just a little too bright. you tap your fingers impatiently on the table, waiting for the conversation to shift back to something even remotely interesting, but no one else seems to notice the elephant in the room—you.

with every joke exchanged between them, your patience wears thinner, until you just can’t hold back anymore. the sarcasm slips out before you can stop yourself.

“wow, karina,” you say, your voice dripping with faux enthusiasm. “you and your new bestie seem to be having such a great time. should we give you two some space? maybe you’d prefer to continue this riveting conversation alone?”

the table falls silent instantly. ningning’s eyes widen, and the other girls glance at each other awkwardly, unsure of how to react. karina, though, barely blinks. she turns her head toward you, raising an eyebrow, and the corner of her lips twitch as if she’s more amused than annoyed.

“what’s your deal?” she asks, her tone as casual as ever, like your little outburst barely registered. she leans back in her chair, crossing her arms as if to match your stance.

“my deal?” you echo, letting out a scoff as you lean forward, resting your chin in your hand. “oh, nothing. just admiring how fast you make friends. must be nice, really.”

karina’s eyes flicker with amusement as she glances between you and the blonde, who’s now awkwardly fiddling with her coffee cup. “oh, come on, y/n,” she says, her voice smooth, almost teasing. “are you really that bothered?”

you tilt your head, giving her a saccharine smile that doesn’t reach your eyes. “bothered? no, not at all. just enjoying the show.” you gesture loosely to the two of them, adding, “it’s like a cute little rom-com, right in front of me. really, I’m thrilled for you.”

karina narrows her eyes, a hint of a smirk playing at her lips. “you’re jealous,” she states plainly, not a question—more like she’s calling you out, the way she always does. and it infuriates you.

you scoff again, louder this time, and toss your hair over your shoulder with dramatic flair. “me? jealous? of that?” you glance at the blonde, who’s now clearly uncomfortable but doing her best to pretend she’s not. “please. I just think it’s cute, that’s all. watching you two pretend you’re starring in some hallmark movie.”

karina just chuckles, leaning forward, resting her elbows on the table as she fixes you with an infuriatingly calm stare. “yeah? well, from where I’m sitting, it sounds like you’re the one starring in a soap opera. all that drama for nothing, y/n.”

you roll your eyes, pushing your chair back slightly, but you can’t help the way your heart races as karina’s gaze stays locked on yours. she’s always been able to get under your skin, and you hate it. hate how she can stay so calm and collected while you’re practically fuming.

“right. because you know me so well,” you fire back, crossing your arms again, this time more defensively.

karina shrugs, that lazy smirk still on her lips. “i do know you,” she says, her tone annoyingly confident. “better than you think.”

you bite the inside of your cheek, resisting the urge to snap again. you don’t want to give her the satisfaction of knowing she’s right. the truth is, you are jealous. but admitting that would feel like handing her a win, and you’re not about to do that.

before you can come up with a witty retort, karina glances over at the blonde, who’s now pretending to check her phone. “look, y/n, we’re just talking. it’s really not that deep.”

“right,” you say, drawing out the word. “just talking. and all that laughing and flirting? just casual, right?”

karina chuckles, shaking her head slightly. “flirting? really, y/n?” she leans forward a little more, her voice dropping, making your pulse quicken. “if i wanted to flirt, you’d know it.”

you freeze, your breath catching in your throat as her words hang in the air between you. she’s toying with you, and you hate how easily she can make your heart skip a beat.

“oh, please,” you finally manage, but your voice is a little quieter now, a little less confident. “you’re full of it.”

karina’s smirk only widens. “maybe,” she admits, leaning back in her chair, looking way too pleased with herself. “but it’s fun watching you get all worked up.”

you open your mouth to fire back, but nothing comes out. you’re too caught off guard by how effortlessly she’s turned the tables on you.

arriving back at the estate, you rush off the jeep, leaving ningning in the driver’s seat, and stomp towards your room, heart thudding in your chest. your heels click angrily against the marble floor, and the second you reach your bedroom, you throw yourself onto the bed, burying your face in the plush pillows. a muffled scream escapes your lips as you let out all the pent-up frustration.

how dare she? how could karina just... dismiss your feelings like that, in front of everyone, no less? it’s not like you even wanted her attention in the first place—at least, that’s what you’ve been telling yourself all this time. but seeing her with the blonde girl, laughing and leaning in like that, had struck a nerve you didn’t know was so raw.

you flip over onto your back, staring up at the ceiling as you replay the entire café scene over in your head. "if i wanted to flirt, you’d know it." you mocked the girl in a baby voice

god, why did she have to say that? why did she have to be so smug about it? it’s infuriating how easily she gets under your skin, how she knows exactly which buttons to press.

staring at the ceiling, replaying the day in your head like a bad movie. karina had been laughing, smiling, totally caught up in her conversation with the blonde—leaning in, listening like whatever that girl had to say was the most interesting thing in the world. it was infuriating.

she never paid attention to you like that. at least, not lately.

you grab a pillow and smother your face with it, trying to block out the feelings that have been gnawing at you ever since you stormed off and practically slammed your bedroom door behind you. karina had a way of getting under your skin, but today? today, it had hit differently. you weren’t just annoyed—you were jealous. though admitting that, even to yourself, felt like swallowing glass.

your phone buzzes on your nightstand, and for a moment, you think about ignoring it. probably just ningning wondering where you went off to, or one of her friends in the group chat. but something nags at you, and before you can stop yourself, you reach for it.

karina’s name lights up your screen.

karina: open the door. i’m outside.

your heart skips a beat. you scramble out of bed, peeking through the curtains, and there she is. leaning against her car, hands shoved in her pockets, looking like she just stepped out of some cheesy rom-com.

you hesitate for a second, debating whether to leave her out there or actually let her in. your stubborn side screams to make her wait, but you know you can’t. not when she’s standing there like that, looking all casual and unbothered, the way she always does.

with a huff, you stomp downstairs and swing open the door, crossing your arms defensively. “what are you doing here?”

karina glances up, her cool gaze locking onto yours as she pushes off the car and steps closer, hands still buried in her jacket pockets. “we need to talk.”

“talk about what? you had plenty to say earlier with your new bestie,” you snap, immediately feeling childish, but unable to stop yourself.

karina doesn’t flinch. instead, she steps up onto the porch, her tall frame making her presence even more commanding. “y/n, cut the crap. you’ve been acting weird all day. i’m not leaving until you tell me what’s going on.”

“nothing’s going on,” you lie, turning your back to her, but you don’t close the door. “i just don’t want to deal with it.”

“deal with what?” she presses, her voice dropping lower, firmer, in a way that sends a shiver down your spine. “you were practically fuming back there. don’t act like everything’s fine.”

you bite your lip, annoyed that she can see through you so easily. “i said it’s nothing, karina. you’re making it a bigger deal than it is.”

“y/n, stop,” she says, her tone now leaving no room for argument. she steps inside, her boots making soft thuds on the hardwood as she closes the door behind her. “tell me what’s really going on.”

you glare at her, your defences still up, but you can’t help feeling cornered. her calm, unwavering stare makes your heart race, and you hate how easily she can unsettle you.

“fine,” you snap, folding your arms tighter across your chest. “you wanna know? you ignored me all day for that blonde, and it pissed me off. happy now?”

karina raises an eyebrow, tilting her head slightly as she steps even closer. “that’s what this is about? you’re jealous?”

you scoff, turning away from her. “no, i’m not jealous,” you mutter, but even you don’t believe your own words. “i just... i don’t get why you were all over her. it was annoying.”

“i wasn’t all over her,” she says, her voice calm but firm as she steps around to face you again. “we were just talking.”

“right,” you mumble, still refusing to meet her eyes. “just talking. whatever.”

karina sighs, running a hand through her hair in frustration. “y/n, why won’t you just admit it? you’re upset because you like me.”

your breath catches in your throat, and you freeze. her words hang in the air between you, and for a second, you wonder if you heard her wrong.

“what?” you finally manage to say, your voice barely above a whisper.

karina steps closer, her hand lifting to gently tilt your chin up so you’re forced to look at her. her dark eyes are intense, and for once, there’s no teasing smirk on her lips. she looks serious—dead serious. “you heard me.”

your heart pounds in your chest as her fingers brush against your jaw, sending a wave of heat rushing through you. this is not how you expected the conversation to go. you try to come up with a retort, something sarcastic to throw back at her, but your brain feels like it’s short-circuiting.

“karina, i...” you start, but the words die on your lips.

she’s so close now, her presence almost overwhelming as she looks down at you, waiting for your response. you swallow hard, feeling the weight of her gaze pressing down on you.

“you don’t have to say anything,” karina says softly, her hand sliding down from your chin to rest on your shoulder, grounding you. “but you need to stop pretending. i know how you feel. i’ve known for a while.”

you blink up at her, stunned. “what?”

karina smiles, just a little, but it’s softer than her usual smirk. “i’m not blind, y/n. and i’m not stupid. you’ve been acting like this for months.”

“acting like what?” you ask, your voice sounding small even to yourself.

“like you’re trying to push me away,” she says, her hand gently squeezing your shoulder. “but i’m not going anywhere.”

you bite your lip, feeling tears of frustration welling up in your eyes. “i’m not trying to push you away,” you mumble. “i just... i don’t know how to deal with this.”

karina sighs softly, stepping even closer so there’s barely any space between the two of you. “then let me help you deal with it,” she says, her voice gentle but firm. “you don’t have to do everything on your own.”

“i don’t want to seem needy,” you mutter, still refusing to look her in the eye.

karina lets out a soft laugh, her thumb brushing lightly against your cheek. “you’re not needy. you’re just... you. and that’s enough.”

you blink up at her, feeling your walls crumble bit by bit. her touch is so gentle, so warm, and it makes your heart ache in a way that scares you. “yeah, well... maybe i didn’t want to be needy.”

karina’s lips curve into a smirk, but it’s full of affection rather than amusement. “you’re not needy. but even if you were, i wouldn’t care.”

you scoff lightly, but the sound comes out weaker than you intend. “you say that now...”

“i mean it,” she says, her voice low as she leans in slightly. “y/n, i like you. i’ve liked you for a long time.”

your breath catches again, and this time, you can’t hide the way your pulse quickens. “what?”

karina chuckles softly, shaking her head. “god, you’re so dense sometimes,” she teases, though her tone is filled with fondness. “i’m saying i like you. more than just friends. more than anything else.”

you stare at her, your mind racing to catch up with what she’s just said. “you... like me?”

karina nods, her expression softening as she leans in closer, her forehead resting gently against yours. “yeah, y/n. i like you. so stop pushing me away, okay?”

you blink rapidly, trying to process everything. your heart feels like it’s about to burst out of your chest, and for a moment, you feel like you’re going to pass out. “but... what about that blonde?”

karina pulls back slightly, looking at you with an amused smile. “the blonde? you seriously think i’d be interested in her?”

“i don’t know!” you blurt out, feeling flustered. “you seemed pretty into her.”

karina laughs, shaking her head. “god, y/n, you’re something else.” she cups your face in her hands again, her thumbs brushing lightly against your cheeks. “i was just being polite. i didn’t even remember her name half the time.”

you feel your face heat up, embarrassed by your own jealousy. “oh.”

karina chuckles softly, her gaze softening as she leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “you don’t have to worry about anyone else,” she murmurs against your skin. “you’re the one i want. always have been.”

you bite your lip, feeling a mixture of relief and nervousness flood through you. “you mean that?”

you blink up at her, feeling your walls crumble just a little more. without thinking, you lean in, pressing your forehead against her chest and letting out a frustrated groan. “ugh, why do you have to be so nice to me?”

karina just laughs softly, running her fingers through your hair. “because someone has to take care of you,” she teases, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. “you’re such a brat sometimes.”

you scoff, but the warmth in her voice makes it impossible to stay mad. “i’m not a brat. you just make me act like one.”

“oh, i make you act like that?” she teases again, her voice full of affection as she hugs you tighter. “come on, let’s go inside before ningning sees us and starts asking questions.”

with a reluctant nod, you let her guide you back into the house, her arm draped protectively over your shoulders as the two of you walk upstairs together. the frustration and jealousy from earlier seem to melt away with every step, and by the time you reach your room, you feel lighter, like maybe—just maybe—it’s okay to let someone in, to let someone take care of you for once.

the days after karina’s confession are a blur of stolen glances, secret smiles, and moments that feel like something out of a dream. you still can’t quite believe it, but here you are—walking through the school hallways with karina’s arm slung casually over your shoulders, her presence as grounding as it is exciting.

and it doesn’t take long for people to notice.

whispers follow you both as you navigate the halls, and it’s not hard to tell what everyone’s talking about. the once-rumored, now-confirmed it couple—you and karina. some people stare in disbelief, others in envy, but you don’t care. karina, as always, seems unfazed, her usual calm, confident demeanor only heightened when she’s with you.

you find yourself tucked under her arm more often than not, her protective hold over you almost possessive but in a way that makes your heart flutter. she’s always close—walking you to class, waiting by your locker, her eyes softening whenever they land on you.

at lunch, you sit with ningning and the others, but now it’s different. karina’s hand rests casually on your thigh under the table, her thumb drawing lazy circles against your skin as she chats with the group. ningning teases you endlessly, of course, but even she can’t deny that you and karina just fit.

"you two are disgusting," ningning jokes, rolling her eyes when she catches karina whisper something in your ear that makes you giggle. "i can’t believe my best friend and my sister are the couple of the year."

karina just smirks, leaning down to press a kiss to your temple. “get used to it,” she says simply, and you can’t help but blush.

the entire school knows about you now—karina’s arm around you is proof enough—but neither of you care. as long as she’s by your side, you don’t mind the attention.

509 notes · View notes

dilemmaontwolegs · 9 months ago

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The Perfect Life || CL16 {6}

Summary: After a confusing first night together it is time for the first public appearance with Charles. Warnings: angst, little bit of fluff WC: 2k F1 Masterlist || One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven Taglist: RETIRED Head over to my dedicated library blog @dilemmaslibrary and opt to get notifications from there.

An awkward silence filled the large space when you cut the engine inside the old factory and let the roller door close behind you. Charles rather elegantly dismounted and let you lock the motorbike up without a word. You had tried not to look at him too much after leaving the club but it was impossible to avoid now that there was nowhere to escape.

“I’m going to shower,” you muttered. Charles sat at the edge of the bed and watched you walk to the only internal door. The old plumbing creaked as you turned the hot water onto full blast because it never reached any decent temperature above warm. You couldn’t suppress the hiss of pain when the water hit your body, each droplet like shrapnel on your skin.

“Are you okay?” Charles asked through the door.

“Never been better, Charles.”

You stared at a spiderweb that had appeared since your last visit until the water all too soon ran cold. A fluffy towel swamped your body and you relished the softness on your bruises, grateful you had stolen it from your bathroom. When you stepped out of the bathroom you found Charles still sat on the bed but now there were two beers condensating on the wobbly side table.

“Help yourself then,” you murmured as you grabbed a fresh pair of clothes from your backpack. “Look and I will throttle you.”

Charles turned his back as you dropped the towel and pulled your panties up your legs. Bending over sent white hot pain flashing through your ribs and tears burned your eyes when you tried to reach behind your back for the bra strap. Without the adrenaline of the fight everything felt ten times worse.

You jumped when cold fingertips brushed your spine and swiped your hands aside. “Let me.”

“Rumour has it you only know how to take these off,” you said as he clipped your bra into place.

Charles turned you to face him and his eyes drifted down your body, lingering on the bruise blossoming on your ribs. “Since when have you cared about rumours?”

“I don’t, but your reputation precedes you. And, just so you know, I don’t have any friends for you to move on with after this ruse is up.”

“I don’t believe that,” he chuckled. “I think Alicia is your friend.”

“Alicia is too nice for her own good but she’s still on the payroll. I don’t think it’s friendship when it’s paid for.” You frowned as your stomach dropped as you realised what he had said and took a step back. “Plus, she is happily married so you’re out of luck there.”

Charles took a step to follow and caught your hand. “That’s not what I meant.”

You scoffed. “No?”

“No. You’re not as alone as you think you are. You have people who look out for you, and that’s friendship whether you believe it or not.” You tried not to let the words penetrate the internal walls you had built but they crumbled a little when he carefully embraced you. “You also don’t need to keep fighting, you have control of your future now.”

“It doesn’t feel like it,” you admitted as you looked up under your lashes to meet his eyes.

“Then let me show you.” His palm cradled your cheek and his thumb caressed your jaw as you waited to see what he would do. “You can say no whenever you want. The choice is yours.” His eyes traced the shape of your lips before returning higher and his lips parted as he started to dip his head. “You are in control.”

It could have been the sleep deprivation, the crash of hormones after the fight, or the fact that he was as good looking as any of the models you had seen. But, whatever the reason for your weak resolve, you didn’t say no.

You didn’t say no when his lips brushed softly over yours, tentatively. You didn’t say no when he grew bolder and deepened the kiss, his tongue exploring the curve of your lips.

“Stop,” you gasped when his hands began to glide down your body. They immediately froze and he pulled back with a deep breath. “I can’t tell if you are fucking with my head, Charles. You make me question everything I know about you.”

“I can only say ‘I’m sorry’ so many ways.”

“So you thought you would try fuck your apology onto me?”

“No,” he laughed. “That was purely self indulgent. Even when I couldn’t stand it I thought you were the most beautiful woman in the room.”

“I’m not having sex with you.”

“I told you, you’re in control,” he said with a nod.

You returned the nod and jutted your chin to the bed. “I’m a cuddler, don’t read too much into it when you wake up with me invading your personal space. Or, you can take the couch.”

He looked at the ratty couch and shook his head before a grin grew. “I like spooning.”

You pointedly looked at sweatpants and lifted a brow. “Little spoon, I bet.”

Charles smirked and dropped down on the bed, making himself comfortable on your pillow. “Nothing little about it, babe.”

You scrunched up your nose and reached under the pillow for the Prema shirt you slept in but before you could pull it on it was ripped out of your hands. “Hey!”

“You are not going to sleep next to me in my brother’s shirt.”

“There’s not exactly a wardrobe full of options here,” you said as you tried to grab it back.

Charles caught the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head in one smooth movement before tossing it on your shoulder. “There you go.”

“I like that one.”

Charles gripped the fabric and tore the shirt in half as your eyes narrowed. “If we are going to fake this, we are doing it right. My girlfriend won’t be sleeping in another man’s shirt.”

“Fuck you, Leclerc,” you swore. It was better to be swathed in his clothing than half naked in your own, that was the only reason you pulled it on and breathed through your mouth so you didn’t have to inhale the rich cologne that clung to the soft fabric. You couldn’t be blamed for your actions if your hormones liked the smell too much because one thing was certain: when he lay there shirtless you had no control over your filthy thoughts.

You turned out the light and threw yourself down onto the bed with a pained groan that had nothing to do with your ribs. It was difficult but you managed to turn away from the man whose eyes drank in the sight of his shirt on you.

“Arthur said I wouldn’t recognise you in the ring,” he confessed in the darkness, “but I think that’s the first time I’ve really seen you.”

You didn’t know how to respond when your heart started to beat like a jack rabbit so you settled for a sedate, “Goodnight, Charles.”

The pallets groaned with his shifting as he rolled over and his arm curved low on your waist, missing your ribs. A soft kiss found a place on your heated cheek and he whispered his own, “Goodnight, Y/N.”

“You’re distracting me,” you muttered as you saw the shadow moving again. “Stop fiddling.”

Charles walked into the reflective field of the mirror after showering and he struggled to get the cufflinks into his Valentino suit. He walked around the table you were fixing your makeup at and held his arm out. “Can you please help?”

You fixed the shiny white gold pins into place before completing the finishing touches that completely concealed the bruises on your cheeks. The arnica had done its best to bring down the swelling but if anyone questions your puffy eyes you would just claim a rough night's sleep.

“Can you zip me up?” you asked as you stepped out of the robe and into the gown chosen for the event. Charles knuckles traced your spine as he dragged the zip carefully up while you held your hair out of the way and the delicate touch sent goosebumps chasing in its wake.

The Cannes Film Festival would be the first official outing with Charles and would publicise the relationship just in time for his home race. After the photos were snapped on the red carpet there would be no more privacy and every interaction would be watched by his eager fans. You knew what to expect - hate and hypercritical analysis were nothing new - but now they would come from run of the mill 20 year old females instead of millionaire middle-aged men.

A knock at the door interrupted the staring contest you found yourself in with Charles in the mirror and you stepped away to slip your heels on.

“The car is waiting downstairs,” Veronica said as she waltzed into your room.

“Then it can keep waiting,” you replied while you chose an understanded clutch that wouldn’t distract from the dress. “I need two front row tickets to the opera next Saturday.”

“But you have a-”

You held a hand up to interrupt her. “I didn’t ask for your opinion, just get me the tickets.”

Charles watched silently from the door, his phone and wallet in hand, and stepped aside to dodge the surly assistant that breezed from the room as quickly as she entered.

“We are attending the Palace dinner with Prince Albert next Saturday,” he said after Veronica had disappeared down the stairs.

It wouldn’t be a Monaco Grand Prix without a Palace dinner and you had agreed to be Charles’ plus one. “I know.”

“Then why-”

“I don’t have to explain my every move to you, okay?”

His lips pressed closed in a tight line and he nodded sullenly.

“I’m sorry,” you sighed, feeling like crap for snapping at him. “I’m not used to having someone to explain my actions to.”

“I get it,” he said, but you got the feeling he really didn’t. He could talk to his family about what was happening in his life and they would listen, you didn’t have that luxury.

“We should go.”

The plush carpet absorbed your heel with each step and you held Charles’ arm a little tighter. Your father had been kind enough to remind you not to make an embarrassment of yourself and you really wished you had been able to take a separate vehicle. After escaping the last event with Charles they had made sure to keep you closer and stop that from happening again.

“Family photo,” your father said with a tight smile. “You too, Charles.”

“Yes, sir.” Charles stepped back into the frame and curled his arm around your waist, his palm warming your hip through your dress.

“Who are you wearing this evening?” the journalist beside the photographer asked, recording device at the ready.

“These divine pieces are from Bouchra Jarrar’s private collection,” your mother answered with a soft pat to your father’s suit jacket.

“And what is this knockout piece?”

You had far less enthusiasm when the attention turned to you. “Alexandre Vauthier, haute couture.”

“If only he knew what a knockout you really were,” Charles whispered in your ear, earning a real smile from you that the camera quickly snapped at.

“And you, Charles?”

“I’m not sure, she dressed me,” Charles said with a wink to you, charming everyone in the crowd including the reporter.

“He’s wearing new season Valentino but he was distracted by the Hypercar race when we picked it out.”

Charles’ laugh teased your skin and he shrugged innocently. “Forza Ferrari, baby.”

You eventually made it to the end of the red carpet and into the cinema for the special screening of some new drama film up for an award. The lights dimmed and the crowd fell silent with the opening credits but your entire focus was on the hand that slipped into yours.

“It’s dark in here,” you whispered. “You don’t need to pretend.”

“Who said I am pretending?”

The armrest was suddenly much closer as you found yourself gravitating to him and your cheek came to rest on his shoulder before the title even appeared.

“Pretending would probably be easier.”

“Probably, but it’s too late for me.”

You didn’t tell him but you had the exact same thought.

Click here for the next part.

#charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #charles leclerc x you #f1 angst

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daisynik7 · 1 year ago

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and if I'm gonna be drunk, I might as well be drunk in love

You squint your eyes at the pink neon sign flickering against the fake moss tapestry to the left of the bar. A young couple poses in front of it, smiling at their mutual friend who holds the phone to take a picture. Beautiful, radiant, charming. All while you sit on the barstool, hunched over the half-empty cocktail that you swirl in your grip, relishing the condensation on the rim of the glass. With your straw, you stab at the maraschino cherry floating around in there, popping it into your mouth. The sweetness cuts through the bitter liquor, or loneliness, lingering on your tongue and you think that maybe tonight isn’t so bad, despite your sulking.

It's another happy hour, courtesy of your boss. Everyone on your team is here, who you genuinely get along with, no problem. But there’s one person missing, the one person you want to see the most. Nanami is the only one to decline tonight’s invitation to the new trendy bar downtown. During your lunch together, you don’t ask why. You don’t want him to suspect that you’re devastated by his decision, which you are. So, you talk about how much you’re craving cake instead, changing the topic all together, hoping he doesn’t catch the hint of sadness in your tone.

Ever since he walked you home in the rain the other week, protected under his umbrella, there’s been this obvious vibe between you. Still, it could all be wishful thinking on your end. You never did get around to confessing your true feelings for him; you’d rather enjoy what you have as it is. Why ruin something good? There’s the hope that maybe things could be even better if you take this leap of faith. But it’s always terrifying taking the plunge, isn’t it? Especially when you don’t know if you’ll sink or swim.

It was by the fourth cocktail that you decided to leave your group gathered around the back table. That’s why you’re here now, sulking between strangers at the bar, chewing on your tiny straw until it’s gnarled on one end. Your friends on the team know the real reason, trying to dismiss all the jokes from your more annoying coworkers about how you must be missing your “work husband”. Even they’re shipping the two of you together. If only you knew what Nanami truly thinks about all this. About you.

To your complete shock, it doesn’t take you long to find out. Still in his work attire, Nanami walks through the front door, hair swept beautifully as always. As soon as his eyes find yours, he smiles, making his way to you. It’s only when he approaches you that you notice a small box in his hands. “Good. You’re still here,” he says, smile growing wider.

You blink at him several times, as if you’re not seeing him clearly.

“Can you come with me? I have something for you.” His voice is trembling slightly, excited.

You nod, still rendered speechless, wobbly as you follow him outside. When you’re alone in front of the establishment, the voices of those inside muffled and distant, you stare down at your shoes, anticipating what’s about to happen. He holds the box out to you, opening the cover slowly, revealing a personalized cake decorated beautifully with your name written in neat frosting on the top.

You meet his gaze, putting your hand to your mouth, hiding a gasp. “Nanami.”

“I made this for you. Because of what we talked about today.” He swallows hard, taking a step towards to you. “I’ve been wanting to tell you this for a while now. I…” He trails off, nervous, scared, uncertain. Just like you.

This time, you follow through with what you’ve been wanting to do since that rainy night not too long ago. You close the distance, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. Sparks fly and whatever buzz you have from the alcohol is replaced with this electricity. “Me too.”

Author's Note: A continuation of this. Yet another coworker!Nanami drabble inspired by a song that’s making me feel all sappy and soft. 🩶 Divider credit to @/cafekitsune.

#nanami kento #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento x you #nanami kento fluff #kento nanami x reader #kento nanami x you #kento nanami fluff #nanami x reader #nanami x you #nanami fluff #coworker!nanami #jjk fluff

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deadhands69 · 11 days ago

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Black Coffee

Tenko Shimura/Tomura Shigaraki x gn Reader

Thanks for the request @s-0-ckz , this was so much fun to write! [1.2k wc]

“Black coffee, no room.”

The man in front of you in line at your regular coffee shop grumbles his order before taking a seat near the window.

You try not to stare, it’s difficult though.

There's something alluring about him. His presence feels oddly familiar, drawing you in. However, at the same time you've definitely never seen him or anyone quite like him in your life. For starters, he has distinctive scars, icy white hair, and vivid red eyes.

You peel your eyes away for long enough to stutter out your own order before taking a seat near him. He’s beautiful, in an otherworldly way, and you’re not sure if you’ll have the guts to ask for his number. Instead, you sit close-by in the hopes he’ll talk to you first. And you might stare a little.

He doesn’t, but his eyes flick up at you occasionally.

After forty minutes of debating in your head, you finally work up the courage to talk to him when he begins packing. He’s halfway through wrapping-up his laptop cord when he glances at you approaching him.

“Finally, I thought you’d never come over here.” The corner of his mouth quirks up into a smirk. A cute smirk. If you weren’t nervous already you certainly are now.

“Is there a reason I should have?” you ask tentatively.

“To say hi to me, I saw you staring.”

Oh. Fuck.

“Sorry, I-”

“It’s fine,” he laughs, “I almost came over earlier but figured I’d wait for you to talk to me.”

At that, a new surge of confidence overtakes you.

“Can I have your number?” you blurt out before your nerves can stop you.

“Yeah.”

You type it into your phone as he recites the numbers to you. Opening a ‘save contact’ page, you click the name field. Rather than save him as ‘cute coffee shop boy,’ you ask, “what’s your name?”

“Fucking seriously?” he groans, “nevermind.”

Before you can say anything in return, he shoves past you and he’s out the door. You watch as his long hair swirls around him in the wind.

Then he’s gone.

What just happened?

Over the next few days, you dwell on it more than you’d like to admit. Who is this mystery guy and why is he so angry with you? At first you were disappointed that someone so attractive is upset with you, but his irritability is off putting so you got over that fast. Now you’re just angry.

On your morning stops for coffee, he’s there every day. You’d never seen him here before but now he’s around constantly, glaring at you every time you enter. You’ve been taking your coffee to go lately just to avoid any awkwardness.

This morning, you’ve had it. What right does he have to take one of your favorite places from you? You were here first. Also, it’s not like you did anything wrong. If he’s going to be grouchy, that’s on him.

“[y/n]” the barista calls out. You grab the ceramic mug before looking around for a spot.

This time, you’re the only two customers in here. Avoiding him and whatever temper he’s hiding today will be nearly impossible. Partially out of spite, you settle into a window seat directly facing him.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see him roll his eyes. He’s hot, even when he’s staring daggers in your direction and you hate that you’re even having that thought. You try hard not to look at him, pretending to have some sudden interest in the condensation dripping down the window.

After twenty minutes pass without issue, you figure he got over it. Not quite.

“Have you figured it out yet?” he taunts from two tables away.

“Figured what out?”

“Seriously?” he looks at you incredulously, “you really don't remember me?”

Remember him from where? You’d remember someone with cherry red eyes and long milky hair.

You stare at him inquisitively. He almost reminds you of your best friend growing up, it can’t be him though. Tenko died in a villain attack with his family years ago. Plus, he had darker hair and eyes. You’d remember, a photo of the two of you as kids is your lockscreen background.

“I’m sorry, I don’t.”

He looks more sad than angry as he turns his back to you and leaves again.

That night, you’re still thinking about it. It’s driving you crazy and you’d rather just be done with it. You decide to text him. Not like there’s anything to lose, right?

[you] Where do I know you from? [you] Can you just give me a hint? [cute angry coffee shop boy] I can’t believe you just forgot me like that, after everything. wtf [y/n]

You never gave him your name. Maybe he overheard it from the barista.

The two of you exist in the same space, not talking for the next few mornings. You’ve given up on thinking of where you could possibly have met him and he’s given up pushing you. Yet, he’s still here when surely there’s somewhere else he could be.

Today, the shop is packed. The sound of ceramic clinking and low conversations drown out the lofi played in the background. You’re glad to find the one open chair in the place until you see who it’s next to.

“I won’t bite, just fucking sit,” says the man who’s name you still don’t know. He pulls the chair out for you, not bothering to look up.

You glance at the full mug you’re holding; you should have gotten it to go. Reluctantly, you sit. Pulling out your phone to read an article and ignoring him as much as you can. A few minutes later, the barista calls out your pastry order. You drop your phone on the table and make your way to the counter.

On the short walk back, you see your phone buzz on the table ahead. A head of white hair turns to the distraction and freezes.

You sit, trying to carry on with your morning, but the man next to you is still staring. He doesn’t move, even after you sit down. He looks like he saw a ghost.

“Thought you didn’t care,” he mumbles quietly.

“What are you talking about?”

“Do I really look that different now?” he picks up your phone, holding the display next to his face.

Outside of the hair and eye color, the resemblance is uncanny. How did you not notice?

“T-Tenko?” you whisper, “you-you’re alive?”

No wonder he was upset, the two of you were best friends as kids. You never could have imagined seeing him again. Without thinking, you wrap your arms around him; practically jumping onto his lap.

“I can’t believe it’s you,” you half sob into the hood of his sweatshirt. He even smells like you remember.

The two of you spend the rest of the day catching up. In what feels like less than an hour, the place is empty and your favorite barista is flipping the ‘open’ sign to ‘closed.’

“Time to finish your drinks,” he says, “didn’t think I’d see you two talking all day.” He disappears into the back to finish cleaning.

Tenko looks at you, nervous for the first time since you’ve met him again. “Uhm,” he starts, “want to grab dinner? I get it if you already have plans and need to go but it would be nice to talk more.”

“No,” you clarify, “I mean, I have no plans. I’d love to.”

“Perfect,” he smiles, “it’s a date then.”

masterlist

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dumbbitchgalore · 5 months ago

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can we please get girl!dad price 😩

Got a few asks like this so imma just condense them into one.

Girldad!Price is an absolute menace to society but a damn teddy bear to his daughters.

Headcanon him to have three daughters aged 17 and 11 year old twins.

Absolutely lets them do whatever as kids:

Twins used to draw on the walls with crayons and the older sister would get worried and guilty so she'd srub the walls even though Price doesn't really care who would rather have them up on the walls

Price joins in on the girls' tea parties

Oldest had a phase of doing everyone's hair and makeup so she'd always practice on John first before doing in on others because John is her mistakes dummy

When home from deplyment, he'd take his daughters on bike rides around the house and take them to parks as well in the afternoon

Can never say so, comes home from a shopping trip with the girls holding bags upon bags as they almost topple over

Buys all her girls cars when they're old enough to drive. 4X4, 6 cylinder SUVs because they're more 'reliable' than those 'cheap hatchbacks and sedans' 'my girls aren't gonna drive in a car that can break down in two days'

Takes her girls' car to the mechanic cause he knows that they'll be scammed if they go by themselves.

Never fails to cry when his daughters pass a milestone: birthdays, graduations, weddings, first jobs, etc

Overall, John Price is a girl dad through and through and will do everything to his very best to give his daughters the best life possible. He is only human and does stuff up occassionally but never lets his girls stay mad for too long, always making it up to them.

#john price x reader #john price #john price cod #captain john #captain price #john price x you #price x reader #captain john price #captain john price x you #captain price x reader #john price x y/n #price x you #price x y/n #john price fluff #captain john price fluff #tf 141 fluff #cod fluff #girldad!price #ri's reasons

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upsidedownsmore · 9 months ago

Text

(edited to fix page 3, oops!)

Hello! Here's a Hollowframe zine I made for my 2D design class final last week!

We basically got to make an 8-paged zine + poster designed for a double-sided 11x17" sheet of paper about anything we wanted, so I elected to just reuse stuff I already drew for my ongoing Hollowframe project since I was already buried under other assignments (though I still ended up putting way too much effort into it lol, I even remade the full group arrangement!)

The idea was to split the timeline of the Hollowframe project into four rough "phases", take a warframe from each, and then condense a bunch of info about the design I drew for them into a page each.

Hollowframe tag!

Google drive link with high quality pdfs, pngs, and more for printing and whatever! :) (and send me pics if you actually print it!!)

Pics of the irl folded zine and more under the cut!

And here's an unfolded view of all of the pages:

Feel free to try printing and folding it yourself! (here is a random zine folding tutorial I found: https://zineopolis.blogspot.com/p/h.html) (meant for 11x17" paper but idk maybe you can make a really small one lol)

I used Photoshop for the page backgrounds, Illustrator to arrange the pages themselves, and Krita to rearrange the full group image.

Pretty happy with how it turned out! I'm honestly mostly glad I finally got an excuse to remake that full group arrangement cause man that dull bluish gray background was not doing it for me anymore lol (though now it's 11x17" rather than 16:9 ratio so maybe not as good for desktop backgrounds but idk if that matters that much? idk i might adjust it back to a 16:9 ratio if people really want me to)

Anyways that's it for now bye bye :)

#warframe #warframe fanart #art #my art #UpsideDownSmore's art #hollowframe #krita #photoshop #illustrator #hollow knight #hollow knight fanart #wf tag #zine #art zine #i kinda dig the format and almost want to continue it somehow but i'm losing access to illustrator in a few days #so probably not lol #gonna be busy with other projects anyways now that the semester is over #like hollowframe dante :)

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imagine-darksiders · 24 days ago

Text

Exposure Therapy - Chapter 5.

House Guest.

Strife x Reader.

Summary: When it rains, it pours...

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

When you agreed to assist the Horseman by lending him your ‘expertise’ on all things human, just to fuel whatever hare-brained scheme he’s been concocting in his isolation, you had no idea there was an unspoken caveat to the arrangement.

The short but very critical ‘starting right now,’ had gone unsaid.

Perhaps it was optimistic of you to assume you’d have more time to prepare, to come to terms with your strange new reality. At the very least though, you thought you’d have had the opportunity to go home and collapse on your bed, whittling away a couple of hours in blissful ignorance of the world spinning on without you.

If only.

Instead, Strife had rather disconcertingly taken it upon himself to follow you back to your apartment building, apparently dead-set on ‘getting you home safely,’ despite your insistence that he does anything else at all.

You’d even conducted a little experiment to try and get to the bottom of something that's been nagging at you ever since you left him in that alleyway all those days ago. It had worked a treat, and you caught him out spectacularly when you tried to lead him past your apartment complex. The Horseman, sharp as he is, had regardless shown his hand by drawing to a halt in front of the entrance, cocked his helm at you and called, “Uh, where’re you going?”

And oh. Oh! The speed at which you whirled around to face him, mouth pressed into a tight line and your hands planted squarely on each hip, told him exactly where he’d made a mistake.

At least he had the common courtesy to act like he knew he'd done something wrong, ducking the chin of his mask and averting his gaze to avoid your wide-eyed glare.

“So,” you began primly, “You did follow me home that night.”

You didn't pose it as a question, and the Horseman was well aware of that.

Strife’s luminous eyes flashed in the darkness before they drifted sideways towards his left shoulder. “... Yeah?” he posited, as if what you said was odd, which makes sense when he followed up with a quiet, genuine, “You were hurt?”

And at that… your ire had receded. Only by a fraction, mind.

Perhaps to him, your question-turned-accusation was odd.

You were hurt...

He… probably meant well… you reasoned, giving your head a shake and heaving out a sigh that sent clouds of white condensation billowing through the air. “Okay, well, consider this lesson number one,” you huffed, stalking back the way you’d come and dragging yourself up the steps to the front door, “Humans generally don’t like being followed home. And speaking of home…”

Shoving the door open with an elbow, you hurriedly stepped into the lobby and basked in the curtain of warmth that whooshed over you when you moved inside, humming as the heat prickled at your frozen fingers.

Without turning to spare the Horseman a backwards glance, you released the door, letting it swing shut behind you as you called out, “I think it’s time you went back to – Wh-? HEY!”

The solid mass of armour and leather had bulldozed straight inside after you, catching the door on his arm and shouldering it open again to admit him. Like the giant he is, he'd had to stoop considerably underneath the frame, huffing out a loud grunt and leaving you to back hastily towards the lifts with your eyes on stalks as he unfolded to his full height, the tips of his spiked, black hair brushing the ceiling.

You’d forgotten until then how much larger he is, a titan looming amongst infrastructure made for humans, not Nephilim. You’d forgotten that this is a Horseman, beholden to nobody, especially not to you. And so, your hands fell uselessly at your sides, resigned to the fact that if a Horseman wants to be in here, you're all but powerless to remove him.

“Who’s that?” he’d asked after taking the briefest of glances around the lobby.

You’d almost tripped over your own feet in your haste to scramble back over to him, realising immediately who he was referring to. “No, no! Shh!” you hissed, skidding to a clumsy halt in front of the Horseman and holding your hands up to try and slow his advance into the building, “I-it’s just Steffan! He’s security!”

Strife’s helm angled down to give you a curious squint before he returned his gaze to the human snoring away behind a desk on the other end of the room, dirt encrusted boots propped up on the wooden vinyl and a book laying open on his rotund stomach. The pages fluttered gently, disturbed by each laborious exhale.

“Please,” you continued, voice reedy and tired as you cast a rapid glance over your shoulder at the guard, “Please, don’t wake him up.”

Because Steffan is famous for his twitchy trigger finger, and you were well aware of the handgun strapped to his hip.

“Security?”

Chills prickled up and down your spine at the sudden dip in Strife’s voice, thick with disapproval and borderline malice.

“This guy’s s’posed to protect you,” he’d growled, “And he’s sleepin’ on the job?”

He took a heavy step forward, his metal boots clanking heavily on the carpet until his armoured torso inadvertently pressed against your palms, stopping the Horseman in his tracks and sending a twinge of pain up your splinted fingers.

You were too focused on flinching at Steffan’s nonsensical grunt to register the discomfort, nor the fact that you were pressing your weight against Strife’s abdomen, anything to keep him from moving closer to the security guard.

Unbeknownst to you, Strife had noticed. His golden eyes dropped to your injured hand and widened considerably, like he knew that moving forward again and exerting any more pressure on the tiny appendage would only cause further damage.

Shooting another glance over your shoulder, your heart dropped like a stone into your shoes at the sight of Steffan’s mouth peeling open into a wide yawn - a sure fire sign that he was mere moments away from waking up to find a silver giant in his lobby.

Of course, it was then that you panicked. Anyone would panic in your place, you reasoned. And that panic had you switching up your plan in the blink of an eye.

If Strife wouldn’t leave the building…

Out of ideas, pursing your lips and squeezing your eyes shut, you threw caution to the wind and made… a decision.

“Hey?” you whispered urgently, snatching your hands away from his armour and scooping up the first thing you could reach – his gauntlet's forefinger. You tried not to think about how you couldn’t even encircle it entirely with your fist. It was too large.

“You wanna see what a human apartment looks like?” you breathed out in a rush.

And as you’d been dreading, the Horseman suddenly seemed much more compliant. “Can I?” he blurted, blinking down at you in apparent astonishment, but all the same allowing himself to be tugged towards the lifts.

It went unsaid that you wouldn’t have been able to budge him an inch unless he allowed it.

The lifts opened to permit you just as Steffan’s boots slid off the desk, and by the time the doors rumbled shut again, much to Strife’s audible surprise, you caught a final glimpse of the man reaching up to fumble back the rim of his cap, only to find himself blinking wearily out into an empty lobby.

You don’t know whether the Horseman was insulted when you jerked your hand away the very instant those doors closed, but if he cared, he made no mention of it, evidently more intrigued by the interior of the lift.

And you thought he seemed big in the lobby.

In the lift’s awfully limited area, boxed in by three walls and a door, you found yourself squashed right into one of the corners as far from your unwanted chaperone as you could get whilst he filled up every inch of space, even hunching in on himself some to keep his head from banging against the roof.

The whole while, you silently berated yourself for getting inside an enclosed space with a gun-toting Nephilim of all things. What possessed you!?

But later, you’d look back and realise it might have been your only option. He clearly wanted in. And something in you knew it was easier to lure him away from Steffan than it would have been to coax him outside again.

The lift’s weight limit on the control panel flashed amber in warning, but after a whispered prayer to a supposed Creator, the faithful pully system engaged, groaning miserably as it hoisted both you and the exceedingly heavy Horseman all the way up to your floor.

-----

Which leaves you in your current predicament; seated at a tiny, wood-wormed table in your tiny, ramshackle apartment with your tiny hands clenched into tiny fists in your lap.

Tiny… God, it’s all you can focus on.

This is your apartment, you shouldn’t be feeling so small inside it. But with a Horseman actively lumbering around your kitchenette with his sizeable shoulders knocking against the cupboards or the fridge every time he moves, you really can’t help it.

Stiff-backed, you keep your lips pressed into a firm line whilst Strife investigates… everything. Numerous sighs have been swallowed, as have countless yawns.

He’s been at this for some time.

Of all the stupid ideas, throughout all of human history, you think this one might just claim first prize. You all but invited a Horseman into your apartment. You opened the door, gestured inside and followed after him like you'd asked an old friend to come for a visit. And you really thought you might be the one who could bridge the divide between Humanity and Nephilim?

Jesus, your species is doomed. Again. Only this time, you're the one who pulled the trigger. Oh, what a grand plan this was; Get the Horseman into an enclosed space after you just got him out of one, and hope you don't say or do anything that might piss him off enough to level this building, the entire city and - worst case scenario - the rest of the planet.

Tony is going to kill you.

But... perhaps you're just catastrophising again... It's rather common to find yourself doing that. Once you've lived and died in the Apocalypse, anything seems possible. Even the worst things you could possibly imagine.

However - and as much as you're loathe to give the thought too much traction lest you jinx it - despite your fears, Strife has thus far been... suspiciously docile.

And endlessly curious.

“What’s this doo-hickey?”

You straighten up slightly in the chair, blinking back sleep as he turns to you and taps his silver finger against an appliance sitting innocuously on the kitchen counter.

“… That's a toaster,” you supply wearily, braced for his inevitable follow-up question.

“Oh… What’s it do?”

There it is.

You have to make sure the breath you draw in through your nose is completely silent so as not to offend him before exhaling your response.

“It toasts.”

And because you know by now that he won’t be satisfied by that alone… “That means it cooks slices of bread.”

Strife’s eyes glow brilliantly in the dim light of the apartment, almost brighter than the bulb buzzing overhead. If he wasn't an ancient Nephilim armed to the teeth, you'd dare say he looks entranced by your explanation.

“And then you can eat it, right?”

In the corner of your eye, you can see the door leading to your bedroom. The soft, freshly washed pillows have been calling your name since you left them this morning, the little temptresses, and they certainly haven't let up now that you've returned, not even with a clear and present hazard currently loitering in your kitchen.

Plastering on a strained smile, you ignore the siren call of ‘bed,’ and blink up at the Horseman, retorting with a curt, “That’s right.”

Comically fast, his chest sticks out with an overabundance of pride at getting a bit of basic human knowledge right, and his gaze burns even more hotly than before. A splash of colour set against an otherwise monochrome canvas of metal.

You don’t know whether to be perturbed or pleased that you can tell what he wants even without him having to say it aloud. Eventually, you chalk it up to intuition.

Then again, perhaps it’s more of an educated guess.

He likely wants the same thing now as he wanted with the kettle, the microwave, the light switch by the door, the fridge, the inside of the fridge, the light inside of the goddamn fridge…

A demonstration.

You’ve been at this for a while.

You nearly forget yourself and heave a put-upon sigh before you remember who you’d be sighing at. Cramming your lips together instead, you push yourself out of the chair and stiffly move over to the bread bin, squeezing past the Horseman who continues to take up most of your kitchen while his eyes burn a curious hole into the side of your head.

Paranoid as you are to have your vulnerable back turned to him, you refuse to look over your shoulder, instead rolling up the lid of the bin and clumsily swiping up a slice of bread. Then, shuffling sideways, you keep your back to the Horseman as you sidle around the circumference of your kitchen until you reach the toaster, where you’re quick to slip the future toast inside and jam the lever down until it sticks.

Strife makes a sound in the base of his throat when the bread disappears.

“And now,” you exhale, gathering yourself for a second before you twist about and lean against the counter, trying not to gulp at your proximity to the massive Horseman, “We wait.”

“Wait?” Strife parrots, only a little impatient.

“Yup.” Popping your lips on the ‘p,’ you stare at a spot just below his chin, counting the tears and holes in his cowl in favour of making eye contact. “Just like with the kettle.”

Knocking his head back, Strife lets out a petulant groan. “Ugh.”

“Ugh,” you agree succinctly, though yours has little to do with the cooking process of bread.

For quite some time, the pair of you simply hover at opposite ends of the kitchen, stuck in a silence that's only broken by the analogue clock ticking away on the wall above your bedroom door. You've allowed your gaze to drop even further to flit between Strife's weapons, the gun in its left holster, and then the one on the right. Both stark reminders of the peril he brings just by being here. But studying the guns is all you can do to distract yourself from feeling his attentive stare on your face. He was so curious about your apartment before, why has he stopped to stare at you now?

An uncomfortable heat starts to spread from below the collar of your dress, creeping steadily up the back of your neck as you're observed. Surely there's something in here that would take his fancy far more efficiently than you do.

Softly clearing your throat, you shift under his scrutiny and try very hard to feign indifference by leaning against the counter and folding your arms loosely across your chest.

“... So,” the Horseman announces abruptly, studying your pose for a few seconds before he tries to mirror it, leaning his metal backside on the counter opposite yours and crossing his own arms, “How long do we have to-“

.... A lot of unexpected things have been happening to you lately. Most of which are awful and alarming.

So, you think you can be forgiven for jumping and letting out a startled scream when, without warning, the buzzer on your intercom cuts across Strife’s question with a harsh, grating, ‘BZZT!’

And whether in response to your fright, or to the buzzer itself, Strife is suddenly moving.

In a whirlwind of motion that occurs too quickly for you to keep up with it, there’s a Horseman planted quite squarely between you and the intercom, guns flying from their holsters and levelling at the little box on the wall near your front door.

That in itself is far more distressing than any visitors calling at this ungodly hour.

It takes a hard blink for you to come to your senses. And another to register the living wall of metal that's appeared in your way.

If you weren’t awake before, you certainly are now.

“S-Strife!” you sputter, lurching off the counter and grabbing thoughtlessly at one of his arms, “It’s okay! It’s just the intercom!”

Christ, it’s like trying to tug at the anchor of a ship with your bare hands. The Horseman’s arm doesn’t move an inch as you attempt to lower it from behind, and in fact, Strife hardly acknowledges the effort, canting his hip to the side and sliding one of his massive legs backwards until the rear side of his calf finds you, and you’re nudged further back into the kitchenette.

“Stay behind me,” he utters in a deep, sonorous tone, half his attention lingering on the tiny fingers slipping off his elbow.

“Oh, for god’s sake - there’s just someone at the door,” you snap, realising whose appendage you've got a hold of and nearly smacking yourself in the face in a hurry to whip your hands back. The explanation, however, doesn’t seem to settle him in the slightest.

If anything, he only grows more agitated, shoulders bristling to a staggering size as he angles his helm away from the intercom and towards the entrance to your apartment.

“The door downstairs – Ugh, you know what....Forget it. ” Throwing up your hands in exasperation, you duck around his side and scoot your way past the bridling Horseman

You see him balk immediately out of the corner of your eye, flipping his guns up towards the ceiling and away from you, though the gesture is lost on you as another buzz rips brazenly through your apartment.

“What now?” you breathe to yourself, ignoring the sound of Strife holstering his pistols and urgently telling you to, ‘Get back here.’

Stabbing your forefinger onto the ‘talk’ button, you lean against the wall next to your intercom and bark, “Hello?” far more sharply than you intended to.

But really. Of all the nights…

“Finally! God.”

Your finger leaves the button just as swiftly as it had arrived, all so the person on the other end can’t hear your forehead thud miserably against the wall.

Not now… Not him.

You wish you'd just stayed silent. Now he knows you're here. Swallowing hard, you press the 'talk' button again just as an enveloping shadow falls across your back, blotting out the light from your ceiling and casting you in eerie darkness.

“Noel,” you sigh curtly, “Do you have any idea what time it is?”

You don’t like being curt with people but… it’s Noel. And you have a Horseman in your home. Curt is a damn sight better than hysterical.

“Yeah, it’s ‘I don’t give a shit o’clock,” the man on the other end retorts, “Now shut up and pay attention-”

“- The Hell?”

You let out a tiny yelp at the sound of Strife’s voice tickling your ear.

“Is there some jackass living in your wall?” the Horseman asks behind you, his question amusingly genuine. His guns may be holstered, but he still sounds like his feathers are dangerously ruffled when he growls, "And did he just tell you to shut up?"

Floundering for your words, there’s the briefest pause before Noel filters through again. “Hey.... You got a guy up there with you?”

It's barbed. A question with spikes and snarls. It puts your back up immediately. As if he has any right to ask you something like that, even if the 'guy' is a Horseman of the Apocalypse.

“That's... the TV,” you think on your feet, batting harmlessly at Strife’s visor when it appears over your shoulder and glares daggers at the intercom, “Um. Why are you calling?”

You can hear the sound of a tongue being clicked sceptically. “Tch. Whatever,” Noel mutters.

And then he raises his voice to add three dreaded words you’d have given anything in the world not to hear tonight.

“Got another one.”

The blood swiftly turns to solid ice in your veins, and suddenly, half of your senses pivot straight to the giant hovering at your back.

Noel's joking…. He has to be. It’s piss-poor timing, and not funny in the slightest, but you can forgive all of that, if only he’s-

“- Six years old, his name’s Oscar, both parents bumped ‘emselves off after dumping him in the hostel,” Noel rattles off as casually as you’d read your shopping list, confirming your fear and bringing all the fatigue flooding back into your weary body, “But the hostel told me they’ve got no more beds for him. So, you’re up.”

“… Noel,” you begin, a hardened edge to your voice you hope he’ll pick up on, “This is really, really not a good time.”

And oh god, if that isn't the understatement of the century.

“Hey, you volunteered.”

You did. You did volunteer. You went to the town hall like so many other people and put your name down for services that would help society get back on its feet. It wasn't a permanent thing. Once or twice a month, at most. You said you were open to the possibility of working with children. God knows they were the ones who needed the most help after the Great Awakening. The hostels and pop-up orphanages were - and still are - packed to their absolute limits with lost, abandoned or runaway children.

Some of the kids were those who were in the city for a school trip or visiting distant relatives when the world ended. They died, and were resurrected where they stood, only with no conceivable way of returning to their families back home.

Those cases were slightly easier. Even without the Earth’s transport services up and running, it’s still possible to reunite families. It just takes a lot longer to get between locations nowadays.

Then, there are the other cases.

Not everyone learned how to live with the horrifying new reality they woke up to.

Parents were no exception.

Sometimes it’s just one, a person who can’t shut themselves off to the horror of how they died. They’ll take back control the last and only way they know how, leaving the rest of the family behind to pull together and try to survive without them.

Sometimes… it’s both parents.

That’s when you and a handful of other volunteers dotted throughout the city are called forth. When the hostels are full. When the safehouses are packed to the rafters with strays. When there’s nowhere else for a child to stay for the night whilst it’s decided what to do with them.

You volunteered your home to serve as a temporary refuge until a solution could be reached.

It isn’t much. Typically, strays only stay for a few nights before they find something more permanent. You don’t share your apartment with anyone, and you have the extra room, so it isn’t a problem.

Or it wouldn’t be a problem if this were any other night.

“I’m sorry, Noel,” you try to breathe, in through your nose, out through your mouth, “You’ll have to get one of the other volunteers to-“

“-Hell no!”

You just about jump out of your skin at Noel’s indignant shout, and again when the Horseman behind you snakes his arm over your shoulder and pokes sharply at the speaker, uttering a grunt of confusion.

Luckily, Noel continues to rant over it, drowning out the sound of you swatting at the underside of Strife’s wrist and shooing him away from the intercom. “-I’m freezing my ass off trying to find this brat a place to stay, and you’re the only person who’s come to the door.”

‘Because it’s the middle of the night, and most sane people are asleep,’ you almost say.

“-And I ain’t traipsing around the city trying to find someone else to take him when you’re right here. Ain’t my fault you’re up there fucking around with some douchebag while the rest of us are actually trying to do their jobs.”

You violently recoil at that, a soft yet affronted gasp breezing in through your lips.

“… The Hell is a douchebag?” Strife pipes up unhelpfully.

Ignoring him, you stew for a moment, then consider telling Noel exactly why you can’t do what he’s asking. Setting aside personal grievances, you want to tell him that it’s dangerous up here, that there’s a Biblical being hijacking most of the space between your floor and your ceiling right now. Then you want to tell him that if he so wants to do his job, why doesn’t he give the poor kid a room for the night…?

But you know Noel.

Unfortunately.

If it weren’t for the extra rations he gets as a volunteer himself, he wouldn’t be seen anywhere near a child in need of help.

Something in that thought sparks another, and you’re suddenly pressing your finger to the button again and asking in an urgent tone, “Noel, is the kid with you now?

“Yeah, no shit he is. What? You think I’m just out here to be your messenger boy?”

Adequately horrified for a secondary, less-severe reason, you admonish, “Jesus, Noel. Watch your language, yeah? You said he’s only six!”

There’s a very deliberate scoff from the other side of the speaker. Then, “Fuck this. Look, I’m leaving him in the lobby. I’ll tell ‘em you said you could take him, so whatever happens to this kid is on you now.”

Yes, that’s precisely what you’re afraid of.

Wait… What did he just-…?

“- Noel!?” you ask urgently, pressing yourself closer to the speaker, “Noel, are you still there?”

… Nothing.

Only a cold, empty silence stifling the air of your apartment.

“That son of a –“ You swiftly check to make sure your finger is off the button. “- bitch! Oh my god! Is he serious!?”

This can't happen. Not now, not ever. You have to get down there. If you could only stop him and explain-!

“What was that about?” Strife pipes, cocking his head at the intercom as if he expects it to start talking again at any moment, “Did Wall-Guy say something about a kid?”

You really don’t have time for this.

Making the executive decision to ignore your house guest, you march purposefully towards the front door, only pausing long enough to fumble with the chain lock. “Of all the irresponsible, idiotic, asshole things to do!” you seethe, grabbing the doorhandle and wrenching the whole thing open with as much strength as you can muster, “I’m gonna kill him. I might actually kill him this time!”

You don't even make it past the threshold before a cold chill creeps down your spine and stops you in your tracks.

“Need me to take care of it?” a dark voice growls.

Sinister, the words crawl like venomous things into your ears.

Whirling around, you clutch the doorframe and let out a stifled gasp when you find Strife standing just a foot away from you. It's hard to miss the near murderous gleam igniting his stare, and the readied stack of his shoulders, as though he’s committed wholly to fighting a battle on your behalf, all because of a figure of speech.

Horrified by the prospect of accidentally unleashing a Nephilim on the unwitting residents of your building, your frustration at Noel promptly evaporates like water off a frying pan. “No!” you blurt out loudly, almost throwing yourself back into the apartment at Strife with your arms outstretched to form a pitiful barrier between him and the world beyond your home. “No, no, no! It’s fine. I just misspoke!”

You can feel him scrutinising you from underneath that angular visor. There's a steady rumble coming from... somewhere on his person. Deep down in his chest, perhaps.

On the verge of a total nervous breakdown, you fumble for the door handle again, keeping your splinted appendage raised like you’re trying to ward off an angry dog. “Just! Just you – you stay. Here! Okay? Please?”

And without waiting around to hear his response, you hastily yank the door shut – barely remembering not to slam it at the very last second lest you wake up the whole floor. All you can do is offer a quick prayer to whoever might be listening that Strife doesn't follow you this time.

Bolting down the hallway in your rush, you leave behind a very perplexed Nephilim who stands stock still in your apartment, blinking down at the spot you’d just vanished from and wondering what in the nine circles of Hell has you so spooked.

Emitting a soft hum, Strife rocks back on a heel and allows himself a moment to consider his options.

Of course, no sooner has he started contemplating whether it'd be worth the risk of incurring your ire than a metallic 'cha-chunk!' suddenly rips across the silence of the apartment.

It'll be a cold day in Hell if Strife ever admits that he'd been so startled by the explosion of sound, he'd jumped violently enough that his head nearly cracked the ceiling, and he'd whipped towards your kitchenette and pulled Redemption's trigger in a motion too quick to follow with the naked eye.

Your poor, faithful toaster never stood a chance...

#Darksiders #darksiders 3 #Strife #Darksiders Strife #Strife x Reader #female reader #Fluff #protective Strife #Oh this is going to take a direction

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asksythe · 2 years ago

Note

Ah? What do you mean mpreg is built into the setting of MDZS?

I mean exactly what I said. It's part of the setting. Mpreg is part of MDZS setting.

Or rather, mpreg is part of any and all xianxia or Chinese fantasy settings. Mpreg is not impossible... or even truly rare... in xianxia setting. There are at least three different regular ways for men to get pregnant in this kind of setting, even for low xianxia like MDZS.

Xianxia is Chinese fantasy. Cultivators cultivate until immortality. The upper level of cultivation, an immortal becomes a facet of reality and bends the world to their will. Some can even create an entirely new world wholesale. What's getting pregnant compared to that?

Sure, the setting of MDZS is low xianxia. But we know at the very least a lot of MDZS cultivators are at the Jindan stage. Do you know which stage comes right after the Jindan stage?

元婴 Yuanying. The common English translation for this stage is Nascent Soul. But its real meaning is nascent / origin child/baby/infant.

How does yuanying come about? Well, a cultivator at the end of Jindan stage will go through tribulation. If they pass through tribulation successfully, the jindan (golden core) in their belly will collapse and out comes a baby. This baby then takes over the task of the jindan, circulating the cultivator's chi and feeding off of it. The baby will grow alongside the cultivator's progress, eventually maturing and potentially becoming a separate person should the parent allows it.

(Game interface from a Chinese cultivation game)

This stage is very well documented in actual real-world ancient texts by Wu Liupai, dating back to the 16th century. It's not a modern concept made up for entertainment. It's part of actual real-world Daoist practices and beliefs.

...And xianxia is the brought up to eleventh fantasy version of real-world Daoism. Think about it.

So in truth, every single high-level Jindan stage cultivator in MDZS is just one stage and one successful tribulation away from getting preggo whether they want to or not. (Yes. Every single one of them. Not just Wei Ying or Lan Wangji, but also Jiang Cheng, Lan Qiren, Lan Xichen, Xiu Xingchen, Song Lan, Nie Mingjue... if he didn't die, etc... Not Jin Guangyao, though. He's too weak to get pregnant. Jin Zixuan, maybe)

You don't even have to be a cultivator or in a xianxia setting to get pregnant (whether you are male or female or whatever). Artificially induced pregnancy has been a thing in Chinese folklore since the Summer and Autumn period (BCE). Several different classics mention a fruit called 孕果 yunguo (Lit. Pregnant Fruit). This fruit bestows the ability to get pregnant to anyone who eats it, regardless of gender. Sexual activity with a man is still required, though. Can't make something out of nothing.

And the most famous and widely known in Chinese folklore: water from the River of Mother and Child 子母河. Anyone who drinks this water becomes pregnant, regardless of gender (or even species, actually). You know the most famous person who drank it? The monk Tan Sanzang... and his disciple Zhu Bajie (a male pig), and Sha Wujing (a male fish). It's been made into several TV series and movies. In one of those movie adaptations, Tang Sanzang even carried the pregnancy to term as he wasn't willing to terminate a life and saw this as an opportunity to experience the female side of life.

In the same story, Journey to the West, a rock was pregnant with Son Wukong and gave birth to him.

You have to remember this. Ancient Chinese didn't really think of pregnancy as a biological process requiring sperm and eggs like we do today. They thought of it as a concentration and condensation of qi (breath of the world) until the 'mother body' was saturated with fetal qi and gave birth.

Real-world folklore texts are chockful of such instances where things got pregnant with the breath of the world and gave birth. And that's just regular folklore, not the brought-up-to-eleven version that is xianxia.

#Ask Sythe #MDZS #mo dao zu shi #mpreg

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illubean · 9 months ago

Note

can i request headcanons of any hxh characters your choice (preferably including illumi, chrollo, and/or feitan) with a crush on/unestablished relationship with a gender neutral reader who refuses to fully align themselves with anyone but has an incredibly OP ability that requires their blood or body (can shoot blood in like spikes, detach their limbs to chase down and drag back runners, use their blood and/or tears to heal wounds, can just regrow lost limbs including their head, ect.) that would make being on their bad side more trouble then it's worth

so every fight they kind of /have/ to get injured to use it. Plus their ability weirdly doesn't seem to use nen (chrollo can't copy it and gyo doesn't show anything, ect.)

and when they're finally asked about it they're casually like "oh yeah, I'm not human. I was actually created to be an unstoppable force that infects and destroys humanity, but that's honestly too much work. Plus you give me snacks so I'd rather just hit whoever you tell me to." and their reactions to the fact this insanely overpowered goober they've fallen for is a stray shapeshifting little abomination who could have murdered the entire human race and that they're lowkey lucky reader likes getting bribed them so much

(Sorry if that's too long btw, I thought you'd like the idea but I couldn't think of a better way to condense it 😅)

HXH With an Unaligned!OP!Reader

Characters: Illumi Zoldyck, Chrollo Lucilfer, Feitan Portor Type: Headcanons, Gn!reader

i do not like how this came out but posting anyways lol...

Warnings: mentions of blood, experimentation and violence, reader isn't human if that counts as a warning

Illumi Zoldyck

the way you met Illumi was... not ideal to say the least

he was on a job to kill some scientist guy but little did he know scientist guy had quite literally created a monster

the day he was going to do his mission happened to be the day your power was finally realized

annnndddd Illumi walked in on you killing scientist guy and literally everyone else who worked for him

you had managed to pop your arms off and launch them like missiles, turn your blood into weapons and spikes around the room and also not die????? and grow your limbs back???????????

the weird part was Illumi couldn't sense any of your aura at all

he just assumed you were a super advanced nen user and were able to still keep up hatsu really well while fighting

which led him to the conclusion that he should either A. run away or B. try and get you on his side

when you noticed him just standing there you turned to stare at him like come at me bitch

"So? Are you here to poke me with more needles like the others? It won't end very well." "Actually I was here for the guy in the lab coat, but it seems like you did the job for me."

realizing he wasn't a threat (or trying to be because you know...you cant die) you let down your guard down

you ended up just following him around after that, not really having anywhere else to go so Illumi decided on plan B

turns out it took a lot less manipulating than he thought

he brought you to the estate and you agreed to help him with whatever for a popeyes chicken sandwich

watching how you wandered around the estate aimlessly and lounged about Illumi quickly realized you only use your abilities when threatened or bribed

so you become his personal little treat fueled killing machine

he takes you on missions with him because he doesn't trust you alone at the estate...

eventually he asks you about how your hatsu is so good and you're like wtf is that

and he's like What.

you tell him you we're pretty much created in that lab and they did all these tests and stuff and you didn't even really know how or why you had the power you did but you found out you did the day you met

and you were all like "they were so annoying and they told me to do stuff for free, I'd never kill you though you feed me :3"

he is so glad you are clueless and he got to you before anyone else because you could take over the entire world if you really wanted to

he is going to marry you ASAP

but again, you being clueless did not understand what marriage entails

and you agreed for the same reasons you agreed to literally anything else this man has asked of you

you are Illumi's most prized possession and no matter how freaky you are, he really does cherish you as normal people would their spouse

Chrollo Lucilfer

running into you on a heist was definitely unexpected

especially since you looked like you just got out of captivity

mistaking him for an enemy you shot your fist off at him and barely missed

and he was like woah im not an opp dw

then your hand grows back and hes like !?

he asked why you were there you explain that you were some sort of war weapon yada yada yada the guys got annoying you killed them and yeah

and Chrollo offers you to come back w him and the troupe and you're like sure if you feed me

so after the heist is over Chrollo takes you back to Phantom Troupe hq and then talks with the gang blah blah blah dismisses everyone and then takes you to wherever the hell and buys you whatever you want to eat

and while you're stuffing your face bro is like

"Your powers are pretty impressive. Mind telling me how they work?"

and not caring you tell him, mainly focused on your meal

and he's like huh what a useful ability time to steal it

one thing leads to another and he somehow gets you to touch his weird book and when he flips to where your nen should be the page is blank and he is insanely confused

and hes like "Why didn't my nen ability work on you?"

and you're like wtf is nen

and hes like oh my god I don't think this thing is human

so he asks

and you're like "I literally told you I'm a war weapon. A weapon created for war, but that's too much work."

now he is confused but also intrigued

he offers for you to join the troupe and you're like

"But being in a gang is so much wooorrrkkkkkuuuuhhhh"

you can literally destroy man kind but you don't because you're LAZY!?

you're not officially part of the troupe but you're practically an honorary member because you follow Chrollo around after your first encounter

and he decides it 's better than nothing

Feitan Portor

I can't think of a clever way for you guys to meet LMAO

umm uhhh idk maybe you were created to take out the chimera ants and happened to get deployed in meteor city the same time the troupe was hunting down the 'queen'

so when the troupe got there you were already fighting some ants

you look human enough but your abilities make Feitan think you might not be

soooo he tries attacking you before he ended up getting to the lizzard ant crocodile lady thing i don't remember what she was

and he couldn't beat you and you're like wtf do you want from me I'm trying to do my job

and hes like ??? you're not an ant?

and youre like no

and hes like oh and leaves you alone

then he throws the entire sun at the ant lady and leaves the building

he kinda forgot about you until he felts something lift the back of his cloak

and he's like !!?!?!??!

and he looks behind him to see you crawled under his coat and took the snacks he hides under there for himself

and he's like what the fuck

how did you even know he had those???? (you could smell it because you have super enhanced everything)

ok i just remembered his cloak got destroyed in this scene but pretend it didn't

anyways he snatches the bottom of it away from you and tries taking the snacks back out of your hands but you are quick to dodge

he's irritated but he just lets you have them he's too tired to deal with this

you end up following him after this like a lost puppy and the rest of the troupe is like ??????

but they can't get rid of you

and on the way out of meteor city you were like yap yap yap weapon yap yap created in a lab yap yap yap immortal

feitan could not care less about what you had to say but he was like ??? to the immortal thing

maybe you weren't a bad thing to keep around

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stillfoodforguys · 9 months ago

Text

I’d been letting my friend Nick live rent-free in my house for a few months now. There weren’t any major issues at first, but his endless snacking habit has become difficult to deal with lately.

Nick regularly clears out my fridge just because he feels like it, which has lead to him putting on so much weight that none of his clothes fit anymore. And since he can’t afford to buy any, he just lounges around with his fat belly exposed. Rather than being ashamed, he seems to find it amusing to jiggle around play with, even when I’m in the room with him.

Since Nick didn’t care about how he dressed, I had the confidence one night to chill out beside him in just my underwear. As it got closer to our usual dinner time, he started ranting about how he wanted a decent meal. “I need something major, dude. It has to really fill me up, something big and… meaty… and, um…” His words began to trail off, interrupted by him licking his lips as his gaze wandered across my mostly naked body.

Nick knew exactly what he needed in that moment, suddenly reaching over to grab my ankles and slather my feet in saliva before swallowing them. The amount of drool that came pouring from his mouth was ridiculous, the warm liquid trickling down my thighs and soaking my boxers as he devoured my legs with ease. His gluttony was far stronger than my ability to fight back, my weak struggles doing nothing to stop him from quickly swallowing up to my waist.

I tried to prise open Nick’s mouth, but his lips were so moist that my hands slipped straight past them, causing my arms to get pinned against my sides. He could have taken his time after restraining me this way, but he was far too desperate to satisfy his hunger. Instead, he forced me through his gullet even faster by shoving down on both my shoulders. His tongue smothered me as it curled around my face, coaxing my head inside his warm, wet mouth. With a final big gulp I was sealed away, wrapped up tightly beneath the thick layer of padding around his swollen belly.

Even after eating me, the fat fucker still wasn’t satisfied. Nick cracked open a can of condensed milk and guzzled down the viscous liquid, filling up whatever space was left inside his stomach. I squirmed in reaction to the sharp contrast between the cold milk and hot digestive juices I was already covered in. Not that it bothered him; he only cared about adding more calories to his meal, for his ultimate pleasure was knowing his meal would be as fattening as possible.

#gay vore #mm vore #oral vore #digestion

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bastart13 · 9 months ago

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Hey, so a few years back you stated that to start drawing you replicated the styles of works you liked. How did you go about replicating the styles. I’m currently trying to create ocs that fit into a style similar to Clone High and Total Drama, whilst not being a carbon copy of existing characters.

Also, would it be easier to use 2d or 3d shapes.

You're quite lucky because Total Drama is an incredibly varied style, so there's a lot more flexibility to making OCs in the style without being carbon copies! To study styles, I tend to draw from reference, collecting how they draw head shapes/hands/different facial features/bodies, etc. in different sections to see what variety exists. Here, I've done bodies, heads, and faces, but I recommend creating sketch piles of whatever style elements you can think of.

(Total Drama/Clone High is one of the flattest styles possible. It's incredibly 2D and geometric, focusing on shapes rather than anatomy.)

You can really see this if you try to break down the characters into their basic shapes. Everything can be broken down into a single shape that are overlapped to form the body. By tracing over the existing characters, I can figure out what shapes they use for each character.

The head shapes are nearly always flat on top, with any sort of curve to represent the face shape, and a flat triangle-ish shape for the neck. Depending on how definied the jaw is, there can be a line spearating the head and neck, or not. The ears are always a quarter-circle shape.

The faces are then quite high up on the face and condensed. The eyes and nose don't usually overlap but they're very close together. The mouth is never directly below the nose, placed closer to one eye than the other.

Then, to put this into practice, I try to turn three of my OCs into the TD style. Trying to caricaturise existing characters helps you connect how certain features look in the new style.

I start with the basic shapes, then add the hair/clothes details.

So yeah, just a bunch of tracing/drawing from reference, and then trying to put it in practice, going back to references when you're uncertain.

#total drama #art style #clone high #art ref #tutorial #art

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bloodblanks · 18 hours ago

Text

one umbrella cover two [mr. scarletella x reader] — chapter xii.

As you interact with Mr. Scarletella, you come across a promising opportunity to escape.

note: reader is not player (mc).

author’s note: dead dove: do not eat. this fanfiction will contain dark and explicit content, including heavy dub-con, stockholm syndrome, violence, and similar themes.

please read at your own discretion.

<- previous chapter

When your eyelids fluttered, opening and closing multiple times as you woke up, you found yourself feeling disoriented. The previous day’s events rushed through your mind, sending bubbles of unease rippling through your gut.

God, what have I done? Your eyebrows instantly knitted together at the memories, your cheeks blazing all the while. You glanced at Mr. Scarletella, who was still asleep. He appeared surprisingly peaceful in his sleep, his skin almost seeming healthier and less pale, though it was likely your imagination. In some way, he was attractive, his face well defined—

No, you shouldn’t be thinking about these things. You physically shook your head, as if to forcibly expel the thoughts from your mind. Trying to change the mental subject, you glanced at your hands, but the sight only caused your heart to plummet. It wasn’t just your fingertips anymore—the grey had spread down to the knuckles.

The familiar acceleration of your heart and the clamminess of your palms were noticeable. The temperature in the room felt much too warm, condensation forming on your forehead as you stared at your hands with wide eyes. You needed to get out of here fast; you were certain of it. But most things were easier said than done, and this was no exception.

You looked back to Mr. Scarletella, who you noticed was now beginning to stir. Amongst the panic and worry you felt, there was also a hint of relief at seeing the entity wake up—somehow, you found yourself thinking that the sooner he was awake, the sooner you’d be able to negotiate your escape. Granted, there was really no guarantee that you would be able to bargain for such, but seeing as your escape attempts had all been futile, negotiation seemed to be your only choice.

You could fight him, you know, your own mind chastised you. Just saying.

You knew it had a point. Nonetheless, you reasoned with yourself that you stood absolutely no chance against him in a fight, and any physical altercation would result in potential injury, which would effectively cause you pain, which was something you wanted to avoid.

At that moment, you remembered the soreness in your skull, your fingers instinctively brushing against your wound, only for you to hiss in discomfort and pull them away. You definitely needed to get that injury checked out. Perhaps you could tell that to Mr. Scarletella. That was surely a valid reason to leave, right?

You started formulating a plan in your head, trying to piece together the right words needed—the vagueness of the language made it a rather difficult task—to convey your desire to see a doctor. But your efforts were quickly wasted as the entity’s eyes snapped wide open, causing you to flinch, before he sat up in bed. He seemed to not notice your presence, his breathing ragged, his chest heaving, and an expression you’ve never witnessed before etched into his ghostly features—fear.

Mr. Scarletella was afraid. Of what, you didn’t know; you concluded that he likely had a nightmare.

When a minute passed and he didn’t speak, you decided to gently initiate a conversation.

“You okay?” you hesitantly asked, hoping you wouldn’t further alarm the man. His sudden, unexpected distress was enough to cause you unrest, too. You knew it was likely an unpleasant dream of his, but until it was confirmed, you could only fret.

When he didn’t respond, the turbulence in your chest intensified, your mind beginning to list off various possibilities for his lack of composure. Whatever could be considered a threat to him would be even more dangerous for you to face.

“Want you teach me you language.” Mr. Scarletella’s sudden statement startled you. You blinked at him in surprise, not fully registering what he was saying.

“You know another language,” he proceeded to elaborate when you didn’t say anything. “Possible you teach me?”

He wanted to learn your language. It was an unusual request, especially considering the troubled expression on his face, but you nodded anyway. You supposed it wouldn’t be a bad idea for him to know your language; it would help facilitate more detailed conversation and easier communication. It would also be much easier to explain in your language your need to see a doctor, and—

God, when you remembered the doctor, your brain also managed to connect a few more dots, a forgotten concern of yours resurfacing as you remembered that Mr. Scarletella finished inside of you. You winced at the memory, a visible frown on your face.

It had taken you far too long to realize that being impregnated by a fucking supernatural entity, while highly unlikely, was not entirely impossible. You had frantically shouted something about it, but it was in the wrong language and also much too late, as the aforementioned monster had already reached his orgasm.

Wonderful, you thought. Absolutely fucking wonderful. You needed to get a pregnancy test alongside your head injury checkup as soon as possible.

You glanced at Mr. Scarletella, eyes narrowing as you analyzed his appearance for a hypothetical fertility rate; he did not seem particularly fertile. That was enough to quell your worries for a while. You remembered then that he was still waiting for your answer, before scrambling to form a coherent response.

“Possible teach,” you nodded in affirmation. His demeanour seemed to brighten just a bit.

—

A lot strange.

As you taught him your language, he was unable to shake off the feeling that he already knew these words. Like a distant memory, ripples of water from a place far away, everything you said was eerily familiar. Almost like he already knew the language, had the words written out on a surface, and all you did was wipe off the dust.

Previously me human?

The question reverberated in his skull, clinging onto every new word he repeated and weighing the letters down with tension. It was a logical and sensible conclusion to come to, and yet, he found the possibility difficult to accept. Being human entailed that he had a life he no longer remembered. Being human entailed that he had lost something, and the concept greatly unsettled him.

Troubled.

He couldn’t help the nagging feeling that whatever was missing was of significant importance, which made it all the more disturbing that he didn’t know what it was.

“You okay?” you questioned him for the third time. He had once again become consumed by his own thoughts, letting them take his focus away from you.

“Yes,” he replied, making use of the new word you taught him. He hoped he had used it correctly. The faint smile on your face indicated that he had.

“What you thinking?” You gestured to his head, though he’d already realized the word’s meaning.

He paused, unsure of what to tell you. Not only was it still hard for him to formulate entire sentences in the human tongue, he also found difficulty in understanding just what was occurring within his own mind.

What me thinking?

“Human,” he hesitantly said. “Me thinking human.”

You raised a quizzical eyebrow at him before letting out a soft, awkward laugh. “I see.”

Sound pleasant. Me like.

He adored the sound of your laughter, was enamoured with the warmth your smile exuded.

“Want know human,” he attempted to elaborate. “Possible you teach me?”

Cute.

Your other eyebrow joined the raised one, both of them lifted from their original positions as you looked at him in surprise.

“You want learn human?”

“Yes,” he confirmed. He knew little to nothing about humans. All he knew was that they were frail, spoke their own language, and from the other world. Perhaps if you told him more about humans, he would be able to understand all the strange visions he’d been having.

Human happy.

The corners of your lips tugged upward in a joyous grin. He wasn’t sure why you were so pleased about this, but he didn’t think much of it, only that he liked seeing this expression on you.

“Possible teach.” You kept smiling. “Me show you me world.”

This time, it was him whose eyes widened. Though he had been to the other world in numerous instances, he only ever stayed in the building. He hadn’t explored the rest of the world; the idea never even occurred to him before. It would be a good start to learning about humans.

Me happy.

He smiled, liking the idea.

“We go another world.” As he finished his statement, he reached down to pick you up. You obliged, holding onto him for support as he left the room, passing through the hallways.

It wasn’t noticeable at first, but he found his movements feeling rather stiff, as though the act of phasing through the air was no longer natural to him, despite it having been no different from walking or talking. He tried to pay no mind to it, but much to his irritation, he discovered that the clumsiness of his movements was slowing the pace of his travels.

Slow. Not pleasant. Not like.

Eventually, when the delay in his actions became too much to bear, he decided to take a break, putting you down momentarily. He would need to figure out what was wrong with his body before continuing the journey. Though the elevator wasn’t too much farther, the agitation spiking with each beat of his heart was becoming overwhelming.

“You okay?” he heard you ask him. He nodded, not wanting to alarm you.

He moved across the corridor. Much to his dismay, it wasn’t just his imagination—his speed had indeed decreased.

Problem. Me troubled.

For a moment, he was lost in thought, his mind wandering through the endless possibilities and reasonings behind something so bizarre happening to him.

The distant sound of rumbling tore him out of his own head. When his vision refocused on the corridor he was in, he noticed that the space was beginning to distort. A sharp, long spike of panic shot through his spine.

His eyes darted around until they landed on your figure; you were waiting where he left you. He dashed towards you, but he wasn’t fast enough—his surroundings had collapsed around him, the hands that were searching for your body, unable to find any landing.

—

So close.

You were so close to making it out of this wretched place, when everything that could possibly have gone wrong, in fact, did go wrong.

It had started off so well, too. You let out a deep, perturbed sigh as you thought back to the initiating moment, when Mr. Scarletella told you he wanted to learn about humans. You couldn’t help but feel slightly remorseful about it, but you took the advantage of the opportunity to suggest returning to your world.

Some part of you insisted that it was ludicrous to feel guilty for deceiving the person who kidnapped you, but the other part of you felt undeniably bad. If it had been anyone else, you likely wouldn’t be so sympathetic, but if your observations and analysis of him were correct, then he wasn’t necessarily an abhorrent person. It would be much easier if you could just think of him as some freak who kidnapped you, and while he technically was one, he was also a non-human creature that didn’t have much knowledge of human customs.

Still, you failed to grasp why he selected you in particular. You would think that he possessed feelings for you if he didn’t seem so awfully oblivious to how human emotions worked.

It didn’t matter now, anyhow. You had convinced him to bring you back to your world, but it seemed fate had other plans for you. The world had once again distorted at just about the worst possible time, and now you were in some hallway—alone, body aching, stomach growling, and mouth parched.

The misfortune-complaining matrix would indicate that you have more than earned the right to complain by now, and so you did, spitting out a venomous string of curses, your fists clenching until your knuckles turned white.

In a brief moment of rage, you swung a closed fist at the nearest wall. The second your hand collided with the hard concrete—or whatever material it was constructed from—you yelped. You quickly withdrew your hand, cradling it with the other, your face twisted in pain.

Great. Your circumstances were already plenty miserable, but now your hand was throbbing too, on top of it all. The frustration within you was rising to a boiling point, your veins overflowing with molten iron. You felt the urge to punch the wall again, but the ache in your hand provided enough warning to stop you.

Your knees wobbled beneath you, your legs struggling to hold up your weight. Not long after, you folded like a chair, slumping down onto the ground with your face buried in your hands as you pitifully wept.

It was all Mr. Scarletella’s fault. It was all his fault for bringing you to this realm, for forcing you to stay here, for not being with you right now. You found yourself desperately lamenting the lack of his presence, and though you felt like a lunatic for thinking this way—in this very moment, Mr. Scarletella represented safety. Despite being the reason you were here, you knew your life wasn’t in danger when around him. And with how close you were to him bringing you back to your world, you couldn’t help but associate his presence to your freedom, as contradictory as that was.

Left alone with your thoughts, you simply sobbed away, feeling utterly sorry for yourself and the deplorable situation you were in. You cried until your eyes were red and eyelids plump, until your tear ducts dried up much like a well emptied of its last drops, until you were completely drained. Weeping was tiresome work, especially when your body was already struggling and feeble.

You were just internally debating on how bad of an idea it would be to take a quick nap here, when amidst your exhaustion, a sharp chord of panic rung through your mind at the sound of approaching footsteps.

next chapter soon...

if you enjoy my writing, please consider reblogging; i really appreciate the interactions.

thank you everyone for reading and supporting my work! (｡･ω･｡)ﾉ♡

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