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cryptocism · 2 months

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Since I think about clones like I’m getting paid for it, I've been rotating those alternate universe "what if Bart and Thad were actually raised together" scenarios in my brain, with Thad either post-redemption-arc or pre-villainy. Because adjusting Thad's character to fit an ally role while still keeping true to his core motives and personality is so so fascinating to me.

Like I think there's an immediate first instinct to slot Thad into a "bad" twin category: ie rebellious and prickly, doesn't get along with people, mean lil shit. And obviously it's not wrong bc we're outside the realm of canon, but the reading still feels a little left of center.

Because Thad is mean and prickly in canon. In the Impulse comics he belittles Bart and Bart’s friends/family constantly in his appearances. He loves to goad, and monologue about his own superiority and intelligence. He’s very Not Nice, and he causes many problems, and he even does it on purpose.

But, I think it’s important to consider the context. From the jump Thad knows very little about anything except which team he’s on and who he’s playing for. He gets his orders from an unseen authority and he carries out his tasks because success means his team wins.

For all his self-aggrandizing talk, everything he does is in service of an end goal that doesn't actually center him. He's trying to get revenge for grievances he's never personally suffered, retribution for actions never committed against him. Everything he does is on someone else's behalf.

Thad sees in black and white, us or them. Up until the final few issues of Mercury Falling, Bart and co. are Thad's enemies, of course he's not going to be nice.

So Thad's motivation seems pretty simple: Thawne Supremacy™.

But it’s in Mercury Falling where this starts to fall apart, and the real core of his motivation gets revealed. Thad pretends to be Bart and suddenly Helen is nice to him. Bart’s friends think he’s funny. Bart’s teachers are impressed with his grades. Max ruffles his hair and gives him hugs and tells him he’s done a good job.

If he was actually an inherently mean and standoffish character, if Thad actually had significant personal stake in the Thawne VS Allen conflict, the weight of such tiny acts of kindness wouldn’t completely break him the way that it does in canon.

Thad thinks his goal is superiority and revenge and Thawne Supremacy™, but he's chasing validation. Thad doesn’t have a personal stake in the Thawne VS Allen conflict. He wouldn't get much satisfaction if he actually destroyed Bart and his family. Thad's personal victory would be the recognition after the fact: the praise and attention from the other Thawnes (a group of people he has literally never met) for his success.

He wants validation. That's basically it. And the fact that he gets it so easily from Bart's family and friends doesn't align with how he's told himself things are supposed to work.

Actually tangentially, Bart and Thad’s respective relationships to authority is so diametrically opposed and tbh kind of subversive in a superhero narrative. Where the hero is the one carving his own path without regard to social or societal rules, no fucks to give what anybody thinks of it. And the villain is a chronic people-pleaser.

Just based on Thad’s reaction to simple praise and affection from Max I really think Thad’s motivation has more to do with the response he gets than whatever the details are of any given task. He has no actual personal convictions beyond getting positive attention, and whatever he did have crumbled as soon as Bart’s friends laughed at his joke one time. Which of course leads into the core of his whole conflict at the end of Mercury Falling. He cares too much about Bart’s friends and family now, he doesn’t want to kill them, but worse than that, he’s faced with the sudden realization that he’s on the wrong side.

The Allens gave Thad everything he actually wanted and needed, but his conception of himself is inexorably tied to the Thawnes: who gave him jack shit. These two facts are in opposition to each other, and he can’t reconcile the reality of it.

Anyway all this to say, in an AU where Bart and Thad are raised together or Thad gets an actual redemption arc etc etc, I think my personal take on Thad’s personality whether it be pre-or-post-villainy would be one that is extremely socially conscious. He is much more of a people-person than Bart. Whether he's actually accurate in assessing people's feelings and how to respond to them can be hit or miss, but he wants to behave in a way that gets people to like him.

Pretending to be Bart isn’t remarked upon as, like, a difficult task for Thad. In his internal monologue he’s literally bragging to himself about how easy it is. But what’s especially notable to me is where his act differs from Bart's typical MO. Everyone notices, and lots of people comment, and presumably if Thad didn’t have the excuse of Max’s illness to “motivate” Bart to do better he would’ve been found out immediately. And those things are, specifically: paying attention in class, doing his chores, staying on task, and being helpful around the house. The one thing about Bart he chooses not to emulate is Bart’s rebelliousness.

Thad wants to prove himself, constantly, to whatever authority he respects (probably Max in this scenario) and will do whatever it takes to make that happen. In contrast to Bart, who only listens to authority when the shit they're saying actually makes sense to him. It’s excessively difficult to convince him to go against his own interests. (And I think a key part of that is Bart’s security in knowing that no matter how much he fucks up or doesn’t listen, the people he loves will always love him back.)

Thad’s got the people-pleaser in him that has to deserve whatever he’s given. It’s why he’s happiest when he’s given a clear goal or objective to complete, because it gives him an opening to prove himself.

All this to say that if we are quantifying Bart and Thad as a "good" or "bad" twin, in the eyes of every authority: Bart is the bad twin. Bart is the bad twin, Bart is the bad twin. Bart is the one who doesn’t care about school and whose grades vary wildly depending on his personal interest. He’s the one who goes off to do dangerous shit for fun and gets in trouble constantly and doesn’t do his chores and is thoroughly unconvinced by any authority figure trying to sell him bullshit.

Thad is the one who needs to know all the rules just so he can experience the joy of following them. Relentlessly obedient. He'll put all his effort into doing all the right things that’ll endear him to whoever he wants to impress - meaning he’s the asshole who reminds the teacher about the assigned homework. Bart might be the most popular boy in school, but Thad is a pleasure to have in class.

Like Thad can (and should) still be high-strung and short-tempered and sarcastic and edgy and mean, because he is. But he can’t be doing all that without rhyme or reason. Colouring every interaction has to be that one-zero binary of ally or enemy. He needs to have somebody he’s proving himself to: a team he’s on and a team he’s against. He’s not an inherently rebellious character. He can go up against The Enemy, whoever he deems as such, but it has to be in service of a hypothetical future in which somebody eventually tells him he did a great job.

And in the interest of continuing to beat a dead horse, it connects to their respective upbringings. Thad and Bart were both raised in VR, but Bart’s experience had the side effect of basically hard-wiring him against insecurity. His world was a playground tailor-made for him, and he was never made to feel bad or insufficient about any aspect of himself. His first interaction with a real human person was Iris moving heaven and earth to save him, without him knowing her, without her knowing him, with no reasoning for the act needed beyond Being Her Grandson. Which is probably a significant factor in why Bart moves through the world with frankly atomic levels of autistic swag.

Thad’s VR upbringing installed self-consciousness in his psyche before any other personality trait. As in: he is immediately made conscious of himself and his relationship with everyone he will ever encounter. He’s told two things: he’s a clone of someone else (inherently derivative, lesser) and that he was made to be superior (a status to achieve). Which is such an instant clarifier for Thad’s everything. Where superiority is a condition that everyone either has, or does not. It’s the one-zero binary again: are they better than me or am I better than them. Being above others is mandatory, and if his superiority is ever challenged by hard evidence or god forbid nuance Thad’s brain physically cannot take it. He needs to be better, to be worse is unthinkable, and there is no other way to be.

And this status of better or worse is, crucially, not up to Thad to decide. He needs The Authority to validate him. Bart never tries to prove himself because he has nothing to prove. Thad’s entire identity hinges on the self-worth he gets from doing a Good Job.

It is such an inherent part of his motives in the Impulse comics canon, which is why it always feels a little off when he’s interpreted as a jackass indiscriminately.

Like I don't think he needs everyone to like him. But I do think he has either one person or a set of very particular people that he needs to like him. Everyone else is either in that circle or outside of it.

(Which is why Bart is such a great foil for Thad tbh. There is no set of words or behaviors that’ll change Bart’s opinion of Thad, because Bart is unaffected by obedience or charm. So ironically Bart is probably one of few people that Thad doesn’t bother to put on even a little bit of an act for.)

While Bart goes with his instincts, his personal beliefs and convictions at all times, Thad is hyper-conscious of big-picture goals. They balance each other out that way. Thad's keeping track of whatever expectations he has placed on him, and how his actions reflect on him and the team beyond short-sighted solutions. He's a team player. AND he's an asshole.

#soapbox #dc #thad thawne #thaddeus thawne #inertia #bart allen #impulse #like he cannot be mean indiscriminately... u must interrogate WHY hes mean and to whom #if hes being raised with Max and Helen he would not intentionally do anything to make their lives more difficult #if hes being raised by Meloni same situation #he needs to be trying to get validation from SOMEWHERE u know #and of course he'll mess up and hurt the people he loves or wants to impress he is a human being #but while that can sometimes be the result #that is never the Goal u kno #not his Core Motivation #i feel like the more i talk about this the less sense im making

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deadbydangit · 2 months

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I had a dream about this and i laughed my ass off when i woke up.

Would you be willing to do Mastermind, Knight, and Oni with a reader who is insanely good at climbing? Like not even just trees but they could climb a completely flat wall with no problem, and one day the reader just scales them like a tree to ride on their back? Totally understandable if not!

Hmm, I think I can do that. I'm just going to simplify it a bit. Please enjoy!

With a Reader who is good at climbing: Mastermind, Knight, Oni

Mastermind

Hmm?

What on Earth are you doing?

Get down from there!

Wesker isn't amused.

He doesn't have time for such antics.

"Are you trying to make me angry?"

Part of him is annoyed that you're climbing because he can't get to you.

It almost feels like you're mocking him.

Can he climb?

Yes.

But, somehow, you're better.

And that pisses him off beyond belief.

The idea that somebody is better at something that he is?

It drives an insane.

The other part is that he's worried about you.

Sure, you do seem to be pretty good at climbing.

However, what if you fell?

Of course, he could catch you.

He's fast enough to run and grab you before you fall.

But what if he wasn't there?

"I won't always be around to save you."

"Do you realize how dangerous that is?"

He'll scold you.

Scolding like a mother would to a disobedient child.

But he's only doing so because he loves you.

Yes, he can be somewhat overbearing sometimes.

But it's all from a place of love.

However, there will be times when he'll join you while you're sitting in a tree.

"It's very peaceful. I can understand why you like it up here."

You don't have to do anything while you're both sitting there.

He's just enjoying the peace and your company.

Knight

"Descend from there this instant!"

Tarhos is a very powerful strong person.

He is able to knock just about anyone off their feet with his strength.

However, one thing he isn't is agile.

His armor is very heavy and bulky.

Seeing you easily scale up that tree?

He'll huff and scowl at you as you hang above him.

There are so many reasons why this just bugs him.

He's supposed to be the powerful one in the relationship.

Not you.

Him!

So the fact that you have an advantage over him?

It makes his blood boil.

What makes it so much worse is that Alejandro is able to join you up in the trees and you both taunt Tarhos from down below.

He'll be so furious that he'll stop away.

Part of it is that he doesn't have time for such childish games.

He has things to do, guards to command, people that kill.

He won't admit it, but he's very jealous.

Seeing you so carefree and happy?

He never got to have that.

And, despite how much he denies it, he would love to have a taste of that freedom in his life.

Lastly, he wants to be the one to climb with you.

He hates how Alejandro teases him from up in the trees with you.

It should be him up there, not one of his guards.

However, he really likes it when you drop down into his arms.

He'll hold his arms out, and he'll always catch you.

Make sure you do it often.

It makes him feel joy knowing that he can protect and care for you.

Oni

He finds it extremely childish.

He has better things to do than climb trees.

Well, not like he could.

Every tree couples under his weight.

He tried to climb up after you once.

He was just too heavy for the tree to support.

It was rather embarrassing, so Kazan doesn't like to talk about it.

So, he can't climb trees.

But that doesn't mean he's going to stop you.

If it's something that brings you Joy in your life, who is he to stop you?

Besides, it's good exercise. He knows that.

It might not be his idea of training, but it seems to be working for you.

And, he knows that you're able to keep yourself safe if an enemy were to attack.

Sure, you might not be able to wield a sword.

Or crush somebody's head and pull out their tongue.

But, you have the ability to run from danger if the need arises.

You can get to the high grounds where it's harder for enemies to reach you.

And that puts him at ease knowing that you're able to take care of yourself.

Don't worry if you ever end up getting hurt because you fell.

He'll be right by your side, picking you up and patching you up.

He may look annoyed, but he's really concerned.

Kazan is so worried that you might climb up something too high one day. Or he won't be around to catch you.

He finds your childlike love of climbing to be endearing.

Still he finds your innocent sweet nature to be cute.

He won't say that out loud though.

Seeing you enjoy yourself with such a simple activity brings him a new hope and humanity he thought he had lost a long time ago.

#dbd imagines #dbd ask blog #dbd x reader #dbd killer #dbd mastermind #dbd oni #dbd knight

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poohbea · 2 years

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𝐒𝐀𝐘 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐌𝐄.

eren yeager | smut, slight fluff, angst if you squint | aristocrat!au

wordcount: 5.8k

content: upper class shenanigans, softdom!eren, fem!reader, oral (receiving), penetration (missionary and doggy), rough sex, pet names (princess, beautiful, etc.), crying, dick drunk reader, daddy kink, eren is a liiiittle pushy and an asshole (just a tiny bit), both of them holding a very weird hatred for each other (idk how else to describe it), unprotected sex (use protection kids)

― synopsis: being the heir of the biggest company in paradis holds it's challenges but no one prepared you for eren yeager

note from pooh: this turned out to be longer than expected lmao, writing smut after a long time is so hard omg i never know what the hell to say, hopefully it's not that obvious. i'm not too happy with it but i'm so over re-writing it at this point hahaha.

WARNING: this is smut, so please ensure you have your age visible on your account before interacting. Minors (below 18+), ageless and blank blogs will be BLOCKED

Hope you enjoy ♡ reblogs are greatly appreciated

“Oh don’t look so glum,” your mother chastised, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Enjoy yourself my love.” Her diamond earrings glistened in the warm candle light cascading from the chandeliers of the grand ballroom. She was an angelic vision in her lilac dusted gown, the same diamonds as the ones in her ears speckled through the fine fabric like dew on flower petals.

You sighed, sipping from your recently refilled glass of white wine. “Easier said than done.” Your gaze moved with the dancing crowd below you, dots of assorted colours and jewellery, black, white, green, pink. You hadn’t seen him yet.

She chuckled at your seriousness. “Do you really think hiding yourself away up in the balcony is going to solve your problems?”

Yes. “What else am I supposed to do?” You sent her a questioning side glance.

“Oh I don’t know… go down there? Dance? Mingle? God forbid you have fun.” She positions herself at your side against the bannister, dress brushing against your own.

Silently you leaned your head on her shoulder, a scent of vanilla and roses floating from her skin. “Is he here?” You whispered as you played with the delicate lace on your sleeves.

“He is.” She replied solemnly, resting her head on top of yours.

Your heart sank as her words solidified your anxiety. Of course he was here, how could he not be?

The man in question was one Eren Yeager, son of Lord Grisha and Lady Carla of Maria. A man who had been a thorn in your side since you were children. Lord Grisha generated his wealth from his medical practices littered across the country, this was valuable to your family, valuable enough to do business with.

Your parents thought it a good idea for you and Eren to become acquainted, being about the same age, maybe something would blossom. Though the only thing that did blossom was the growing hatred between you both. You somehow were always getting on each other’s nerves, so much so that you began to despise him. It started with small childish things, hair pulling, petty fights over trivial topics like who got to have the last of everything, but when you hit adolescence he made it a point to make a snarky comment no matter what you were doing.

“What the hell happened to your face?” He’d scowled at you one afternoon while you lay idly in the grass reading a book. It just so happened to be the same day your mother decided you were old enough to start wearing makeup.

You threw him an irritated look. “It’s makeup.”

“Your mother let you leave the house looking like that?” His shadow covers your face as he leans over you curiously, running a finger along your cheek.

“Piss off Eren!” He laughs as you throw your book at his face, easily dodging the hardback.

It was even worse as you came of age to actually date. He somehow managed to wriggle his way in and meddle with all your potential suitors, spreading rumours, interrupting dances and private conversations. There was a time everyone believed you’d slept with all of your father’s business partners, of course it wasn’t true but that didn’t stop your parents from losing their minds over the allegations. Your reputation was an important one, it was make or break in this dog-eat-dog world you were born into. You never really did find out who or where that rumor came from, but you had a funny feeling Eren had something to do with it.

“Maybe he’ll behave himself now that he’s in public.” Your mother continued.

“Fine I’ll go, but if he says anything out of turn...” You looked to her, finding no trace of disapproval, just her soft features watching the sway of dresses below.

“You’ll be fine.” She shifts to stand upright again before kissing your temple. “What’s the worst that could happen?” She smiles, disappearing through the curtain draped over the entryway of the balcony.

Sighing, you down the last of your wine and readjust the bust of your dress, smoothing over the lace that hung off your shoulders, dress twinkling in the light like stars at dusk. With a deep breath you found your way to the staircase that led onto the ballroom floor, hesitating at the top as you watched a parade of colour flutter by. You had yet to see Yeager, you reassured yourself. And hopefully you’d go the whole night without the misfortune of running into him. As you began your descent your mother’s words echoed through your mind one last time.

What was the worst that could happen?

Foreign and familiar faces welcomed you with curtseys and bows of reverence while you walked through the crowd, head held high and a bright smile on your face, greeting your family’s many business partners.

Being the heir to one of the largest companies in all of Paradis held a lot of responsibility, the primary one, being the picturesque daughter your father sought you out to be. Proper, intelligent and scandal-free. Something that was already hard to do in a sea of people who fed off of gossip.

“Lady y/n.” A kindly voice pulled you from your thoughts. “Could I interest you in a dance?” Jean Kirstein - the newest addition to your fathers growing list of associates- greeted you coyly with a hand outstretched in invitation.

You gave a half-smile “Of course.”

He was a handsome man to say the least, with tousled blond hair and a smile that had butterflies churning in your stomach. His suit was a classic black and white three piece, a teal tie bringing a pop of colour that complimented his alluring hazel eyes.

With one hand in yours and the other securely on your waist, he whisked you out onto the dance floor, taking the lead as he began moving you in time with the music. His gentle gaze never left yours as you floated across the floor effortlessly, touch warm against your hips that he guided in a rhythm that met his own.

“You’re quite good at this aren’t you?” Your playful expression made him chuckle.

“Of course my lady,” he replied, spinning you before continuing. “I had to make a good first impression didn’t I?”

The tempo rose with the changing routine and it was time to switch partners. He laid a soft kiss on your hand before releasing you in another spin, a laugh bubbling in your chest as you landed in the arms of your next partner.

“Good to see you’re enjoying yourself my lady,” your smile faltered as you looked up to see the face of the man you’d so desperately tried to avoid all night. “Don’t look so upset, frowning was never a good look on you?” A smirk hung on his lips as he towered over your smaller frame, loose hairs framing his face as he pinned you with mischievous eyes.

“What are you doing here, Eren?” You spat, feeling your skin tingle where his touch slowly made its way down the small of your back.

A huff left his chest. “I was sent an invitation? Why were you hoping I wouldn’t come?”

“Yes,” you retort. “I was hoping for a night of peace.”

He extended an arm and spun you in place, then roughly pulled you back into his chest. “You and I both know that’s never going to happen.” There was a knowing undertone in his voice, a tone that you knew always held bad intentions.

“Why must you always ruin my night?” You carped, trying your best to maintain your composure. There were too many important people around for you to make a scene and not face the consequences, but the longer he spoke the closer he was to pushing you there.

He dipped you low and your gaze caught Jean’s, who smiled at you softly while dancing with a woman in red. How you yearned to be back in his arms again.

“So you and Kirstein? What’s that about?” Eren nodded to the man in question as he brought you back up again. Your breath nearly left you with how close his lips were to your own, too distracted by that fact you didn’t even register his question.

“What?” Your brows furrowed at him as you took a step back to put some distance between you.

He met you with an icy expression. “Are you and Jean...an item?” He pressed, voice faltering at the end as if it pained him to even say those words. Why did he care?

“No, he’s an associate of my father’s, why does it matter?” You answered honestly, unconsciously moving your hand from his shoulder to his chest, running your index finger over the key shaped pin on his jacket collar.

“You seem awfully fond of someone who cleans horse shit for a living.” You catch him glance over his shoulder to where you could only assume Jean stood, not missing the irritation in his voice.

“He does not,” your hand smacks his chest. “He runs the biggest transport company in the country, horses are just one of his divisions.”

Eren rolls his eyes at your defensiveness. “Oh so you do like him. I didn’t know you enjoyed the smell of horse shi-”

The song comes to an end and you break away from him before you do something you’d regret. You opened your mouth and closed it again, fists balling at your side as everything you ever wanted to say became stuck in your throat. For all the belittling, the mocking and the embarrassment, you wanted to let him have it, but something held you back. Your tongue was stiff as he watched you with an inscrutable expression, waiting for you to break.

Instead your face softens, an equally unreadable expression etched upon your features. “Thank you for the dance Eren, good evening.” You said simply, giving a final curtsey before turning your back to him, you weren’t going to give him the satisfaction.

With a hastened pace you pushed your way through the sea of guests, odd looks cast your way as you haphazardly bumped into a server holding champagne, making you lose your balance. The glasses clattered to the floor with a loud shatter, most of it spilling on your dress in the commotion as you landed on your hands and knees in the liquid. The crowd around you gasped and sneered, encircling your distressed figure on the floor, apologetic and frantically searching for an exit. You saw Eren among them, a taunting glint in his eyes, as if he enjoyed seeing you like this. Beneath him.

You were mortified.

“Y/n! Are you alright?” Jean’s voice broke your fixed gaze. The man knelt down to help you up, but to his surprise you tore your hand from his, offered him a pained smile and curtsied half-heartedly.

“Excuse me.” You choked before speeding up the staircase, uncaring of the array of murmurs and snickers that followed your abrupt and dramatic exit.

This was his fault, Eren fucking Yeager. You cursed as your feet blistered in the tall heels you’d been wearing the whole night, reduced to hobbling down the long hallway, body sticky and damp from alcohol. This was the worst that could happen, you thought. As if being ridiculed wasn’t enough he had to go and add insult to injury with his stupid fucking face mocking you from the crowd.

Was this his plan? To rile you up so much that you’d slip up in front of everyone that was important to you? To your family?

“Fucking Yeager!” You growl, stepping into your room and slamming the door shut behind you. You began pulling pins from your hair tossing them onto your vanity in frustration, strands falling over your shoulders as you kicked off your shoes in the process. You were done with this evening, with everyone and everything associated with it.

As you finally tore the last pin from your now disheveled curls you heard a knock at your door. “I’m not accepting guests at this time!” You called out, frustrated with the ties on your dress. There was silence, then another knock. “Go away!” A string of curses fall from your lips as your fingers continue to slip against the silky fabric. “This couldn’t possibly get any worse.” You sigh. Then you heard your door open. “I said go away-!”

The source of your fury stood leant against the door frame, an arrogant aura emanating from his figure as he watched you struggle to undress. “How unladylike-”

The shoes you had discarded on the floor found their way into your hands and you aimed for his head, disappointed when he narrowly dodges the object. “Get out!” You glowered at him, other shoe in hand ready to throw.

He gave you an incredulous look, smoothing the loose strands on his forehead displaced due to evading your attack. “Are you insane?!” He shouts, picking up the shoe you’d just tossed at his face.

You threw the other shoe, this time at his groin, to which again he narrowly dodged. “Have you not had enough of making a fool of me today? You had to come up here to see your work first hand?” You’d given up on your calm façade, letting your emotions spill as you saw fit in the privacy of your room.

“You’re blaming me for that disaster?” He brayed, both of your shoes now in his palms.

“Of course this is your fault!” You spat callously. “The constant degrading, the fucking agony you put me through every event. You love to humiliate me every chance you get! And for what? Your own twisted sense of humour?” Your chest heaved as you found yourself mere inches from him, breast almost against his in your fit of rage, defeated tears spilling down your flushed cheeks.

You hated to cry, especially in front of Eren but at this point you couldn’t think of anything else to do. The pained attempt to stop the tears from falling ended in hundred more flooding out, you couldn’t bottle it all up anymore, not this time.

Silence filled the room, save your shallow shaky breaths and his deep ones. His face was once again unreadable, eyes scouring yours, for what, you didn’t know. Abandoning your shoes on the floor, his hand brushed a stray lock of hair that curled at your collarbone, grazing the skin there as his now softened gaze lowered to your lips, then back to your watery-eyed glare. The touch set goosebumps upon your skin as he continued up your neck to your jaw, wiping a thumb over your tear stained cheek.

“Let me make it better.” He breathed onto your lips, pleading eyes piercing into yours. His thumb traced your bottom lip tenderly, time slowing as his own met yours. He walked you backward further into your bedroom by your hips, closing the door behind him with an audible sound that reverberated off the hinges. His hand shifted to caress the back of your neck, pulling you into him further to deepen the kiss, moulding against your lips as he used his other hand to loosen the knot in the ties of your dress.

When the back of your knees hit your bed you parted, out of breath and thinking a bit clearly. “Eren,” you sighed, forehead against his as your breathing fell in time with one another. “Please, we-” He places a kiss on your cheek, turning you around to have better access to the back of your dress.

“Shh.” He whispers. His fingers pry the ties free and from their loops and he watches your body visibly relax, finally released from the confines of the material. Softly he pulls the fabric from your arms and down your waist till it became a pool of colour on the carpeted floor. His jacket and tie join it as he flicked the first few buttons of his shirt open to expose the tanned expanse of his chest.

You felt oddly vulnerable in your underwear, even if this wasn’t the first time he’d seen you this way, his gaze still painted a flush upon your skin. Instinctually your arms came up to cover your bare chest, breasts almost spilling from between them.

He chuckles, neck lowering to plant a kiss on your shoulder as he smooths a hand over your stomach. “I’ve seen you like this plenty of times but you still hide from me.”

His fingers played with the waistband of your panties mindlessly, lips continuing their way up your shoulder. The heat of his touch has your mind going fuzzy, losing yourself in the way his hands trailed over your skin, familiar with every mark, every crevasse, every curve your body had to offer. Your lips part in a gasp as he bites into the soft flesh of your neck, sucking a dark bruise into the skin. “I’ll never get tired of seeing you like this.”

He turns you back around to face him, pushing you onto the mattress softly. His hips nestle between your thighs as his body envelops yours, pressing his hard-on against your clothed pussy.

“Eren.” With a sigh your hips squirm beneath his, attempting to ease the arousal rapidly pooling at your core.

“Yes, sweetheart?” You lose your voice at the way his mouth paths down your collarbone, laving marks into the depths of your skin. His hands find yours still covering your chest and pries them away, entwining your fingers to pin your hands above your head. Beneath his intense gaze the flush on your skin deepened, struggling to keep still while your heart threatened to beat out of your chest. He looked like he wanted to devour you.

“Y/n.” He whispers mindlessly against your skin. Before you could answer him a gasp caught in your throat as his tongue encircled your nipple. He released your hands to cup your tits, rolling the other bud between his thumb and forefinger. “Keep them there.”

Your back arched unconsciously, rubbing yourself against his cock — still uncomfortably strained against the zipper of his trousers — causing a deep groan to sound from his throat, the sound alone making your clit throb.

“Fuck, Eren.” Digging your nails into your palms you struggled to keep them above your head, as you whined. It was embarrassing the amount of power he had over you, the way a simple flick of his tongue birthed an impossible ache between your thighs. After doing this with him for this long you’d think it’d have worn off by now.

“That’s it beautiful, say my name.” He coos, continuing his assault down to your thighs. His fingers curl around your panties and guide them down your legs, letting it join your dress on the floor.

A breathy moan escaped you as he wastes no time drawing a long strip from your entrance to your clit, moaning at the way your arousal danced on his tongue. Pushing your thighs apart he did it again, dipping his tongue into you this time to gage your reaction.

Those sweet sounds he craved for weeks finally fell freely from your lips, like music to his ears. He drank in every gasp and every whimper as your head lulled back and your back arched, still obeying his instruction as your fingers dug into the bedsheets.

His cock twitched as you began rocking your hips into his face, matching the pace of his tongue fucking into your dripping cunt. How did he always end up here? Back in this position, on his knees, between your legs, savouring the way you tasted like it was the last time he’d ever get to experience it. How tightly did you have him wound around your finger? Pretty damn tight apparently. As much as he tried to deny it, push you away with insults, humiliation and bickering he always found himself here, worshipping your pussy.

He hated you for it.

“’Ren, please. Please, please, please, fuck.” Your thighs strained against his hold, trembling as you continued fucking his face.

Fuck, he could listen to you beg forever. “What do you want princess?” He asked in a husky tone, planting tender a kiss on your inner thigh. His eyes were glazed over, a deeper green than they were on the dancefloor. Fingertips ghosted your entrance as he waited for your reply, his breath on your clit making you clench around nothing.

“I need you... I need you inside me, please.” You panted desperately.

“Shit,” he mutters under his breath as you open your legs wider for him. “Look how wet you are.” The way your arousal dripped down your ass and onto the sheets made his mouth water, the view never got old. Reluctantly pulling away from you he finally rids himself of his clothes, sighing softly as he finally frees his cock from the confines of his pants.

The sight had your mind reeling. He reminded you of an art piece, like marble where the finest detail was carved to perfection. His skin glowed in the candle light, glistening in a thin veil of sweat with your arousal still on his lips — rosy and plush. Muscles pulsed as he reached behind his head to pull the band in his hair, freeing a cascade of long dark hair onto his back and shoulders.

He hovers over you, lips ghosting yours as he guides his cock through your folds with a hiss. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

“I’d hope so.” You reply with a cheeky grin, laying a kiss on his chin.

You yelp as his hand slaps your ass harshly, the sound reverberating off the walls. There was a handprint now burning red on your ass. “What was that for?” You hiss, trying to move your hips away but find them pinned to the mattress under his weight.

He bites your neck in reply. “For being rude.”

“Oh, piss off.” He raises a warning brow as you roll your eyes.

Again he smacks your ass as punishment, this time harder in the same place. “Do that one more time, see what happens.”

The sting of your ass seemed to have clouded your judgement as you proceeded to take him up on that challenge. “Fuck yo-!”

Before you could finish your rebuttal he shoves his cock into you without warning, completely filling you to the hilt. Your hands find his shoulders instinctively, embedding crescent shaped marks into his skin. The sound you made was a mix between a gasp and a moan, both in shock and pleasure at the sudden intrusion.

“I’m sorry, what were you saying?” Eren chuckles beside your ear, smirk evident in his tone.

A shaky breath leaves your chest. “I hate you.” You grumble in reply, the words coming out breathier than intended.

He shifts to rest his forehead against yours, a shit-eating grin still on his face. “If you hate me so much…” The pause is met with a harsh thrust of his hips, sending another moan tumbling from your lips. “Then why am I the only one that’s able to have you like this?” Your breath hicks as he repeats the same action, nose brushing his as he moved.

You didn’t have a real answer, it’s not like you didn’t seek sex from other partners, you did, but none of them could compare to the man before you. There was something comforting in how he knew your body inside and out, your expressions, the way your skin flushed under his touch, every moan and stutter. You trusted him with your body as he did you with his, but in doing so it fed into an addiction, one that could only be satisfied by Eren.

“Who said you were the only one?” You teased back.

His breath hit your nose as he huffed out a laugh. “No one can make you feel the way I do. Admit it.”

It was your turn to laugh. “Don’t flatter yourself. Anyone can do what you do, you’re not special.”

“Oh really?” His cock twitches inside of you, hips moving at an agonisingly slow pace. “Like who?”

“O-others, why do you need to know?” You stutter out, unable to draw a realistic name from the top of your head.

“I’d like to know who my competition is. That is if they even exist.” Your skin tingles as his nose traces the curve on your cheek. Eren knew exactly what that stutter meant. You were a liar. But that didn’t make going along with it any less entertaining.

“Of course they exis- fuck!” Pleasure overwhelms you as he hits a familiar spot, fingers playing with your clit as he continued his strokes.

“Mmm.” He groans against your cheek. “You know how much I hate lies, y/n.” His pace doesn’t let up as he speaks, fingers and cock moving in time with one another, a sweet harmony that had you struggling to maintain your fragile composure.

“I’m not-”

Spank.

“Stop lying to me sweetheart,” he warns again, upping the pressure on your clit. “Who’s the only one that can make you feel like this?” You could barely think, let alone speak as he continued his ministrations. Your pussy was a sopping mess, so much so that the lewd sound of your wet cunt taking his cock was audible with every delicious stroke.

Your breath fanned against his neck, hot and fast between moans and whines. The longer this went on the quicker your resolve dissipated and soon you were at his mercy. “You ‘Ren, it’s you.”

“I’m sorry?” He smiles, leaning his ear to your lips. “Say it again I don’t think I heard you.”

“Fuck, you’re the only one who can make me feel like this ‘Ren.” You repeat begrudgingly between breaths.

“Good girl.” With a kiss to your cheek he leans back on his heels, letting his cock slip out of you. “Turn over for me.”

Obediently you flip over on your hands and knees, chest brushing the mattress as you position your ass in the air. You feel him move over you, watching as he retrieves two pillows at the head of the bed to place under your hips, to which you happily lay on.

His hands slip themselves into the crease where your hips met your thighs, memorising the way your back arched in this position. He proceeds to run his thumbs over the small of your back, parallel to your spine before his grip tightens slightly and he’s pushing your hips into the pillows. Slowly he eases into you, moaning at the way your pussy engulfed him eagerly, tightening as inch by inch he drew deeper.

"Holy fuck, ‘Ren!” You cry, nails clawing the sheets. It was like he was in your stomach, if that was even possible.

His tongue paths its way up your spine, leaving spaced open mouth kisses on your skin till he reaches your ear. “Does that feel good princess?”

You could only moan in response, heavy breaths wafting your hair that had fallen over your face. He wasn’t even moving but he still managed to turn your brain to mush.

With a chuckle he pecks your shoulder. “I can’t hear you.”

“Yes.”

“Yes what?” His hips shift slightly, drawing a string of whines from your throat. “I want to hear you say it.”

“Yes, daddy.”

“Mhm.” The weight of his body leaves yours as he sits back up, pausing to give your ass a squeeze. “And what if I move like this?” His hips draw back slowly before pushing back into you with a force that almost knocked the breath out of you. “That feel good too, baby?”

“Yes, fuck it feels so good, daddy.”

That was all the confirmation he needed to let go and fuck you into the bed the way he knew you loved. Hard and rough. Using your back as leverage he pressed into your skin, grip tight around your waist as he watched your ass ripple with every slap of his hips against your own.

You were so damn intoxicating it wasn’t even a joke anymore. There were days he’d actually miss this, miss you. Your face, your scent, your taste, how your pussy felt as it squeezed him at every inch, it was like you were made for him and vice versa. He’d never actually tell you any of that though.

This wasn’t love. It was sex, reoccurring mind blowing sex. Or so he continued to tell himself.

“Fuck, yes, yes, yes, yes!” By the way your toes curled he knew he was hitting that sweet spot along your walls. Satisfaction swelled in his chest at your cock drunk form scrunching the sheets between your fingers, losing your voice in the pleasure surging through your body.

“That’s it sweetheart.” Cooing, he slows his pace to pin your hands behind your back, trapping your wrists in one hand and using the other to play with your clit. “You love this dick don’t you?”

Mindlessly you reply. “Yes daddy, so deep in my pussy.” At this point you would say anything, do anything if he asked you to. With the way his dick kissed that spot inside you over and over it was hard not to lose yourself, to let your eyes roll back and just take it.

“You feel so good princess, fuck you take me so well.” He looks down to where your bodies met, almost cumming at the sight of you creaming all over his cock. Your nails were digging into the back of his hand that still pinned your hands to the small of your back, grip tightening as your thighs tensed.

“I’m gonna cum, I-I’m gonna cum.” You whine with a hick.

“Cum for me, sweetheart. Cum all over this dick.” He wasn’t going to be able to hold back much longer as you grew tighter with each passing stroke, but he needed you to cum first, he needed to watch you come undone on his cock.

“Eren!” You hold onto his hand for dear life as you fall over the edge, your whole body tightening as Eren fucks you through your orgasm, fingers still softly caressing your clit.

“Good girl, that’s it.” He praises, out of breath, soon following with his own high. White hot ropes of cum painted your insides as a variation of your name fell from his lips in an incoherent mess. Normally he’d never be caught dead cumming inside if it was any one else but because it was you he bent that rule.

You groan softly as your body grew heavy, sinking into the soft mattress. Almost ready to pass out then and there you feel Eren shuffle behind you, moaning as his cock slides against your walls, slowly drawing from your warmth.

He falls onto his back beside you with a sigh. “Come here.”

“Mmm.” You groan, still fucked out and limp with flattened pillows under your hips probably damp with his cum as you felt it leak from your hole.

He clicks his tongue and pulls you forward effortlessly by your arm, cradling you in his side. There was a long silence as you both lay there listening to the rhythm of each others breaths, content in the comfort you had both built after months of this routine.

When all this first began you refused to even look at each other after the fact, getting dressed and leaving the room immediately. But one drunken night when you woke up to find him still there beside you, arm around your waist and pulled into his chest, you couldn’t bring yourself to pull away. It soon became normal for you to lay like this, naked and vulnerable, listening to his heart beat.

“You okay?” He questions, still looking up at the ceiling.

“Tired.” You sigh softly. Your fingers traced the grooves of his chest, circling his pectoral mindlessly.

He exhales heavily. “Feel better?”

With a chuckle you trail your finger down his abdomen. “A little.”

The look he throws you has your smile grow wider. “Only a little?” He turns on his side, resting his head on his hand. “Still lying to me.”

“Gonna have to try a little harder than that, Yeager.” Teasingly you tap his nose, laughing at the way he frowns at your simple gesture.

He caresses your face with his free hand, running a thumb over your rosy lips. “You really think I don’t know you after all these years?” The question was longing, like he was reminiscing every encounter you two ever had.

“I didn’t think you paid that much attention after all these years.” You roll your eyes playfully.

“I’m observant.”

“You’re a nuisance.” You corrected, but despite your insult the smile never left your face.

“You love me.” The rebuttal caught you off guard, unsure if he was joking or not as his tone remained serious.

“Are you drunk, Yeager? Why would I ever love you?”

His face draws toward yours knowingly. “You wouldn’t still be here if you didn’t.”

“I-I could say the same for you.” You deflect, gesturing to his figure.

Did he really want to admit his feelings for you, after having pushed them down for so long? Did he even have feelings for you? When he saw you on the dancefloor for the first time tonight his stomach erupted in a flutter of butterflies. Not to mention when he watched the way you smiled and laughed with Jean. Who the fuck was he anyway? Some corporate kiss-ass who shovelled shit for a living. Transport, what was Jean’s transport company compared to the medical empire Eren was managing? Is that what impressed you? What you liked? He followed the way Jean’s hands glided along your body, like he knew where to touch you, how to make you…

“Eren.” Your soft voice breaks him from deep thought. You look at him with those eyes you do, the ones that somehow manage to break his resolve every time.

“Let’s get you to a bath.” He smiles at you sadly, laying a kiss on your forehead and getting up from the bed. His fingers rake through dishevelled hair before offering you an outstretched hand.

You witnessed the way his green eyes dulled as they bore into yours sullenly. His expression was placid, unreadable as it always was when he decided to shut you out, an action you’d become all too familiar with as you came back to the reality of the situation.

Not wanting to question him on it you take his hand. “Lead the way.”

PART TWO

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francis-writes · 2 months

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Could you do some general relationship HC's for Rabban with GN! Reader? Can be NSFW or not, I am just starving for any content about this mess of a man.

SFW

When you live with Rabban, it's good to be patient and able to stay calm. Political fights, Rabban's family and situation on Arrakis are one problem but his aggresive outburst are the second. He can't stand the pressure put on him well and in these moments it's better to get out of his way or perhaps try to calm him down if you can.

Speaking of his family... Baron in general doesn't like you, maybe because he already didn't like Rabban, maybe because he doesn't like most people who aren't useful to him. Feyd-Rautha on the other hand... it's hard to guess what goes on in his head and what his real goal is but he sometimes flirt with you (and I mean flirts with heavy innuedos; he can also get a little touchy but nothing too far - simply brushing his fingers against your cheek) or deliberately humiliates his brother when you're present.

Rabban needs a lot of support from you. Compliments, reassurance. He's also touch-starved so hug him or stroke his head as he's resting on your chest, while you're telling him that you love him and he's doing great, no matter what his uncle says.

Despite his fiery character, he tries to be a good partner for you and control his emotions. It's hard and he fails sometimes but he would never physically hurt you. Usually he only yells and leaves the room to calm down before he does something he would regret later.

NSFW

Again, he probably has a praise kink. For his whole life, he was treated as worse than his brother and he's starving for someone complimenting him. Tell him how strong he is, how powerful and smart, and how much you admire him and he will melt.

I suppose that for the same reasons, he may have a humiliation kink but be careful, he isn't always in a mood for that. Sometimes calling him a failure and a disappointment will give him boner, sometimes it will give him a crisis.

He's a switch. Sometimes he lets you do whatever to him, sometimes he prefers to take control.

He definitely has a thick cock so it takes a moment to adjust to it. But don't worry, when you're in relationship, Rabban cares about your pleasure and makes sure you won't feel pain (unless you want to)

I might have size kink but considering that Rabban is a big man who spent his life fighting, he can easily manhandle you. Pin you to the bed. Lift you up and press to the wall. Posibilities are endless.

#rabban harkonnen #beast rabban #beast rabban x reader #rabban harkonnen x reader #rabban x reader #rabban #glossu rabban #dune part two #dune imagine

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thattimdrakeguy · 2 months

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Hey,

So if it's not too much to ask, can you give me a summary on the Core Four's personalities? I really wanna know for analysis reasons, I'm re reading all the core 4 young justice and teen titans books and trying to decipher my favorite one.

I can give you the personalities as intended by their creators no problem, Person Newtonote.

Now as you read you might think "Oh, hmm, that doesn't add up with what I've read" when it gets into the Young Justice and Teen Titans books, but that's 'cause different writers write different things, and some writers understand some characters better than others, and some of it is just plain character development, or in worse case writers doing what ever they please 'cause they don't care.

I'll let you judge when what happens.

Onto what you've asked though, I'll try to keep it simple as I can while still being detailed:

Tim Drake:

My personal favorite, that much is likely obvious.

As intended, he is an idealistic young boy, and dreamed of Robin as an even littler boy (he's pretty small for his age). He's clever, and resourceful, and thinks very very highly of the legacy of Robin. It's his heart though that got him his job as Robin, and his compassion and genuine passion for the role of Robin. And he displays what many may call boy scout tendencies. Even admitting to original Robin Dick Grayson that he enjoys helping old lady's cross the road (or something like that.)

Being raised in private schools, without a lot of friends (He's shown having no friends until he goes to public school to my knowledge), he's a pretty naive and oblivious, trusting person. And it's through out his journey's he has to learn how dark Gotham City can get. Though compared to the other Bat-Family members of this era (90s) he's very much the heart and light-hearted youthful energy to it.

His social ability is mostly perfectly fine, he's no complete weirdo. Kid can get friends easy peasy. Easily likable to folks. Endearing. But he has an oblivious side, and can get ahead of himself. Has a habit of getting spiritually adopted by people who instantly want to protect him. Anyone from Batman, to former CIA agents, and even villains. He's just got that babyface on him, and button nose.

He also deals with anxiety in terms of being Robin, being worried that he may be stripped of the job, or let people down, or mess something up. And sometimes that lends him having a lot of insecurities about himself. While having some prior training in martial artists, and implications of having taken gymnastics, also a former boy scout, he still doesn't naturally take to the role like all other Robins around him. Which means he has to try a lot harder to have his keep.

In the Bat-Family in this era (the 90s) he's the heart, and baby to everyone. They're uber protective of him, and take him out of the action when they deem it to be too much for someone like Tim. Within Young Justice he puts on a heavy Robin persona to hide what he's really like. Making himself out to be a more Batman-esque mysterious leader.

When really, he's a dorky, fanboy, who loves Kaijus, Crocky the ??? Crocodile I guess (Basically Barney the Dinosaur), super heroes, cars, Warlocks and Warriors (Dungeons and Dragons), sports, comics, Sci-Fi, fantasy, and cartoons. Self-admitted geek, with some popular interests in there.

Think of Tim as sort of Autistic kind of. He's never officially said to be. But when you read his origin, it's definitely a legitimate way to interpret him. Though I believe his uniqueness is intended to really be molded by Tim's passion, and obliviousness from a lack of parental figures in his very young life.

Tim is supposed to be an optimist, as told by his creator, but to be real a lot of writers seem to forget that, even when making jokes about how he's optimistic compared to others. I think sometimes the writer's own cynism leaks out into him. So remember that...despite a lot of writers forgetting it. Be better than them.

Cassie Sandsmark:

My personal second favorite member, but, please, make up your own mind here.

She's a rebellious teenage girl, and tomboy. She stays up pass curfew to party, but is at heart a good hearted individual who truly wants to help. This comes at odds with her stubborness and headfirst attitude. She hates being treated as a kid. And shows a great deal of intuition and cleverness. She's also a babysitter. Seemingly a good one too.

Her need to prove herself can put itself ahead of her own logic though. And she buts head with her very stuffy mother who doesn't appreciate Cassie's care-free nature. She means a lot to Cassie, and Cassie wants her approval. Cassie's natural being is...very much in contrast to what her mother would prefer though. It's fun.

A lot like Tim she's also shown to be a Super Hero fanboy. For her it's specifically Wonder Woman and the Flash, while with Tim it's basically anyone the writer decides he hasn't met offscreen yet.

Through her journey's she learns to contain herself though, and better use her powers.

Bart Allen:

The most teenager-y teenager you ever seen. He has ADHD, but not the uber-hyperactive, talkative, hugger you see in some more modern misunderstandings of him.

Originally he was pretty quiet. Super popular in his school. Girls loved him and considered him a pretty boy. But in reality he has no social knowledge, because he was raised in basically a video game for two years. He's essentially an alien learning to fit in with human civilization. So he's incredibly reckless without intention. It takes him awhile to truly process the concept of death and related repercussions. So he's sort of dangerous.

He can be quite surly, and mean spirited on occasion. But like most heroes, he has a good heart that comes out in the end. It's just simply the 90s and being Anti-Authority is the norm. His name is Bart after all. Underneath that is a young man who does sweet things when he has it in him.

Just don't think of him like a baby like how a lot of people make him out to be. He's a teen's teen.

Original Bart, like original Tim, and original Cassie, to me, is the best version of the character. The most nuanced, and interesting.

Oh, and minor violent streak on Bart too. Started a fight before, and stuff like that.

He cares inside. That has to count for something right?

Kon-El:

Hot-Headed pervert. Over-confident. Fame hungry. Lady magnet. Stubborn. Head first. Sort of a prick. But again good hearted.

I haven't read him as much as the others, because I don't personally care for him. Then in the early 00s with Teen Titans they decided just to make him an angsty young Clark, which is personally boring.

I don't have a lot of great things to say about him. His solo is very dated, and overtly sexual. Something I have no interest in reading.

He's at his best in Young Justice though, where he isn't written as jail bait by a writer who thought it'd be great if he dated grown women to fulfill teenage boys dreams. Instead you get to have fun with a very flawed character without the distracting perversion...mostly.

Punk styled. Loves dressing like a punk. Until he doesn't. Ruh-roh.

Again though, different writers write different things. They catch onto different things more than others, some are plain neglectful, others don't care, some want to change stuff for the sake of it. It's comics, you'll be lucky if it's consistent.

But on my years of studies, all that is what the character's where intended to be by their creators. So a lot of it is a starting pad, but it's also the purest form of them you're going to find.

#Tim Drake #Robin #Cassie Sandsmark #Wonder Girl #Bart Allen #Impulse #Kon-El #Conner Kent #Superboy #DC Comics #Young Justice #Young Just Us

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thisisarcanereverie · 2 months

Text

When the World Went to Shit (Joel x Reader) Chapter 8!

Joel Miller x FEM! Reader

A/N: this is a SPOILER WARNING, this contains spoilers from the series in general.

A/N: I am so sorry for the almost 1 year delay on this chapter life has been insane. If you want more details go to my Archive to see.

(All my other links to my masterlist and archive)

WARNINGS: Canon level of violence, swears, Joel is sad, talks of grief, PTSD, brief mentions of gore, Eventual Smut, pining (on both ends), grumpy idiots in love, reader is in her late 30's to early to mid 40's. Major character deaths. DISCLAIMER NO CHARACTERS/GIFS/PICS USED ARE MINE.

Summary: 20 years later after the world went to shit you, Joel, and Tess have to take 14 year old Ellie to the Firefly base outside of Boston QZ. What was supposed to be a simple plan turned into something much more complicated.

Prev. Chapter

It wasn’t long until Joel woke you up, you couldn’t have been asleep for longer than 30 minutes before you felt Joel’s hand gently nudge you awake.

“Gotta go Doc,” you hear him say as you blink the blurriness away, “Trucks have stopped moving and we’re losing daylight.” With a grunt you accept his hand as he pulls you to your feet, ignoring the initial dizziness to suddenly being upright. Joel is generous enough to help you regain balance until he was sure you wouldn’t fall over, you tried to ignore how warm and worn his hands were, and how they seemed to fit perfectly within yours.

“Just hold on to my hand,” Joel says, his eyes not leaving yours, “and try not to fall behind.” you simply nod as your hand remained in his, not finding it in you to fight him on this. His bare palm was warm and rough against yours, now your hands weren’t soft by any means, but his were different. His had been rough for years, even before the outbreak from the army and hard work, however they felt safe to you, and that scared you more than you thought it would.

“Alright,” you hear Joel say, “let’s go.” and with that you hurried out the door, his one hand gripping yours firmly while the other held onto the gun, ready to shoot if necessary. You three made it across the street and into a dimly lit alley, one that you probably would’ve avoided twenty years ago. It was there that Joel slowed down from a run to a brisk walk, and began looking around for what you assumed to be a door or window to climb through. It wasn’t long until you found one, the wall covered with graffiti and one door next to a vent. “Here,” Joel quietly pointed, as he rushed you and Ellie to the door. You let his hand go and leaned against the wall instead as he tried to open the door. You watched as Joel struggled with opening the door, fuck, it’s locked. You looked at the vent, it wasn’t too bad, it wasn’t too terribly small but neither you or Joel would be able to fit through there. A small sneeze alerted you to Ellie, who just stood there watching Joel get more and more violent with the door. You looked at Ellie for a bit, she was on the short and smaller side of fourteen; then you looked at the vent. Ellie was too short to reach it by herself but if you and Joel lifted her up then she could probably easily go through it. The only problem you could think of was that you didn’t know what was inside. There could be a clicker in there for all you knew or worse, other people. But as you look over to Joel who had made no progress with the door, you resigned yourself to the fact that there was no other choice.

“Ellie,” you called over to her, you saw the young girl look at you and walk to your side. You pointed to the vent above you, “do you think you can fit in there and unlock the door?”

“Yeah,” Ellie said with no hesitance, “but I’ll need a boost.”

“Joel,” you call out for him, you see the peppered haired man stop before turning his attention to you, “I’m gonna need help boosting her up.” you see his face scrunch up in confusion at first before finally getting the picture.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

“There’s no other option,” you said, “she’ll be alright.” You hoped you sounded convincing, for the most part you were sure that she would be alright, Ellie was tougher than she looks. You knew that. Still though, you couldn’t help but worry a small amount, despite her loud mouth and the corny pun jokes that made even your eyes roll you’ve come to care about her (at least a little).

Joel gave you one more look around to see if there was another way before sighing and walking towards where you and Ellie stood. “You’re sure you can help lift her?” He asked.

“I’m a kid,” Ellie sasses, “not an elephant.”

You swear you hear him say something under his breath before he gets on one side of Ellie and you on the other. He grabs her one foot and you the other as you both lift her up to the small opening, she was lighter than you anticipated. Once through the opening you see Ellie crawl before a silent thunk.

“Ok,” you hear her say on the other side of the wall, “I’m in, I’m going to take a look around first.”

“Ellie,” Joel says, you don’t take your eyes off the opening but you can imagine the look he has on his face right now. The big brown sad look he gets in his eyes every time he’s worried, his knuckles turning white slightly from gripping the handle of his gun a little too tight in case he needs to use it immediately. It’s a thing you’re catching him doing more and more often. Suddenly you both hear a clanking sound from the door, as you take a few steps in that direction you hear him mutter a few curses before it opens to reveal Ellie, no worse for wear.

“Where would you be without me?” Ellie smiles cheekily, you pretend not to see how Joel’s broad shoulders sag a little before moving past her.

“By now Wyoming.”

You chuckled a little before ruffling up her hair before moving past her, “you walked right into that one kiddo.” You hear her mutter something under her breath, not too unlike the man ahead of you before letting the door shut. The noise echoing slightly in what appears to be an abandoned garage beneath the building or perhaps this is where the maintenance workers worked you weren’t quite sure about it other than it had surely been ransacked and abandoned. You were not likely to find anything of use like food or ammo, something you were sure you were running low on by now considering all of your supplies were destroyed during the crash.

You three make your way to what seemed the only door leading to the way out, B3-42 No Roof Access.

“All right,” You hear Joel say beside you, “We’ll make our way up come morning, I’ll take a look at the city and find our way out.” the door creaked as it opened and a sense of dread filled you as you realized what you had to do.

Fuck this.

****************************************************************************************

Joel POV.

His chest burns as it seems as Joel struggles to get enough air, everything hurts, even the places he had no idea could hurt. It didn’t seem like you were doing much better, you were struggling for air like him but at least it didn’t seem like your head hurt…just everything else. Fuck, how many floor had they made it up, 33? When did he get so old that climbing 33 floors feels akin to 200? He looks over to the smaller girl who, while being out of breath, didn’t look like it had winded her like you and him. It was slightly irritating, on a multitude of fronts none of which he would ever admit to. His back slid against the wall as he prays that he doesn’t have a heart attack before getting Ellie out of the city at least. He looks over at you, sitting against the wall half bent. You were breathing out before leaning back and breathing in and repeating. At first he had no idea what you were doing, and he knew that if he wasn’t so exhausted he would have had to force himself to look away from the sliver of cleavage that you bending down exposed or the sweat that made you glow somehow even in the darkness.

“Doing this helps,” you say to him, looking over at him. “Exhaling while down helps get all the air out and inhaling while sitting up opens them back up.” he must have given you a look because you then added, “it was something I picked up while studying to be a nurse,” your eyes got a strange look while a sad smile graced your features, “it came in handy a lot when…when I went jogging before the outbreak.” He doesn’t know what you're thinking most of the time, something equal parts frustrating and intriguing…what he wouldn’t give right now to know.

“Thirty three floors,” Ellie remarks, still standing, barely a drop of sweat on her, “that’s good.”

Joel and you shared a look, one that clearly said.

Damn youth.

“It’s gonna have to be,” you said, voice still breathy, “otherwise you’re gonna have to drag Joel and I up the rest of the way.” He sees Ellie make a face, if it wasn’t for the burning in his lungs he probably would’ve smiled. After a few more minutes of breathing he sees Ellie reach out a hand to him.

“C’mon” she says and at this point he is pretty sure he would rather a clicker bite him than get up.

“Gimme a minute” he breathed, his legs still aching he was almost certain that if he stood up right now his knees would give out.

“Get up, you lazy ass.”

He looked at her for a minute, silently he wondered if she had a death wish, before accepting the helping hand. He could feel the creaking and cracking of his joints as he stood upright again.

“Lazy ass” he groaned, turning to his right to see if you needed any help. Upon seeing that you’ve more or less recovered he walked past Ellie and continued. “I’m fifty-six years old, you little shit.” He hears Ellie laugh a little, he was willing to bet that if he turned his head around he would see you mocking him, and if he wasn’t so tired and ready to lay down and sleep for a couple of hours he would’ve.

It wasn’t long until they came across a glass door, one easily broken by force. One swift hit from the but of his shotgun and it shattered, at least, it shattered enough for him to reach the handle without cutting himself on the jagged edges of what remained. He entered first, in case there was danger it would hit him first instead of you or Ellie; but after it was clear that there was nothing dangerous between the four walls of what appeared to be the living room of an abandoned apartment he felt a certain stiffness in his shoulders ease a little. While looking around he took a moment, just one…just to look at you. It was clear now that whatever affects the head injury caused had subsided, however, even after reassuring himself that you were fine he couldn’t find the will to look away from you. His eyes studied the way your hair swayed as you moved around, he didn’t care about the gray streaks–in fact he found each wrinkle, each sign of aging to be beautiful on you. You wore it well, age complimented you. He wondered, though, if things were different–if there were no such things as clickers or if the cordyceps never evolved, if he would still think the same way; or if he would think of you at all.

“What now?”

He blinked and turned his gaze away from you, he must be more tired than he thought. Lack of sleep can really mess with someone's head, Joel thought.

“We will stay here for a couple of hours,” he said, adjusting the strap on his shoulder. “I’m going to scout out the rest of the apartment ... .it's a long shot but maybe there’s some supplies, see what you can find here."He was about to leave the room when he felt a hand on his shoulder, he turned to look at you, you who always seemed to study him as if you haven’t known each other most of your lives.

“You should rest,” you said, “I’ll go ahead and look around, and before you argue I’m feeling better so don’t worry about me.” and with that you walked away, no room for arguments. He grumbled something intelligible even to himself when he heard you from the other room. “Go ahead and set up camp if you’re so antsy! “ it was amazing how you could tell exactly what he was doing without having to even look at him. He grumbled something else before gathering the cushions off of chairs and sofas, making makeshift beds on the floor, dust circling around them before settling back down onto the ground. There wasn’t much in terms of blankets other than what they had on their backs, but all in all they’ve slept in worse conditions before. Or at least, you and Joel had, to be completely honest, despite all of her talking Joel still knew next to nothing about the young girl that he was protecting. He knew she liked video games, and music, but most of all she seemed to like puns. Joel knew Ellie talked a lot and despite the million words per second that seemed to escape her, but how much of that was her saying something. He had some idea of what life was like for her back in the QZ, she obviously had a friend, but figuring by the way of her not saying much the friendship didn’t end well. With the current youth growing up in the midst of this futile war, they’re more violent (feral, really), they’ve got bigger mouths and moral compasses all askew, though he really couldn’t think of one person whose moral compass had never strayed from the straight and narrow even once since the outbreak.

There’s really only enough cushions to make two beds on the ground, realistically one of them would have to sleep upright in the chair. Joel groaned as he could already feel the crick in his neck forming at the thought. But it would be better if it was him with the crick in his neck than you.

You were taking your time scouting out the rest of the apartment, or maybe it just felt that way to him, maybe you’ve only been gone for a few minutes but it felt longer to him. Everytime you’re out of his sight it feels like you’re a million miles away even though he knows otherwise. It was odd, this hold that you had on him, it hadn’t been there before, or at least he thinks it hadn’t. A lot has changed since leaving the QZ, you both weren’t exactly the same people you were when this job started, or maybe it just took this job to see what was always there? Joel wasn’t sure, and honestly, by the way his limbs ached as he gathered the bucket and grabbed pieces of shattered glass fragments he was too tired to think further on it.

He had just finished setting the alarm trap when you appeared from the other room.

“There were two cans of food and a blanket, other than that it seems like this place had already been scouted for supplies ages ago.” you placed the two cans of peas by Joel to open and handed Ellie the blanket while you assessed the camping site. He had just finished slicing the lid off of one of the cans when you turned to him.

“So where is everyone sleeping?” You asked, not wanting to overstep or assume.

“I’m sleeping right here on the chair while you and Ellie get the cushions.” Joel replied, handing the open can to you only to watch as you passed it to Ellie. That was the other thing about you that had never changed, even when the outbreak happened. You always thought of other people before yourself, sometimes Joel wished he could be more like that, other times he wished you were less like that. It would save him a lot of stress.

“That’s ridiculous,” you objected, “I don’t see why you have to get a crick in your neck while we can both just lay on one set of cushions together.” the knife slips from his hand a little before readjusting his grip.

“Someone’s gotta keep watch.” he excused, but already he could see your eyes practically roll themselves out of your skull.

“It’s cold out,” you said, “I gave Ellie a blanket cause I figured she probably wouldn’t want to be huddled together with either of us for warmth–”

“Good call.” Ellie agreed.

“And it’s not like you and I haven’t slept side by side before, or huddled together for warmth. You set up an alarm trap, it’ll wake all of us up in case someone tries to kill us before sunrise. So quit with the excuses, eat some dinner and get some sleep.”

There was nothing left to say, no more room for argument as you get the familiar stubborn look on your face that he’s learned to associate finality with. With a sigh he responded with the only thing he could, “Yes Ma’am.”

Dinner had been quiet save for the scraping of forks against the metal tin of the inside of the can. Joel had shared his with you while Ellie had a can of her own. Both of you were used to eating half portions, though if he was honest, he had only a few bites while he let you have the majority of the cans contents.

Soon enough all of you had laid down, the cushions were a little worse for wear, covered in years worth of dust and a little flat but it was better than nothing. No, it wasn’t the dust burning his eyes a little or the hardness of the floor that prevented him from sleeping. It was you, your back was to him but he could still feel you next to him, hear the gentle noise of your breathing and while you didn’t exactly smell like a bouquet of roses, you smelled faintly of sweat but the scent of the lavender and peppermint bar soap that you took from Bill and Frank’s still lingered. Joel fought back the urge to get closer to you, it was frustrating, he can’t recall the number of times he’s slept next to you and yet this was never an issue–well–he can’t really say that. There would be times when he would wake and find himself closer to you with your arm hanging loosely around his waist, he would pretend later on that those interactions never happened, or that he didn’t spend a good few minutes looking at you, watching your nose twitch occasionally and hearing your slow and steady breathing. Joel turned over until he was facing the door, careful with his movements so as to not disturb you. Joel felt silly–stupid–really, he needed to kill whatever the hell this feeling was, he was protective of you because you grew up together and were friends that was it. He couldn’t afford to have you be anything else despite what that letter to Bill had said.

Joel tried closing his eyes and putting you from his mind, but once he finally managed to put you on the backburner Ellie came into mind. She was 14, Joel couldn’t even remember what he was like at fourteen except that he was punk. Always doing something he wasn’t supposed to do like smoke or sneak a swig of beer when no one had looked. Meanwhile here was Ellie, there was no doubt that she would be a punk too, skating after dark and probably stealing gum or something small from a convenience store. Instead she’s been forced to have a gun in her hand and had to learn to survive since she came into this world. She’s only fourteen and she went from being an ordinary person to the last hope humanity has to create a vaccine so that clickers become a thing of the past. A world without clickers…would Joel even want to live in a world like that? Was there a place for him in that world anymore? Without Sarah?...Joel didn’t like to think about how similar they were. Both funny and discerning and most of all brave. Too damn brave, too damn young. In a secret, awful way he was relieved that Sarah never had to be the one behind the gun but so damn angry to be the one in front of it. His mind brought him back to that look in Ellie’s eyes, that cold and angry look she said it wasn’t her first time shooting someone.

“Hey,” he said quietly, trying not to wake you, “you up?”

“Yeah?”

“When we were talking’ bout hurting people…what did you mean it wasn’t your first time?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” There was an edge to her tone, one that clearly said to leave it alone. It was something he had to respect.

“All right,” he gave in. moments of silence pass between them, the only silence was your soft snoring…still it ate at him so gently he rolled back over to see Ellie, who was looking at the ceiling. “You don’t have to, I’m just saying it’s not fair, your age…having to deal with all this…” he trailed off, fuck you were better at this than he was. He sees Ellie turn her gaze from the ceiling to him, brown eyes filled with a sadness that didn’t suit her age.

“So it gets easier when you’re older?”

“No,” he says honestly, “not really…but still.” there was a pause, some silence between them. Honestly, killing never does get easier, it just becomes the choice you have to make in dire situations, but it doesn’t make it easier to live with.

“The reason I asked whether you’d hear the glass or not earlier is cause I’ve noticed you don’t hear too well from your right side.” Ellie said, breaking the pause, “is it because you got shot there?”

“Probably more from shooting.” he answers before turning himself in for the final time, “so if you want to keep hearing I’d stick to the knife.” he closes his eyes, once again trying to clear his mind from thoughts of you or Ellie or anything really.

“Joel?”

He hummed in response.

“Did you know diarrhea is hereditary?”

“What?” opening his eyes and wondering what the hell she was going on about?

“Yeah,” she said somberly before following up with, “it runs in your jeans.”

It was an awful joke really, it shouldn’t have been as funny as it was but still he felt the laughter bubble up from his chest and shake him a little. It hurt a little, the sensation of laughter was something foreign to him now but still, it was pleasant. After that neither of them said a word, drifting off to sleep before they had to wake up and find their way out of this city.

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

“Joel.”

He groaned

“Joel”

He groaned again.

“Joel I’m gonna need you to wake the hell up right now but be calm ok?”

Slowly his eyes opened, and the first thing he saw wasn’t you but of a man, couldn’t be younger than 18 with a gun pointed at you and Ellie while another kid, couldn’t be any older than eleven stood over him, orange facepaint over his eyes as he held Joel at gunpoint. Shit.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

TAGLIST:

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@avengersfan25

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#x reader #joel the last of us #tlou joel #joel miller x reader #joel x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller #joel tlou #tlou smut #tlouedit #tlou spoilers #trending #ellie the last of us #joel miller x reader smut

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chaifootsteps · 2 months

Note

so Lily Orchard made a video about Hazbin Hotel and it's kind of odd, tbh?

her coverage of the working / pay conditions basically boils down to 'animators just need to unionize' (seriously, she spends barely any time on it at all), which like, unionization would definitely help but it doesn't let Viv/Spindle off the hook for poor management in the meantime, & it's baffling to me that she implies otherwise. If Lacakdaisy and (as far as we know) other indie productions like Far-Fetched can behave professionally, why can't Spindle? (also like, absolutely zip mention of how the pilot cast were treated. nada. nothing.)

the entire hope of the indie scene was that it could grind up less animators than big studios do, & sweeping all that under the carpet is so deeply unempathetic to me. so animators being subject to poor deadlines, favoritism, unprofessional behavior, having their work literally stolen from them or going uncredited and then getting blocked when they try to correct it is no big deal, apparently? (which strikes me as funny bcause Orchard's work is so obviously inspired by The Jimquisition and Stephanie Sterling's work constantly critiques the game industry for its poor working conditions even though they also don't have unions)

a lot of the vid has this undercurrent of 'Viv has a big hatedom just for being a bi woman of colour and hatedoms are always bad and parasocial' and like - yes, I agree Internet mobs are bad. Yes, I agree people can get into a parasocial hatred of someone just as easily as parasocially loving or defending them. Yes, I agree someone who isn't straight, white or male is more likely to attract haters. And yes, I agree a lot of the criticisms of Viv are stupid.

my problem with this framing is it lumps in all criticims of Viv with the stupid ones. Again, does Lily Orchard not care about people being underpaid, overworked or uncredited? Does she expect unionizing to solve all the immediate issues people have faced with Spindle in the meantime? Also like - what Viv has done herself to feed this toxic environment goes totally unacknowledged. Viv's bad faith framing of her critics and multiple defensive threads get no mention, & Lily's video implies that only the critics of Vivzie are toxic and doesn't mention at all how bad /much worse some of her supporters are. none of the bullying and silencing attitudes from her fans get brought up; it's not like it would be hard to find when researching critiques of the show to see how even big creators like Cartoonshi were harassed into never covering it again.

I find her attitude towards the writing of HH odd, too. I understand why she doesn't like cartoons dragging their heels and stretching things out (goodness knows HB has been wheel spinning basically its entire second season and Western Energy was a complete waste of an episode), but calling HH's pacing 'breakneck' is generous. There's no time to breathe and none of the nuance or quiet moments she claims to want more of in other shows.

If the show is also about Heaven&Hell being an unjust sorting system as Lily claims, why isn't that more clear in the writing? Why is the viewer simultaneously supposed to believe Hell is full of murders and etc. but also is just full of people being unjustly persecuted. Even Angel Dust, the one character we're supposed to believe has developed the most, was a gangster in his human life & presumably killed people along the way, none of which the show bothers to examine even though his sister made it to Heaven and he didn't. (she has said she has no interest in helluva boss, which is a shame because I would have been curious to see if she would have convienently ignored the bootlicking praise for Stolas and the misogyny in the writing just because she seems to feel Viv is getting unfairly criticized)

she has said she's making a follow up that's more about the voodou issue, which she does agree is a problem, but idk. I just find it odd to watch a video where someone is willing to be critical of how voodou is represented, but the additional problem of real harm being done to up and coming animators is treated as not worthy of discussion. I think representation should be critiqued as much as the next person, but aren't the actual materia conditions faced by people working on the show as important, if not more important, than that?

Lily talks a big game for someone who molested her sister.

#anonymous #viv stuff #actual blog post

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george-weasleys-girl · 11 months

Text

Opposites Attract - Pt. 4

Snape's POV

Snape had never really considered himself the fatherly type. Even in the days when he still entertained the possibility of marriage, the idea of raising a child never appealed to him. Snape knew he was too selfish and easily vexed to be a suitable parent. He was, as much as he hated to admit it, too much like his worthless bastard of a father in that regard.

And yet, as he watched Y/N grow closer to the Weasley boy, a sort of protective paternal instinct rose up within him. He just couldn't see how this situation could end well, and he wasn't about to sit idly by and watch Y/N throw away a promising future for the likes of Fred Weasley.

~•~

Y/N's POV

Y/N wrapped her cloak tighter around her as she descended the stairs to the dungeon. She should've layered up more before coming down here, she thought with a huff. One would think that with the combined magic of the headmaster and all the teachers, something could be done about these damned drafts in the hallways. But, no such luck. Maybe it was some sort of character building nonsense or some other similar bullshit. With a long sigh, she rounded the last set of stairs, trying to exhale all her frustration before her meeting with Professor Snape.

Of all days, Fred picked this one to be an absolute shit. He'd been waiting for her just outside the door of her Ancient Runes class. "Hey, love," he leaned down for a kiss. "I thought maybe we could take a walk before dinner. It's starting to snow."

Y/N smiled. "I'd love to," she replied. "But I've got my meeting with Snape in about fifteen minutes."

"Oh," Fred muttered, looking a away.

"I'll try to cut it short," she reached out, placing her hand on his arm. "I really would love to take a walk with you."

"I don't know why you're going at all," he spat.

The vehemence in his voice caused Y/N to step back. "We've talked about this before. I want to be a Potions Master and, like it or not, Snape is my mentor. Besides, even if I canceled, I still have to return his book."

"Oh yeah, his precious little book from his precious little collection," he mocked.

Y/N stared at him in shock. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Oh, I don't know, maybe it's that my girlfriend is choosing to go play teacher's pet instead of spending the afternoon with me."

Her gaze hardened as any sympathy she had flew out the window. "Never mind," Y/N spat back. "Forget me trying to get out early. If you're going to insult me for actually taking school seriously and pursuing my passion then you can fuck right off!" And with that, she turned on her heel and stomped away.

~•~

Fred's POV

Regret slammed into him as soon as she disappeared around the corner. This was not how things were supposed to go.

All he wanted was to spend some time with Y/N and forget about his shitty afternoon.

His day had started out great. But then, he and George got into an argument over the best way to tackle the problem they were having with their newest invention. They didn't argue often, and today's disagreement wasn't really that bad. They'd actually already worked things out. But it didn’t matter. Their arguments always left Fred feeling a little out of sorts and sad. It wasn't something he'd ever admitted to anyone, least of all himself.

Usually, to clear his head, he'd go for a walk. But now, with Y/N in his life, he sought her out instead, craving her gentle, calming presence. The world never felt more right than when she was by his side.

Except he'd fucked up. He'd forgotten she had her monthly meeting with Snape today, and it was the final blow. So, of course, he had to act like a selfish prick.

Godric, I'm such an fucking idiot.

Fred kicked at a loose stone on the floor, debating what to do next. His gut told him not to run after her, that'd only make things worse. She needed to cool down first. But afterward, that should be better. Shouldn't it? Of course, it would be better, he reasoned. Following the path Y/N had just taken, Fred decided he'd wait for her at the top of the stairs leading down to the dungeon, and when she got out, he'd apologize and make things right again.

~•~

Snape's POV

Snape raised an eyebrow as he watched Y/N stomp into his office, slamming the door shut behind her and dropping her backpack on the floor with a loud thud.

"Something troubling you?" He asked with a bemused air.

"What?" Y/N looked surprised, as if she'd just realized he was sitting there. "No, no - I'm fine."

Snape eyed her a few seconds before speaking again. "Very well," he said and leaned forward to replace the book she'd borrowed with a new one. He was pretty certain she wasn't, as she put it, fine, and wondered if her foul mood had something to do with the Weasley boy. He decided to broach that very subject after their book discussion.

"Shall we begin?" He asked.

Y/N nodded and pulled out her list of questions.

Throughout their conversation, he watched Y/N carefully. Assessing her behavior. He noted that she'd kept her mind on track despite being obviously upset.

Excellent discipline, Snape thought. That should make the next discussion more productive.

"Before you go, Miss Y/L N, I would like to speak to you about your future as it pertains to your career path," he began.

Y/N stopped packing up her backpack and looked up at him. "Of course, professor." She sat back down, folding her hands neatly in her lap.

"You still wish to become a Potions Master, yes?" He asked.

"Yes, of course."

"Good," he stood and paced the room. "As you are well aware, Potions requires steadfast study and a disciplined mind. It is important to stay focused. Trivial social distractions can lower the quality of your work."

Y/N gave him a puzzled look. "Trivial social distractions? Forgive me, sir, if I've misunderstood. But it sounds like you're saying I should have no life outside of my potion studies."

"Far from it, Miss Y/L/N," Snape returned to his seat. "But you should be select with who you devote your free time to. Surround yourself with people of like mind who understand and support your endeavors rather than those who seek to pull you away from your objective."

Y/N remained silent for a few long moments. Snape could almost hear the gears turning in her head. "I - I understand, professor," she said finally.

"Very good," Snape replied. "Now, go and enjoy the rest of your day."

Y/N simply nodded and hurried out of his office.

Snape leaned back with a self-satisfied grin, convinced that his message had hit home.

~•~

Y/N's POV

Y/N hurried out of Snape's office, holding back the tears that threatened to spill over. How could she have been so stupid? Letting herself get pulled in by a pretty face. The professor was right. She needed to surround herself with people who supported her. She thought Fred did, but she was wrong. He'd shown his true colors today.

Confused and still angry, Y/N failed to notice the figure leaning against the wall at the top of the stairs.

"Y/N!" A voice called after her.

"Fred?" She turned around, surprised. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to apologize," he began, but then saw her wet, red-rimmed eyes. "You're crying, love. What happened? Did Snape say something to upset you?"

Y/N rolled her eyes. Was Fred really that dense? Or was he too junvenile to take responsibility for his own behavior?

"No, Fred. It wasn't Snape that upset me," she sneered. "But he did open my eyes."

"Opened your eyes," Fred's eyebrows scrunched together. "What the hell does that mean?"

"It means I've been a fool, thinking you actually cared about me or anything that's important to me."

"What? How could you think that? I do care," Fred entreated. "That's why I'm here. Because I care so much."

"For now," Y/N scoffed. "But what happens the next time you want me to take a walk and I need to focus on my studies?"

She started to walk away, but he stepped in front of her. "Y/N, baby, please. Just listen," he begged. "I was upset and stupid, and it won't happen again."

"I know it won't." Y/N's gaze went as cold as ice. "Because we're done, Fred Weasley. This relationship is over."

If your url is crossed out, I'm unable to tag you.

~•~

@milivanili99 @fancy-pantaloons @turvi @zvummyummy @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @georgie-weasley @nighttimemoonlover @jsjcue @wzrd-wheezes @fredweasleyyyyy @hufflepuffie @alexistonks @princess-paramour @anvaaryn @lastwandastan @samshifts @asuperconfusedgirl @superduckmilkshake @mysticsheepsoul @gemofthenight @1lellykins @junerprsh @sierraluvz @wolfkill16 @smallsweetvanillabean @costheticbabe @gobringmemyfood @kiwi5335

#fred weasley #fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley x you #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley angst #severus snape x platonic #snape #severus snape

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jamminvroomvroom · 2 years

Text

a fruit basket and a ferrari

CL x fem!reader

read part 1: these quiet moments ✨here✨

hellooooooo. part 2 is here. kinda despise it but we move bc i am in love with my sweet angel sharl. i really need to stop hurting pedro gaseoso’s feelings. anyways, i hope you enjoy it!! feedback is not just a want but a need lmao 🫶🫶 also the formatting is definitely fucked up bc i had to upload from my phone and we all know tumblr is broken.

in which you and charles find yourselves with a problem on your hands.

warnings: 18+!! smut, fluff, angst, pierre, pierre, pierre, language, it gets a tiny bit sad there for a sec yk

5.1k words

two weeks with you. two blissful weeks.

charles had convinced you to stay in monaco with him until he had to be in azerbaijan. he promised you that you wouldn’t be seen together, which wasn’t exactly a difficult promise to keep considering you hardly left his bed. as much as it stung that you were so scared of being caught with him, it did mean that he had you all to himself. finally.

he was the most relaxed he’d been in a long time. after the disasters of the last few races, he needed the time off and what better way to spend that time than with you. charles was confident that whatever was happening between you had gone past the point of just sex. he noticed how easily you’d settled into a routine with him, how neatly you’d slotted into his life, as if that’s where you were always supposed to be. he’d wake up to you beside him, stretching out on the mattress, a hand already threaded through his hair to bring him closer to you. he’d be stood in the kitchen, trying to impress you with some dish that his mother had told him about and he’d feel your arms snake around his waist, face buried in his back. he was itching to make things official, desperate to finally make you his, but there was one rather large problem.

pierre.

charles’ eyes rolled of their own accord anytime he thought of his french friend, every time his name flashed up on his or, even worse, your phone. pierre had spent most of his time off in milan, where charles was hoping he’d stay, but of course, charles was never quite so lucky. pierre had just finished informing charles that he would be back in monaco for a few days for a meeting… or something. charles had stopped listening by that point, body filled with dread at the thought of a reunion between you and pierre.

as much as he wanted pierre to know, and back off once and for all, charles wasn’t quite sure how pierre would react. pierre had his suspicions that you were seeing someone else, that much was true, but charles wasn’t sure how he would react to his two best friends sneaking around behind his back. charles hadn’t exactly vocalised his feelings for you before, so it would certainly be a shock, and charles couldn’t afford to lose any more friends.

charles was broken out of his spiralling thoughts and his aimless gaze out the window by a delicate touch on his arm, fingers brushing against his skin that made his hair stand on end. he turned around, instantly entranced by your soft smile. his phone slid out of his hand and onto the sofa, pierre long forgotten as he discarded the device, and he reached out for you, hands on your cheeks. he looked at you, just for a second, eager to take you in with a twinkle in his eye. you’d grown impatient apparently, kissing him gently. his brain short-circuited when he felt you smirk deviously into the kiss, your response to the soft groan he’d let out. he was in far, far too deep.

once you’d pulled away, you sat on the sofa, pulling him down along with you. instantly, he opened his arms letting you settle into his side, fingers laced with yours. charles despised the flash of weariness he felt; this was so easy. too easy.

“who was that on the phone? you seem… spaced out.” you asked quietly, turning further into him so that you were facing him.

“we’ve been invited to dinner.” he sighed. there was no point in dodging the question, pierre would be harassing you next with an invitation.

“we?” you furrowed you eyes in confusion, obviously wondering who would possibly invite the pair of you somewhere, until it dawned on you. “oh.” you muttered.

“yeah.”

you sat in a mildly uncomfortable silence, both frustrated by the state you found yourself in.

“do we really need to tell him? can we not just wait a bit longer?” you sounded stressed, something that made charles’ skin crawl. the last thing he wanted was to make this any harder for you than it already was. but at the same time, pierre needed to know. as far as the frenchman was aware, your arrangement with him had not changed. maybe it was selfish, but charles needed the confirmation that it definitely had.

“chérie…” he trailed off, taking a deep breath. he needed to ask you to be his, needed to take the plunge and just do it, before it was too late. maybe if you knew just how much you meant to him, this headache would come to an end.

“charles, i know. i know. but i don’t know how to do this to him. he’s my best friend.” you argued, before he got the chance to ask.

“are you done with him, like… that?” charles asked you, very carefully, very quietly. he wasn’t breathing as he awaited an answer. you whipped your head around to look up at him.

“do you even need to ask me that?” his heart was hammering in his chest, terrified that he’d upset you. he quickly realised he’d made the wrong assumption when you crawled onto his lap, straddling him. your lips worked across his shoulder and up his neck until he could feel your breath fanning his ear. “you, charles. only you. just want you, baby.” you whispered, sealing the words with an open mouthed kiss, just below his ear. he wondered if you could feel how fast his heart was beating.

he couldn’t ever recall a time he’d moved quite so fast, your back against his mattress in record time.

there was a level of tension in the restaurant that had charles on the edge of his seat. it had started when you’d walked in, a couple of steps ahead of him. pierre had been beaming at the sight of you, just about to pull you into a hug when he’d caught sight of charles just behind you. his eyebrows had furrowed, eyes narrowing in confusion so briefly that it was a miracle that charles had even noticed. of course he had, though, studying the other driver’s face intently for any sign that he knew. maybe you were both asking for trouble, arriving together, but it wasn’t a crime to give a friend a lift to meet all of your other friends.

the tension had built slightly when you’d taken a seat at the table next to charles, pierre instantly sitting down next to you on your other side, despite that not being his original seat. now it was charles’ turn to narrow his eyes. he relaxed slightly when you nudged your knee against his, letting him know that it was fine, everything was absolutely fine. it wasn’t, though.

pierre spent the entirety of the meal being a bit too friendly. there was no reason for him not to, he was still convinced that he’d be the one taking you home. he was sorely mistaken, charles would make sure of that. pierre’s arm has been draped around the back of your chair for the duration of the evening, leaning towards you anytime he laughed at one of your jokes. so, when pierre had called the waiter to ask for the bill, signalling that this painful evening was almost over, taking his arm away from you finally, charles saw his chance. he snaked his hand under the table, watching you jolt as his hand landed on your bare thigh.

he was prepared to make you cum while pierre was swiping his credit card right next to you, if that’s what it took to get pierre to come to his senses. he no longer cared about the frenchman’s feelings, so sick of having to play second fiddle to pierre where you were concerned. he’d waited years to be this close, he would not let pierre get back in his way. his hand travelled further between your thighs, caressing the innermost part of your leg that he could get to. you squirmed in your seat, gripping hard on the napkin in front of you, eyes glazing over.

there was some kind of mishap with the cheque, pierre turning his attention back to the table. charles couldn’t have cared less, he wanted pierre’s full attention, wanted him to know exactly what was going on. just as his fingers skimmed the wet lace of your panties, you turned to him with wide eyes, a look of fear flashing across your face. he pulled his hand away quickly, squeezing your thigh comfortingly, unsure of what was wrong.

that’s when he felt what you felt.

the alarm on your face mirrored his, but the most horrified person at the table was pierre. charles felt pierre’s hand leave your other thigh, watching him jump out of his seat, blue eyes wide as he frantically left the table, bursting out of the door. charles was frozen in his place, hand still fixed onto your thigh. you were so incredibly tense, staring blankly at the table. charles opened his mouth to speak, no idea whatsoever to say to you, not that it mattered. you pushed his hand off of you, following after pierre. he felt his hand thud against the chair, watching miserably as the door closed slowly behind you.

he thought his days of watching you walk away from him were behind him. he felt like someone had thrown a bucket of ice cold water over him, the dread from before washing over him.

pierre always came first.

he stood from the table, ignoring the bewildered faces of the rest of the dinner party, retracing your steps until he was outside. he was met with quite the sight, with you sat on one of the outdoor chairs, watching pierre pace backwards and forwards restlessly, the frenchman getting beeped at by a frustrated driver when he wandered into the road. as soon as he caught sight of charles standing there, he stopped, staring blankly at the monegasque driver.

“so, let me get this straight. you… and you?” pierre exclaimed, pointing between the pair of you frantically.

“pierre, listen-“ you started.

“no, you listen,” he raised his voice, making you sit back down on the chair.

“don’t speak to her like that.” charles couldn’t help himself. he knew that pierre was upset and he knew that you could speak for yourself, but he also wouldn’t stand back and let pierre take this out on you.

“you can be fucking quiet and listen, too. i want answers.” he glared at charles.

“what do you want to know?” you asked softly, your words not doing anything to ease the fierce staring contest happening between the two drivers.

“how long has this been going on?”

“a few weeks.” you confirmed. pierre raised an eyebrow in acknowledgment, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

“and is it serious?” his jaw ticked, eyes now back on charles. he seemed to be piecing it all together in his head, thinking back to monaco and how strange you’d both acted.

charles looked down. he didn’t know how to answer. as far as he was concerned, this was as serious as it got. he’d been desperately, shamefully in love with you for years and he didn’t want to feel ashamed anymore. but after watching you run after pierre the way that you did, he wasn’t sure where you stood.

“yes.” you whispered. charles could have sprained his neck with how fast it snapped up upon hearing your voice. “yes, it is.” you repeated, louder this time, confident in your answer. charles was itching to go to you, resisting the urge to pull you into his arms. pierre was a loose cannon. charles just smiled bashfully, not quite sure where to look.

“and you? you tried to tell me in monaco?” pierre demanded suddenly turning his attention to charles, who scratched his head awkwardly.

“yeah, tried.” charles shrugged.

“and he’s the guy? the one you’ve been keeping a secret for me for months now?” pierre was pacing again, mind working a million miles an hour.

months? what?

you went pale, wide eyes snapping to charles. just how long had you felt the way that he did? you sighed.

“yes, pierre.” you confirmed.

“i just- why didn’t you tell me? both of you?” suddenly, pierre wasn’t mad. no, now he was upset. charles wanted to scream.

“i didn’t know how.” you spoke, voice wavering.

“i need to go, i need to think.”

“pierre, please, just listen to me,” you pleaded, standing up once again, but this time you weren’t backing down. “i didn’t know that any of this would happen, i didn’t expect that he’d feel the same. i never wanted to hurt you, i swear, but after barcelona-“

“barcelona?” pierre threw his hands up. “since barcelona?”

“listen to me! i love you, and i know you love me, but it’s not like that. it’s never been like that with us.” something flashed across pierre’s face, something that looked a lot like heartbreak. charles was familiar with the concept. “with him,” you looked at charles, “it’s different, he makes me feel…” you trailed off, not able to find the right words, until you suddenly did. “pierre, i’m in love with him.” you murmured.

charles was captivated by you, knees weak. he’d stood by, for the most part, watching this conversation unfold in front of his eyes, unsure of how he could involve himself without making things even worse. and now, he had no idea what to do. he wanted to say it back, he wanted to kiss you, but he felt slightly bad for his friend, watching as his face crumbled at your words. pierre’s entire demeanour changed all of the sudden, tension melting away. he no longer looked angry, or even sad. just defeated.

“i hope that you’ll be happy together.” and with that, he was gone, disappearing down the street.

after settling the bill and explaining to the rest of your very confused friends that pierre had to “handle something”, charles had driven you back to his apartment. in complete silence. you barely looked at him and he was about ninety percent sure that he could have started crying. he felt horrible. after the dust had settled as you watched pierre leave, you’d looked at him, as if you were waiting to see how he would react to what you’d said. when he’d been unable to say anything, you’d shut down on him, and he understood why.

hearing you say that you loved him had practically stunned him into silence. finding out how long you’d felt the same way he did had sent his mind into a frenzy, kicking himself for not realising, for trying so hard to hide his feelings that he was completely oblivious to yours.

you made it into his apartment, completely still in the elevator. there was no kiss, no sweet confessions, or glances, or lingering touches. you looked so heavily deep in thought that it scared charles. the door shut behind him and when he looked up, you were stopped in your tracks, facing him. you looked nervous.

“i think i should go.” you said quietly.

“why?” why? because you’re fucking stupid, that’s why!

“charles, this is a mess, and if this isn’t as important to you as it is to me, there are too many people that will get hurt.”

“no, no, no, chérie, please.” he closed the gap between you, practically gasping for air. you were right, this was a mess, one of his own design. “listen to me,” he took your hands in his. “i didn’t say anything back there and i should have. you took my by surprise.”

“a lot of things have taken me by surprise today, believe me, but i fought our corner.” our corner. he could have melted into a pathetic puddle on the floor. once again, now was not the time to be rendered speechless.

“mon amour, look at me-“

“charles-”

“i’ve loved you for a long time.” he interrupted you. he needed to get the words out while he still could.

“i loved you at all of those stupid breakfasts in all of those hotels and i’ve loved you in every fucking club and in every quiet moment.”

“i’ve been in love with you for years. hearing that you felt the same, i just, you make me so happy.”

he watched you soften right before his eyes, feeling you begin to relax into him, ever so slowly. your hands dropped his, sliding up his arms until they were in his hair, tugging gently at the short brown strands at the nape of my neck.

“you have absolutely no idea how happy i am to hear you say that.” you murmured, teasing smile small on your lips as your eyes fluttered shut. his eyes fell closed, too, the both of you taking your time. you could finally take your time. your time.

your breath mixed with his, silence filling his apartment aside from the sounds of your slow breathing and the light traffic from the monegasque streets below. he felt your hands flatten against the back of his neck, your hands guiding his face even closer to yours, mere centimetres keeping you apart by now.

“baby,” you whispered, barely even audible. “kiss me.”

he kissed you. he kissed you with four years worth of feelings, four years worth of desperation, of longing, of love. he thought back to the first time he saw you at some random end of season gala, that neither of you had wanted to attend. it had been the first time a woman had left him truly and utterly speechless, and he couldn’t take his eyes off of you for even a second, even when arthur kicked him a bit too hard under the table, even if you were there with his best friend. he’d known it then and he knew it now, you were something extraordinary and he didn’t want to look away, ever.

you stood there for god knows how long in his hallway, just enjoying the way your lips pressed together. even after two weeks of this, of constant intimacy, he still hadn’t gotten used to the way you felt against him, in his hands. he honestly didn’t think he ever would. charles knew he was done for when he felt the drag of your tongue across his bottom lip, your teeth biting at it softly. he groaned, trying to kiss you even harder, as if that was possible. he felt your smile against his own and that was it.

he began to walk you backwards down the corridor, getting closer and closer to his bedroom. you were so wrapped up in him that you kept stopping, stumbling along with him until he’d had enough, growing impatient. he picked you up swiftly, hitting you with a sense of deja vu, the last two weeks suddenly flashing before your eyes. soon enough you’d made it to the bedroom.

charles placed you down at the foot of his bed, admiring you sat there, ready and waiting for him. he peeled off his shirt, throwing it somewhere completely unimportant, aching to get on top of you. he was untameable, moving towards you urgently. he climbed on top of you, pushing you back up the bed until you were flat on your back, his arms caging you in, body weight resting against you deliciously. you ran your hands over his sides, caressing the taut skin of his stomach, admiring the way he tensed underneath your touch. how could you blame him? you were quite simply everything, a goddess beneath him.

one of your hands travelled up his body until it rested on his cheek, guiding his lips back to yours. you were hungry for him, writhing beneath him, unable to wait any longer. you were his and he was yours and there was not a second to waste. he had other ideas.

“patience, chérie. we have all the time in the world.” he mumbled against your lips, pressing your hips back down into the mattress using his own.

his answer didn’t satisfy you. you wanted him, something, anything, and you wanted it now. you started to try and roll your hips, bucking up into him in search of friction, and still, he held you down.

“mon amour, let me take my time with you.” he said into the crook of your neck, peppering the skin with kisses. you shivered, nodding your head.

charles could have lost it, could have happily fucked you into the mattress without a second thought, but this meant more than that. he needed you to know just how much you meant, just how much he truly loved you, after all of the things that had gotten in your way.

he began to methodically make his way down your body, nipping at your collarbone. he tried to keep his eyes on you as much as he could, obsessed with the way you already looked so fucked out, eyes shut tightly. his lips found the thin strap of your top, teeth tugging at the material teasingly before he pulled the fabric down your arm before moving to the other side. once he’d cleared the flimsy straps, he kissed all the way across the expanse of your chest, dipping his tongue into the valley of your breasts. you let out a low moan at the feeling of him licking at your flushed chest, whimpering when he finally took a nipple into his mouth, swirling the bud leisurely, without a care in the world.

one of his knees slotted in-between your spread legs, finally rewarding you with the friction that you craved. you squirmed at the feeling of him everywhere, working your body up skilfully already, and he’d barely done anything. he somehow discarded your shirt, chucking it carelessly onto the floor.

“are you gonna stay still for me, chérie?” he asked, pressing his lips against your ribcage, tongue soothing any gentle bites he left behind. “will you be good for me? let me show you how much i love you?” he watched you try and form words, trying to concoct a response but you were speechless, boneless, sprawled out at his mercy across his white bedsheets. he smiled deviously, continuing to slowly tease his way down your abdomen.

your skirt didn’t last much longer, pulled down your quivering legs and tossed to join the rest of your pointless clothes. he huffed out a laugh, shaking his head at the ferrari red lace of your underwear. how very on theme, to see you like this, adorning the colour that would be his forever.

he kissed the soft skin of your stomach, all the way down the band of your panties and further still, until his tongue was running across the damp lace, sucking softly over your clit. your hips bucked up again, trying your hardest to keep still, to behave for him, but it was too late. charles pulled his mouth away, looking you in the eyes as he tutted at you.

“come on amour, i asked you to stay still for me. i need you to listen to me, hmm? will you be a good girl?” he lazily rubbed your thighs as he spoke, tracing circles into your skin with his thumbs.

“‘m sorry baby, please, i’ll be so good.” you breathed, trying not to wriggle around in his grip.

“thank you, my love. last chance.” he winked at you, getting back to work. tantalisingly slowly, he peeled the lace down your legs, sucking a mark onto the innermost part of your thigh, right where pierre had put his hand.

you laid there completely bare for him, watching him gaze at your exposed body, nothing but adoration in his eyes. your breathing was heavy, breasts rising and falling rapidly, a thin sheen of sweat building across your flushed frame but he’d never seen a more beautiful sight. with his large hands splayed out across your spread thighs, he licked a stripe through your folds, humming to himself at how wet he’d gotten you. he struggled to hold himself back any longer, wanting nothing more than to please you, and so that’s what he did.

he gave in to himself, lapping at your pussy like a man starved. he made sure to swirl his tongue up the seam of your cunt, enjoying the moan you let out when he did that thing you liked. his lips wrapped around your clit, sucking it into his mouth, gently at first until you were shaking, at which point he decided that he needed to see you cum. partly because he was selfish and partly because he wanted you to feel good. it was a fine balance.

he doubled his efforts with his tongue on your clit, sliding a finger through your folds until it was coated in your wetness. he slid the digit inside you, slowly curling it up until he was applying the perfect pressure, pussy clenching around him. you couldn’t hold it back anymore and he knew it, mumbling against your cunt.

“are you there, baby? hmm? give it to me chérie, let yourself go.” and you did, a guttural moan tearing from the back of your throat. even under his powerful grip, he couldn’t keep you still, watching your entire body spasm from between your thighs. your eyes met his, making you whimper as he kept his tongue on you, despite slowing down his ministrations. when he pulled away, lower half of his face dripping in you, you dropped your head back into the pillows, groaning at the sight of him. he smirked up at you, working his way back up your body.

“good?” he asked when he was hovering over you, kissing your cheek. he was still smirking down at you, perhaps a bit too smugly, but he didn’t care. this was exactly how it was supposed to be.

“you know it was good.” you deadpanned, rolling your eyes. your voice was hoarse from the noises you’d let out, and it went straight to his cock. “so good to me, baby.”

charles needed some kind of relief, aching to be inside of you. to make love to you, exactly how you deserved. he fiddled with the button of his jeans, kicking them off and quickly turning his attention back to you. you gripped the band of his boxers, pushing them down his thighs, until your hands were free to roam his bare skin. he let out a shaky breath as you lightly traced your nails up over his hips, over his back, his shoulder blades, until you reached his neck. he was shivering, goosebumps littering his skin from the contact. you caressed his neck, pulling him down until his forehead was pressed against yours.

“i love you, charles.” you whispered. he felt warm, whole. it was a welcome feeling, to be drenched in your sunlight.

he readjusted himself between your spread legs, running himself through your folds, hissing at the contact. you ground your hips up, feeling him nudge the head of his cock against your entrance. he applied more pressure, pressing himself into you until you were joined together. you moaned in unison, hand on his neck finding it’s way into his hair.

“i love you, too. fuck, i love you.” charles gasped, kissing you once more. he started to move his hips, keeping his thrusts slow, hard, as deep as he could go. your mouth fell open at the drag, the sensation of the push and pull of your bodies moving together. he took this opportunity to lick into your mouth, tongues running together frantically.

charles was doing everything he could to get you there, knowing that this wouldn’t last much longer. you were too good, shockwaves running through his body at your every single touch. charles wasn’t a lucky person, didn’t really believe in the concept any more, but the stars must have aligned when you came into his life. he didn’t understand how this could have possibly happened, how he could have possibly found you, but in this moment, he was convinced that he was created for you. although pierre was unfortunate collateral damage, charles wanted to shake his hand for bringing you into his life. maybe he’d send him a fruit basket, or a ferrari, something to say thank you.

and sorry.

charles moved his hand down your body, pinching your nipple on the way. his hand found it’s way between your slick bodies, rubbing at your clit. he felt you tighten around him, sending his head flying back. as soon as his thick neck was exposed to you, you latched yourself onto him, sucking a mark that would match the many he’d left all over you since that very first night in his apartment. he thrusts were getting sloppy, rhythm faltering, but he was determined to get you there first.

a few more circles on your clit, and you were spiralling. your sounds bounced off of the walls, making his stomach tighten, and he quickly followed suit, letting himself go. as you both gradually calmed down, he relaxed on top of you again, pressing kisses anywhere he could between his panting. your eyes fluttered shut and he watched in awe, how you glowed beneath him.

as your breathing evened out, he rolled off of you, standing from the bed to find something to clean you up. he glanced at you one last time, a soft smile on his face that you lazily returned, eyes beginning to droop in exhaustion. once he’d cleaned you up, you quickly fell asleep, a kiss pressed to his chest as you dozed off. he gazed at you for a while, watching the rise and fall of your chest, smoothing away any hair that fell in your eyes. he was pulled out of his trance by the buzz of his phone on the bedside table. he reached for it blindly, realising that he probably needed to check back in and see if he’d missed anything important, not that anything would be more important than you.

the text message on his screen sent him on an emotional rollercoaster. it was a slap in the face, a green light, a painful reminder, a sign of success. pierre always had a way of surprising people.

“if you are the one she’d rather be with, you better look after her, or so help me god.”

taglist

@boysthatgovroomvroom @thegirlinthefandoms @welld0nebaku @mcmuppetangelika @wmaximoffz @starlightoctavia @japanesekel @stardustinggold @vinvantae@chaoticallypan @ashleyo1611 @ggaslyp1 @poofy-baby-unicorns @dr3lover @smiithys @turningxstrange @lees0015 @rachstash @infinitebells @multilovebot @1missglum1 @fizzpopsnap101 @gaily19 @shinydragondelusion @alexk2002 @icecoldtires @mysticalnightenthusiast @thatchickwiththecamera @oyesmendes @f-1-fan @disneydaydreameralways @yeolsbubbles

taglist is very bwoken so if you wanna be added or removed, lemme know xo

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc angst #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc x you #f1 fic #f1 smut #f1 angst #f1 fluff

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siriannatan · 1 year

Text

Family Pressure - scfwhimmy

I think I might have found my comfort ship...

AO3

Jimmy could not for the life of him focus on the movie he Scott and fWhip were watching, huddled together on a couch with a big bag of popcorn and three cups of hot chocolate on their coffee table. All three of them were in their pyjamas and rain intensely pattering on the windows. He tried, he really did but everything that was happening on the screen just wasn't reaching his brain. And not for the usual 'scary movie Friday' reasons. As much as scary movies usually freaked him out today he was just too distracted to register anything. And of course his lovely, handsome, cute, the best in the world boyfriends noticed it.

"You okay Jim?" Scott asked as fWhip paused the movie. "You'd be usually asking how much of the movie is left by now," fWhip added as Scott pushed Jimmy's hair back. He needed to get his fringe in order soon.

"I suppose I'm a bit tired but don't..." Jimmy tried pushing the topic away. He could deal with his own worries without worrying them too for nothing.

"Is it anything to do with that lunch you had with your siblings today?" unfortunately there was no hiding anything from Scott.

Jimmy sighed. No use trying to hide it from them anymore. They both knew how Grin and Pearl felt about Jimmy's boyfriend choices - they really didn't like Scott and had no idea about fWhip. Jimmy even delayed telling them he was back with Scott for nearly a year when they got back together after nearly a year since a rocky breakup. "They don't understand my bruising is just a condition and not anyone being mean to me so they're trying to set me up on dates with their friends," Jimmy admitted, staring at the sleeves of his oversized sweater hiding the bruises that just appeared out of nowhere.

"Oh petal," Scott sighed and pulled him into a gentle hug. "Who now? And when can we go looking for new sweaters? The last batch is obviously not good enough," he asked. Scott was always on a hunt for bedding, blankets and clothes soft enough not to irritate Jimmy's skin and often surprised him with bags of things to try out with a side of his favourite snacks.

"Tango..." Jimmy admitted. All three of them knew Tango. And how easily he'd say yes to a date with Jimmy. "They even brought him along today but I said I'm happy as I am... I don't think I convinced any of them..." Jimmy sighed, curling up more into Scott and pulling fWhip closer.

"So that's why he was bummed out when he came back from his lunch break," fWhip hummed. Secretly he shot Scott a worried look. Actually, no one, not even fWhip's siblings knew the three of them were dating and not just living together. Grian and Gem didn't even know that much. "You should tell us things like this. It's never a bother Jim," fWhip huffed, already he was wondering how passive-aggressive he could be to Tango without it being weird.

"It's not that bad... Just some meddling," Jimmy shrugged and yawned. "I'm kind of used to it..."

"You really shouldn't be, petal, you're happy and can make your own decisions G and Pearl need to understand that," Scott huffed and placed a soft kiss on the top of Jimmy's head. "What other than me they didn't like? Maybe we can fix some of it," he offered.

"Same old thing about you being cold and distant and us not really showing much affection in public. But we have good reasons for that," Jimmy shrugged, absent-mindedly playing with fWhip's hair. Their reason was Gem and Sausage likely having a conniption if they heard their brother has a boyfriend or even worse - two of those.

"Gem and Sausage can go for a walk if they have any problems with my love life, I can deal with them," fWhip huffed. He was practically melting under Jimmy's hands. So much for a tough guy with a bike, piercings, tattoos and a leather jacket.

"Does that mean I can give you a ride to work if the rain keeps up?" Jimmy asked with a small smile. He hated that fWhip worked on Saturdays but for once it would probably be okay. Probably.

"You do know Tango has the same hours as I tomorrow?" fWhip chuckled but it quickly melted into a sigh as Jimmy's nails found a particularly nice spot. "Sure... hmmm. Ack... Scott... How are your hands always so cold?" he yelped as Scott sneakily tickled his neck.

"No idea but I know that I'm not lugging you all the way to the bed," Scott chuckled. "And I'm more than fine showering you in affection whenever and wherever. And I hope you are fine with me dragging you clothes shopping after we drop fWhip at work,"

"I'm more than fine showing off both my boyfriends," fWhip grinned with a wide yawn.

Jimmy didn't mind a mall date with Scott - only that fWhip could not join them - so they wrapped the movies for the night and went to bed. Apparently, the movie wasn't that good anyway. And it wasn't like fWhip liked shopping that much anyway.

#my stories #my stuff #fanfiction #empires smp #empiresshipping #traffic smp #scfwhimmy #scott smajor #fwhip #jimmy solidarity

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koorinokujira · 4 months

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Hey-ya! I saw that your requests are open. Can i perhaps request Date Masamune, Azai Nagamasa, and Fūma Kotarō with an s/o who got hurt while trying to protect them? Thank you!

Ah, my first request, how delightful! You asked and you shall receive, dear Anon! Now, despite being someone who writes so much, I have somewhat of a terrible reading comprehension, so I hope you meant it in the way that the s/o was the one doing the protecting (maybe it's unreasonable, but my brain also interpreted the other way and now I'm unsure, oof). That's the way I wrote it, but of course I'll gladly write it the other way around in the future, or even make a part 2 of this with other characters! More author's notes at the end. Happy reading!

⛊ His Shield - SB Imagines ⛊

(Masamune, Nagamasa, Kotarō)

You're no fighter, and yet you sneaked onto the battlefield nonetheless, wracked with worry for your beloved. You know you shouldn't be here, but how can you just sit around in safety while he risks your life for you and his clan? The idea that you'll just wait there anxiously and he may or may not come back alive... it's too much. You find a good spot where you can see most of the battlefield while still remaining hidden. Everything goes well for a while, until you see an enemy wielding a tanegashima aiming at the love of your life, without him noticing. Without thinking, you rush into the fray, and make it just in time to jump in front of the bullet...

⛊ Masamune ⛊

When Masamune hears the gunshot, his head instantly snaps back in that direction. He expects to see one of his men and is already ready to give new orders to make sure the party doesn't stop because of a single wounded. But instead, he sees you. He's stunned.

Your eyes are wide as you slowly fall on your knees, clutching the wound with your hand. You're bleeding, and badly. At least the pain is not such a problem, as you are in a state of shock, barely even comprehending what's happening. The One-Eyed Dragon lets out a low, frustrated grunt, struggling to believe what he's seeing. But he's a leader, and knows he can't just stand there. So he quickly starts barking out orders, making sure your position is well-defended. He also doesn't hesitate to order Kojūrō to quickly carry you to safety. His loyal eye is reluctant to leave his lord's side, but any potential protests are quickly shut down. Masamune is seeing red, and before anyone can say anything else, he's already tearing through the enemy with all of his six claws. You were supposed to stay home, sure. You shouldn't have come here, so getting hurt is technically your own fault in his eyes... but he quickly put two and two together and knows you most likely saved his life.

He cares about you too much to not be absolutely furious when someone hurts you. He already caused many a scene when someone even said something bad about you, so this is serious. His party mood is long gone, and the Dragon is ready to unleash worse death and destruction than Orochi himself. For you. He would do anything to take revenge on those who have wronged you. He doesn't forget so easily.

Kojūrō takes you back to safety and it's clear that even if he wishes to join his lord on the battlefield, he will gladly stay with you and protect you on his orders. You are his lord's greatest treasure, and so he will make sure you are safe. He even reassures you a few times when you panic in your somewhat-delirious state. You lost a lot of blood, but the medics you were brought to made sure the bleeding got stopped.

Eventually, the battle ends and the Dragon of Ōshū comes back. There's blood all over his armor, face and clothes. But judging by his calm, measured expression, it's clear none of it is his. Without a word, he kneels down beside you, and once he's sure it's fine, he gently pulls you into an embrace, careful not to cause you unnecessary pain. He runs his bloodied fingers through your hair, trying to soothe you, relieved that you're still alive. And you feel relieved too. You're both safe again, and most importantly, you're together. You've never been as happy to see that piercing eye of his as you are now.

"What you did was really stupid... but also cool."

The last word rolls off his tongue as he speaks that strange foreign language again and he rests his chin on the top of your head. His expression is a mix of frustration and that comforting, almost arrogant nonchalance you know him for.

"If you're so desperate to join the party, then at least learn how to fight and wear some armor. You know where I keep my spares," he then huffs, but it's clear he's not truly scolding you or playing down your bravery, it seems more like an invitation than anything. "Can't have you embarassing me like that again, you see?"

His expression turns into a somewhat playful grin when you smile and nod, before he plants a kiss on your forehead. He could never really be mad at you. But losing you... it terrifies him.

For what is a dragon without his star to guide him in the night sky?

⛊ Nagamasa ⛊

Nagamasa feels like his heart stopped working when he turns towards the sound of a gunshot and sees you fall to the ground like a sack of rice. Like always, he was just focused on fighting for justice and leading his men to victory, tunnel vision obscuring most of the things around him. But all it takes is one distraction, and everything crumbles before his eyes. And oh, is you getting wounded a distraction.

After a moment of shock, he finally rushes to your side, yelling for his men to protect you both and to not stop fighting. He sounds angry, though you are unable to tell if he's more mad at you or the attacker. Considering that he can be a rather volatile personality, your guess is good as anyone's. And in his head, he's absolutely furious. He really, really wants to yell at you- for not listening to him and not staying home. That slowly turns into anger at how you most likely thought your life was somehow worth less than his to even begin thinking about saving him. He knew what he was doing, he was ready for death in pursuit of justice! And yet, you, someone who doesn't even know how to wield a blade properly, just saved him so selflessly, and... no. The more he stares at your now tear-stained face, the more he realizes how much of that anger is fear in reality. Fear that you'll die and he will be powerless to stop it. Who else could he hold each night as he sleeps, who else could he love? Who would soothe his pains after he comes home, weary from battle? No one. There's no one else but you.

He takes you into his arms, his grip firm yet gentle as he runs with you to the sidelines. He feels like he's failing his men, but you are his priority right now. The world seems to fade around you both as time keeps ticking. But luckily, he gets you to safety and his men start taking care of your wounds. He's there the whole time, holding your hand as he anxiously watches the battle and barks out an order or two. But he knows you need him, and so he stays there the rest of the battle, which the Azai army luckily ends up winning. His anger slowly subsides, and the only part that remains is a desire to take revenge. That can wait, though.

For now, you need your gallant hero to take care of you.

⛊ Kotarō ⛊

Everything was going incredibly well for him. After all, why wouldn't it? Kotarō was the best of the best. Those who saw him didn't usually get to live for long, unless they hired him. The very definition of a shadow, just a thousand times more deadly. He had everything carefully planned out, and he knew that he could count on his insane reflex speed and well-trained senses to drag him out of trouble if something unexpected happened.

But there was one variable he never really counted on; you.

And it wasn't the first time. That's what drew him to you in the first place- you were one of the few who managed to surprise him. But those surprises were sweet in nature. Not... not this one. He knew about the attacker, of course, but he figured he'd take care of him right after he finishes gutting another enemy soldier like a fish. But you jumped in, thinking he could die.

You put your life on the line for him.

Everything around him seems to happen in slow-motion, even though he hesitates for barely even a second before taking you into his arms and disappearing with you to safety in a puff of smoke and feathers. He feels something... unfamiliar, long forgotten. Worry. And perhaps even a sliver of empathy. That honestly sends him into a spiral of doubt, even if he knows he can help you.

He's a ninja, after all. He forsook his humanity the moment he began training, if he even had any before. Emotions are but a distraction. He needs to be fully at peace through the bloodshed, no matter how many screams he hears or how much more his weapons get stained with crimson. An attached ninja is a bad ninja, everyone in his profession knows that. Despite you two being in a relationship, he considered it more of a courtesy and kept his distance, since you wouldn't be denied and kept finding him no matter how well he disguised himself.

But now, once you're further off, safe in the deepest part of the woods and he gently sets you down on the soft moss... it's like something is tugging at his heartstrings. You let out a sob, thinking you're going to die and reach out your bloodied hand towards him. You jumped in front of that bullet for him. A ninja who never even smiled at you, who never spoke a word to you and seemed to merely tolerate your presence. You cared. And by the kami, he wants more of that sudden warm feeling spreading all across his chest.

Kotarō gently takes your hand in his, and decides that it's now or never for him. His other hand carefully slides to the back of his mask...

...and he lets it fall down to the ground.

His face is quite beautiful, a bit older than you thought it would be. There's scars all around his eyes. And oh, those eyes. Dark scleras and white irises, as if someone flipped their color scheme on its head. They don't look human at all, and yet, there is a sadness in them that you can't help but get lost in. Your own eyes widen, and you completely forget about everything else, even your tears seem to dry in an instant. He showed you something almost no one else as seen... or maybe even no one. He sees your trust and wants to repay it in kind.

His face is as expressionless as ever, but you catch his lips move. Maybe it's just the wind, but you swear you can hear a quiet voice come out of his throat as he mouths those words.

"...forgive me. I'll do better. I am grateful."

And he will start by fixing you up and carrying you home.

---

Whew, it's finally here! I'm so, so sorry for the delay Anon, I promise I didn't forget about you! Before Christmas, I had to quickly write a fairly long story for my English class (which I also set in the Sengoku period, funnily enough). While it was my pride and joy, I was already on the verge of a burnout, so I had to recharge! Aaand after that it was a mix of writer's block and procrastion. I'm kind of sick again at the moment, so I decided to comfort myself with finally finishing this! (*_ _)人

I really enjoyed writing about all three (even though our dear Nagamasa-sama has a shorter entry)! And I'm also glad I got to use Kotarō's supposed legendary heritage. Some stories about him say he was partly oni and had inverted eyes, and considering his upper face is covered instead of the lower one, I saw an opportunity!

I hope you enjoyed reading, requests will remain open!

And as I always say...

Have an amazing day!

#sengoku basara #senbasa #senbasa fanfic #senbasa imagines #kotaro fuma #fuma kotaro #azai nagamasa #date masamune #masamune date #wish a strong daimyo held me in his arms rn #i am but a sick peasant but it would be great

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nevergonnabemuchmorethanweather · 1 year

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It's actually pretty funny (funny stupid, not funny ha-ha) Giles left Buffy in s6 because he felt she was too dependent on him. As Buffy has shown again and again she already knew how to be independent and self-reliant (Walsh even said it herself), she was just so destroyed emotionally at that point she didn't know who else to turn to.

Oh, it's so much worse than that.

At the beginning of season 4, Giles tells Buffy she's an adult now and needs to be more independent. At the end of that same season, he throws a drunken tantrum because Spike points out that he's not in charge, Buffy is-- particularly pathetic, considering Buffy was calling most of the shots from season 2 at the absolute latest, and Spike at least had to lie to get the two nineteen year olds to act as ridiculous and childish as he did.

In season 5, Giles is thinking about leaving because Buffy doesn't need him anymore, but stays because she asks him to help her train more and go deeper into what being The Slayer really means. Then he does leave when she dies, leaving the Hellmouth and a deeply traumatized fifteen year old girl-- who was also the person Buffy loved most in the world-- to the care of a floundering group of twenty year olds, a lovesick vampire and a robot. But, you know, they can call him if they need him or whatever, and Buffy didn't specifically tell him to be the adult in her absence, so totally not an insanely selfish and irresponsible thing to do!

Then he comes back in season 6 because obviously Buffy will need him after being brought back to life, right? But then apparently she was supposed to stop needing him within just a few months and be not only fully recovered from her own death, but ready to be a completely independent homeowner and single mother to a teenager at twenty years old-- while also slaying and saving the world and all that.

In season 7 he tells her she needs to take charge and be a General-- until he doesn't like her decisions and actively undermines her, then participates in throwing her out of her own house.

This is what I meant by emotional cowardice and immaturity. Rather than face his own mid-life crisis, regrets and feelings of inadequacy, he pushes it all off onto Buffy. He's not running from his problems! Chronically dodging real responsibility? Not wise old Giles! Being a petty little bitch rather than face his emotions? Never! No, no, Buffy is the problem. If she would just find a way to be completely independent but also defer to him at all times, he wouldn't need to do these things.

I don't think I'll ever have it in me to truly dislike Giles as a character, and all this is part of what makes him interesting. He's not inherently good, and also nowhere near as wise or put together as he likes to pretend he is. He's a mess of a man, but he usually comes through in the end anyway, and is ultimately a force for good in the world when he could have just as easily become another Ethan-- and probably a much more effective one.

I do, however, often want to reach through the screen and slap the stupid out of him.

Thanks for the ask!

#btvs #giles #buffy summers #I'm sorry giles I love you but my girl deserved so much better

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ina-nis · 7 months

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Things no one told me about building an actual self-esteem because they don't really believe you can truly grow a self-esteem from scratch (since you're supposed to "hate" yourself "forever")

It's a lot of work! We're talking years here

I had to go through a lot of treatments and do a lot of things to get even started on the journey to get me to like myself. In a way, maybe the fact that I've been always alone "helped" but I'm sure it can be a hindrance for others. It didn't happen overnight and it took me decades to actually be able to say that I have a good self-esteem and sense of self. It actually only started this year! So it's all pretty recent to me. I guess one of the most important things for me, was to look inside and ask myself: "what do you want?" and go from there. If I didn't know what I wanted, then I would try finding it. It was a hard blow to take when I realized just how much of my entire life revolved around people-pleasing and living for others, trying to meet others' expectations and doing what they wanted, how they wanted, because I thought I'd be met with acceptance and love. Of course that doesn't work. You have a lot to deconstruct, a lot to unlearn and a lot to work on. It's tough, really hard, but not impossible. It requires a lot of patience and time.

No, you're not going to hate yourself forever

No, you're not horrible, worthless or unlovable either: your brain is (conveniently) cherry-picking every single thing you do "wrong" or "bad" and making it 500x worse. That's not your fault! To me, a lot of the discomfort came from gender issues. Once you start sorting that out and taking steps to address them, it gets a lot better! It's different from each person but being immersed in different communities and being in contact with different people can help lots. The other piece was disentangling my self from others. I'm not sure how to word this but I'll try my best: basically, learning individuality. Aren't we often told, or maybe heard about how some people are so "selfish" and "self-centered" who "only think about themselves" because these people are not easily manipulated or swayed? Or how someone can be so "over-confident" and, in the eyes of other people, they're just flexing and bragging for attention? Or how you can have "high standards" for yourself but people will say you'll "die alone" because you're not making any effort to be easily digestible? Once you start living for yourself, for your own sake, that comes with isolation, too! But it's not your fault and doing that is not a bad thing at all, on the contrary: other people are not putting the effort, time and energy into changes too. Seeing someone like you might be a trigger because they're forced to face their own issues they're not addressing. You're just trying to exist. Existing as/for yourself and for your sake is the way to go, if others have an issue with that, it's their problem. If you don't know how to do that yet, a really good way to find out is your passions. They can tell you a lot about yourself. And if you don't have any, the process of looking for it can be really fun and rewarding on itself.

"Fake it until you make it" is, indeed, good advice but

There's much more to your life and issues than that: you need to go deep, you have to find the root causes, or get as close as possible, and you need to work on them. It's probably going to be really uncomfortable. I find the "fake it until you make it" approach really good for crisis, but it's different when you're dealing with something deep-rooted and old - low self-esteem always goes way back. At most, you'll keep on "smiling through the pain" and taking hits to your ego and self, and growing a "thicker skin" when what you actually need is softness. Also, invalidating the "bad" emotions will backfire eventually. Emotions are neutral and serve their own purpose, even if it's unpleasant and painful. For example: hating yourself, seeing yourself as inferior or inept, can have a lot to do with how you navigate the world around you. You see how people who are different are treated and you might retreat and want to change completely because you are one of them and you don't want to go through that or maybe you feel alienated because you are different than others even if no one treats you poorly. You can never really win at that game! Feel those emotions, cry, scream, get angry, you don't need to fake it, you just need to let yourself feel it. They will pass. They always do, because feelings are always changing. Besides if you keep on hiding behind a mask of "good vibes", "optimism" and "positive thinking", you might never be able to address your issues. If you can never see it, or feel these intense emotions, if you can never pinpoint where they come from or why, they will keep on happening forever.

Navigating relationships (of any kind) doesn't necessarily become easier as you become confident and secure

Actually, I don't feel like the painful feelings changed much in intensity, they just come from somewhere else now. Before, I suffered because I thought I was "not good enough" and had to make myself more friendly/palatable for other people's sake, to be accepted, to fit with them. Now that I know not only I don't have to do these things (I should not actually!), changing myself for the sake of others' acceptance means I lose very precious parts of myself. Yes, many will not like this "new" and confident you. Let them go. Don't hold onto people who will hold you back and hinder your progress. You don't need that, you don't need them. Yes, even if they're family; yes, even if you've been friends for years; yes, even your partner or your best friend. If people give you a hard time for finally having an self-esteem, let them go. You'll find new people who will love you as you are, who will grow with you, who will see you eye to eye and not as a threat to their own insecurities and lack of confidence. Of course, it's probably "easier" to me because I never really had safe attachments, so letting go or being left behind are very familiar concepts to me, and come naturally, too. Even if it's not ideal, that helped me with my self-esteem so it was not completely bad.

No, you're not too much, you're not asking too much, your standards are not too high and you're not being too strict

One of the most incredible things to experience when you have an actual self-esteem is realizing that a lot of the things you always thought were just "too much" become your bare minimum. Again, it just shows how much people do not work on themselves and how isolating this whole ordeal can be when you actually try to do something for your sake: people are stuck in absolutely horrifying circumstances all the time and many do feel powerless to change it. That's the system working as intended, as people who are desperate, who don't think deeply or don't question anything, will usually take a more "go with the flow" kind of approach and will not try to rock the boat. This is why people with good self-esteem can be seen as such egotistical jerks and worse! They are threatening by existing being confident in their selves and their beliefs. They will question things and they will not put up with bullshit. This is the next step for me. Having a self-esteem alienates me from others. Not more, not less, just alienates me in a different way than before. I think it's now a matter of finding like-minded people with who I can grow with and heal even more, and not settle for less than what I deserve. I've worked really hard to get here and to build this.

#resources #inanis post

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