#hangover mask

[hauntedbystorytelling]

The so-called Hangover Mask (1947) was invented by Max Factor.

Max Factor Ice Cube Beauty Mask, 1947.

"This experimental arrangement of ice cubes in a mask is being tried out in Hollywood by Max Factor Jr., movie make up man who think it helps actresses cool and refresh their faces between scenes on hot studio sets. [...]" Science Illustrated

#ice mask #ice cube mask #beauty mask #face mask #max factor #cool mask #useless inventions #vintage inventions #science illustrated #1940s #contraption #device #hangover mask

[miamordanipedrosa]

.

#I just want a hug and some love :(( is that too much to ask.... #I'm exhausted from lmaoing my way through life ugh #I get tired of masking it takes so much fucking energy #anyway ✌🏻✌🏻✌🏻 it's just hangover depression we mooove

[skyloftian-nutcase]

A Night to Forget (Hyrule Warriors Fic)

(@copper-dimes @ludoluck @artisticgamer @silvercaptain24)

ALL RIGHT so I was going to wait until my hiatus ended on Christmas but I’ve had so many people poking me about publishing this on AO3 and not here 😂😂😂 so here we go, have the drinking competition fic

Summary: When Captain Link challenges the Fierce Deity to a drinking game for completely innocent reasons, it goes about as well as you would expect.

(Click here to read on AO3)

A strong smell of iron permeated the air at the end of the fight. It had been an ambush targeted specifically at Link and his young companion, but despite being outnumbered their battle prowess served them well.

Not to mention help from a certain cursed mask.

Link hadn’t been sure when he would next see the Fierce Deity, but after having a few encounters with the strange being he had learned a few things about him. One, he was terrifyingly powerful. Two, he typically stuck to the battlefield, but when he didn’t…

He was a menace to Link’s productivity. And pride.

Still, Link could only be so angry at him considering how many times the strange entity had saved him and his men. Honestly, angry wasn’t even the right word. More like exasperated.

But Link was curious too. And he wanted to get the deity back for that time he hauled him into camp like a child. He had long since planned this encounter, hoping for an opportunity to meet the fierce being again and have the time to be able to do what he had conspired one night.

“Thank you for the help,” Link said as he approached the towering figure. He wanted to add we had it under control, but he bit it back. That wasn’t going to help him right now. He didn’t want to argue, he wanted to be diplomatic about this – it was still not a skill he would call a strength, but he was working on it.

He was sure he could pull it off, anyway.

Fierce watched him silently as he usually did when they first would interact. Then he nodded in acknowledgement. His hand started to reach towards his face when the captain held a hand out to stop him. “Wait! I was… we were heading into town. I was wondering if you wanted to accompany us.”

“I will be here if available,” the deity replied simply.

“No, no,” Link shook his head. “I mean like here here, you know, not just at the ready. We were going to hit the taverns.”

Fierce stared at him. Link watched him a moment, wondering if the being was even catching his meaning, so he decided to spell it out.

“We were going to go drinking.”

When the deity said nothing, Link felt a need to elaborate. “I’m inviting you to come too.”

The deity’s striking eyebrows crept closer together in seeming confusion. The sight of it made Link almost laugh. This was going to be even better than he’d suspected.

“What do you say to a drinking contest?” he challenged, throwing the gauntlet and awaiting an answer.

Fierce blinked. "A what?"

Link's smile grew. This revenge was long in the making, and he was going to enjoy it. "A drinking contest."

The cursed deity crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow. "I am here because of the attack. You expect me to stay after the fact?"

"Well I'm not drinking with the sprite," Link shrugged. Then he faltered a little, partly out of sincerity and partly in an attempt to persuade the deity. "I mean... unless you don't want to stay?"

Fierce's face softened, and he swallowed, seemingly caught off guard. "I'll stay, Captain."

Link felt a little sorry for the deity, who was so surprised at being included in anything aside from war, but he shook the feeling off temporarily in lieu of his master plan. "Great! Then I'll pour the wine."

Clapping his hand on Fierce’s armored back, Link led the way into town. They both cleaned their swords of the blood from battle as they walked in silence. The town was barely an excursion away at this point, which was partly why the ambush had been such a surprise – honestly, if the fools were going to jump them they should have done it somewhere more remote.

The tavern Link had in mind was close to the edge of town, and barely half an hour had passed by the time they walked through the door. The interior was homely, with wood flooring and walls and the occasional supporting beam. The bar hugged the right wall beside an enormous stone hearth where a fire roared and emitted enough heat to warm the soul. Tables were spread around with candlelight glowing all around them. The tavern was fairly full tonight, with about half the tables occupied.

Upon their entry, a few curious eyes landed on the pair. Seeing a soldier was not a new sight, but seeing the Fierce Deity was an entirely different matter. Link wasn’t sure how much news about the deity had spread, but he was at least well known in Link’s company of soldiers, and it was possible others might have heard of him. No one dared approach them, though. Fierce shifted his weight from foot to foot, looking around the room with tension in his massive body.

Link bumped his shoulder against the taller man’s arm. “Relax, we’re here to have fun! Pick a table, I’ll get the wine.”

Choosing a red from a vineyard that he’d actually heard of, Link merrily made his way to the table Fierce had chosen. It was in the corner of the tavern, allowing the cursed deity a clear view of the entire room. Link respected the tactical choice, but he waved his hand dismissively nonetheless upon plopping down across from Fierce. “No one should be attacking us here, and if they do they’ll certainly regret it. Now, let’s drink!”

Fierce watched Link pour liberally into his glass and shove it towards him. After Link had poured his own wine, he held his glass in the air and waited for Fierce to do so as well. The deity watched him almost curiously before mirroring Link’s gesture, and when Link clinked his glass against the deity’s, he took a healthy gulp of his drink and watched Fierce tentatively taste his own. The sight was nearly entertaining enough to send Link into giggles; it was apparent that Fierce was not used to alcohol.

Wine wasn’t usually the best drink to choose for a contest – shots were far faster at determining who could stomach the ordeal. Nonetheless, Link had planned his revenge carefully around a sincere curiosity as well. He’d start off gently to pry some information out of his mysterious companion before the fun really started.

Assuming the deity could handle that much. Link was half convinced the cursed being would be under the table before the wine bottle was empty, and oh wouldn’t that be a sight to see? Link smirked thinking about it.

Get what you deserve for carrying me into camp in your arms.

Although Link’s reputation had somehow survived that encounter (mainly because Fierce had been too intimidating for the soldiers to make any kind of fun of anything related to him, and because he’d spent the rest of the night drilling the army), his pride certainly had been wounded. He would make up for that.

The Fierce Deity’s nose scrunched after a sip of the wine, his lips twisting in obvious distaste. Link huffed. Well, then. He supposed they’d have to find something the cursed being would like.

Taking another generous sip from his glass (one did have to shake off the adrenaline rush of that ambush, after all), Link felt warmth spread from his stomach to his fingers and toes, and he sighed in relief. “Have you never had wine before?”

Although the Fierce Deity had no pupils or irises, it was apparent when his gaze was fixed on the captain. The alcohol in Link’s system lessened the affects of the stare’s intensity, but he still felt a little chill from the look. The deity said softly, “No.”

“You’re telling me you once ruled over a land ages ago and never once partook in a celebratory drink?” Link questioned, raising an eyebrow. He recalled distinctly when the mystical being had stated something similar while telling the captain off during their first encounter together. “Or is there another drink you prefer?”

The Fierce Deity swirled his wine in his glass, watching it discerningly. “Beverages do little for me, and I hardly partook in celebrations. My duties did not include frivolity.”

Link finished his glass with another gulp. “So what you’re saying is you never had fun.”

Fierce glanced at Link once more and then finished the entire glass of wine in one gigantic swig. He cleared his throat, his face contorting in disgust, and then he said, “Fun is a broad word with many possibilities behind it. But if you insist in this, refill the drink.”

Oh, if that wasn’t a challenge, Link didn’t know what was. He laughed heartily. “Well, I’ll find a better drink for us to compete, and then we’ll see what real fun looks like.”

The bottle he’d acquired probably had enough for a refill for each of them, but if the Fierce Deity was going to grimace his way through it, it would hardly be fun. Link wanted the mystical being to settle so he could get some more information out of him. In the back of his head, the comment beverages do little for me sounded alarm bells, but he ignored it. He could do this. He could outdrink this cursed deity; if he could outclass everyone in the knight academy and rise to the rank of captain, if he could be chosen by the goddesses to be the Hero who led his troops into battle, and if the Master Sword itself had chosen him and made him practically invincible in battle, then he could handle a simple drinking competition.

And it was fun. Link so rarely had fun. He was taking advantage of this.

The captain decided that perhaps something that better hid the taste of alcohol was in order. Selecting something a bit more fruity (and definitely much stronger), he took two smaller glasses filled to the brim back to his table. The world was already quite warm and strangely mobile, leading Link to stumble a hair as he got to his seat. He shook his head. That was weird.

Fierce took the glass without moving his focus from the captain. When Link held his glass up in an invitation once more, the deity slowly mimicked the gesture.

“We need a reason for a toast this time,” Link prompted. “What do you think?”

Fierce’s glass shifted away from Link’s a little. “What is a reason for a toast?”

Link paused, staring at the deity. He really hadn’t been exaggerating when he’d said he hadn’t been to celebrations. The captain suddenly felt his stomach churn a bit, but he shook his head. “Well, anything to celebrate over! Your good health, a victory in battle, something of that nature.”

“Something to celebrate,” Fierce muttered, and then tapped his glass against Link’s and drank.

Link raised an eyebrow. “You’re supposed to announce the toast first.”

Fierce stared at Link for a moment and then clinked his empty glass against the captain’s. “Toast.”

Link sighed and downed his drink, biting back a cough. Goddess, that drink was a bit stronger than he’d realized. “All right, okay, let’s try this again. I’ll demonstrate.”

Deciding that it was best to finish the wine before getting more drinks, Link poured the remainder of the bottle into their glasses. Fierce seemed to tolerate the other drink better, so maybe it would allow him to finish the wine quickly.

Raising his glass, Link said, “To your health.”

The Fierce Deity watched him curiously, his glass held a distance from Link’s as if he’d forgotten they were supposed to tap them together. Link moved to him first, and they both drank in silence for a moment. The captain watched the cursed deity with some confusion as Fierce refused to take his eyes off him.

“What?” Link finally asked.

Fierce paused a moment before commenting, “Of all the things you choose to make your toast for, you choose my health.”

“Yes…?”

Fierce finally looked at the table, lowering his glass. “It simply makes me recognize more the wisdom of the goddesses.”

Link blinked, even more bewildered. He wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol or the fact that this conversation actually didn’t make any sense. “What are you talking about?”

“I have seen many a hero in my days,” the deity continued, finishing the rest of his wine without a care. “Most were given the title by those they fought for. Most were undeserving of it. But you and Link are among the few who are not.”

Link watched Fierce a moment, and then asked, “Did they call you a hero?”

Fierce blinked and then he outright laughed.

“Oh, how young you are,” Fierce chuckled, clearly tickled. “No, little soldier. I am not a hero.”

Link opened his mouth to question further, but Fierce waved a dismissive hand and pointed to his wine glass. “You haven’t finished your drink, captain.”

Link stared at his wine, suddenly pensive. This vintage was particularly red, and the deity’s words echoed loudly in his foggy mind. The wine suddenly looked too thick, too viscous, too visceral. Link pushed it away.

“I don’t know if… I don’t know if I’m a hero,” he muttered.

He didn’t know where that came from. Link clearly knew he was the Hero of Hyrule, chosen by the goddesses. He’d been told as much, and he bore the Triforce. That was reason enough, wasn’t it? He’d been given the ceremonial clothing and everything. The Master Sword was his.

He knew he was the Hero. He just… didn’t know if he was a hero.

Heroes didn’t slaughter their own men at the slightest hint of treachery. Heroes didn’t lead their troops into massacres.

Heroes didn’t use children for soldiers.

A hand touched his chin, pushing it upwards, and Link realized that Fierce had reached across the table to get his attention. The deity watched him carefully, his features softer than the captain had ever seen them.

“You are a hero,” the deity said gently. “Now get something better than this vile drink you call wine. The other was far superior.”

Link had to laugh, leaning into the touch a little as the deity tapped his chin affectionately and retracted his hand. Then he almost wanted to smack himself as he realized he’d completely gotten off track of his objective.

“Fine,” he acquiesced. “But you have to tell me about these heroes of yore when I get back.”

It was a strangely long trip to the bar, as if the table had somehow gotten farther away. Link furrowed his brow in mild confusion, but beyond that the trip back with more shots was uneventful. Fierce had seemed to like these, so they’d stick with them from here on. He didn’t bother with a toast this time around because he didn’t want to get distracted again, so he prompted the deity to speak of the past heroes.

“Well, there was this one… named…” Fierce paused, squinting across the way at nothing in particular, his fingers tapping restlessly on the table. “Saria. She… was very well known…”

“You are absolutely pulling this out of your divine butt,” Link guffawed, nearly choking on his drink.

Fierce scrunched his nose a little in protest. “It has been several millennia, these things get mixed up.”

“You’re full of crap.”

“I am not a storyteller, captain. That was never my duty.”

The deity downed his drink with a scowl. Link followed suit with a laugh and then coughed as it burned a little harder than before. He waved off the curious glance from his companion. Why was it so warm here all of a sudden? Link slipped his cap off and fanned himself a bit with it.

“I do remember one instance,” Fierce finally admitted. “There were… many who sought me out. Many who asked for my aid, but also many who wished to challenge me. It was considered an honor to fight me. I found the practice… bizarre and tiresome. Most of the time I would ward them off, but there were a few who… drew my wrath. Fewer still who piqued my interest.

“There were twin warriors who came to me. A threat was looming over my territory, and these two were the least of my worries, but they persisted. The girl wished to prove her worth while the boy wished to help me. I found the matter almost laughable. Neither warrior could stand against me. But a challenge to prove worth was nothing new to me… a request to assist me was.

“The girl was filled with pride. The boy with humility. They couldn’t be more opposite, but they were both capable fighters. Both were hailed as heroes by their people, but only one truly fit the title. Still… I grew fond of them.”

Link plopped his chin into his hand, leaning on the table as the world spun around them. “Uhhhh… s-so what happened?”

The deity twirled his glass absentmindedly in his hands, staring at it. “They both died.”

“Oh,” Link said dully, trying with all his might to find the right words for this situation. He felt like this usually came easier to him. Slapping his hand on the table, he said, “Well, let’s drink to them!”

That… that was the appropriate response, right? Seemed it. Fierce’s bizarre glance didn’t quite sell the certainty in Link’s mind, but he couldn’t go back on it now.

Rising, the captain stumbled to the bar once more. When he got back with another couple shots, he spilled a little bit of the drinks as he nearly fell into his chair. Raising his glass and feeling some of it slosh all over his hand, he said loudly, “To the non-heroic—wai’, to the heroic—nah you said one of ‘em wasn’t—to the twins!”

The Fierce Deity’s eyebrow had been steadily climbing throughout Link’s toast (though he couldn’t imagine why, it was a reasonable toast, after all), and he barely clinked his glass against the captain’s. Link downed his so fast he almost choked on it and then he laughed, slamming the glass on the table. “Phew! Tha’ stuff iss great!”

He supposed the cursed deity might have had a reply for him, but he shot to his feet to get more. The Fierce Deity didn’t even seem bothered with all the drinks they’d had so far, and Link had a feeling he maybe was starting to get to a point where this was a problem. But not yet! He’d beat Fierce at this game. He would.

…Wait, when did he end up on the floor?

Link blinked, confused. He was sure he’d just been standing at the table, why was he lying on the ground? Whose boots were in front of him?

A strong pair of hands grabbed him under the arms and hauled him to his feet before arms wrapped around him and pulled him into the air. Link tried to yelp but it came out more like a bizarre mixture of a gasp and a hiccup. He looked around before his eyes settled on the glowing gaze of his strange companion.

“Fierce…?”

“You must be ill. I’ve seen it happen with celebrations like these. I’m taking you back to camp.”

Link snorted, swatting the deity’s chest. “I though’ you sssaid you never been t’ those parties.”

The Fierce Deity seemed to ignore him, much to his irritation as the world started moving rhythmically with the large being’s steps. Then Link reached up, trying to pull Fierce’s blue cap off but only succeeding in tangling his fingers in his silver hair. He frowned, confused at his lack of coordination as the deity paused and stared at him.

Well, he got his attention either way.

“I gotta pay,” he said.

Fierce blinked. “Pay?”

“Yeah. Pay. Fer the drinks.”

Fierce must have turned, because the world spun and Link felt suddenly too dizzy and warm. Then bounce bounce bounce and they stood in front of the bar.

The bartender watched the pair a little nervously.

“We need to pay,” Fierce explained.

Link trilled his lips. “I need ta pay, ssstupid. My offer, my drinks, my money.”

Fierce looked down at Link and shrugged, temporarily plopping the captain on the counter itself. He reached for Link’s wallet and tossed the entire pouch at the bartender, who caught it with a grunt as if the throw had more force to it than it probably should have. Link opened his mouth to protest—he didn’t need all his rupees—when Fierce picked him back up and carried him out of the tavern.

Link wiggled helplessly. “I can walk—”

“No.”

“Yes!”

“No.”

Link groaned.

For some reason the walk to camp took forever. And not at all? Had he slept? He didn’t know. What he did know was that his armor and chainmail were off and he was being settled on a cot. Movement caught his attention and he saw Fierce setting up some water beside him and grabbing an extra blanket, tucking it around him tightly.

“Sleepover…?” he asked confusedly.

Fierce’s face broke into a small, rare grin and his chest rumbled with what was probably a restrained chuckle. “No, little soldier. I’m not sleeping. Link will be, though. Now close your eyes.”

Link? He was Link. What? He was…

Ohh, that Link.

The captain hummed, squirming a bit into the pile of blankets to get more comfortable. A hand settled on his shoulder for a moment, heavy and reassuring, and then it disappeared.

Darkness was warm and welcoming, and Link let it take him.

Link would be lying if he said the hangover the next day was worth the night. The worst part of it was that he barely remembered anything.

And he’d planned it so perfectly too. How frustrating.

Well. He didn’t quite forget everything. He remembered seeing the Fierce Deity smile, and he remembered the gentle surprise at being included.

Honestly, that was enough. Maybe the hangover was worth it for that.

Just… he thought as he leaned over waste basket after throwing up for probably the third time. Maybe fewer drinks next time.

#writing #fierce dadity #meanwhile Mask is passed out with a double hangover of magic and alcohol #poor kiddo #Teenage Link thinking he can take on the world and beat a freaking demigod in a drinking contest #what a dope #hyrule warriors #hyrule warriors link #hw link #fierce deity #legend of zelda #Happy holidays!

[victoryrifle]

btw why does skin absorb latex smell so easily like my bf wore my Micheal Myers mask yesterday and we cuddled and we both still smell like walking condoms even after washing tf agsbfn

#whatever you're thinking we did in the mask we didn't. I mean we did but not with the mask #been getting railed for the past 4 days I am SORE #why am I oversharing on this fine morning. may be the hangover #ya girl is an alcoholic after all. can't belive I have to get out of the house today too. I need more coffee #anna talks #delete later

[bustedxblue]

2-D wears the Stylo mask as a means to literally mask - pass it on.

#hes autistic/neurodivergent and you will not dissuade me on this. #i know its cos of a hangover but he puts it on when he needs to hide away #im projecting most likely but damn thats how masking feels

[theres-whump-in-that-nebula]

save me local historical attraction

local historical attraction save me

#In the few days I’ve been gone I’ve applied for about twenty jobs and bookmarked a bunch of used cars and listed 7 items on eBay #Suddenly I’m productive again… #…disturbingly productive in fact #More productive than someone without executive dysfunction. I can clean and organize and read long paragraphs at will #alternating for an hour or two at a time all day long #On the downside I seem to have lost some of my musical ability. #I can’t play through songs I was capable of playing flawlessly just a week ago #I’m making weird unhinged mistakes on the recorder I’ve never made in my 11.5 years of playing #Like hitting the low C so it squeaks and reversing the order in which notes are played #or playing notes that are straight up wrong that I’d never mistake for the correct notes in a hundred years #Also I’ve noticed that when I go into a grocery store I tend to be way more spacey than usual #(staring without blinking at fluorescent lights #having a delayed comprehension of words spoken to me #feeling the need to lean heavily on the cart and walking around aimlessly in kind of a daze etc. etc.) #My speech has been getting progressively worse as well. I know what I mean to say but the words will not come to me #Hopefully I’m not headed towards a meltdown and its horrible week-long hangover lmfao #That would suck ass #Omg I just remembered I have that icepack mask thing #Yeah #gonna use that right now LOL

[bobbie-robron]

Going into town for a few drinks. Won’t be late.

16-Jul-2018

#robron #robert sugden #liv flaherty #Doug Potts #the infamous drinks out of the village #a hangover to mask the co2 effects #Liv and a job at the cafe? #Liv and the cv #robert looks fit #the single brow raise #Robert’s snarkiness regarding Doug 😂 #Liv’s reaction 😂 #the co2 mini plot setup #20180716 #robron episodes 2018

[tafadhali]

Me coming home from the con with a hangover, a black eye, and my second third cold this month: That was fun!

#lol #the hangover was at the con i'm over it #the black eye doesn’t hurt much and is fascinatingly colorful #but is mostly an absolute mystery as it happened in my sleep #the cold is nascent and i’m really really mad about it #this was a 100% masked event and i was so looking forward to NOT getting sick at a con for once #i only feel mildly under the weather so far but i had an awful cold over christmas and new year’s and i want a break #i also had/have my first real period in nearly a year and so this was also a weekend of copious bleeding and cramps #idk why my body decided to just lose its shit for my first in person con in 5 years #anyway i'm grateful today was early release due to weather because i’m going back to bed now #updated because i remembered i had a very mild cold 4-5 weeks ago in addition to the killer one 2-3 weeks ago

[nonbinarynightcrawler]

shakes my brain in an attempt to trigger whatever happens during a THC hangover that significantly lessens my anxiety and uno-reverses my executive dysfunction

#like I am not kidding I am dangerously close to having like. a problem #because the “hangover” thing that happens when i take this one tincture is just. absolutely worth how spacey I am #the day after I take it it's like. till 4pm i can just. exist and do things without it taking a million years #and i'm better at communicating and shit because I dont have to run things through 4000 filters first #i think half the answer is “you stop masking” but there's definitely something else there #and i'm furious green cards in this state are not available for anxiety and depression #also my meds doc is definitely against thc and is not quiet about it #i have to write on my chart that I take it recreationally and she makes weird judgy comments every time #she even told me that apparently if you take it with adderall it can trigger psychosis??? which. #i have done some DILLIGENT research and have yet to find any kind of source on that that isn't clearly biased #in the “weed is evil and you're a no good shitty stoner if you take it. have you tried ginger for your anxiety? :))” #might be able to swing it for nausea tho? since nausea is a thing you can get a green card for slkfjsfd #and the anxiety does CAUSE some significant problems including nausea so bad that I used to throw up every other day #but i def need my psychiatrist to back that up and my current one. will not

[baeshijima]

— “hands off! i’m taken!”

for the first time in your drunken daze, you don't recognise your own husband.

CONTAINS : gn!reader, 983 wc, fluff, (attempts at) humour, mentions/reference of alcohol consumption

A/N : neuvillette is in pain (emotional) while you are in pain the morning after (literal).

it’s not often neuvillette finds free time amongst the seemingly endless piles of papers on his desk. when he does get some free-time, he always makes sure to treat you out to the places you most recently show interest in. however, these evenings out more often than not result in you having one too many drinks. (“it’s a rare evening date!” you would tut, waving a finger at him while your free hand holds the wine glass.)

he worries for you and your health after all, and he most definitely doesn't want you to experience these so-called "hangovers" you bemoan about as he coddles you through it all the mornings after.

and so what better way to help prevent such a tragedy than by putting a stop to it prematurely?

“hands off! i’m taken!”

…or so he thought.

regardless, that doesn’t change the fact neuvillette now stands in the middle of one of the (now quite humid) private rooms in the upper floor of hotel debord, clutching his stinging hand close to his chest while staring at your huffing form in a mixture of hurt and shock. he blinks once, twice, thrice as he slowly begins to process your words — or, lack of.

“pardon?”

“i said,” you stress, narrowing your gaze at him as you begin to sit up, “hands off! i’ll have you know i’m happily married to the loveliest, most beautifulest man in teyvat and i don’t need some… some meddlesome old creep trying to get in between that.”

were this quite literally any other day besides one you were drunk on, neuvillette would be jumping for joy over the moon (metaphorical… probably) and documenting this moment in his diary he keeps safe and secured in a locked drawer under his desk, positively cooing and sighing in pure adoration at your adorable self.

(he also doesn’t have the heart to tell you beautifulest isn’t exactly a real word, but he’s flattered all the same. and it makes you that much more adorable in his eyes.)

alas, this isn’t any other day. no, instead it is a day which marks his drunk spouse being unable to identify their own husband, and your intoxicated words render him silent. 

now, don’t get him wrong, he’s glad you are, for a lack of better words, raring to defend your marital status and honour when intoxicated. however…

‘meddlesome old creep’? is that how he appears? he thought he looked quite dashing this evening, what with the way you sang his praises after he got himself dressed and questioned if you were actually married to one another.

then again, he supposes it’s still accurate to say you’re still questioning whether or not he is your husband. just not in the joking manner you initially did.

seeing how you’ve begun to grow a little restless with his prolonged silence, neuvillette awkwardly clears his throat and begins in what he hopes is a tone which masks the minor betrayal your words caused. “i’m glad you feel that way about our marriage, mon cœur, but—”

“stop!” neuvillette’s mouth instantly ceases movement. “how… how dare you, a stranger, call me that! just who… who do you think you are? my husband?”

“actually, i am.”

you blink at him. “you’re what?”

“i am your husband. neuvillette.” in all honesty, he doesn’t know why he’s nervous. perhaps it’s your scrutinising gaze causing him to sweat, taking him back to the first days when he could finally put a name to the emotions you brought out from within him — ones which have never weakened, but only seem to grow stronger as the days pass by. his hands clam up, and he’s glad you can’t see him wiping his palms against the fabric of his clothes from where you sit. even when you’re drunk, you tend to remember the most random moments. more often than not, they end up being in some relation to him.

(neuvillette laments the times where you only remembered his brief loss of composure.)

after a few more agonising seconds of staring, you speak up once more. “you’re lying.”

there are many things neuvillette wishes to say in response — such as showing your wedding rings, pulling out the small polaroid of you both nestled within his inner coat pocket, recalling the first day you met, the first day you talked, the first “thank you” you ever said to him, the first—

quickly, he snaps himself out of this spiral. just in the nick of time too, for you open your mouth to say something else. “my neuvillette is cute and lovely and pretty and everything a person could only dream to have.”

is he not cute right now? is he not lovely and pretty right now? is he not everything a person could only dream to have right now? what makes the him through your drunken lens so different to the him in your memories?

against his better judgement, he decides to ask the big question.

“then… may i ask what i am?”

“a liar.” and, as if to rub salt in the wound, you add, “i don’t like liars.”

neuvillette feels as though he could cry.

(when you awoke to a pounding headache the next morning, the last thing you expected was your husband brooding on the edge of the bed, his back facing you as he mumbled something along the lines of, “i would lie for you… not to you…” though it was a little hard to tell amidst the incessant pitter-patter of rain against the window.

despite racking your brain in an effort to figure out what caused him to be in such a state in the first place, the only things you remembered from last night were him wiping his hands on his clothes, as well as him looking as though someone slapped him across the face.

yeah. perhaps it is best you don’t tell him that.)

mon cœur = my heart, which can be read as my sweetheart/other half/life, etc.

if you enjoyed this, then reblogs with/or comments are greatly appreciated !! <33

genshin taglist : @tiredsleep​ @hannas16​ @volexis​ @ladycoleigh​ @sea-of-dandelions @fandangotales​ @absolutely-rational​ @lilikags @arkhammaid @irethepotato​ @usertsubaki @1117sblog @yanderealm @aimixx​ @myaaki​ @daphluc​ @nachotrash​ @devilishduckling​ @obsidiannero​ @hadesaedes @duhsies @garlicforthewin​ @sassyglassesbunny @uchihaeirin​ @leena-shii​ @sammybeefangirls​ @falling0ut @angelkazusstuff​ @fr0-gy @veiias @lifiore​ @smokipoki @midnight-summer-rain @fanglefangirl @dinaaaaee ​​​​@lupicalbestwolf @nelain @fudogh

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#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #neuvillete x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin x you #neuvillette x you #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact scenarios #genshin impact #favoniuslibrary

[shamballalin]

What Is Masking In The Day Of A Person Diagnosed With Autism?

What Is Masking In The Day Of A Person Diagnosed With Autism?

The following is an article written by a person diagnosed with autism who is helping the world to understand, breaking barriers to ignorance and harsh judgment in the process. Masking is something I don’t think people understand very well. If you’re not familiar with masking at all, it is when a person hides socially unacceptable traits or behaviors and demonstrates or mirrors socially…

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#acting normal #anxiety #autism #Autistic #burnout #conversations #facial expessions #feelings #focus #masking #moods #non-verbal #normal #panic #sensory hangover #stress #verbal #what is masking

[femmefatalevibe]

Femme Fatale Guide: Healthy Habits To Look & Feel Your Best Without Restriction or Unrealistic Routines

Realistic ways to maintain a healthy life/body/appearance (size and weight are all personal, not the most important metric – for certain). No diet culture or delulu-land tips here.

What I've done to maintain my 30-pound weight loss for over a decade, glowing clear skin (no pimples or discoloration, etc.), and super healthy, full & shiny hair, still living life and enjoying it – the mindful way.

Eat home-cooked meals & (plant-based) whole foods – 90-95% of the time

Incorporate at least 1 salad into my daily routine (either a large, hearty lunch salad or a simple green salad as a starter with dinner)

Include at least 1 fruit/vegetable in every meal or snack

Never restrict food groups – whole grains/potatoes, healthy fats, protein-rich plant foods, and produce are all essential to consume every day

Focus on meals, but have whole food snack options on hand to enjoy if genuinely hungry (mainly fruit, lupini beans, edamame, carrots/celery/cucumber with hummus, plain popcorn, handful of almonds/cashews)

Have breakfast after one coffee (before a second) and have dinner late enough (8-9:30 pm) to curb late-night hunger

Only have fruit and tea after dinner; Always stop consuming food at least 3 hours before bed for better sleep/digestion

Order whatever I want when going out to eat, but split dessert

Have at least one indulgent meal/dessert per week

No sugary cocktails – wine, champagne/prosecco, martinis, gin & tonic, margarita, French Connection, Sambuca, Grappa, tequila on the rocks, etc. are great options. Bellinis/fruit plus wine/spirits cocktails are a good middle ground. Sugary drinks worsen the hangover – big-time

Perceive healthy eating as a form of enjoyment, creativity, and nourishment, not restriction or deprivation (it's not if done liberally enough)

Consume a vitamin B12 and vitamin D supplement daily. Keep digestive enzymes on hand for when they're necessary

Always have a large glass of water first thing in the morning (before coffee) and by my side all day long

No soda, juices, sugary drinks, etc. Black coffee, tea, and water only on the daily – wine and no-sugar alcoholic drinks on rare occasions. Smoothies can be a great snack or breakfast, though!

Incorporate an (almost) daily walk into my schedule as a form of exercise and a mental health reset (I aim for 4-5 miles/10Kish steps per day on average)

Do short, low-impact strengthen training exercises 3x a week (15-30 mins each usually) for bone health & toning

Never forcing myself to do strenuous exercise/workout formally in a gym – it's not for me; it doesn't make me feel/look better and throws my hunger & energy levels way off. To each their own, though

Have a variety of playlists ready to go for waking up, working, dancing, walking/workouts, doing chores, and reading/relaxing

Internalizing that sexual health is a core aspect of your health & well-being – on all counts

Maintaining a simple skincare routine 2x per week with high-quality products and a couple of weekly treatments

Prioritizing my body care routine with as much as my facial skincare routine

Wearing at least SPF 30 daily

Exfoliating 2-3x per week

Learning what hair products work for my hair type; Using a deep conditioning mask and a scalp mask weekly

Using only cold water when washing my hair

Incorporating face & body massages into my weekly at-home routine

Using Uriage lip balm, hand cream, and deodorant religiously

Flossing 1-2 times a day/using an electric toothbrush

#healthy habits #healthy eating #health and wellness #health & fitness #health is wealth #skincare tips #haircare #self care #glow up era #self concept #femme fatale #dark feminine energy #dark femininity #it girl #high value woman #the feminine urge #high value mindset #female excellence #female power #queen energy #dream girl #femmefatalevibe #q/a

[glassrowboat]

Morning After

Authors note: This includes a variety of my own headcanons on these characters. The reader is gender neutral. This includes only the male harbingers, but I am willing to write one for the chicks too ^^

Capitano.

-The instant you stirred in your sleep, just the slightest twitch, and you were pinned to the mattress with a looming figure above you. His black hair tickled your skin, swaying back and forth from the sudden movement, but that was barely a concern when this man who had been so sweet with you last night was suddenly acting like a switch that flipped off in his brain. All you could tell was one discernable thing after the sudden surprise: there was no escape if he didn't want there to be.

-”Capitano?” You called out, voice hesitant and barely a whisper as fear choked back the ability to speak confidently.

-Immediately the tense nature that had over taken his form fell, shoulders no longer strung together as that soldier who had been pinning you down held you close and started apologizing for startling you.

-He didn't have to say it, he didn't want to, bit for a moment there the Captain had mistaken you for someone that crept into his chambers with ill intent. He's a soldier. War is what he's known for. This caution just comes with the territory.

-To make up for his own actions he makes sure you're well fed, given a hearty breakfast (one a little too big for you to fully eat but he doesn't mind giving you some Tupperware to take it home in) and tea.

-It's just he's a terrible conversationalist, barely talking as he just nods along to whatever you say, making you carry the flow the entire morning as he adds in an occasion “yes, interesting, or no.”

-At least he's handsome under that helmet.

Childe.

-Fell off the bed the moment he saw you, a shout falling from his lips from the surprise of the fall and well, this naked person in his bed.

-Why he didn't expect you to wake up and throw a pillow at his head for being so darn loud when you have a hangover? Well, only Celestia knows. Though he didn't bother to block it, simply accepted getting hit as it didn't even knock him back.. well that is if he didn't play along and dramatically fell down onto the floor.

-”Are you always such a drama queen?”

-”A guy can't play along with a joke?”

-Very sweet, but a little bit annoying as he asks about you in as many questions he can think of. What's your favorite color? What's your job?

-Admittedly Childe has never had a one night stand before so he doesn't know what to do in this position so when you give him a sweet smile and tell him to just to let you get dressed for now he goes to get a stray shirt for you.

-Definitely wants to see you again, and not just in the bedroom.

-”So where do you come from?”

-”Give me five minutes for fucks sake.”

Dottore.

-First off, what? He's aware each harbinger has their own little dedicated fan club, even him…for some reason. Yet for him to willingly bring someone, possibly one of them, to his bed? People aren't allowed in his personal quarters. Hell, he barely uses it himself, opting to sleep on that one couch in the laboratory. So why the switch in his normal behavioral patterns?

-(I personally see Dottore as a virgin so for this dweeb to lose it this way-)

-Admittedly, he's on edge from trying to remember what happened, the haze of sleep, and the shock of seeing someone he apparently trusted enough to bring to bed. It only made sense he was scowling at this sleeping body. It wouldn't be easy enough to just call it a new test subject, use the sheets as restraints to drag this stranger down to his lab and shove them in a cell but..

-Maybe not this time.

-Instead he gets up and throws on some clothes as quickly as possible, making sure to slot his mask in place despite the fact you have very obviously already seen what lies underneath. That and more.

-It has proven more useful than not to use that thing to hide his expressions.

- Depending on if he drank last night and that's what had him indulging in the warmth of another person's body, Dottore would have one of his clones stand by until you wake up. They can deal with the situation from there and take you home while he gets some caffeine in his body. An easy way to rid of a hangover and forget his newfound company.

-If it was a completely sober decision, Dottore no longer has the excuse that he simply got ahead of himself from the drink and would therefore be hostile in response. Unable to put up with this one bit, he would be telling his bed partner to get dressed and head home already so he can get back to work instead of watching over pointless little you.

-Don't try and say anything about possibly being emotionally attached, it would only anger him. Boy is not used to being open or vulnerable with anyone and you suddenly appearing and having held him so close last night would only set him off in the worst of ways.

Pantalone.

-First thing this man notices is he's just not as comfy as usual, somehow this mattress isn't right, he isn't sinking into the soft plush he spent thousands on. Not even his haze of grogginess was enough to make tossing and turning twist his body into comfort. (Goldilocks having motherfucker). So with a steady hand he reaches out to find his glasses on the nightstand, silver chains rattling on the surface as he pulls them close.

-A one night stand isn't an uncommon thing to the regrator, for him it's happened a small handful of times before but it's never something he's typically the better for in the morning. A man of his position caught slinking into a woman's bedroom as they drunkenly grope at eachother was far from a good look. Not to mention you never knew if the individual would keep their mouth shut.

-That has been a problem with one particular individual in the past that has henceforth been ‘dealt with.’

-But the person laying besides him was still conked out and wrapped in a good majority of the blankets the bedding had to offer. Well, a bit of a thief aren't they? Pantalone almost wanted to laugh but kept his mouth sealed shut, already knowing it's best not to wake you.

-Slowly he got up and out of the bed, trying to keep it from creaking too loudy, to put on last night's clothes. He'll take a shower and get changed into something clean later.

-With one last peak towards the stranger he spent the night with Pantalone slipped out of the front door.

Pierro.

-He's confused.

-Now he understands what happened, the sight of you naked and curled up into him is more than enough to make that clear; though your underwear basically on his favorite pillow definitely would have gotten the point across either way. But, like, him? You who look so much younger, livelier compared to what Pierro sees in the mirror every day after five hundred years haunting him.

-Maybe that joke the second made about people liking ‘older folks’ was based on reality.

-Would greedily allow himself to hold you in his arms for a time. It started with him first saying one minute, that's all he'd allow himself. Then that turned into five, then ten, then twenty. Eventually he would barely wish to nudge you awake even though he knows better.

-Don't go getting attached when there's so much left to do.

-When he finally did wake you up he did his best to make sure you wouldn't get startled, softly calling out the name he was given last night. It's just a shame you do, startling as your hand nearly wacked his face from sheer shock. (Though who can blame you? It's not everyday you blearliy open your eyes, vision still blurry as you take in a man with white hair and stars in his- wait is that the fucking Pierro? Oh fuck).

-The type to help you find your clothes and call for a cab so he knows you get home safely.

-Now all that's left is trying to figure out how to hide the hickey you planted on him.

Scaramouche.

-Let's be real here, you're not making it to the morning.

-He had no clue why he was allowing this, allowing a humans lips to fall to his own with such fevered need. In any other situation he'd be pushing them off, telling this person they're a useless worm that shouldn't ever have walked these lands if all they was going to do was use their life to paw at him. Oh but to worshipped was a delight.

-Kisses pressed to the wooden skin of his puppet body like small prayers to the God he will one day be. This is what humans are made for, aren't they? To give their all to a greater being. So readily Scaramouche let himself be tugged along as you pulled him to wherever you pleased, ready to lavish in the attention he so rarely got.

-A human isn't a threat after all.

-Yet when you tugged on his short, pulling them down just low enough for your mouth to eagerly await something filling it, everything took a turn for the worst.

-”Wait a minute, you don't have genitals?”

-And in a heartbeat you were struck with a bolt of lightning that had you dead on the spot.

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #hoyoverse #x reader #capitano x reader #capitano #childe x reader #dottore x reader #Pantalone x reader #pierro x reader #scaramouche x reader #dottore #pantalone #childe #tartaglia x reader #gn reader #headcanons

[daisygirlwrites]

Task Force 141 + Reader (Callsign-Crash): friendship headcanons

a/n: Hello hello! Just some random headcanons that I had written down for Crash and her relationships with the members of the 141 team. Nothing romantic, just some wholesome stuff.

original gif by @collinnmckinley

also, this is really freaking long, sorry in advance. enjoy reading! 

Before getting thrown out the window and getting her callsign, she was quiet and shy around the group. Opting to listen to others conversations, rarely adding to it.

Honestly intimidated with how tightly knit the team is, and given her previous team’s history, she was scared to get close.

Volunteered to be the DD whenever the group goes out to a bar. Fortunately, most of the time, Ghost is sober(enough) to help her get everyone into the car and into their rooms

Would silently comfort Soap and Gaz whenever they threw up, rubbing their backs and getting them water.

In the mornings after, she got everyone a breakfast burrito. Soap and Gaz are eternally grateful. Got a little information about her when they asked why she got them food. “Help with my hangovers during college.” Soap and Gaz gave each other a look as she walks away

After the window incident, Crash becomes a lot more open. Seeing how they treat her as if she has been with them for years, it wasn’t fair to them with how closed off she was.

Soap:

He talks to you a lot and you don’t mind. He just comes out and starts rambling on whatever he has interested him at that moment. You don’t really say anything, just sitting there awkwardly (because why would he want to talk to the newbie instead of his friends) but nodding to what he says anyways. One time though, he looks at you and says “Thanks for listening to me. It’s nice to have someone not tell me to ‘Shut the fuck up Mactavish.’”

Literally you after he tells you this:

“you’re my friend now. we’re having soft tacos later” vibes

Would send him memes and funny videos whenever you guys are on leave

His contact name on your phone is “Bubbles”

Would show you how to make bombs out of random shit. Set them off in bare fields or abandon buildings. Had a couple close calls

Will let you call him Johnny but you call him Mac instead.

“Aww, why not, lassie?”

“I’d rather not get my ass beat by your boyfriend.”

Calls you Lassie along with your callsign. When he wants to piss you off, he calls you Mini Ghost or Little Ghost

Like Ghost, you rarely take off your balaclava and tactical glasses

“The mask, take it off.”

“Nah, I don’t wanna.”

“You ugly?”

“Not as ugly as you old man.”

Has yet to seen you drunk though and he intends to get you there some day

Holds his hand when he’s throwing up

You would use him as a pillow during rides back to the base

The first person to tell him about any drama that’s happening in your life

Gives you advice about men

"Men are stupid, trust me, I am one."

Loves it when you would go on ramblings about the things you like. Anime confuses the hell out of him but he would always ask you about the plot and your favorite characters. He’d ask you about the current artist you listen to and has a list of recommendations from you so he could look them up when he gets home

After a mission gone wrong and believing that it was his fault, you seek him out, finding him sitting alone in the meeting room. You tell him

“It’s going to be okay. I trust you, John.”

He tears up and you wrap your arms around him.

Gaz:

With you two being the youngest, you bond over similar experiences

Sometimes share exactly one brain cell with each other. Sometimes you, Gaz and Soap share a brain cell

Brings out the chaotic gen z energy of each other

Your guys’ energy:

Follows each other on social media and would send each other tiktoks at ungodly hours

Kind of have a competition against each other to see who’s Price’s favorite child is

Gaz finally has someone who he can talk about anime with

Favorite shows to watch together: Cowboy Bebop, Samurai Champloo  and Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure

Similar music taste. The whole team listens to Queen, David Bowie, Pink Floyd and a few more others. However, Gaz and Crash have the same love of rap and indie pop. Anything they find on tiktok will be added to their shared Spotify playlist.

Gaz would ask about how college was like. He thought about going but ultimately for him, the military was the better option

“Were you part of a sorority?”

“Oh hell no. Loved going to the parties though. Always had top shelf vodka.”

“Really? Thought students couldn’t afford it.”

“When it comes to alcohol, we find a way.”

Share the same sentiment of feeling like they’re not doing enough in the team. After a particularly rough mission, you two would find a corner and just sit together in silence.

Would break the silence by quoting something from vine or tiktok and all things would be okay again

Price:

He has adoption papers ready

Crash, despite your name, is polite, respectful and responsible. Would always help Price clean up after meetings and briefs

Same with Soap, you would listen quietly to Price’s war stories and even his favorite fishing trips

Saw in your file about what happened to your old team and captain. Vows to never pull the same stunt as them

Sadden to see how you’re so young and has seen and dealt with many things already. It breaks his heart that there’s more that you’ll experience. 

You, Soap and Gaz would do dumb shit all the time but you knew when it was the right time to bail. Of course, they would snitch on you to Price. You’d rarely get in trouble though

Basically you two:

Would gift him cigars from the countries you’d visit during leave

Also a matching set of torch lighters. His has a special green flame while yours is pink. 

You don’t smoke anymore but you would hangout with him and help him finish reports together.

Price often thinks about a life where he didn’t join the military. A life of normalcy. To go to a home filled with life. 

Would have loved to have kids and technically, he still can but his job makes it almost impossible. 

But with Gaz and now you, you two are his pride and joy.

Would be the “hip” dad and will always ask about the new slang and memes

“This food is-what you kids call it...uh, busting!”

You and Gaz look at each other, “It’s bussin’.”

“This food is bussin’!”

Ghost:

Did not to want to get close to you at all. 

Was honestly peeved when Price told him that he was going to mentor you

“I don’t want to play babysitter, Captain.”

Surprised to see how short you were. All of the rumors and information he was told, they never mention your size

At first, he hated how you would follow him around like a lost puppy. 

“Leave me alone, go bother Soap or something.”

Doesn’t miss the flash of hurt in your eyes but you turn around anyways.

Before you joined, he, Price and Laswell were all sitting in Price’s office, his phone on speaker. He was reading over your file before Price’s contact said

“She reminds me of Ghost when I worked with him seven years ago.”

He looks up from the folder, Price’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise and Laswell nodding.

“I think we’ll have her transferred to us,” Price replies.

Hates to admit but he’s impressed. Thought the rumors was bullshit but you proved him wrong, time and time again

You still have a lot of things to learn and even more practice to do but he believes in you

Does not go easy. He’s merciless. Has put you down countless times and reprimanded you more. You would always leave training sessions with a new bruise. The rest of the team gets concerned with his training methods.

But you still get up and you blink away the tears whenever he shouts at you

At about five months after you joined, on a mission, you spot an enemy behind him before he does and without a word, you quickly take your knife out and throw it towards the man behind him. 

He opens his mouth to yell at you but he sees the enemy on the corner of his eye and watch him slump down. Your knife stuck in his bleeding neck

Gives you a nod after that. Pulling out your knife and handing it back to you

Knife throwing would be one of the training sessions you’d do. It was also a good time for some small chat

Finds out that you’re also a part of the “Dead Mom, Shitty Dad” club

It takes a year for him to SLIGHTLY open up to you

Told you about one of his favorite dishes his mom made and his favorite Queen song was ‘You’re My Best Friend’

Even told you how he likes his Earl Grey prepared

It scares him of how much you remind him of his mom and brother. You have her kindness and his determination. He will never tell you this

You, along with the team, become the very thing he cares about and will protect you to the best of his ability.

Bonus:

#daisygirlwrites #cod x reader #call of duty x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley #simon ghost riley #ghost mw2 x reader #john mactavish x reader #soap x reader #john mactavish #kyle garrick x reader #gaz x reader #john price x reader #price x reader #kyle garrick #john price #cod headcanons #cod hcs #call of duty headcanons

[gremlingottoosilly]

Please, Stand by [dark!Ghost x fem!Reader x dark!Soap]

You woke up in your captor's apartment. Turns out, getting out of the grasp of two trained special forces soldiers isn't exactly an easy task.

TW and tags: non-con to dub-con, size difference, power imbalance, fingering, hurt/comfort(but it comes from the ones who hurt you), yandere, dark!141, possessive 141, obsessive 141, kidnapping. AO3

Simon never slept this well on leave. 

Always something happening – Soap breathing too loudly in their fucking bed, nightmares getting too wild even with as many meds as he could possibly take, neighbors behaving as if he wouldn’t be able to bloody shoot ‘em all and get away with it – he never enjoyed sitting at this place without a purpose, as much as he enjoyed not having to buy the whole space for himself. Johnny was really making things stir up a little around here – but it wasn’t enough. Never. 

Ghost found himself dumbfounded this exact morning, though – he gave up the space in the bedroom for you and Soap, knowing that the Scotsman has a much smoother way with women, and they don’t want to scare you too much. Poor thing, you’re already terrified of them – this won’t do, they aren’t monsters. A bit forceful, yes, but men in this position don’t exactly have much time for courting – and it's not like you’d agree to relationships with four of them at the exact same time if you really had a choice. Just means they have to take the choice away from you. Hell, he even thought of preparing your breakfast in bed – something that he never thought of doing. You were so good for him, for Soap, so nice and obedient, he almost forgot it was all because of the alcohol – not because you really wanted them so badly. Ghost isn’t a stranger to hookups and dates at random pubs where he could afford to not take his mask off – but it’s the first time he liked a girl so much. The first time he really wanted to just take you and… *** You woke up somewhere around noon. The aftermath of your hangover still lingered in the fog in your head as you were desperately trying to cling to consciousness. You wanted to throw up. You wanted to curl down and cry. You wanted to…

Ah, you’re finally awake. Good for you. 

The first thing that you feel is nausea. You already threw up at night, it’s evident by the stale taste of bile in your mouth – but you still feel like turning your stomach upside down and shaking it a little. 

The second thing you feel is a heavy hand on your waist. It’s muscly, hairy, covered in scars and burn marks – you don’t think that a man with hands like this would be at your taste for one-night stands. You don’t think you ever had a hookup session with a random person you didn’t even know, but whoever is clinging to your body like you’re a teddy bear has another opinion about acting all lovey-dovey with their playthings for the night. You try to worm your way out of the grasp, but the guy only tightens it. 

— Don’t move, lassie. I knew how ye feel. 

You seriously doubt that. 

— Where am I? 

Your voice is raspy, in desperate need of water. You don’t want to beg them for this, so you just bite your lips, hoping your voice doesn’t sound too pathetic. You’d kill for a bottle of water right now. 

— In yer home. 

— This is not…

— It will be, hen. Dinnae havta worry ‘bout that okay?

Guy – Soap, you remember, heard when the other guy, the second guy, was talking to him. Like you weren’t even fucking there like you didn’t have a say in the situation. You feel a trail of sloppy kisses landing on your neck, and your shoulders – damp skin is sweaty under the touches. You feel sluggish like you usually do on a hungover – like you usually do after a really nice girl's night out. 

Soreness between your legs makes you choke on your tears. You don’t want to cry, not in the presence of your captors. Not when all the memories you have is how soft they tried to be. How much did your alcohol-dazed mind like it. The thrill of them knowing all of your special buttons without you ever having to ask – you hate them, you want to hate them, you need to hate them. But you’re thirsty, hungry, your head hurts, you feel like shit, and they still didn’t beat you yet. 

The survival instinct comes to life when you hear the door opening. 

You struggle out of his grasp – thankfully, the guy is sleepy, he didn’t put up much of a fight. You manage to get out and fall on the fluffy carpet, surprisingly nice for a place where two rough looking bachelors are living. You don’t have enough time to think about the texture of the carpet, as you scramble on your feet and run. 

Fuck this, fuck everything, fuck trying to be soft and obedient – they don’t care about showing their faces and names to you, that you can just run to the police. Probably means they are going to kill you right after the cuddling session – and you’d rather be traumatised than dead. You think. Probably. Maybe. 

In your struggle, you didn’t even think of thinking that if the door is opening, it means that someone will be standing on the other side – or the apartment is extremely haunted. 

It wasn’t extremely haunted. Your cheek is flattened against a broad chest. A pair of hands that smell of tobacco and leather are forcing you into this perverse version of a hug, leaving you without any chance of getting out. All of your attempts at screaming are left with nothing but weird bubbly sounds as you struggle to breathe. You don’t want to panic, but, hell, you feel like you’re going to fucking die. 

Price had just seen the most beautiful woman of his life. 

With tears running down her cheeks, messy makeup, and even messier hair. She is wearing Soap’s T-shirt, which isn’t ideal, but no one is perfect, and even the prettiest girl out there has her flaws. She is crying and panicking, and she looks so bloody fantastic with her arse showing every time she tries to wiggle her way out of his grasp, and he doesn’t want to behave too brutally, but he wants to see the marks from his fingers grasping her wrists. He knew he saw you yesterday, fucked you yesterday. Held your hair as you were throwing up and forcing yourself to stop fucking vomiting all over the place – but you’re even prettier now, in the dim morning sun. Crying and struggling in his grasp, he can’t wait to share you with others – he knows Kyle would love fucking that tight arse of yours. Price would get a kick out of making you his stupid girl. 

And they, well, they will always have a special treatment reserved just for you. Gosh, you’re beautiful. Ghost knows why they had to take you. 

— Quiet, luv. Quiet. Calm down. — Let me…fuck you, let me go! You push at his chest, and the only thing he feels is the way his dick starts throbbing in his pants again. Gods, you’re fucking beautiful – much, much prettier than any girl he fucked through his life. So feisty once you’re sober, he knows how much fun you’re having in store for them once you’ve regained at least part of your strengths. — I will fuck you. Later. 

— No! — Now, if you insist on yelling so much. He gently forces you closer, his hand slipping to cup your arse. You feel divine in his arms – he doesn’t know how Soap manages to steady himself and not fuck you right in the car. He did make you suck his dick, but it obviously wasn’t enough – and won’t be, with how much you struggle now when the alcohol finally wears off. Ghost gives your ass a little squeeze, then – a few slaps, just to make sure you’re nice and obedient for them. You obviously haven’t worn panties under Johnny’s shirt, easy access doing easy accessing, and so when he finally managed to slip his fingers in your cunt, he was pleased to find out it was soaked. — You’re wet, luv. Can’t get more ready than this. 

You whimper in his chest, still terrified. He supposed you should be – he is wearing the mask, not wanting to scare you with his scars and intense gaze. Skull balaclava isn’t doing a good job at making you calmer, but…well, he can try to think about something. Soap had already shown you his face, and it’s not like you’re going anywhere. They would catch you faster than you could run to the local authorities – as much as you would love to think otherwise. Prey aren’t known for their wits, after all. — Pl…please, just let me go. Please? I won’t…

— Won’t tell anyone? 

— Yes! Please, I…I need to work. I have a shift in the… — You went to a pub before your shift? 

You sob, your little excuses clearly aren’t working. Ghost brushes his rough fingers among your folds, the stimulation on your pussy making you shiver. He knows you’re sore, his dick isn’t exactly tiny – you need some more orgasms to calm down, maybe get you nice and relaxed for them. If he knows his sergeant, he already got a word out to the rest of the team – and although Ghost really, really wants to just take you with them and share you as their little duo, Gaz and Captain deserve to have something nice too. Deserve to have someone nice. 

Ghost pulls his fingers out as soon as your whimpers turn into moans. He wants you nice and wet, but he needs you to beg for it. To recognize that the only way you’ll get anything around here is through obedience and behaving like a cute kitten, they decided to scoop from the streets. Not exactly a subtle look, but he can spell it out for you later. Make their shared dumb girl just a bit less dim. Maybe teach you a few manners – you don’t start a conversation with your captors from curses, for example. 

— Please. I…I have a family. 

Uh-oh. 

Tough shit, Ghost thinks. 

It would have worked in Private Riley – before he got into captivity himself before he got almost killed. Before he has lost everything he ever loved – and before he found a family in people who have the wondrous ability to enable his worst and best traits at the same fucking time. If you were a bit less weak, a bit more resilient if you didn’t cry as much and reminded him of himself in the past – who knows, you could have pulled at his heartstrings. 

But Lieutenant Ryley wants a girl to warm up his bed, and the beds of his comrades – and he knows you would do just perfect. So, he scoops you in his arms, like a disobedient kitten, and puts you in a place where, as he knows, all misery dies and the place where he is crawling every time he falls a bit down. 

He pushes you back to Soap’s bed. 

You cry even more when two beefy hands force you into a tight hug – Johnny is still half-asleep, and his growly sleepy voice makes your hair stand at ends. You hate them, you despise them, you feel like you’re going to fucking die rather than fall asleep in their embrace again, but Soap kisses your neck and whispers something in your ear – something accented, deep, no doubt dirty. Something that makes you whimper again and again, something that…god, you feel like a slut.

You rub your thighs together, trying to chase the heat away, but you only feel warmer. It never gets easier, you suppose – never gets just palatable enough. 

— Simon scared ye, bonnie? 

Johnny smiles when you only whimper, your desire to feel the warmth of another person making you fall right into the guy. It’s not something you’re proud of – Jesus Fucking Christ, you just snuggle with your kidnapper – but you need something to just feel…normal. Like hugs after a really good hookup. Like you just found someone to date and to kiss and to be in a proper relationship with. 

You whimper instead of answering, and you hear the Scot chuckling again, his grip on you getting tighter. He is like a koala – and you feel pretty…fine in his grasp. You’re too scared to get feisty because you already tried, and it just returns you to point A. The starting dot. The first page of your miserable journey opens with a tight hug and the smell of breakfast cooking. Burning. Cursing through a thick English accent, you could hear something in the kitchen getting absolutely blasted – in a negative sense. 

— I’m not scared of you. 

He laughs again. You can smell something burning, and you hope that the second guy – the scary guy – will set the entire apartment on fire and kill everyone inside, including you. 

— Ye shouldn’t be. We will take care of ye. 

— I will run as soon as I can. 

— Lt could break your legs. I could break your legs. 

You sob again, but Soap doesn’t rush to comfort you. You need to get this through your skull – you’re not resisting them without consequences. You’re not running away without them catching and punishing you. You will not as much as step out of this bed without their permission – even if they’d have to haul you to the bathroom themselves while you’re kicking and screaming. You deserve to get knocked down a peg about the subject of you actually having rights – and you deserve to be calmed down later, once they think you have been punished enough. — I just want to go home. 

— Cannae do that, lassie. 

— Are you going to kill me? 

— Not if yer obedient. 

You hear the sound of something hitting a glass bowl. Then – gulps of liquid are poured into the same bowl. The burning have stopped, making you think that whatever the skull guy tried to cook, is getting thrown out of the balcony now – you almost smile trying to picture the burly man in a cute apron, desperately begging for the eggs to stop burning and turning into a crisp. You could cook for yourself, but…well, they probably won’t let you use the knife. 

— Are you going to rape me again? 

You are pulled into a much closer hug. Johnny’s dick poking at your ass, making you shiver in his hold – making you try to get out as fast as possible and failing miserably. You have suggested that the guy was a part of something illegal – maybe a mafia reinforcer, the dweller of those weird candy shops that were opened throughout the country, but you caught a glimpse of some camouflage in the dresser when Simon was taking off his clothes…they are in the military. Maybe, it’s even worse than you initially thought – no way anyone will believe you over them. No way you will win a fight against them. 

— We weren’t raping ye, bonnie, Just…taking what ye really needed. 

You came harder under them than you ever did under any of your boyfriends or from your fingers. You feel pathetic because his eyes are innocent and cute, and you don’t want to make them hurt you again. You don’t answer. 

— We’ll take care of ye. Just keep yer arse in place and don’t resist, aye? 

You can’t do anything but nod. Don’t want to do anything but nodding. 

He smiles at your neck again. Kisses you again. Ray of shivers run down your tummy. 

Ghost showed up in the bedroom again, holding a bowl of honey cereal. You are hungry – you need something to soak up the alcohol, and you’d want something greasy and terrible, or maybe a soup and tea later – but the cereals are better than whatever was slowly getting burned on the stove. 

They could drug you – then again, it feels like you’d prefer being unconscious anyway. 

— Price will be there in an hour. Got his call. 

The Scot being you, curses under his breath, his hands finally letting you go. You took the bowl and started to eat, as quickly as you could. 

A hand slips over your waist, steadying you. 

— We’ll make her presentable, aye? 

You don’t want to be presentable, but something in their voices are telling that you don’t have a choice. 

#cod #cod x reader #yandere cod #yandere ghost #yandere soap #soap x reader #ghost x reader #dark ghost #simon ghost riley #soap #john soap mactavish #soap mw2 #141 x reader #yandere #male yandere #yandere male

[unreliablesnake]

One more drink, he said (Simon Riley x reader)

Summary: Soap encourages you to drink a little more, and Ghost has to deal with the consequences.

Note: Ghost being a coward and he knows it.

“Just one more drink,” Soap said while he put the glass of tequila in front of you. 

Ghost knew it wasn’t a good idea, but as long as you enjoyed yourself, he wasn’t about to stop you. The hangover tomorrow would probably teach you a lesson anyway. It always did. And he also knew about the perks of you getting drunk with the Scotsman. Drinking a little too much usually turned you into a needy little kitten who crawled over to him for some attention, and since it was clear you were fully aware of what you were doing, he didn’t even feel bad about sleeping with you on these nights. 

And sure enough, an hour and four more shots later you went after him to the back of the bar, as if you’d just gotten the idea from him to use the restroom too. You took his hand and pulled him back to you. He stood there with his eyes on you, giving you an expectant look as he waited for you to say it out loud. He needed to hear you ask for it, beg for it, tell him you couldn’t spend the night alone. 

“Will you come to my room?” you asked him with a wicked smile. 

“What do you want? I need to hear it, love.” 

You sneaked your arms around his waist and rested your head on his chest. “I want you to fuck me, Simon,” you mumbled so quietly that he barely caught it. 

With a deep laugh, Ghost wrapped his arms around you. “Yeah? Are you this desperate?” he asked before placing a soft kiss on top of your head through his mask. He felt you nod, your fingers digging into his back as you desperately tried to glue yourself to him. “Say you want to go back to the base and I’ll offer to walk you there to make sure you’re safe.” 

You finally let go and nodded again. He went to the restroom where he was going anyway, while you returned to the others. By the time he joined the group again, you were sitting there with your head resting on Soap’s shoulder as he was explaining something with wide gestures. Ghost stopped a few tables away from the team, using this opportunity to take in the sight of his chosen family enjoying themselves on their night out. 

And then his eyes landed on you, this beautiful young thing who was for some strange reason attracted to him on these drunken nights. Sometimes he wondered if you had any kind of feelings for him when you were sober, but you never showed any signs of this. You kept your distance, you were an obedient soldier, so he always assumed it was just an alcohol-fueled thing between the two of you. 

But he wished it was more than that. Every time he slept with you when you asked for it, he thought about this being a way of using you. After all, you were drunk, you couldn’t think straight. Yet you seemed so sure of this, and even in the mornings you didn’t seem to regret being with him. The soft kisses you placed across his scarred chest, your fingertip drawing circles into his skin as you watched him; these all made him think if you put some effort into whatever this was, you could do this outside of missions too. 

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Gaz wave his hand to get him to return to them, so he walked back to the team and picked up his half empty glass of beer that was sitting on the table between them. When he noticed Soap whisper something to you with a wide smile on his face, and then he saw you giggle with your hand in front of your mouth, he felt a pang of jealousy. He knew you probably didn’t want anything from him, but he wasn’t sure the fellow sergeant wasn’t looking at you in a different way. He always looked for the opportunity to touch you, to talk to you, and this made him worry. What if one day you would choose him?

“I think I had more than enough to drink. I’ll go back to the base, you guys just stay and enjoy the rest of the night,” you suddenly announced as you stood up and tried to find your balance. 

Ghost finished his drink and put the glass back on the table. “I’ll walk you back. Wouldn’t want anything to happen to you on the way,” he said as he also stood up. 

He could see the look on Price’s face, as if he knew what this was all about, but he didn’t say anything. For this, he was honestly grateful. He didn’t need a lecture, he just wanted to enjoy this night and worry about everything else later. If he truly knew, he would surely say a few words about it later. 

By the time the two of you were walking down the street, you had your fingers laced with his and you were trying to explain something to him, something he couldn’t quite understand. It didn’t really make any sense, it sounded more like a rant about a friend of yours. But then you said the word boyfriend. So you weren’t talking about a male friend, you were talking about your boyfriend. You had a boyfriend. How stupid could he be? 

“Why are you so quiet?” you suddenly asked him, coming to a halt and pulling him back to you. 

He swept a strand of hair behind your ear and leaned down to you. “You have a boyfriend?”

You looked confused at first, but then you slowly understood why he asked you this out of nowhere. “I was talking about an ex.” 

“Didn’t sound like it.”

“Are you jealous?” you asked teasingly. 

Ghost pulled you into a kiss, the type of kiss that wanted to show you how much he appreciated your company, how much he wished you didn’t play these stupid games with him. Even when he pulled away, you were standing there with your eyes closed and a cute smile on your face. “I’m not jealous,” he lied. 

Apparently being drunk didn’t make you dumb, you saw right through him. “So you are jealous,” you noted with a laugh. “It’s okay, I like it when you’re jealous.”

By the time the two of you reached your room, Ghost could barely keep himself under control. The moment the door closed, he pulled you against his chest and grabbed your chin to make you look up at him. You wanted to stand on your toes to kiss him, but he didn’t let you, not yet. This made you a little disappointed, but that cute little pout didn’t make him change his mind. He wanted you to wait, he wanted you to be so desperate that you were begging for him to finally do something. 

After a few seconds you were already moving your hands closer to his jeans, slowly unbuttoning it, ready to get him out of it. But he stopped you which drew a pathetic whine out of you. “Say it,” he instructed you.

“Please,” you asked, “I need you, Simon.”

He let his thumb slip into your mouth with a satisfied smirk on his lips. “That’s my good girl,” he replied quietly as he leaned down to place a soft kiss on the tip of your nose. “But you have to wait. I’ll grab a bottle of water first. You want one?”

When he let go of you and turned around to walk to the small fridge on the other side of the room, he heard you sob behind him. It made him sad, sure, he didn’t like to see you cry, but here between these walls this was like music to his ears. You were oh-so-desperate to have him that the way he rejected you made you cry. It was a small win. 

So he returned to you and put the bottle on the nightstand next to the bed. You wiped your tears with the sleeve of your sweater, and he didn’t hesitate to cup your face with his hands. “There’s no need to cry. I just want you to learn a little patience. You might be cute, but crying doesn’t work on me.”

You curled your fingers around his forearm as you looked into his amber eyes, causing Ghost to reconsider the tough love game he was playing. But if he didn't draw the lines now, you wouldn't behave in the future. Not like you would remember this in the morning. He truly assumed you always did your best to forget about these nights.

A few agonizingly slow minutes later he finally leaned down to kiss you, smiling to himself when he felt you wrap your arms around his body as you moved closer to him. You sighed into the kiss, fingers burying into his hair while he picked you up and laid you down on the bed. He took his time with you, making sure he was gentle and loving, the exact opposite of how rough he could be on these nights.

And once again, as he lied next to you in bed after pulling several orgasms out of you, he thought about why he couldn’t keep things casual. He loved you, but there was no way he would risk ending whatever this was by telling you the truth when you were sober. He was too afraid of losing you for good. And for that, he truly hated himself. He was a coward. It was that simple. 

#simon riley x reader #simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost #ghost x reader #call of duty #modern warfare #mw2 #mw3