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hunnysnoops · 3 days

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White Teeth Teens

Chapter Four: History Eraser

Kyle Broflovski x fem reader

They made their paints by mixing acid wash and lemonade. In my brain I rearrange the letters on the page to spell your name.

Premise: A birthday party takes an awry turn

Warnings: crude language and humour / blood / injury / marijuana usage

MASTERLIST

Adam's blood was still soaked into the turf by the time track and field practice was in the process of giving you heat stroke. Each gust of humid wind burned at your throat a little more than the last like someone had set fire to your lungs.

While everyone else was jogging around the track in a leisurely manner, you and Kyle were sprinting like you were headed for the sun.

"What was that?" You call behind you, turning your head just the slightest "I can't hear you, you're falling behind."

"I didn't say anything," Kyle runs up beside you, matching your pace. Ginger curls were sticking to the sweat on his forehead and neck, glistening under the fading light of the day.

"That sounds like something that someone who said something would say," you respond, glancing down at your sneakers pounding against the track before quickening your pace.

"What?" His eyebrows furrow in confusion.

With each step, you fell into a steady rhythm, feet pounding against the track with determination to be just a little better than the boy trailing you. You felt the familiar burn in your muscles, the exhilarating rush of adrenaline as you pushed yourself harder, faster.

The wind whipped through your hair, cooling the sweat on your brow as you pushed past your limits, your lungs burning with every sharp breath. You ignored the overexertion gripping at you, the nausea creeping up like little hands of wind pushing at the back of your throat.

Your thoughts focused solely on the rhythmic beating of your feet against the turf and Kyle. It took what must've been a God's power not to glance around every few seconds to see how close he was to you, how steadily he fell into tempo with your pace.

That day was shaping up to be a particularly nasty one and you were quite literally trying to run away from it. Though no matter how far your legs took you, you were still on the track, Kyle only feet behind you.

It only added to that lingering thought that rested in the back of your head that you weren't anything special, you were just as good as everyone else and you needed some way to prove them wrong.

"Aw, look they're running together," Red says from her spot on the bleachers where she sits with Leslie. You can hear the sarcasm dripping from her voice.

"Ew, what the hell," you pause looking at Red, you see Kyle ahead and awkwardly jog backwards to create more distance, you only stop completely when you're in front of Red. "We were not."

"So you were racing?"

"No," You scoff "But if we were I would totally win."

"Um, okay, I believe you" She gives Leslie a quick side glance "Are you coming over later?"

"I have a thing," You answer, hands on your hips while you press your lips into a thin line.

"A thing?" Red quirks an eyebrow "Bebe won't be there if that's what you're worried about."

"No, like I actually have a thing," You Answer "Sheila's having a birthday party and I'm obligated to go by my parents."

"Oh," Red nods like everything coming together "A swingers party." She had run a few laps before something more interesting caught her attention then she eventually settled perched on the bleachers with Leslie beside her and a redbull in hand.

"Your parents are swingers?" Leslie asks, dark bangs pinned away from her face.

"No, they're not," You deadpan, any amusement dropping from your face "My parents aren't swingers, they have never swung and they never will."

Red sucks a sharp breath through her teeth before a smile cracks onto her face "Touched a nerve there.”

"No shot," You cross your arms, chest rising and falling as you catch up on lost breath, a group of long-distance runners brushing past behind you.

"I just can't believe you're ditching me for Kyle," Red draws out a deep sigh, teasing you.

A subtle heat rose to your face though you chose to ignore it entirely "Dude, no, I'm ditching you for Kyle's mom." At this, Leslie turns to whisper something to Red before you quickly interject, throwing out one hand in her direction "What could you possibly have to say? I don't even know you."

Leslie swivels her head back to look at you, unsure what to say. Red silently mouths 'Oh my god' one hand slapping over the black headband on her forehead pushing her bangs back. "Sorry?" Leslie breaks the silence.

"Yeah, you should be," You say before bringing your attention back to Red and cutting Leslie out from the equation completely "We still on for Sunday?"

"I'm going to strangle you," Red says, disregarding the question, still stuck on your utter bluntness.

You stick your chin up, exposing your neck "Go ahead." You even brush the stray hairs aside to display your throat like you're ready for her to sink her teeth in. An uneasy quiet settled over the conversation once more as you waited for Red to stay true to her words and strangle you. Of course she doesn't, she just stares at you something like disbelief playing in her eyes. You look at Leslie "We cool?"

"We are." She answers, lips pursed.

"Okay," You say, backing away and carrying on with the run you had initially been focused on, leaving Red and Leslie to watch you lose your breath all over again.

While the younger kids were free to bum around in the basement and play video games, you and Kyle were on the edge of seventeen, not yet adults but you were close enough to intermingle with them and nod with a polite smile while they drone on and on about insignificant things that are massive in their eyes.

After your mother had shown you off to the partygoers in the gauzy white sundress that you reserved only for occasions like this, you had found yourself settled at the dining table amongst the food, scribbling down notes from your binder onto your biology project.

Kyle seemed to have the same idea, he pushed one of the three charcuterie boards aside to make space for his half of the project. He sat silently across from you, the farthest he could get without being dragged into another mindless conversation with someone who held him while he was a baby.

Between the two of you is an abundance of food, everyone seemed to have brought a dish for Sheila's birthday, you couldn't imagine that it would all be finished in one night. You had, of course, a little bit of everything piled on a side plate.

As you worked away, being sure your drawn diagram was perfected and every word had been spaced apart perfectly, you tried your best not to glance at Kyle who seemed absolutely undisturbed while he chewed absent-mindedly on his brownie.

"Oh, look at you two," your dad walked into the dining room with a smile on his face "I can't believe you're getting along."

"Me neither," Kyle answers without looking up from his work. While your mother had stuffed you into your Sunday best, Kyle was looking ready for church that he didn't attend, a white button-up tucked into black dress pants.

"Whatcha working on?" Your dad scooped some pasta salad onto his plate and proceeded to peek over your shoulder, peering down at your paper before nodding like he understood. "Nice, good job, kiddo," He gave you a firm pat on the shoulder before pointing a finger gun at Kyle "And Kyle, looking sharp."

"Thank you, sir," Kyle offers him a tight-lipped smile. In recent years he had almost mastered charming other kid's parents, especially yours who gushed on and on about how good of an influence he was.

"Oh, no need for that, buddy," Your dad waves him off before leaving the room.

"Sir?" You look at Kyle, an unimpressed look clear across your face "Kiss ass."

"I'm not even going to dignify that with a response," He says, shifting his focus to the project in front of him.

"You just did, pretentious douchebag," You mutter under your breath, looking down at your own work. "Dignify," You mock, reaching back for the brownies. Something about them had tasted familiar, somewhat nostalgic like those organic sweets your mother would bring back from the grocery store, which you had written off as being gluten-free or something along those lines.

After roughly forty minutes you had finished not only your half of the biology assignment but all of your homework for your other classes as well. You had looked past the doorway, heard the voices of middle-aged parents, and the grating sound of obnoxious laughter and decided to bum around on your phone.

Empty-headed, you stared drowsily at your timeline, constantly refreshing it in the hopes that something more interesting would pique your interest. It was only seven, the sun was still in the midst of setting yet you felt the strong urge to sleep, maybe it had been over-exertion from track or boredom telling you to close your eyes so you could wake up to something better.

You were too in your own head to notice Kyle who had long finished his assignment and now had his arms crossed in front of him flat on the table, chin resting on top of them, head slightly tilted while he stared at you through the plethora of food.

His mouth abruptly stretched with a yawn, this brought your attention over to him. "What the fuck are you looking at?"

"Nothing," Kyle pushed himself off the table until he was back sitting straight in his chair. He put one hand on his back while he stretched, his neatly tucked-in button-up coming loose from the hem of his pants in the process.

The familiar photo of Remy the rat was now displayed on your dim phone, the meme of him choking that had been floating around the internet since 2007 "Do you think Ratatouille has themes of racism and prejudice?"

"No," Kyle answers, ripping the leg of a rotisserie chicken away from the carcass and tearing the flesh away with his perfect teeth.

"No one thinks a rat can cook, sound familiar?"

"No."

"Anyone can cook," You state the quote like it emphasizes the odd point you're trying to make.

"Ratatouille is not about racism."

"How about when Remy's dad says 'This is what happens when a rat gets too comfortable around humans' and then he's like 'We look out for our own kind, Remy,'" You made sure to throw an awful Italian accent over Djangos parts.

"A movie about a rat making spaghetti is not racist."

"I didn't say it was racist, I said it has themes of racism and prejudice."

"It doesn't."

"Immigration and assimilation perhaps?"

"Stop."

"Why?"

"Because I can't think right now, I'm so tired," his hands find their way into his curls while his elbows rest on the table.

You narrow your eyes at him "Are you on drugs or something?"

"No, it's fucking late, I'm tired," He repeats.

"It's seven," You answer, face straight though your eyelids were growing heavy like they were being pulled down. You rub the back of your hand over your eyes like it's going to wipe away the feeling of daze and set you straight.

Weary you lean back in your chair, slamming your phone face down on the table. You put one hand to rest on your brow like a salute to block out the overwhelming light overhead. It was this moment where you craved nothing more than your bed, to lay your head down on satin pillowcases and let sleep consume you completely.

"This is fucking stupid," You look down awkwardly at the neckline of your dress, your chin pressing against your chest as you do so, you then use one hand to gesture to Kyle in his once wrinkle-free button "We look like we're in a cult, the kind that drinks Koolaid,"

"It was Flavour-Aid actually," He corrects.

"What the fuck is Flavour-Aid?"

"Koolaid, basically."

"Okay," You say, sinking deeper into the uncomfortable spruce chair.

"Who am I really, beyond my thoughts, memories, and experiences?" Kyles's eyes are squinted as he stares past you into absolutely nothing, his thoughts entirely somewhere else.

"Kyle Broflovksi."

"Yeah, what?"

"No, that's who you are, fucking idiot."

"Ah," He nods and the two of you fall back into stillness. Neither of you acknowledged each other for a few minutes, you had forgotten Kyle was there at all and his mind was beginning to fill with existential dread.

"Hey, dudes," In walks your uncle Richie, a cheesy smile across his face, from this alone, you can tell he's been spreading his corny humour. "Didn't know you two were still in here," He was your mother's youngest sibling, being in his mid-thirties; also known as your grandparent's accidental pregnancy.

"Nice," You answer like it's cohesive in any way.

Richie doesn't seem to gather any issue from your response, he just grabs a paper plate and begins to fill it up with all of the goods though he pauses when his eyes fall on the brownies, smile faltering. "Who put these here?"

"My mom," Kyle says.

"His mom," you point at him, repeating his statement.

"Shit, these are for the after party if you know, you know," Richie puts his plate of food down in exchange for the brownie platter "Did you guys catch who ate these?" He must've been the most under-dressed of everyone at the party with his grey sweatpants and Metallica tee poking out from beneath his red zip-up.

You and Kyle stare dead straight at each other, the realization washing over you. It wasn't sleep threatening to take you under but marijuana causing your vision to move in frames and lull you to rest and loosen your tongue.

Richie doesn't fail to catch this exchange "C'mon guys," He sticks a hand out in exasperation and you can't miss the disappointment on his face.

"Uh, we didn't know they were laced," You narrow your eyes at him, never did you think you'd side with Kyle.

"I know, I know, this is just fucked up," He runs a hand through his hair, forcing it through any tangles.

"Fucked up?" Kyle's eyes are half-lidded though he still seems furious. "We're high on my mom's birthday and there's like thirty fuck ass adults in the other room, we're getting busted."

"Nah, it's cool," Richie says and you're unsure if he's assuring you and Kyle or himself. "You're a hophead anyway so you should be a pro at pretending to be sober." He gestures at you and then turns his attention to Kyle "We've been to a handful of barbeques together and I don't think either of us wants to get in trouble right now."

"This is fucking sick," Kyle mutters, burying his head into his hands.

"I know," You nod with the glint of a smile playing on your face. As nervous as you were over the fact you would have to act sober until the party wrapped up, you couldn't ignore the comedic aspect of the situation.

"No," Kyle shoots you a glare "Not sick as in cool, sick in a bad way like I'm sick."

"You guys are teenagers, you do these things it's like a rite of passage and your parents did it all the time when they were your age," Once again, Richie tries to shrug off the circumstances.

"Get accidentally drugged by their uncle?"

"No, uh-not that, I meant getting high in general."

"How much is in them anyways?" You ask.

He shrugs "Like roughly twenty-five mg or so."

"In a single brownie?" Kyle presses for clarification with wide eyes to which Richie nods.

"Twenty-five milligrams?" You tried not to yell, this had shaken you to what felt like sobriety for only a few seconds "I didn't know you were fucking Walter White."

"Hey, man, I left them wrapped up in the fridge with a sticky note that said 'do not eat', I didn't think his mom was gonna put them out."

"Why wouldn't you leave them in your car, dude?" You're looking at him with a tilted gaze, head resting in the palm of one of your hands.

"Temperature sensitive," he says pointing out the fudgy brownies melting into brown sludge like it had been nuked in the microwave.

"What the fuck?" Your mouth falls ajar "Have you ever made a brownie before?

"They usually don't melt," Kyle adds.

"Watch it," Richie had taken this sting straight to heart "They're supposed to be fudgy and you two are the ones who ate them."

"Oh my god, we ate them," Kyle says under his breath, eyes focused on the oak table in front of him, studying each groove. His attention breaks, and he glances around at the food laid before him then reaches to scoop some macaroni onto his grubby paper plate.

"Slow down greedy gut, did you forget you're diabetic?" You slap his hand away from the cheesy macaroni.

"Yeah," He puts the spoon down "I did."

Richie takes a deep breath out "Man, you guys are roasted."

"Time for the family photo!" Sheila yells from the living room, her distinct accent rising over the seemingly endless murmurs.

"Okay, guys, just remember to be cool and act sober, okay?" He tries for a smile, sticking his thumb up and glancing back and forth between the two of you for confirmation "Sober, so good?"

"Relax," You push yourself up from the table, brushing any crumbs away from the skirt of your dress "We're fine."

"Alright," Richie turns on his heels, exiting the dining room with the tray of brownies still in hand.

The moment you and Kyle walked through the doorway, you felt like everyone was staring at you despite not one person turning their head in your direction. Kyle's family had already been sorting themselves out for the photo, he quietly slipped in there, giving his mom a quick hug before smiling at the phone which was being held by Sandra, a woman with far too much wine in her system who took the temporary role of photographer far too seriously.

You settled against a wall next to Weston who had also been suffocating in overly formal clothing. One thought ran through your mind as the Broflovski's smiled for their picture, don't act high.

"What are you doing?" Weston asked, looking up at you with a sneer.

"Huh?"

"You look like taxidermy, why are you doing that with your face?"

You hadn't noticed that the idea of sober you were trying to project was eyes as wide as the moon and a stone face. At Weston's words, you squinted your eyes slightly and began to grin like this was any more natural than the other face you had been making.

"You're weird," Weston tells you before he looks back at the Broflovski family. He wanted to duck back down into Ike's room to hide from everyone as much as you wanted to steal your dad's keys and drive to Dairy Queen.

"Okay, now let's do a silly one," Sandra smiled brightly, she had really drawn this out much longer than it needed to. After the family scrambled to do something vaguely comedic, Sheila motioned for your parents to join.

After what felt like a century, Sandra finally handed the phone back off to Sheila. Just when you're sure that the exchange has ended, Sheila speaks up "I want a picture of the kids together."

Your mom makes a pouty face, placing a hand on Sheila's shoulder "That's a great idea, we haven't taken one of them all together in ages."

"Let's get you two in the back then Weston and Ike can go in front," Sheila's directing you in front of an audience of coworkers and family friends.

Weston had one arm slung around Ike who did the same while Kyle stood stiffly behind his brother. You kept your tradition of keeping your distance from Kyle, standing one metre away from him and your brothers, hands clasped in front of you.

"Sweetie, you aren't in frame," Sheila tells you.

You nod but don't do anything beyond that, you just stay in the same spot that you had initially been in. "Jellybean, maybe you should move closer to Kyle," Your mom smiles softly, though her eyes are telling you that you should probably listen to her.

Taking a step that must've taken you a distance of an inch, you smile at the camera like this has resolved the issue.

"Um, Jellybean," Your mom had a begrudging smile on her face "I meant to stand next to him, behind your brother."

"I'm okay," you say and for a change have no animosity behind your words, you truly were okay with where you were.

Weston's eyebrows had furrowed in confusion as he watched you with a blissfully ignorant smile on your face. His arm was falling asleep, intertwined with Ikes. Kyle was staring at you, just as everyone else who had paid a speck of attention to the photoshoot was.

"Nope, closer," Your mom gestures for you to move in.

She does so rapidly until you take another side step, albeit larger than your last one though you still stood awkwardly out to the side like you were photobombing.

"For fuck sake," Your mom utters under her breath so quietly that no one had picked up on it. "He's not poison, get in there."

"I believe you meant to say venomous," You shuffle your feet again until you are standing next to where you should be, an awkward gap between Kyle where you were meant to be posing behind your brother.

"Don't do this right now, Jellybean," She says through gritted teeth, trying to uphold her composure for the sake of Sheila and the grace of your family.

"Just one quick picture," Sheila tells you, she's still holding up the phone, finger hovering above the shutter button.

Before you can pull any more nonsense that seemed perfectly reasonable in your altered state, you feel a hand slink around your waist. Kyle's hand rested on the outside of your midriff, fingers sinking into your soft skin. Your mind hadn't even processed this fact when he pulled you into him, your body briefly crashing against his. Kyle flashes the camera a movie star smile while you stare up at him, eyebrows furrowed and eyes incredulous. You looked like you were gearing up to yell at him.

Click!

The very second the picture is taken Kyle drops his hand from its spot on your waist and turns to walk away. While the others disperse, you stand stationary and watch Kyle disappear into the blinding light of the kitchen. It was impossible to ignore the heat creeping up your neck and the warmth flushing your cheeks as your hand retraced where his touch lingered.

Against better judgment, you follow him into the kitchen, unsure of what your plan is, but you do it regardless. He's alone in there with a middle-aged man who's speaking to someone on the phone and pays no attention to where Kyle rifles through the fridge.

"That had to be a misdemeanour of some kind," You say, arms crossed while you stand behind the fridge door.

"What are you talking about?" He looks up at you, grabs a jug of water and closes the fridge door.

"That is really fucked up," You add.

"You're kind of in my orbit right now," He holds a hand out and moves it in a circle.

"Then release me, boy." You watch as Kyle reaches into the cupboard to pull out a glass and pour water from the jug into it until it's on the brink of overflowing. He puts the jug down next to his glass and uses one hand to lean against the island.

He swishes his free hand around like he's casting a spell "I release you," Kyle then reaches for the jug instead of the glass he had poured and takes a long swig.

You shake your head watching him drink from the pitcher as if it were a cup "That's not right." You weren't sure what Kyle's tolerance was, you had never smoked with him before, only seeing him take a couple of hits at parties.

"You're not right," He answers, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and putting the jug back down on the marble countertops.

"One time I made you in the sims and then I made you go swimming in the pool so I could take the ladder out and kill you," You say, leaning against the kitchen island. The man on the phone takes a brief time to cast you a judgemental glance before going back to his phone call.

"Did I die?"

"Nah, they took that feature out so you kinda just climbed out from the side," You answer "I did make you bankrupt and homeless though."

"So I just wonder the streets?" He asks to which you nod "I bet I'm fighting crime."

"No, you just walk around and your hygiene is really bad, you're like visibly dirty."

Kyle freezes for a second, staring past you, he blinks his eyes out rapidly and holds a dinger out to hush you "I think I can hear myself blink." He continues to open and close his eyes "It sounds wet and squishy."

"Gross," You say, letting yourself lean in deeper on the island until you're almost bent in half, across from Kyle.

He runs a hand through his hair and then begins to twirl one finger in his ginger curls before he pats the top of his head "I think I need to cut my hair."

"I think you need to cut yourself," The words fall from your mouth like honey melting from the sun to weigh down the wings of Icarus. His mouth is slightly ajar when you look up to meet his wild gaze. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't say that, don't cut yourself," Had you been sober, you wouldn't have apologized, you would've doubled down and made the statement a million times worse.

"You're an asshole," He says simply.

"So are you," You respond, voice lazy and words drawn out. The man on the phone ends his call, gripping his cell phone like you were going to try and take it from him. He struts past you and Kyle, glaring at the both of you.

"Did we just blow our cover?"

"No, that's Marty, he's an alcoholic so if he tells anyone anything I'll say he's been drinking again," You shrug the question off.

"Is that right? Like morally," He clarifies. "Should we just admit we're high? or maybe that would be bad morally if we got Richie in trouble for something he didn't do." You can see the gears turning in Kyle's head, the way he's analyzing the situation like it's the equation that'll either end the world or save it "Nah, I don't wanna get grounded on my mom's birthday, that's kinda gay."

"That's super gay."

"It's so hot in here," The topic switches once again as Kyle is working on unbuttoning his shirt, taking a deep breath. The very second you notice your eyes linger a moment too long on his hands your head swerves to look at a sign that reads 'This kitchen is seasoned with love' You remember when Sheila bought it, she thought it was hilarious and brought you into the kitchen to see it.

Your mind trails back to the compromising state you and Kyle had been discovered in after the little forest expedition. The interrogation you had to endure, not only with Mr. Waterman but with Wendy as well made you want to hammer nails into your ears. "If it was anyone else but Wendy and our fucking teacher who found us, the rumours would be nuts."

"And that's the worst thing?"

"People thinking that we've slept together? Yeah, it is the worst thing. I'd probably shoot myself and write your name on the wall in my blood."

"How high are you right now?" he squints his eyes.

You shrug "Higher than I think, perhaps."

"Your eyes are kind of insane right now," He points at your face and in turn, you just rub them, too lazy to go check.

"Yours are almost as bright as your hair."

"This isn't even my final form yet."

"What the fuck," You stare at him blankly. You let yourself down the side of the island, spine scraping against it until you drop to the cold tile floors. The frigidness pressing against the back of your calves.

You tuck your head into your hands like it'll magically make you sober. You didn't want to be high anymore or at all that night. You needed a clear head, for your limbs to not feel so loose so you could go back to shutting your thoughts away, so they would die in your throat and never be said.

Kyle has plopped himself onto a stool by the island, peeling a banana from the fruit bowl with precision like he was defusing a time bomb. It seemed like he had entirely forgotten that you were there the second you went out of his sight.

It was nowhere close to your first time smoking though you had taken a little tolerance break for the sake of finals and it was hitting you hard. Everything seemed like it wasn't real like you were in a set where things were hand-crafted to fit the scene. You look down at your hands, balling them up into fists to see if you can feel anything. When all the sensation you receive is a light tap, you put one finger into your mouth and bite, there rested the confirmation that you weren't in a simulation.

What your mind was really craving was a two-leader bottle of diet coke and to curl up on the couch, shrouded in darkness and watch Over the Hedge. You reach a hand up the edge of the countertop to pull yourself up, in the midst of doing so, your foot slips and you are sent toppling over. Your body careened forward, face heading straight for the unforgiving edge of the countertop. There was a sickening crack as your nose collided with the hard surface, followed by a sharp, searing pain that shot through her skull. You collapse back down to the ground, eyes scrunched shut and hand covering your surely felt like a mangled nose.

"What was that?" Kyle turns his head to where he was sure you were though you were no longer in sight. He pries himself away from the stool and makes his way around the island to investigate "What's-oh my fucking god."

"Do you think it's broken?" You ask, moving your hand away to display the nose. The nasal bone itself seemed to be fine, but what rang as concerning was the gash over it that was leaking blood.

"Holy shit, we need to get your parents," He immediately moves to leave but you grab his leg to keep him in place.

"No," you say in what you intended to be a firm voice though it came off as more scared than anything else "We're high, underage, I hate hospitals, and urgent care is expensive."

"You're bleeding from your fucking face."

Gingerly, you poke around the area you had hit, fighting the urge to wince to prove that it wasn't that bad "See? We're good, just a bit of blood." The marijuana had eased the pain in just the slightest by offering the distraction of everything all at once, you were sure it would feel like hell the second you shook your mind clear.

"No, we aren't good, you're fucked up," He says.

"Kyle," Your tone shifts, absolutely serious "My dad will beat the shit out of me if he finds out I'm high, I'll go in the morning if it's actually bad," Truthfully, your dad probably would do some damage if the truth came out. Not only that, but he would bar Richie from seeing you or Weston ever again and your mom was something of a snitch who shared every waking thought with your dad.

He looks down at your figure on the floor, one hand pinching your nose to catch any blood that threatened to spill onto your white dress. His rational thoughts were telling him to rat the both of you out and get you to a hospital though the side of him hazed said it was fine. "You have to go in the morning."

When you move your hand, the blood begins to gush not only from your nostrils but the gash on your nose bridge like juice from cherries that had been torn apart. Now you had a red dress to match your red eyes.

"Yeah, okay cool," You say with a sigh of relief, awkwardly turning on the ground to push yourself up without having your face be inches away from Kyle's. "I need to go upstairs in the bathroom and fix this," What you were trying to get across was that you needed to at least bandage it with the first-aid kit, discreetly.

"What are you going to tell your parents when you go home and you have a huge honker on your face?"

"Um, that I got a nosebleed or that-I don't fucking know, I'll figure it out, fuck face," You answer as you stand up. With a yawn, you shifted to get up, your elbow swinging out in a careless motion. Unfortunately, Kyle had chosen that exact moment to lean forward to grab his phone off the counter, his face perilously close to your elbow's path. Adding another notch to the misfortune of that night, your elbow collided with Kyle's left eye with an audible thud.

Kyle recoiled, his hand instinctively flying to his injured eye as he let out a pained grunt. Your eyes widened in horror as you realized what you had done "Oh my god, it looks like I hit you."

"You did hit me," The anger in his voice isn't unmissable, it's dripping with something that borders between irritation and rage.

"Not on purpose," You retort, quickly wiping away the blood where it pooled above your lip. It had already made it down your face to dribble down your neck and chest before it soaked into the neckline of your dress.

Kyle winced as he gingerly touched the tender skin around his eye, his breath catching in his throat at the searing pain pulsating beneath his fingertips. "Fuck," he mutters.

You felt a tickle in your nose, the pressure builds, the discomfort intensifying with every breath then there came the dreaded sneeze. Instead of the usual sense of relief, there's only pain. A sharp, searing pain radiates from your nose, sending shockwaves of agony through your skull, a splatter of blood from your nose now on Kyles's once pristine button-up.

Your eyes squeeze shut, tears instinctively beginning to push from your eyes as you struggle to regain your composure. The sound that escapes your lips is not the usual sneeze, but a strangled gasp, a testament to the torment wreaked upon your nasal passages. "Fuck, oh my fucking god!" You scream, hands moving upward to cover your nose in the position of a prayer. "Fuck, that fucking hurts, pussy licking cunt face, fuck!"

"Jesus Christ," His voice is breathy, he hadn't entirely comprehended what you had said, his hazy brain was more focused on the throbbing pain enveloping his eye and the blood splattered on his white button-up.

A woman swings around the corner, Alysha, you barely remember what she looked like eight years prior before she bleached her hair to the point it was fried and filled her face with Botox and fillers. "Is everything okay in here?"

"No!" You shout, the vexation wasn't intention but you never thought sneezing would hurt so bad.

"What the hell," Any rage in Kyle's voice was replaced by fear as he stared at Aylsha's face. He looked like a deer caught in headlights though he couldn't bring himself to look away from her pillow face. She had so much filler to the point where her skin would turn loose if it were to be dissolved, her lips were the most obviously overfilled, looking minutes away from bursting. "I think as a society we're way too okay with that."

You brush past him, grabbing his wrist to pull him along. "we're going to the hospital." You're opinion on going to the hospital had changed in an instant. You could've managed if you hadn't sneezed, it felt worse than the initial break. Your senses are overwhelmed by the intensity of the tormenting sensation.

"Why do people do that to themselves?" He lowers his voice.

"Doesn't matter," You dismiss, dragging him into the living room where the majority of the partygoers were gathered. "Danger!" You shout and everyone turns to look at you, startle clear across their wrinkled faces. You split into a grin "There's actually no danger but I need to go to the hospital."

"Jellybean, what happened?" Your mother places her wineglass on the coffee table and rushes over to you, cradling your face in both of her hands while she examines you. Your father isn't far behind, jogging slowly like he was in an action movie, it would've been more efficient to walk over to you.

"We need to go to the hospital," You say simply, clamping your eyes shut so she won't see the redness.

"Kyle!" Sheila exclaims, eyebrows furrowing as she approaches him. She looks up at her tall son, gently touching his swelling eye, red from irritation "My little boy, what happened?" Sheila looks at you, the gash on your nose and the slightly crooked look of it "Did you two fight?"

"No," you answer abruptly, pointing at Richie who was working through a slice of cake "He's sober, he can take us to the hospital."

Richie responds with a nod before he goes back to his cake "Ready to go when you are."

"I just don't understand how this happened," your dad remarks. With each passing second that you weren't on the way to the emergency room, you grew more irritated.

"Kyle, did you hit her?" Gerald stands behind Sheila, his face stony.

"No," You interject "I hit him actually, on accident and I fell and smashed my head on the kitchen island and it really fucking hurts so can we please go?"

"Are you high?" Gerald leans in the slightest to see your red eyes to which you inch back.

"Are you?" Your dad's demeanour changes as he crosses his arms.

All eyes fell on you and you quickly scrambled for an answer, glancing at Richie who looked as panicked as ever before you fell to the conclusion "No, we're teenagers."

Everyone looks either around or at you in confusion over your chosen words. They wondered what exactly you meant by that and you wondered "So why are your eyes red?" Your dad asks.

"It doesn't matter, they need medical attention," Sheila tries to dismiss the topic.

"It's called life, little bro," You clap your hands together like you said something groundbreaking, a small smirk playing on your blood-stained face.

"This is ridiculous," Your dad shakes his head. You glance over at Kyle who's fallen nonverbal, letting his mom poke around his face.

"Because life isn't just all flowers and sausages but we're making the most out of it Gerald so why don't you live a little?" You raise your hands up in the air; in your mind, you are trailblazing by delivering this odd string of words to a crowd of wrinkled faces who watch you like a spectacle. "I would like to get my nose sewn back together.”

"Jellybean, you are acting so strange," Your mother says, catching on to the fact that you might be under the influence.

"It's because of blood loss," Richie cuts in, beginning to usher you and Kyle to the front door. "Don't worry, I'll take good care of them."

You turn your head to stare down your parents as you leave though Kyle's lanky figure blocks them out entirely. He trails behind you, one hand on the small of your back to keep you moving forward. You nearly shudder under his touch but don't make a fight to shake him off.

Sitting in the sterile confines of the hospital waiting room, you couldn't help but feel a mixture of relief and anticipation. Just moments ago, you had emerged from the emergency room, your broken nose carefully repaired by the skilled hands of doctors. Now, as you awaited your discharge, a sense of tiredness was creeping up on you. You had been there entirely too long though the edibles had yet to wear off.

Your nose was still tender, wrapped in layers of gauze and tape, a constant reminder of the trauma it had endured. But beneath the bandages lay four stitches are what was sure to be a nasty bruise. All you could process was that you really wanted a cigarette.

Kyle walks into the waiting room, he scans the few other people in there before his eyes settle on you. He stood still for a moment, thinking whether or not it would be weird if he sat next to you, he decided that it was and opted for the row opposite to you.

Your eyes wander down to his hands where he clutches a little orange bottling, rattling slightly with movement from the pills inside "You got meds already? They just gave me a slip to take to the pharmacy."

"Yup," He shakes the bottle "Did you know that you cracked my cheekbone?"

"No," you narrow your eyes "I don't have X-ray vision."

Silence hangs between the two of you, the only sound being background noise from other patients and nurses. Now that the heat of the painful moment had disbanded you were left unsure of how to talk to Kyle. You didn't even know if you had only shown him the smallest speck of kindness or if he had put his hand around your waist purely from the influence of the drugs.

"I can't believe my dad thought I would hit you," Kyle said the first thing that came to mind, staring at the bandage in the center of your face.

"I can't believe my parents cared more about me being high than having a mangled nose."

"That was kinda crazy."

"This is all kinda crazy," you answer, trying to keep your face as still as possible to avoid the pain of scrunching or moving your nose. "Are you going to tell everyone that I hit you?"

"Not if you don't want me to."

"Please don't," Your voice is hardly above a whisper when you ask this. "It was bad enough when I hit Cartman," That was true, Cartman had made you out to sound like a violent criminal in every rendition of the story he told. He had fabricated so many aspects of it that it seemed more like fiction than reality, even if people didn't believe him, it wouldn't stop them from spreading it.

"Okay," His tone matches the softness of yours "I won't."

"Thanks," You turn your gaze toward the ground, scraping your mind for something else to say so you don't feel like you're drowning beneath unsaid words. "We should smoke and then enter a hotdog eating contest."

"That's a good idea."

"Do you think we're the only ones who've had that idea?"

"I think if we smoked and went to a hot dog eating contest, everyone would be high."

"Do you think I would be a cat or a dog?" You change the topic again, not on purpose but because that was how your brain was functioning.

"I think we would both be dogs," He says with sureness.

"Yeah, maybe you would be like an Australian Sheppard and have gross crusty shit in your eyes because your owners hate you and they never clean you."

"I'm not Australian."

"Well, they don't have Jersey shepherds because I'm pretty sure you can't give dogs spray tans."

"I think I would be a Nova Scotia duck tolling retriever."

"You're not Canadian either and don't make up fake dog breeds, man," You cross your arms.

"It's not fake."

"Totally is, actually, you would be one of those fugly bald dogs that shake all of the time and people adopt them out of pity."

"All dogs are beautiful to me, actually," Kyle says in a matter-of-fact tone like you wouldn't believe his statement.

"Consumerism is so out of hand because how many water bottles do you really need?" You mind once again wondered to things that you had seen online hours prior. What was haunting you was a video of a woman who had collected 78 colours of a reusable water bottle, defeating the purpose of the eco-friendly aspect of it.

He genuinely thinks long and hard about your question "You need one good water bottle, maybe two depending on the circumstances."

"Hey, I have a joke, it's really funny and I just thought of it."

"Shoot."

"If Kyle falls in the forest and no one is around to hear it, did he make any sound at all?" You crack an awkward, faltering smile. The second you said it out loud you realized that it wasn't as funny as intended. It was like you were teetering on the verge of sober, your mind so incredibly close to acting like yourself again before it slipped back into the haziness. "Yeah, it was pretty loud actually."

To your surprise, Kyle actually smiles. His lips curve upwards in a perfect arc, revealing a set of teeth that gleam like pearls against the backdrop of his sun-kissed skin. Each tooth is straight and even, with a dazzling whiteness that seems almost too pristine to be real. You couldn't think back to the last time he smiled at something you said without being sarcastic. Digging through your brain you weren't sure that he had ever smiled at you.

You furrow your eyebrows, mouth pulled back in a grimace, eyes squinting like his perfect grin was an offensive sight "Don't smile at me like that." You could feel your jaw tensing "Jesus, don't smile at me at all."

"Hey kids," Richie had returned, coming to your rescue just when you thought you were going to shatter from the conflict in your mind "Brought you these, a little souvenir from the gift shop," He tossed both of you a Garfield stuffed animal. Garfield looks almost frightening, his half-lidded eyes uneven, weird body emaciated, and fur pale like he's been experimenting. You loved it.

"Thanks," You smile up at your uncle, being careful not to let Garfield touch your blood-stained dress. Kyle has a small grin playing on his face as he holds it in his large hands.

"You got it," He gives you a quick thumbs up "So if everyone is in the clear are we good to go? You and Kyle both nod and Richie turns on his heels, swinging an arm in motion for you to follow him, his car keys jingling in one hand.

The automatic doors slid open as the three of you neared them, the night on the other side of them was brisk. As you and Kyle slipped into the back seat of Richie's prius, you couldn't help but cast one more look at him; a final look at his hooked nose and sharp jaw while you could still write it off as being high.

#kyle broflovski #south park #kyle south park #south park x reader #south park x y/n #stan marsh #eric cartman #kenny mccormick #bebe stevens #kyle broflovski x reader #south park headcanons #south park hcs #kyle broflovski angst #sp kyle #kyle brovlofski #south park kyle #kyle broflovski fluff

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iridescentscarecrow · 12 hours

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while discussing csm 163, i'd mentioned how the fan's monologue revealed more about/reiterated asa & denji's character arcs. & i think that lays the groundwork for 164 very well:

the rules regarding intimacy being laid down by Nayuta (symbolic of family) during asaden's first date are really interesting. now you see nayuta (or rather, her absence) being determinant to denji's Compliance. the house & its rules are *burnt* (fire/dreams) to ruin.

within nayuta you can still locate makima's initial thesis with family as the location for control. the shattered husk of family, haunting where & how you form relationships, where you comply with state, with church, with structure.

and this quality is relevant to asa too. she specifically brings it up here, she was robbed of her family in the orphanage. family as context. asa is made uniform & outside narrative frame. her deprotagonism occurs in concert with the gendered labels she's assigned,

wherein she's pushed into the role of a Fan. even her harkening back to context is brought up in relation to denji: she knows how it feels *too*. this area of empathy is a point i'll mention later in this post, re: another Fan from part 2.

but even then: right now in the manga it seems apt then that we see asa's strain of self at its weakest. her strong individuation|aversion that marked her prior interactions are kind of bled away? we're given startlingly little writing re: her interiority, she's oddly passive.

the point of deviation here is her declaring that she hates sushi. it's unreasonable, absurd against the scene. you're reminded of the aquarium arc, where she'd said the same thing: her hating fish. her being stubborn.

this is at the same time where she hugs her knees & tells denji that making him into a weapon goes against her principles. she can't eat fish, even when cornered up & starving. neither can she make him into a weapon. or follow this script.

strangely enough, it's in the aftermath of this scene that i find asa's sense of self to appear the strongest. she's flushed and giddy with victory. she's entirely Protagonist, denji is relegated to the background.

which is why her shafting & the way this is seen alongside fanhood is extremely compelling when we consider the other character who'd brought up SUSHI: fumiko. fumiko categorises herself as the Denji Fan, at many points engineering her own exit from the narrative.

as opposed to asa who is thought of in association with the CSM almost involuntarily, tripped & restrained distinct from her selfishness. at the amusement park, fumiko attempts to relate her own family/background with denji too. it's a moment that particularly gets to me.

because denji's response to this is him trying to sort of find a commonality between their griefs, in an event where he lost his family as well. he turns to her but she's still talking about the fucking chainsaw man. not his grief.

& asa here, all of CSM's motely fanclub, wanting different things out of him, talking to him about family, like fumiko, within his home's burnt remains, one built out of the product of his Hunger for makima (quite literal) brought to culmination by cannibalism, nayuta's birth.

the home is torn down, & nayuta is gone. denji is hungry again, says kiga. he's hungry for sushi. fumiko The Fan, in her affiliation with denji, talks to him about sushi, tuning his hunger, in a manner. food underlies p2's narrative marvellously well with kiga & falling.

fire used in cooking & transforming fans into tools. & asa at many points finds this same fanhood sticking onto her, palpably gendered. her hating sushi is written as absurd instead of solemn as it was earlier. & fumiko, in her condensed fanhood *likes sushi*.

asa getting over her dislike of sushi for denji would be absolutely horrifying TBH. i don't know how else i'm meant to see it.

#csm #crow.txt #chainsaw man #csm meta #asa mitaka #fumiko mifune

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turbo-tsundere · 10 months

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If I disappear for a century, that's the reason x'D

Frankly, I so shouldn't be doing this - I have a ton of WIPs as is, and not enough time, but... I really, really miss making comics. I'd also like to take actual steps towards completing more ambitious Gonta-centric projects; and this is an old idea I was regularly mulling over.

So since it's now fully storyboarded anyway, I'll keep going, even if it's gonna take a while. I may post standalone fanarts sporadically, but inking/toning all these pages is my main focus for now!

Btw. no, this isn't going to be shippy lmao. The story is rather serious tho, I'll do my best to do it justice.

#gonta gokuhara #gokuhara gonta #ouma kokichi #kokichi ouma #danganronpa #ndrv3 #v3 #my art #draft #sketch #comic storyboard #I'm particularly determined about this one #can't afford to get my own webcomic out of hiatus hell still - this behemoth is plain unrealistic to tackle in my situation and stay sane #but a short fancomic... is still very tough but feasible #and even if I fail to finish or take too long I guess I could always just post the storyboard?

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thedreadvampy · 1 year

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sorry I'm on one now. Narnia is one of my Big Rant triggers.

but like. I would be lying if I said I didn't love Narnia

(everything except the Horse and His Boy, which a) even as a tiny kid made me uncomfortable with how fucking racist it is (literally there is ONE. ONE. character of colour who isn't evil, selfish, greedy and violent. even when you're 5 and white and don't really understand racism it's like. sorry there are just no nice people in this whole country? and every Narnian is lovely?) and b) is just fucking DULL partly bc of the 2 dimensional racist caricatures populating the world)

but I can't pretend for a second that it isn't specifically built around a Christian theology that's explicitly racist, hierarchical, supremacist, colonialist and The Bits I Like Least Of Anglicanism

and my FAVOURITE books in the series (except the Silver Chair which tbh is WAY less theological and way more mythology-nerd) are the first and last, which are by far the most explicitly Christian. even more so than TLTWATW.

and I can just about stand by the Magician's Nephew bc it's mostly just a mix of Christian creation myth and CS Lewis's sci fi interests in the esoteric and multiverses and it honestly feels fine. but my all time favourite most iconic Narnia book is The Last Battle and I just. cannot. justify it for a second from a political or philosophical standpoint.

it's got it all bc it's the book where Lewis is like ok hold up let me lay out explicitly what my theology is. and what he thinks it's important to say is:

Almost all Muslims are bad and evil

They worship Satan by doing Bad Evil Deeds to please him

There are a couple of Good Muslims who do good deeds. they need to be brought to the light, understand that the voice calling them to do good deeds is the Christian god, and they too can achieve the kingdom of heaven

Some people will use Christianity as a mask for exploitation and mistreatment. They are bad and their faith is false (ok fine)

...and they're doing that because they're CONSPIRING WITH THE EVIL MUSLIMS TO OPPRESS GOOD CHRISTIANS

...and THAT'S THE ONLY REASON ANYONE WOULD TELL YOU THAT GOD AND ALLAH ARE DIFFERENT NAMES FOR THE SAME GOD. because they're either conning you or because they've been misled and can't really think for themselves.

DID I MENTION. THAT MUSLIMS ARE EVIL AND TRYING TO BRING DOWN CHRISTIANS.

and other than the GOD AREN'T MUSLIMS JUST THE WORST of it all, he also goes back over to more fully explain several points he's made throughout the series, such as:

white Christian public school kids are the god ordained leaders of the world and attempts to think otherwise are heretical

god places people where they need to be to serve his purpose

free will is largely an illusion - your only choice is faith or chaos, and as a godly person your actions are preordained

the problem is though. he's kind of a really good character writer? and in The Last Battle he pulls out most of his best classics (hi Reepicheep! hi Frank! hi Jill!) and gives us a whole wealth of really fun new characters (Tirian and Jewel, Emeth, Puzzle, Shift, Griffle and Ginger are all just SO FUN) and it's such a solid adventure. for me it's hands down the most FUN Narnia to read and an effective and affecting end to the series.

but like. god its unjustifiably fucked philosophy is baked into every single character and event. it's so hard to ignore. it's my favourite book in the series. it's the book that makes me angriest. it's everything right with Narnia and everything wrong with Narnia. I like it cause it asks me to engage critically with Lewis' philosophy and I hate it cause it requires me to engage critically with Lewis' philosophy.

in conclusion, Narnia is a land of contrasts. also occasionally brownface.

#red said #i love these books. i love the last battle especially.#fuck me they're awful philosophically though #they were probably the first chapter books i read when i was 3 or 4. they are such a big part of my life.#and I've always loved them and i still do. I'm so fond of them.#and part of that is inextricable from the Christianity of them. i think there's something really fun and interesting in the fusion of #christian myth and celtic paganism and classical myth and arthuriana and new age mysticism and sci fi multiverse stuff #like it's not. new to blend those things. but lewis is such a nerd about all of them and he blends them up in a really flavourful way #and also i think like as a kid. the utter claroty with which These Are Metaphors About Theology And Philosophy #really worked for me even though I disagreed with most of it. because it kind of wants to engage with you directly as a child #it is. to me. pretty honest about its intentions. and it digs into some moderately complex ideas for a young audience.#like they're parables not morality plays. the Goddier ones are inviting you to think and engage in a conversation about the ideas #which tbh. not a lot of kid's books did at the time and age i was reading them?#they wanted me to be thinking about the whys and hows of morality. like obviously Lewis SUPER has an opinion on the Right Answers #(i would usually. say we're diametrically opposed on most conclusions but then i was rooting for Jadis' army in LWW)#but idk Lewis's theology is interesting. he's very much pro faith and determinism but he ALSO thinks you should question stuff i think #like. it's often kind of self-contradictory but the books are pretty pro asking questions pushing back straying from the path #as long as you come back #and the last battle particularly is really clear that you're not doing a good job of engaging with faith if you don't think about it #like other than MUSLIMS ARE EVIL AND BAD the main message of the last battle is.#if you don't think critically about faith then someone else will think for you and fuck you over #tirian is our hero bc he has a personal and often uncertain relationship with faith that means he refuses to get swept up in the crowd #puzzle is painted as someone who is too scared of conflict to voice his concerns #he's prepared to believe he's too stupid to have his own questions or relationship with faith and so he becomes a tool of the powerful #because he is told to trust the teachings of the church not his own heart #now. do i think this is philosophically good? generally yes but it also props up the I'M A BOLD TRUTHTELLER AGAINST THE ESTABLISHMENT #reactionary tendency. and it's written by a guy whose Unpopular Truthtelling is partly 'Allah is Satan' so. grains of salt.#buuuuut. it's probably why it resonates a lot with people like me or my mum who as kids often felt constrained or patronised #by the way adults approach obedience and blind faith #like. Lewis is advocating for FAITH. he DOESN'T think that faith should be uncritical or without discomfort

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hedgehog-moss · 4 months

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In previous years I've tried uprooting small fir trees in my woods to use as Christmas trees, making sure to be gentle in the process and keep as much of their root system as I could, but when I replanted them in the woods later it just never worked. The trees didn't appreciate being treated like this, so last year I didn't even try replanting my Christmas tree and just fed it to the llamas (who did appreciate.)

I meant to do the same this year, and on my to-do list this week I had "cut a Christmas tree" and "get rid of 10m2 of broom plants" (this is on my to-do list in perpetuity. They grow so rampantly, if I didn't fight back there would be no pasture left.)

^ But then after I went and cut a bunch of horrible brooms I thought, well this is absurd, I'm going to kill a perfectly nice fir tree that I have no beef with, to have something green in my living-room for Christmas, when I could humiliate my plant nemesis by festooning its slain offspring with tinsel? I mean, shrubs are green. They fit the bill. I bet with a star on top they could pass for a Christmas tree.

At first I tried to cut a tall and large broom, then poke holes in its trunk with my drill to stick smaller broom branches in there like this: \o/ to give it a rough Christmas tree shape. It didn't work. Brooms as it turns out are extremely dense and fibrous and my drill didn't like drilling into them one bit.

So I lowered my expectations, and started gathering a big bouquet of younger brooms (the only positive aspect of broom invasiveness is that I have an infinite number of shrubs to experiment on. I cut a half dozen of them to try and drill holes into them and by the time I gave up, another two dozen had grown back in their place). I tied up my broom bouquet into something vaguely reminiscent of a fir and, I mean, with a star, it sort of looks the part?

I had to do the tying-up part several times, because the pretty and festive golden string I initially used was too weak. This bouquet of broom branches may look placid and easygoing in photographs, but when tied together tightly, it is determined to free itself.

But I managed to tame it using hay bale string. It didn't look happy with its fate, but I mean, it's a broom shrub. Its only ambition in life is to conquer as much pasture territory as possible and add it to its broom empire. It does not want to be a decorative plant in a living-room.

Take any historical figure who was mainly known as a ruthless conqueror and try to picture turning him into a Christmas tree. He won't look happy about it.

I ended up making two Christmas Brooms, one for the greenhouse and one for my living-room. The greenhouse one was originally meant for the living-room, but it was made up of particularly obstinate Pampe-like branches and I was worried one of my cats would poke it and the "tree" would suddenly break its chains in an explosion of vegetal triumph and traumatise the cat.

It may look like a peaceful Christmas Yew in the below pic, but don't underestimate its very strong desire to free itself from even the tough hay bale string, which forced me to use my garlands to tie it up some more, wrapping them around the "tree" less loosely and festively than usual. But I put my biggest star on top and that means it looks like a Christmas tree. A Christmas tree with a restraining order.

This tree is held together with tinsel, threats, and Christmas magic.

In the dark and from afar you really can't tell it's a bunch of unruly invasive shrubs tied together <3 And here's the much thinner and therefore less angry version in my living-room:

It was tilting to the left somewhat worryingly so I put a heavy stuffed hedgehog at the bottom to stabilise it, and a mountain goat at the top to dissuade it. All hands on deck. They both look somewhat petrified, like they are begging the faux-tree to remain a tree for the duration of the holidays...

Thus ends my Christmas Broom journey. It was a bit of a pain to set up but at least an innocent fir out there got to escape a grim fate (devoured by llamas), and a small gang of invasive shrubs get to be looked at with approval and joy for the first time in their life. It's a win-win.

#crawling along

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krakensdottir · 8 months

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The idea of Crowley previously being a very powerful angel and still carrying around shards of that power is just so delicious to me. I'm a sucker for characters who aren't at all what they used to be. Underdogs who were obviously once a Big Deal, and you can't see it most of the time, until some improbable bit of classified knowledge or mention of higher connections leaks out. Especially if they really don't like to talk about it or dwell on who they were, if for one reason or another, they want to leave it all in the past.

I have had a feeling about Crowley since season 1. His position on Hell's hierarchy is relatively low, so it's not immediately apparent at first. But things stood out. How he bends reality to his will without seeming to even think about it, sometimes even without realizing. He decides it would be funnier if the paint guns were real guns, but also makes sure no one actually gets shot. This seems to take no effort or concentration on his part; it's done almost offhandedly. Or how he drives the Bentley through a wall of fire, keeping it from falling apart by sheer determination, while the much higher-ranking demon in the seat next to him is discorporated in seconds. Almost as impressive is how he negotiates London traffic, which from what I've heard is a borderline miraculous feat normally, let alone at 90 miles per hour.

And of course, the time stopping. Something even Aziraphale apparently isn't capable of. Something that, with a particularly fierce effort, literally stops Satan in his tracks. The sort of power wielded by a cosmic engineer who once needed it to do his job - 'I helped build that one,' he says, eyes a little distant as stares at a picture of a nebula - and he still carries it with him, skulking around on Earth, far from the cosmos he helped to create. Having let go of most of the rest, even the memories of it, burying them with the person he used to be. He's changed who he is but he can't change what he is, and if you cracked open that lowly serpent, you'd be blinded by the starlight within.

#good omens #crowley

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cinnamonest · 24 days

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I'm not looking to start shit so I'm not linking it or anything, but you may have seen a recent anti-dark-content post circulating with a lot of notes making rounds in the x reader sphere and while I have nothing against people posting their feelings in their own private spaces, every time I see these kinds of posts there's a lot of misinformation that gets regurgitated in the reblogs/replies and I saw what looked like a battlezone in the replies, so.

I know posts like that can be very jarring and affects people like my readers, so to combat misinformation/shaming for anyone who saw it, I'm going to share some of my information on combatting fandom puritanism/misogyny/kinkshaming in its most common forms.

The most important fact, if you read nothing else, is this:

Most women have rape fantasies.

62% to be exact. I think the most pervasive myth on this content is that consumers are "weird" for it, when the numbers don't indicate that. You're in the majority!

The vast majority of people who have rape fantasies do not put them into practice in real life. A variety of factors can determine whether or not they do, particularly specific psychiatric disorders. (X)

To specifically address common harmful and pervasive myths:

the "go to therapy!" line

Generally any academic or professional resource will immediately tell you that consuming and engaging in "dark" fantasies is accepted and encouraged by mainstream psychiatry and part of the professional education for psychiatrists. (This also used to be pretty well-known until like the last 5 years or so, not sure why that changed.)

Here are some particularly insightful resources:

1) This article by Dr. David Wahl, in my opinion, hands-down does the best job of simply and thoroughly explaining why these fantasies occur and why couples practice CNC, as well as the fact that they are both harmless, psychologically beneficial to those with them, and not at all correlated to real-life rape.

2) Dr. Claudia Six has some of the best and most thorough material out there on the subject, specifically explaining why this is taught in mainstream academia psychology and how it is incredibly helpful to rape victims (X).

3) Lisa Diamond is a professional who focuses on this subject a lot, and was featured in the documentary "The Dilemma of Desire," in which she specifically focuses on how these fantasies are not correlated to real-life desires. (X)

4) Dr. Casey Lyle has specifically talked a lot on his socials about how fantasies, even in men/the perspective of the offender, do not correlate to actual risk of offending.

5) This article is not by a professional, but from the perspective of a survivor discussing how it is beneficial to survivors.

the "why would you want that?" line

The idea that fictional tastes = what you want to happen to you in real life is actually of misogynistic origin. I don't want to seek out or add links on this one, but if you're really curious, you can research about how the idea that "women read rape fiction, that means they secretly want rape!" was originally a classic "red pill"/MGTOW/4chan talking point that made its way into mainstream dialogue and thus the public mind in the last 15 years or so due to the incel epidemic popularizing those communities.

the "it's only valid for survivors then!" line

On one hand, yes it's very important to acknowledge that trauma victims use it to cope, however I feel that over-emphasizing that gives the impression that non-victims should be excluded from consumption of dark content, so to clarify, it's a very valid means for all women. Many women who have not personally experienced rape still fantasize about it, and that's fine.

The full explanation as to why this is true for many of them would be lengthy (and addressed in the aforementioned Dilemma of Desire documentary), but in the simplest terms, nonconsensual sex is the only context in which patriarchal society permits women to have sex at all without feeling guilt. For many women, particularly those in more heavily misogynistic or religious cultures, these fantasies are appealing because the idea of consensual sex may give them feelings of shame, guilt, "sin," etc. These fantasies allow them to experience the feeling of being desired without guilt of participation.

No society on earth is free of the psychological grip that cultural misogyny has on women, and shaming women for adapting to the conditions they are forced to exist under is as harmful as the misogyny that causes it itself.

ALL women experience a form of psychological trauma inherent to female childhood and female adolescence in a patriarchal world, and that is just as valid as coping with individual traumatic events.

Good resources on the subject of why women have these fantasies and how they are helpful in general:

(X) (X)

The "what you consume will make you do it in real life!" myth

Although the resources above already address this, it's important to establish why this myth is so prevalent and what its origins are.

The idea that consuming media with dark themes leads to or indicates desires to replicate those acts is a residual element of two major events:

1) Puritan revival culture, popularized in the US and UK in the 90s and 2000s (also known as "Satanic Panic"). A major facet of this movement was TV megachurch preachers making money off of exploiting well-meaning but paranoid parents into believing that your child playing Dungeons and Dragons or Pokemon would make them future serial killers and lure them into satanic cults. (X)

2) at the tail end of this, it was cemented in the public mind as a cultural ripple aftershock of the Columbine shooting, where this sentiment became popularized as the general public blamed violent video games like Doom and "dark" music like Marilyn Manson (whose life was temporarily completely upended by the events and took him years to recover/be safe from) for the 1999 shooting. This event had MASSIVE permanent and global effects in all sorts of ways that the public often underestimates the sheer scope of, notably that it solidified, prolonged, and, in the minds of many, "proved" the paranoias of the preexisting Satanic Panic. (X) This established a precedent, leading to virtually any major horrible event being blamed on the perpetrator's media consumption, including murder and sex crimes.

What this myth ignores in the cases it references (the slenderman stabbings, columbine, sasebo slashing, batman shooting, etc) is two crucial facts: that hundreds of millions of people consume the same media with no negative effects (helpful effects even), and that in every single case cited as "evidence" to the claim, the perpetrator had a preexisting psychiatric condition correlated to acts of violence (which usually went ignored, downplayed and even accelerated/worsened by those around them rather than the help they needed).

Sorry for the wall of text, but I feel an ethical obligation to combat this kind of misinformation, and I hope these resources are helpful for those who may be negatively affected by common misunderstandings.

You are not abnormal or wrong for the fictional content you consume or the fantasies you have!

#im very passionate about this because this sort of thing severely affected younger me #and i dont want that for anyone else!#love yall

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pinchofhoney · 7 months

Text

broken promises, part one

part one | part two | part three »

coriolanus snow x fem!reader

word count: 1.8k

warning: none

summary: In Snow's world, only one thing mattered more than his family's reputation—you. But that was before he met Lucy Gray.

a/n: coryo is the type of person i sincerely hate and i'm glad that there are no such arrogant people in my life, who think they are better than others and who in crisis situations only care about themselves and to save their own arse. but at the same time i'm aware that young snow could be someone i'd catch a crush on at school. so why shouldn't i hate him even more?

pages that may interest you: masterlist ♡ taglist ♡ who i write for

taglist: you told me to tag you everywhere, so i'm back to doing it again; @wolfmoonmusic

gif is not mine, credit to the owner

The problem with snow is its tendency to melt, mirroring the way we once thought our feelings would endure forever. Yet, shouldn't emotions, particularly those nestled in our hearts, last longer?

You had known Coriolanus since childhood, and your families had always been close. You had grown up together, surviving the hardships of the war-torn Capitol side by side, and now, in the post-war era, you were still inseparable. There was an unspoken understanding between the two of you going above a simple friendship. Your connection ran deep, like the roots of the oldest trees in the Panem's forests.

Coriolanus was an intriguing character, a puzzle you had been solving together since you were children. He was the embodiment of Capitol charm, with his perfectly tailored suits, polished manners, and charismatic smile that could sway even the most skeptical of Capitol elites. But you knew that beneath that carefully constructed facade was a mind as sharp as a blade and a heart that carried the weight of his family's fallen reputation.

Yet, when he was with you, it was as if a different side of him emerged. The hard lines on his face softened, and his icy demeanor melted away. With you, he could be himself, unburdened by the expectations of Capitol society. It was a rare glimpse into the man behind the mask, and you cherished those moments even more than your favorite jasmine tea and the cat you found shortly after the war had ended.

You couldn't help but admire his intelligence, his quick wit, and his relentless determination to succeed in a world that often seemed stacked against him. His family's name might have been tarnished, but Coriolanus was determined to reclaim their lost glory. He was driven by a burning ambition that flickered like an eternal flame, and you were his unwavering support, the one who fanned that flame to keep it burning bright.

In your eyes, he was more than the sum of his flaws and ambitions. He was the boy you had shared secrets with under moonlit skies, the man who had held you when the world crumbled around you, and the person who knew you better than anyone else. With him, you felt safe, cherished, and loved in a way that no one else could replicate.

Your love for him was boundless, and you were content in the knowledge that you were his confidante, the one person he could be truly vulnerable with. Your relationship with Coriolanus was the envy of many in academy, a seemingly perfect match of two souls intertwined by fate and affection. You were the golden couple, a shining example of love and devotion in a world that often lacked both.

But you wished you had known sooner that it's often the things we love most that destroy us, as Coriolanus Snow's world was about to collide with that of a girl named Lucy Gray and you were not ready for it to happen.

As the day of the tribute's arrival approached, you had been by Coriolanus's side more than ever. The weeks leading up to this moment had been filled with your unwavering support. You had reassured him countless times, sitting together in your cozy bedroom, his head resting gently on your thighs while you combed your fingers through his soft blonde curls. It was a calming gesture, one that had become a comforting routine. You listened to his concerns, his fears, and his ambitions, and you were sure that everything would be fine, that he would be just perfect as a mentor, and that his scholarship and dreams of continuing his studies at the university were within reach.

Your words were like a soothing melody to him, a reminder that he wasn't alone in this daunting new role. He would look into your eyes with his cold ones, filled with gratitude, and you could see the weight lifting from his shoulders, if only temporarily. And in those moments, you felt like his anchor, the one who kept him grounded amid the chaos of his own thoughts.

Now, you both stood at the nearly deserted train station, the oppressive heat of the day hanging heavily in the air. The scorching sun beat down relentlessly, casting shimmering waves of heat across the empty platform. It seemed that most of the Capitol's citizens had chosen to stay indoors, seeking refuge from the sweltering weather.

The only other souls present were a handful of stoic peacekeepers, their pristine white uniforms stark against the dull backdrop of the station. The silence was broken only by the distant hum of the city beyond, a reminder of the bustling Capitol life that lay just outside the station's borders.

Coriolanus tightly held a single white rose plucked from his grandmother's garden, a symbol of his intent to make a lasting impression on his tribute. It was a stark contrast to the vibrant colors of your academy uniforms. The simplicity of the white rose spoke of his sincerity and dedication to this new role as mentor.

With no clear timetable for the tribute train's arrival, the two of you stood patiently, pretending that the day's weather didn't bother you, the weight of uncertainty hanging over you like a heavy cloud. Coriolanus shifted his gaze between the tracks and the single white bloom in his hand.

You observed him closely, and when his gaze finally met yours, you offered a reassuring smile. “Remember, Coryo,” you murmured, “no matter what, you'll be the mentor she needs; your sincerity and kindness will shine through.”

“I hope you're right, Y/N,” he replied softly, his voice filled with a hint of doubt. “I need her to survive on the arena as long as she can,” he added, as if the idea of a group of vulnerable youths engaging in brutal competition in just a few days were the most ordinary occurrence in the world.

But that was precisely what it represented for the Capitol residents – the Hunger Games, an annual spectacle of entertainment.

Time seemed to stretch endlessly under the unrelenting sun, and the station remained eerily devoid of any signs of life. It felt as though hours had passed, but in truth, you couldn't be sure. Beads of perspiration formed on your brows, and you could feel the heat radiating from the platform's surface.

You and Coriolanus were on the verge of giving up and returning to the cool embrace of your penthouses when, at long last, the distant rumble of an oncoming train reached your ears. The sound grew steadily louder, and you looked at each other, exchanging tired glances.

Coriolanus's grip on the white rose tightened as he turned his gaze towards the approaching train. As he rose from the bench where you had sat, his anticipation peaked. You stood beside him, wanting to be his support, but you had no idea that your role was about to change very soon.

The train pulled into the station with a hiss of steam and the screech of brakes, billowing clouds of moisture and smoke into the scorching air. The two of you watched the machine in silent, your heart pounding in your chest. This was the moment when you would come face to face with people from the Districts, individuals whose lives were so far removed from the opulence and extravagance of your own. It was a rare and humbling experience, one that left you with a slight quiver in your step as you clung to Coriolanus, seeking solace in his reassuring presence.

For what felt like an eternity, nothing happened. The train's doors remained sealed shut, as if holding its cargo of tributes in a reluctant embrace. The only thing that reached you was an unpleasant stench wafting from the carriages, a stark reminder of the grim reality that these young souls were about to face.

Finally the impatient peacekeepers took matters into their own hands. They descended upon the train, their authoritative presence enough to scare the tributes out of their temporary sanctuary. One by one, they were herded onto the platform, their expressions ranging from fear to defiance.

And then, your eyes locked onto a figure unlike the others. A girl stood there, her presence a stark contrast to the muted palettes of others tributes. She wore a rainbow-colored dress that shimmered with vibrancy, a flare of color and individuality amidst the sea of old attire. You recognized her immediately from the television screens, a girl whose name had already become a part of your daily life even before this encounter.

Lucy Gray Baird.

The very name whispered in the hushed tones of Capitol citizens as they watched her on the screens, intrigued and fascinated by her enigmatic presence from the Reaping. Her gaze swept across the platform, and for a brief moment, your eyes locked onto each other's.

You couldn't help but break into a warm, welcoming smile. With a cheerful wave of your hand, you signaled to her that both you and Coriolanus were eagerly awaiting her arrival, hoping to ease the initial tension of this life-altering moment.

Lucy Gray's response was a hesitant yet appreciative smile in return. Her steps were slow and cautious as she walked slowly toward you, a palpable sense of curiosity radiated from her, her eyes flitting between the unfamiliar faces that lined the platform.

Your gaze briefly shifted to Coriolanus, a subtle expectation in your heart that his eyes would mirror the warmth you felt. But when you looked at him, you noticed something different. It was as if his eyes were magnetically drawn to Lucy Gray, locked onto her with a nearly unwavering intensity that bordered on fixation. Those eyes, usually so sharp and calculating, now held an expression you had never quite seen before. It was as though he had stumbled upon a priceless museum exhibit, left captivated, awestruck, and undeniably intrigued.

A soft, knowing smile played at the corners of your lips, silently acknowledging his reaction to the girl before you. You gently squeezed his hand, a gesture of affection and solidarity. You understood that this moment bore immense significance for him, that he was on the corner of a journey filled with unforeseen challenges. Lucy Gray was the keynote of this new chapter in his life, and you couldn't help but admire her from a distance, captivated by her unique presence and the aura that surrounded her.

Before you could utter a word, Coriolanus took a determined step forward, his eyes still locked on the girl. He extended his hand, offering her the pristine white rose he had clutched throughout the wait and with a subtle nod, he greeted her in a tone that resonated with formality and welcome.

“Welcome to the Capitol.”

part two »

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srvbryn · 3 months

Text

Luke Castellan. hands

Luke Castellan X Ares!daughter!reader

Summary: you've always like Luke Castellan, but his hands - gods. You love his hands the most

Warning: hands fetish, some suggestive jokes

A/n: I got inspo by this one Sebastian Sallow fic but made it PG-13 😰😰

By some miracle, Luke hadn’t noticed your unwavering eye contact with his hands yet.

The two of you had been kept preoccupied with taking care of the cabin and as a result, your only opportunities to spend time with him had been during sparring time.

Clarisse, one of your half siblings, was having none of it—clearly smarter than you gave her credit for. "You're always checking out Castellan, but it's gotten worse since we returned. Did he grow a second cock or something?"

"Clarisse! You can't just say that about him', you hissed, your face flushed beetroot red, another indication that you're staring at him, specifically his hands.

"well what got your knickers twisted since the past few days sister?" She snickered. You sighed. "Have you ever found other body parts attractive? Like-"

Clarisse gasps, "Are you attracted to his feet? You are telling me you were horny because of his feet?"

You abruptly denied her, flustered. "w-what? No, I'm talking about his veiny hands."

You nervously explained to Clarisse, "It's not his feet, it's his veiny hands. There's just something about them."

She raised an eyebrow, "Veiny hands? That's your thing?"

You nodded, feeling awkward but determined. "Yeah, they're... attractive."

Clarisse smirked, "Well, good luck with your hand fetish. Just make sure you don't drool in public."

As you continued your routine at the Ares cabin, you found yourself stealing glances at Luke's hands whenever you could. One evening, while sparring, he noticed your prolonged stares.

Luke chuckled, "What's got you so interested in my hands, (Name)?"

You blushed, stumbling over your words, "I, uh, just... noticed they're, um, nice. I mean, good for sparring."

He raised an eyebrow, smirking, "Oh, you like a guy with skilled hands, huh?"

And since that day, it became a running joke among your half siblings. Luke even started teasing you about his "magic hands." Despite the embarrassment, you found yourself enjoying the exchanges.

One day, as you and Luke were alone in the cabin, he looked at you curiously. "Seriously, what's the deal with my hands?"

You took a deep breath, confessing, "I just find them... attractive. It's weird, I know."

Unexpectedly, Luke grinned, "Well, (Name), I never thought I'd have someone crushing on my hands, but I'm flattered."

Your cheeks burned, but you both laughed it off. Your crush on Luke's hands had become a well-known joke.

During a particularly heated sparring session, Luke couldn't help but notice your lingering gazes at his hands.

With a sly grin, he remarked, "Enjoying the view, (Name)? My hands are pretty skilled, aren't they?"

You bit your lip, feeling a rush of embarrassment. "I...uh, they're just, you know, interesting to watch during training."

Luke chuckled, "Interesting, huh? Well, if you're into skilled hands, maybe you'd like a closer look."

Your heart raced as he extended his hand, teasingly offering it to you. Clarisse, shouted from the sidelines, "Go on, (Name), give those magical hands a touch!"

Blushing furiously, you hesitated for a moment before tentatively taking his hand. The contact sent a shiver down your spine, and Luke's playful expression turned into a more knowing smirk.

Luke would purposely use his hands more during training, making sure you had a front-row seat to the display. The other campers caught on, and your crush became the subject of good-natured teasing.

You and Luke sat by the lake, he leaned in with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "You know, (Name), there are other ways to appreciate skilled hands."

You shot him a questioning look. Luke's fingers traced patterns on your palm, sending a delightful shiver through you. "Just a thought," he whispered, his voice low and suggestive.

From that point on, your interactions with Luke took on a subtly flirtatious undertone. Whether it was a lingering touch during training or a shared secret glance.

The chemistry between you two intensified. Clarisse, sensing the change, simply rolled her eyes, muttering, "Finally catching on, huh?"

The flirtatious tension between you and Luke continued to escalate, turning each training session into a delicate dance of suggestive glances and teasing touches.

Clarisse and Annabeth (for some reason the both of them work together to tease you and Luke everyday), who had initially been the instigator of the whole affair, now simply smirked knowingly as the two of you exchanged moments.

Luke were sparring under the shade of the trees, he shot you a wicked grin. "You know, (Name), my hands aren't just good for holding weapons. They have other talents too."

You raised an eyebrow, playing along, "Oh really? And what talents might those be?"

He leaned in, the playful glint in his eyes never fading. "Oh, they're full of surprises. Want me to show you?"

Clarisse, observing from a distance, couldn't resist shouting, "Careful, (Name), you might not be able to handle the Castellan hand magic!"

That night, as you found yourselves alone in the Ares cabin, Luke leaned against the wall, his eyes locking onto yours. "So, (Name), any specific requests for my hands tonight?"

You pretended to think for a moment, then with a mischievous glint, replied, "Maybe a demonstration of their massage skills?"

He stepped closer, his proximity sending a thrill through you. "Well, if you insist."

#luke pjo #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan #percy spoilers #charlie bushnell #pjo spoilers #pjo tv show #pjo series #percy jackson and the olympians #percy series #pjo #clarisse pjo #clarisse la rue #annabeth chase #annabeth pjo

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qdbs-writes · 10 months

Note

You don't have to if you're uncomfortable: but would you do Lao, Liu, Johnny and Takeda having to work with a very attractive MILF who calls them "pretty boy" and such?

MK Lads Get Called "Pretty Boy" By A Hot MILF

Johnny Cage

Now Johnny knows he's good-looking, his decade-spanning career in front of a camera is testament to that. But it's still rare for someone so beautiful to be so bold with calling him "pretty boy".

"Hope you know I'm more than just a pretty face, ma'am" he'll wink in return, while he leans in to match her proximity. "Is that so?" she chuckles, "Well, I hope to get a fill of some of your skills tonight" manicured hands raking across his sculpted chest. "Oh, fuck yes." he gasps while her palm presses into his nipple, the night would be fun.

Kung Lao

Kung Lao lives under the generally erroneous judgement that he's 'top dog' so to speak in any situation. Naturally, when someone like him is reminded that this is not the case, it's... strange, but in this case, in a very pleasant way.

Lao will take being called a "pretty boy" as a fun challenge. "Really? How about I show you just how much of a man I am?" he laughs. She purrs with satisfaction, "Oh I would love to see you try". Lao dives in to kiss her; determined to prove himself.

Liu Kang

Naturally, being the chosen one is a lot of pressure, and Kang is diligent with himself about not letting any of that crushing responsibility or prestige to get to his head, he's still human after all.

But getting called "pretty boy" is enough to make him choke on his drink. "Excuse me?" he coughs, "Was just saying you seemed tense, pretty boy" she hums. "I suppose I have been" he exhales, she steps closer, pulling soft knuckles to stroke his cheek so intimately that he whimpers. "I could take care of you if you like?" she whispers. Pupils blown and chest heaving, he looks at her, and without words, she knows his answer.

Takeda Takahashi

With the amount of mommy AND daddy issues swimming around in Takeda's head, calling him a "pretty boy" would have him ready to drop to his knees and start barking if you so wished.

He may also entirely miss what was said if a particularly voluptuous pair of breasts are involved, being far too distracted to meet your gaze. In this case, please feel free to grab him by the chin and pull him in close while you repeat yourself. "'Pretty boy', huh? You're not so bad yourself" he smirks. Nose to nose with a beautiful woman, Takeda can't think of a better place to be.

#mortal kombat #mortal kombat headcanons #mortal kombat imagines #mortal kombat x reader #mk x reader #johnny cage #johnny cage x reader #kung lao #kung lao x reader #liu kang #liu kang x reader #takeda takahashi #takeda takahashi x reader #qdbs writing #queuedbs

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daosies · 2 months

Text

the only exception

alhaitham doesn't feel particularly attached towards many things.

one thing he does seem to feel very strongly about, however, is you.

alhaitham ♡ gn!reader

warnings: reader is not traveler, lovesick alhaitham

note: i woke up one day and was suddenly feeling romantical for alhaitham...

"you want to know what alhaitham likes?" kaveh asks, disbelieving.

"yeah!" paimon exclaims. "paimon needs all the details. like, what does he do outside of work, since he's so eager to get away?"

kaveh shivers at the thought. "well, he goes to read some books i guess. i don't really know what he does."

"you're his roommate!" paimon yells, upset. "how could you not know?!"

"hey, i have things to do! i'm in high demand, okay?" kaveh retorts, flailing his hands around for emphasis in a futile attempt to defend himself. in a fit of desperation, he stands up, a determined expression on his face as he glances around the cafe.

he sits back down, with a newfound resolve, once he realizes that alhaitham is nowhere to be seen.

"fine, i'll tell you what he does. but you can't tell anyone, okay? he'll get super mad at me. and i'm sick and tired of him when he's mad! especially when it's about—"

kaveh pauses midsentence, his mouth hanging agape as the color drains from his face. his lips begin to tremble a little, his hands becoming clammy as he wipes them against the side of his pants.

"u-uh, well," he trails off, averting his gaze from the traveler who leans slightly over the desk. "s-so, w-what i was saying was..."

"hm," a new voice interjects. lumine glances up, noticing alhaitham, in all of his glory. she scrutinizes him intensely, observing the way he crosses his arms, a scowl forming on his face as he glares at the architect with disdain.

his hair looks neater, she notes. usually, alhaitham's hair is messy—he once told her that he doesn't have the need to maintain it properly.

today, however, pearl strands are tucked neatly around his face, framing his pale skin in a way that resembles a sculpture. today, alhaitham looks otherworldly—not necessarily because of his unusual appearance, but rather, the way he looks over his shoulder, his monotone expression suddenly blossoming with color.

when alhaitham looks at you, it's as if there are stars racing across his eyes. his lily green eyes are fixated on you, reflecting your silhouette in their irises with a certain familiarity, a certain adoration. the frown on his lips begins to give way, revealing a dreamy, almost luminous look.

"[name],"—oh, and when he says your name, his voice drops to a gentle, soothing timbre—"let's go somewhere else."

lumine thinks that alhaitham looks unlike himself. because what she knows of him is a calculating, logical grand sage who would rather forfeit the world than have to work another day in his life. she knows him as someone who cares only for himself, not because he's selfish, or because he's egoistical, but because in this dog-eat-dog world, that's the only way to survive.

but when he looks at you, alhaitham's expression melts. all sense of logic evades him, because despite his existence revolving around rationality and consistency, he looks as if he's overwhelmed by a foreign emotion. a warm emotion. alhaitham, with you, looks as if he's going beyond himself, beyond everything.

(in this dog-eat-dog world, alhaitham thinks that caring for others is futile. he thinks that, in the midst of it all, the only thing he can account for is himself.)

(when he's with you, however, that changes.)

because the way he leans in towards you, and the way he speaks to you—in a soft, tender tone—is above him. suddenly, his limited world expands, and colors begin to glimmer with a revitalized hue. alhaitham's world, which was once walked and occupied only by himself, grows a little. it makes way for two.

his hand rests gently on your shoulder, finding familiarity in the feeling.

lumine knows that something is up, that something in you—or something about you—changes the way he behaves. because the alhaitham she knows would never initiate physical contact with anyone.

but the alhaitham you create, the alhaitham that exists in your mere presence, is someone else. the alhaitham that calls your name speaks to you in a voice that has no resemblance to the blunt tone he usually takes. the alhaitham that looks at you, the alhaitham that perceives you is unlike the one that lumine knows.

because in your presence, she thinks that alhaitham resembles a lover. he emanates you, radiating and glowing and prevailing like a wild light, stretching far across the limitless sky and fragmenting just to catch a wisp of your gaze.

(or a breath, or a fraction of your colossal existence. anything will do.)

"what's wrong with this place, though?" you ask, brushing your hand against his. lumine notices this. she glances at the sage, who doesn't seem to mind the contact. if anything, he leans even more towards you, as if your touch had seized a star.

"yeah, that's right!" paimon interjects. "what's wrong with this place, huh?!"

alhaitham, who doesn't even bother to spare the floating fairy a glance, opts to observe your expression, pausing for but a moment to decide what answer would please you the most.

lumine never thought alhaitham would consider someone's feelings before responding. seeing this, however, she supposes that there's a first for everything.

"nothing," he states firmly.

"all of your friends are here too, alhaitham!" you say, gesturing towards kaveh (who is in the midst of an out-of-body experience) and lumine.

"nice to meet you," lumine introduces herself kindly, "[name], right?"

"yeah!" suddenly, you pull a notebook out from your pocket, ushering it towards the traveler as you offer her a pen.

"can i get your autograph?" you ask, though it seems more like a demand.

"hey, how come you never ask for mine?" kaveh questions, suddenly coming back to life. he's silenced as soon as alhaitham glares at him. when the sage's gaze returns to you, however, that look of momentary fury dissipates; he finds comfort in your existence, his spot in the universe etched perfectly by your side.

"i need autographs that can sell," you reply, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"plenty of people would buy my autographs!" kaveh exclaims, hurt. "what do you mean they need to sell, anyway? isn't just having my autograph enough?"

"things without immediate or material value are useless," alhaitham states.

"hah! don't say that when you're so obviously—" kaveh is cut off by alhaitham's death-glare. the architect, resigned to his fate, sits quietly in his seat, his back straightened perfectly as he folds his hands on his lap.

"so obviously...?" paimon echoes, tilting her head. lumine sighs in exasperation while you're cradling the traveler's autograph in your arms, fantasies beginning to materialize all around you.

i could sell this for one million mora. no, two million mora, you think, staring at the flimsy piece of paper. and then i could buy a huge mansion in the middle of the city and—

alhaitham flicks your forehead gently, an unreadable expression painting his features.

"nobody's going to buy that for two million," he remarks. your mouth hangs slightly agape.

"how do you know that?"

he shrugs.

lumine observes the sage under the warm cafe lights. he cradles your image in the center of his eyes, the beholder of what is most beautiful. alhaitham stares at you, taking your figure and slipping it away into his irises, imprinting it into his mind, letting it coexist with him for eternity.

when he stares at you, lumine thinks he's about to melt away into the warmth of the lanterns, the warmth of your existence. when he stares at you—which alhaitham often does—he sheds his tiny world and metamorphosizes into a lover, completely void of all the logic and rationale he lives his life by.

he says things without immediate or material value are useless, lumine thinks, but look at him.

you tuck the traveler's autograph into your pocket, and alhaitham rests his hand on your lower back, as if it were made to be there. when you bid her and kaveh a friendly farewell, alhaitham doesn't even care to spare either of them a glance, his gaze belonging wholly to you.

and when you tell kaveh that you'll get his autograph later, alhaitham scowls. he doesn't say anything to you, but the look he sends towards the architect is enough to suppress any ideas the blonde might be getting.

and when you leave, alhaitham trails after you, yearning. lumine never thought that alhaitham would willingly take his headphones off in public, much less follow after someone with such determination. when you walk, alhaitham is intent on matching your strides, desperate to exist in the same scale as you, the same life as you.

"alhaitham was acting really weird just now..." paimon mumbles, scratching her head. "he had a weird look. like, he wasn't as mad as usual!"

kaveh shivers. "don't say that. if anything, i think he's madder than usual. well, i guess that's what love does to someone."

"what?!" paimon yells.

"ugh, don't make me go in-depth. he's so embarrassing, that guy! how could he act like that and still not confess anything to [name]? also, [name] is way too good for a guy like him. i hope they reject him once he does confess," kaveh rants, waving his hand dismissively.

"alhaitham likes [name]?!" paimon repeats, as if it weren't obvious enough.

"oh, not just like. he loves them. end of story. let's talk about something fun," kaveh replies.

"no, no!" paimon stomps the air. "we need to know more about this now!"

lumine, albeit quiet, nods alongside the floating fairy. kaveh groans.

"you guys wouldn't get it... alhaitham like this isn't anything cool. if anything, he's even worse. to everyone except [name], of course."

"is he going to confess?" paimon asks. "how long has he liked [name]?"

"eventually, maybe. but he's a puny guy and he's afraid of rejection, and he can't tell if [name] likes him back. he's got all those brains for nothing," kaveh says, "and he's liked them for a while. since the akademiya, maybe...?"

"what do you mean maybe?!"

"i told you, i'm in high demand! i have better things to do than to worry about alhaitham's love life!"

"alhaitham's love life?" a bystander suddenly echoes. kaveh stiffens up immediately, his vermilion eyes growing wide with fear and shock.

"oh, yeah," lumine quickly interjects, "his love life with the books."

"haha, of course!" the bystander exclaims, believing the traveler without a second thought. "how is it possible for the acting grand sage to be any other way? he is wedded to those books, indeed!"

kaveh, lumine, and paimon all exchange knowing glances.

clearly they haven't seen alhaitham with you yet.

#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact #genshin x gender neutral reader #genshin #alhaitham x reader #alhaitham #alhaitham x you #alhaitham x y/n #al haitham #al haitham x reader

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feirceangel · 7 months

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Imagine | Protect (Luffy)

Imagine guarding Luffy’s hat.

Warnings: hurt/comfort

Word Count: 1,224

(Not my gif)

There is something you are one hundred percent certain of. In a life plagued with precariousness and anxiety, there is one truth you can always cling to.

And that is the fact that your captain, Monkey D. Luffy, always has your back.

No matter what situation you find yourself in, he never fails to brighten your day with a smile and defeat whatever foe you're facing.

Whether you're homesick, bored, or literally having your life threatened, he's always right by your side.

He guards each of his crew with a vigour that only he can. His warm smile brighter than a thousand suns as he celebrates yet another victory.

There is another thing you're certain of.

That your captain has one treasure more precious than any of his other objects.

His straw hat.

Given to him by the infamous Red-Haired Shanks, Luffy values that hat above all else.

Even at the cost of his own safety.

There's been countless times where you've watched in horror as Luffy was struck but managed to keep one hand firmly atop his hat.

It never got easier seeing him battle men quadruple his size and strength. Your stomach would clench with worry and you'd do your best to help battle the other opponents, but you always felt so helpless.

Watching him take on such intense foes made you feel proud of him and also concerned for his well being.

Although now that you've been sailing as a Straw Hat Crew member for months, you've come to realize that your captain can take on anything.

His hat, less so.

So, here you sit, quietly mending his hat as Luffy gapes at your handiwork.

"Awesome!" He grins, face alight with joy, "You're good at this, Y/n!"

"I'm just glad you're okay," you confess, carefully stitching away.

It's no secret how you feel about Luffy: everyone on the crew knows about your crush. And you have confidence that Luffy feels the same way.

It's in the little things he does. Always finding an excuse to hug you, explore new islands with you, and even share his food with you. And he never shares his food with anyone else.

So, it's safe to say he at least likes you.

He laughs, "You need to stop worrying so much!"

"You need to stop getting beat up!" You fire back, finishing your stitch. "Seriously, I'm starting to think you like pain."

He laughs, "I don't! But I got him in the end, Y/n! That's all that matters."

You sigh and motion for him to bow his head. He does and you gently set his hat back in its rightful place.

He grins up at you, "Thanks, Y/n! Let's go see if Sanji's done making supper!"

Luffy snatches your hand in his as soon as you drop your needle into your sewing kit. He drags you into the kitchen, using his devil fruit power to snatch up an apple.

"Sanji," he mumbles around a mouthful of fruit, "When's food gonna be ready? I'm hungry."

"Not yet," the cook shakes his head. "I need thirty more minutes."

Luffy groans loudly, leaning his head on your shoulder, "That's too long!"

"You have to wait!"

Luffy scrunches his nose in annoyance before dragging you outside again. Once there, he shoves the apple near your mouth, "Have a bite!"

You're surprised he hasn't eaten it all already. Opening your mouth, you take a large bite of the tangy goodness, humming your approval.

"Thanks," you start to mumble but he stops you mid sentence by leaning in and pressing his lips to yours.

A furious heat flushes your face at his abrupt actions.

"W-what was that for?"

He grins and swipes his tongue over his mouth, "You had juice on your lips."

You're floored, unable to respond as the kiss replays in your head. Meanwhile, he's already walking away with a giddy giggle.

You watch with bated breath as Luffy's hat goes flying.

He's fighting a particularly strong foe, having to use all his focus on the battle.

Without a second thought, you race after his treasure, determined to keep it safe for him. He's always doing so much for you, so you want to return the favour.

The other Straw Hats are occupied, no one noticing as you slip away to chase after the stray hat. A strong wind has blown it quite the distance, and you find it stuck on a tree branch.

You grab it, turning on your heel to trudge back to the main fight. But there's a problem.

A large group of marines stand in front of you, each one wearing a menacing grin.

"Look who we have here," the supposed leader comments, stepping forwards.

You instinctively hide Luffy's hat behind your back, grinning back ferociously.

"Gentlemen, what are you doing so far from the real fight?"

"Could ask you the same," he sneers. "What's that behind your back? Is it the infamous Straw Hat Luffy's straw hat?"

Your grip on the straw tightens.

"You're in charge of safeguarding it huh? Is that all you're good for?"

They laugh amongst themselves.

"I wonder if they'd kick you out if you failed the one task they gave you," he steps forward again.

"Over my dead body," you hiss, taking out your weapon after securing the hat to your belt. "If this hat is destroyed, then I have no reason to go on."

Before they can make the first move, you've taken down two of them, angered at their words and fuelled with the desire to protect Luffy's treasure.

The fight goes on too long.

Outnumbered, you take hits that knock you down and leave you bloodied and bruised. Maybe even with a few broken bones.

By now, you're on the ground, clutching the hat in your bloodied hands as a torrent of kicks fall on your back.

You took down well over half the marines but the few remaining are mad as hell and taking it out on you.

You barely register the outraged cry of your captain as he shouts, "Gum-Gum Gatling!"

The kicks stop as your attackers go flying, landing with dull thuds. They don’t get back up again.

Luffy is quick to rush to your side, “Y/n! Are you alright?!”

“Luffy,” you manage a small smile, shakily handing him his hat. “I protected your treasure.”

He doesn’t smile, in fact he looks angry.

“Idiot! You’re my treasure,” he shouts, gripping onto your shoulders, “And now you’re hurt!”

Confused, you stare up into his eyes, “But you love this hat.”

“But I love you more,” he shakes you again before screaming for Chopper to come and assess the damage done to you.

After you’re back on the ship, nicely bandaged and safe in bed, Luffy approaches you again. He seems less energetic than normal, dragging his feet as he comes to the bed.

“Thank you for protecting my hat. I’m sorry I didn’t protect you.”

“Luffy,” you gently clasp his hand, “You’ve always protected me.”

His eyes are wet with tears, “But-“

“I couldn’t ask for a better captain,” you reiterate, pulling him closer. “You’re all I could hope for.”

“Really?”

“Honest,” you smile, “Now come here.”

You drag him into your arms, wincing slightly. He is cautious of your injuries, gently returning your hug.

“Thank you.”

#female reader #imagine #reader insert #one piece imagine #op x reader #one piece #one piece x reader #monkey d luffy #luffy x reader #monkey d luffy x reader #Luffy op #one shot #fanfic

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faintedlcve · 6 months

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False Fronts

part 1 of 4

Pairing: Theodore Nott x fem!reader

Warnings: fake dating, arguing, not proof read and my writing 😔

Summary: Being asked to fake date someone to get a petty ex off their back is the worst possible way of being friend-zoned. You, however, were willing to take any chances to get as close as you could to Theodore Nott.

there will most definitely be a part 2

i will absolutely credit @berryzxx for helping me and giving me ideas for this haha

sorry if anyone's name is Jess ily i swear mwah <;33

he's such a cutie tehe

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4: fluff angst

You were going about your usual business, wandering the empty corridors of Hogwarts. The prospect of Defense Against the Dark Arts class, particularly with Umbridge as the professor, filled you with dread. Determined to delay your arrival as much as possible, you lingered, reluctant to head to your lesson.

As you strolled through the corridors, distant murmurs reached your ears. Tracing their origin, the faint echoes evolved into a heated dispute—a boy and a girl embroiled in a passionate disagreement. Step by step, you closed the distance until their fervent voices became distinct and clear.

"Look, Jess, it's over. O-V-E-R." You could hear the boy say to someone who you could only assume was called Jess.

"But I don't want it to be over! I still love you! Please, I'm sorry!" The girl, presumably Jess, begged.

"Well, you should've thought of that before you went and cheated on me." His response cut through the air, chilling in its icy tone, sending unwelcome shivers down your spine. Whoever he was, his disdain for Jess was palpable. His voice was unmistakable, you having heard it all your life. You knew who it was.

He sauntered off, leaving both Jess and you dumbfounded. Peeking around the corner to catch a glimpse of the boy, you inadvertently crashed into the very person—Theodore Nott—you were trying to observe.

As you collided with Theodore Nott, his demeanor shifted from the tense confrontation to one of mild surprise, his dark eyes locking with yours in an unexpected encounter. You stumbled back a step, catching your breath as you met his gaze, both of you momentarily stunned by the abrupt intersection.

"Y/N," Theodore uttered your name, a flicker of recognition dancing across his features before settling into a composed mask. "Sorry about that. Didn't see you there."

Your mind raced, trying to process the scene you'd just witnessed. His confrontation with Jess seemed far more serious than a typical teenage quarrel. Sensing your curiosity, Theodore's expression shifted a glint of something unreadable in his eyes.

"Listen," he started, his voice lowering to a hushed tone as if sharing a secret. "I need a favor, and I think you might be the perfect solution."

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, unsure where this conversation was heading. Theodore hesitated for a moment, collecting his thoughts before continuing.

"Jess won't leave me alone. She's been causing a scene ever since things ended between us. I need... I need someone to help me out, to pretend to be with me, just to get her off my back. It's purely for appearances, nothing more."

His request hung in the air, unexpected and oddly intriguing. Theodore Nott, asking for your assistance in a situation as serious as this. You weighed his words, contemplating the implications of what he proposed, your mind swirling with questions about why he'd chosen you for such a peculiar task.

"Please. I'll ask nothing more of you. Just some PDA. Slight touches, whatever you're comfortable with."

The allure of being close to him warred with the fear of playing a role in a situation that could easily spin out of control. Yet, despite the inner turmoil, a glimmer of hope danced in your chest—an opportunity to be near Theodore, even if it was only as part of a facade.

You'd been friends with Theo for what felt like forever. He trusted you, and that meant a lot. Sure, there was that fear of being stuck in the friend zone, but when you thought about it, the chance to help him seemed more important. He wanted this, and he was your friend. So, yeah, you wanted to be there for him.

After a moment's hesitation, you gathered your resolve and nodded in agreement, your voice surprisingly steady despite the fury of emotions raging within you. "Alright, Theodore. I'll help you out."

A flicker of relief crossed Theodore's face, a barely perceptible shift in his expression that hinted at gratitude. "Thank you, Y/N. I owe you one."

As the weight of your decision settled in, you couldn't help but wonder about the implications of what you'd just agreed to. Theodore's proposal was both thrilling and nerve-wracking, and the realization that you were about to embark on a fake relationship with someone you genuinely cared for made your heart race with both anticipation and anxiety.

Theodore glanced around, as if to ensure no one else was nearby, before leaning in closer. "Let's meet later today and discuss how we're going to pull this off, alright? Preferably somewhere private."

Nodding in agreement, your mind raced with a million questions, but you managed to offer a reassuring smile. "Sure, Theodore. I'll be there."

As he walked away, you were left standing there, your mind spinning. The whole idea was thrilling, but it also felt like stepping onto a rollercoaster without knowing the twists and turns ahead. For now, all you could do was wait and meet up with Theodore and realise the depths of the situation you just put yourself into.

Either way, this fake dating thing just became your reality, and you had no clue where it would lead.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡*:☆

hello, hi! read part 2 here :))

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magics-neptunes-things · 2 months

Text

A Year of You

Hi guys!

This is a part 2 for "A Baby for Christmas" that I wrote months ago. It took me a long time to write because I wanted to have different ideas and not to write something to get over it.

So please enjoy this one ♥

December

Charlie being born on December 8, her first Christmas is naturally celebrated a little less than two weeks after her birth. It was normally up to you and Leah to throw the party, but Amanda seemed to think your daughter’s arrival gave you a valid excuse to skip your turn. It took a few years of adaptation, but you and Leah managed to find a twist between your two families, so that you could spend time with both of them. The Williamsons have invited your loved ones to come and celebrate with them several times, and that is the case today.

Usually you celebrate the 24th with Leah’s parents, her brother and girlfriend. On the 25th at noon with ALL Williamson and the 25th at night you are at your parents where you sleep and also spend the day after.

This year, however, to avoid complicated journeys, the two families are reunited and it suits you very well like that. You came home from the maternity ward after three nights, finding your bed and Leah’s arms to sleep with relief. Charlie is a rather calm child, it’s only when she is hungry that she gets angry and you don’t hesitate to tease Leah by pointing out that she already takes from her. She answered that if it was right, Charlie would only eat ham sandwich.

For sleep, she always has the rhythm of a newborn. That is, she falls asleep anywhere and anytime, waking up after four hours since her last meal. And since your daughter’s arrival in your lives, you’ve been wondering which dumbass invented the phrase "Sleeping like a baby" to mean you slept well.

"Is the most beautiful girl hungry?" coos Leah sitting next to you on the couch while you hold Charlie in your arms.

"No I'm okay, thank you" you answer with a sarcastic smile.

Leah laughs softly and puts a kiss on your cheek, although you had time to see a hint of guilt in her eyes. She nevertheless hands you the bottle that she has skillfully prepared for Charlie and you don't waste time before proposing it to her. She calms down quickly and you smile when you hear her gurgling with pleasure.

"I love you" Leah whispers to your ear, putting her two arms around your waist.

You leave Charlie’s face to look at your wife tenderly. With her elf headband and Christmas sweater, you find her particularly adorable. You answer her "I love you too" in the same way before kissing her tenderly, determined to enjoy a little of her. The world revolves around you, trying to digest the main course before tackling the army of desserts planned by your mother-in-law. Your parents are talking to Leah’s father about their last trip, the cousins have embarked on a game of Uno and the youngest enjoy the gifts they received.

"Oi, you just had a baby, maybe this is not the time to try to make another one"

The couch pops up next to Leah when her brother drops down next to her, interrupting your moment. If it amuses you, Leah gives him a cold glare.

"You better hurry up and make one, so my daughter has a cousin to play with."

January

Despite the fact that Alessia, Lia and Katie drove Leah to the maternity ward, none of them have had the chance to meet Charlie yet. It must be said that this little lady was born during the holidays, many people returned to their families. So, when Leah’s first practice of the year takes place, your decision to go surprise her and officially introduce Charlie to everyone was not hard to take.

Maybe a little helped too by the trouble Leah had leaving you both this morning. You almost had to throw her out, after promising to send her regular photos of Charlie.

"We’re here, Buba" you tell your daughter, using the nickname Leah gave her.

The baby has just eaten and slept almost all morning, so it’s relaxed and awake that she gets out of her car seat to get installed it in her stroller. With her fox onesie and her beanie with fox ears, you could eat her alive. Her eyes don’t leave your face when you go to the training field, the time of the lunch break being over since a few minutes.

Also, you didn’t expect to practically rush into Alessia who seems to be running to catch up. The shock of the almost collision passed, she gives you a big smile that gets even bigger when she realizes that you have Charlie with you. In two seconds she is leaning over the stroller.

"She’s so tiny" she whispers

You smile and look with amusement at your daughter looking at Alessia with a mixture of mistrust and skepticism.

"She inherited Leah’s glare and frown. It's kind of scary" mumble Alessia before getting up to look at you with hope. "Can I take her?"

You accept without hesitation, gently taking Charlie from her stroller to tender her to Alessia. You are perfectly confident, despite her chronic clumsiness you know that she will be very careful.

Alessia puts a kiss on Charlie’s cheek and looks at her smiling for a few minutes, before giving her back to you.

"Let’s go, we’re not gonna deprive Leah of a few extra seconds with you."

You follow her to the gym where the sports machines are, learning with joy that the girls will not return to the field until tomorrow. The training was adapted with the weather and it seems that snow is announced in the middle of the afternoon. You continue your chatter, until Alessia opens the door of the room.

"Late, Russo!"

You smile when you hear Leah’s voice sound, but Alessia is the first to speak again.

"I have a good excuse. Look who I’m bringing you"

Busy pedaling on a bike, Leah raises her head with curiosity, her face lighting up when seeing you. It only takes a few seconds for her to jump off her bike and join you, passing her arms around your waist to drop dozens of kisses all over your face, making you laugh.

"What are you doing here?"

"Charlie missed you" you maliciously pretexted.

"Ooooh is it right Buba? Did you miss me?"

Leah smiles softly and leans over the stroller, once again taking Charlie out to take her in her arms. She starts talking to her while rocking her. You smile softly, letting them have their moment and take the opportunity to greet the teammates of your blonde. After a few minutes they are all arguing about which one will have the chance to have Charlie first and you watch them do it while laughing softly.

You are not surprised to see Leah opting for Lia, the reassuring calm of the Swiss inspired as often trust. In the meantime, you’re sure of one thing, Charlie has an entire team to rely on in case of trouble.

February

Leah growls as she hears your daughter’s crying sound in the night, for what it seems to be the tenth time, turning on her stomach to hide her face in the pillow. For your part you sigh with despair, you have not even had time to fall asleep since her last awakening.

"What the hell is happening to her?"

Leah’s voice is muffled by the pillow and you rub your face as you get out of bed.

"I don’t know" you whisper, completely lost.

Usually, Charlie only wakes up once in the night to get a bottle, two if she ate not enough during the day. Which is more than reasonable for a three-month-old baby. But tonight, something doesn’t seem right and you don’t understand what. She ate well, had a good day and everything was fine yesterday. She fell asleep as usual except tonight, something’s wrong.

You checked her temperature, offered a bottle, water, changed her diaper several times and even undressed her from head to toe to make sure everything was okay. You had the misfortune of falling on the story of a baby who lost a toe because a hair had wrapped around it. Since then, you’ve been carefully examining Charlie’s ten toes several times a day.

Arriving in your daughter’s room, you take her out of her cradle once again to take her against you and rock her, installed on the armchair in her room. Like other times she finally calms down and looks at you at length with her blue eyes before finally letting herself go in sleep.

You realize you fell asleep too when you feel Charlie being gently removed from your arms. Your first reflex is to tighten her against you, but Leah’s whispered voice gently reassures you.

You watch her do it, dropping a kiss on Charlie’s forehead before turning to you to lift you from the chair and carry you a little bit the way she did with your daughter. Smiling tenderly, you put your arms around her neck and let her bring you back to your bed. She lies you on it and lies on you, her head in your neck.

"Don’t take this position for what it isn't, I’m too exhausted for anything to do with sex" Leah mutters against your skin.

You laugh softly, fondling her long blond hair tenderly.

"It was worth marrying a professional athlete" you point out by yawning.

"Tomorrow" answers Leah already half asleep.

"Sure"

You’re amused and close your eyes. Leah’s comforting warmth against you allows you to fall asleep faster than before and you are already almost gone when you hear your wife speak again.

"Love you"

"Love you more" you manage to whisper before sinking completely.

March

Becoming a parent has brought a lot of positive things into your life, you can’t say otherwise. Ever since Charlie was born, you’ve discovered a form of love you never knew existed. But you also have to admit that you miss spending quality time with Leah alone. So you took advantage of Leah’s birthday to ask your mother-in-law to look for your pretty princess for the night, to have the opportunity to offer Leah an evening.

Amanda obviously accepted without hesitation, idolizing her granddaughter. Leaving her at home wasn’t easy, however, especially for you. You never left Charlie for more than several hours, when Leah was looking at her for you to go for a medical appointment or a haircut.

"Will you let us know how it's going?" You whisper in Amanda’s ear saying goodbye, Leah covering Charlie’s laughing face with kisses next to you.

"Sure." Amanda smiles at you before fondly tapping your cheek. "Take good care of my daughter, I’ll take care of yours."

You can’t help but smile at her remark and you take a look in the direction of Leah and Charlie, to be once again invaded by a wave of love for the two human beings in front of you.

A few hours later, you enter the restaurant you booked. This is the first restaurant you shared with Leah and the smile on her face is enough to make you understand that she remembers it too.

"Very good choice of restaurant" teases Leah, once installed at your table.

"I thought it would be good to go back to basics"

Leah smiles and you thank the waiter who brings you the menu cards before taking your choice of drink. The beginning of the meal goes quietly, conversations passing from football to Charlie, to your work and the holidays you plan to do this summer.

"Do you remember what you said to me after our first date?" Leah suddenly asks while poking a French fry with her fork.

"Mmh?"

You have a full mouth and are therefore unable to give her an answer right away. Anyway, you have the impression that Leah wants to formulate the sentence herself.

"I’ve been warned of your flirtatious temper. I don’t want to be another scratch on your bedmarks. If you want something from me, it must be something serious."

You smile at that memory and Leah seems amused too. You quickly fell in love with the blonde, how could you have done otherwise anyway?

"You’ve been running your boat pretty well so far" you’re joking mischievously.

"And right after you threw yourself at me to kiss me"

That too, you remember perfectly well, obviously. Far from being calculated, this kiss had been intense. The first one you two shared.

"I was afraid you were less interested in me than I was in you. I wanted to leave you a little memory."

"By slamming the door of your apartment in my face right after?"

Leah’s face is laughing, amused at the thought of teasing you for your behavior. But you can’t blame her, you’re even laughing now.

"What do you want me to say? I just panicked."

Leah mixes her laughter with yours and you smile softly, still loving to hear her laugh. People sometimes define Leah as serious and narrow-minded, what she is. But she’s not just that. You love the gentle, relaxed, tender Leah.

"It didn’t prevent you from writing to me a little hour after actually" you point out while bowing an eyebrow.

"Contrary to what you seem to think, I’ve always been the most in love between the both of us"

Bowing your eyebrow at her, you point your fork in her direction. She is about to revive a long debate between you two. And her dirty kid's smile tells you she knows exactly what she’s doing.

"Don’t start here, Williamson."

Throughout the meal, you receive occasional news from Amanda to inform you of the evolution of Charlie’s evening. You received a photo of Charlie in her bath, a photo of Charlie with Amanda’s dog, a photo of Charlie with her uncle Jacob and a photo of Charlie deeply asleep in her bedroom at her grandmother. You’ve repeated several times that it’s not necessary to have a room made for Charlie at her place, but Amanda is as stubborn as Leah.

"Aren’t we going home?"

Leah’s surprise voice pulls you out of your thoughts, for once she’s the passager princess. You look at her quickly to stay focused on the road, smiling at her.

"Who do you think I am? It’s your birthday, we’re not going to end the evening with a chamomile in front of a soap opera"

You’re a little more relaxed than at the beginning of the evening, relieved to learn that Charlie fell asleep without being difficult to her grandmother. She has finally regained her sleep habits after a short spell.

"Where are we going?" Leah said, standing up on her seat and looking out, as if signs were going to give her the right answer.

You end up stopping your car at a palace in the Westminster district, in which you booked a suite with a balcony offering you a magnificent view of London. This is one of the few times you find yourself facing a silent Leah.

"What do you think?" you ask timidly after joining her on the balcony.

"I don’t know what I did to have the chance to have you in my life, but know that I don’t intend to let you escape one day" Leah whispers in response, putting her two arms around your waist to hold you tight.

"I really think that I'm the lucky one but never let me go" you mumble against her lips, passing your arm around her neck.

"Never let you go" she answers before kissing you hard, promise of a more than pleasant end of the evening.

April

The first time you took Charlie to see Leah play, it was primarily to support your wife who play today on her national team. To say that Charlie didn’t see much of the first half is an understatement, but she's now a great sleeper.

So that you can enjoy the game, your mother and Leah’s mother volunteered in turn to watch over Charlie who was peacefully napping inside the VIP corner, away from the cold in the bleachers. Awakened at halftime for her bottle, she is in your arms when Leah put the ball on the net, cheered whit the crowd around you. You gently take Charlie’s hand in yours and make her say hello to Leah who sends you a big smile.

Dressed in a panda jumpsuit on which you passed a jersey obviously flocked with Leah’s number and your last name, Charlie is particularly adorable. Well, you’re not impartial. But since you’ve had all the families of Leah’s teammates come to see Charlie, you don’t think you’re the only one who thinks so.

The game went great and the spring sun allows you not to be cold. You can’t tell what Charlie sees from the game, but her attention seems to be focused on the pitch. Even if sometimes she seems more attracted by the images that pass on the big screen. Charlie stays on your lap for the rest of the game and when the whistle rings to announce the end of the game, Leah goes straight to you.

"My Love" coos Leah taking Charlie in her arms immediately.

"Ouch. That hurts." you grumble in a low voice

Amanda next to you laughs and puts her arm around your shoulder. Leah gives you an apology smile while dropping kisses on Charlie’s cheeks making your daughter pat Leah’s cheeks. You can’t be angry for real obviously, especially when you feel your heart melt when you see the scene.

Leah is quickly joined by some of her teammates, Alessia at the top of the list. She’s taking Ella with her and you can see that Georgia isn’t following very far behind. If Charlie looks at Ella and Georgia with a scepticism that can only be linked to her genes, she smiles a big smile at Alessia.

"I’m her favorite" she proudly says, reaching out to Charlie.

Leah rolls her eyes and gently give her your daughter. Over time, Alessia seems to be more comfortable with Charlie. She developped a sweet spot for your daughter, asking you from time to time if she can join your afternoon stroll.

When Leah turns to you, you hurry to remove your smile from your face and look at her with an arch of an eyebrow.

"Are you sulking Williamson?" Leah mischievously pinched your ribs.

"Absolutely" you answer by wriggling to escape her attacks.

Leah smiles as you try to get away but doesn’t hesitate to put her arms around your waist to take you against her. You let it happen, of course. She understood that you're not really angry when you said you were. You smile in her arms, passing your arms around her neck.

"I’m proud of you, Lee" you say in the hollow of her ear.

You feel Leah’s smile against your skin and she puts a kiss in the hollow of your neck. The glance she throws at you and the caress on your cheek are largely enough to make you understand that you too are "Her Love". After releasing you, Leah turns to her mother and yours to exchange a few words. For your part, you turn towards Charlie who is still in Alessia’s arms.

"Beware the…" you begin, before Charlie grabs Ella’s hair in full hand to pull it, triggering Ella's cry of pain and Alessia's laughter. "…hair."

May

"Baby she's doing it again!"

Hiding your smile, you leave your work on your computer to go to Leah and Charlie in the kitchen. Your daughter started to eat vegetable puree and everything went great until Kyra came on time during Charlie's lunch and show her how to spit her food.

"I'm going to kill Kyra" Leah mumbles, giving you the little spoon and Charlie's vegetable.

"Alright but wash the carrots before, maybe" your smirk.

You hear Leah grunts before heading to the bathroom and you turn yourself in Charlie's direction. Arching an eyebrow, you look at your daughter with seriousness before pointing her with the plastic spoon.

"No spitting, baby Williamson!"

Charlie give your one of her toothy smile and you can't help yourself but smile too. She definitely have you wrapped around her little finger, but you still tries to set her boundaries and rules, not wanting Charlie to become one of those unbearable children who listens to nothing.

You carefully give her a spoon that she's swallow easily before opening her mouth again. You feel yourself relax as the spoon were eaten easily and some minutes after Leah is back in the kitchen with a new shirt.

"Thanks baby" she says, kissing your cheek before taking back the spoon and the bowl.

"You're welcome. Can I go back to my office now?"

"Yep" Leah says, popping the p of the word.

"Be wise with Mum, Baba" you say to your daughter before going in your office again.

After your pregnancy, you didn't start working again. It was to hard for you to leave Charlie for now, maybe you will start again after she start school. You had a long discussion with Leah about it, not wanting to be the one using the other's money. Leah was shocked that you thought that she can think about you that way, saying that she didn’t mind you taking care of your daughter for the first few months of her life.

In exchange, you offered to take care of all the administrative papers of your couple life and this is what you are currently working on.

At least you try, because five minutes later you clearly ear the characteristic sound of a baby spitting.

"What the... Charlie!"

June

You might have thought that having a child would take you and Leah away from your friends, but over the months you’ve found out that you were wrong. Charlie having the facility to sleep everywhere (you like to emphasize that she must take this from you), Leah and you have no difficulty in making her sleep anywhere and moving her without her waking up in her car seat, then in her bed. You know it can make some parents jealous, but it's your reality.

The proof again tonight, at the party organized by Viv and Beth at their home. Charlie is deeply asleep in her stroller, her cuddly llama tight against her, after taking her last bottle of the day. The temperature of the day allowed you to eat in the garden and this is still where you are. You rock Charlie’s stroller mechanically from time to time, despite the fact that Leah made you sit on her lap after the dessert.

"So when do you give us a second one?" asks Beth with a little a smirk.

"Clearly not right away" Leah replies immediately, making you smile.

It was a discussion you had a few weeks ago, to know if you wanted to have a second child and when. You were a little afraid to admit to Leah that you didn’t see yourself with a second child at the moment, but when Leah told you it was the same for her, you were very relieved. Charlie is adorable, easy and it’s a pleasure to have her by your side. But you want to enjoy it and honestly now that you have found a functioning that seems to suit to all three of you, you would be afraid that it would change if had a second child so quickly.

"Just make one yourself" you add with a mischievous smile.

Viv almost chokes on her drin, causing the amused laughters of the people around you.

"We have Myle, it’s going very well like this" Viv replies as Beth gives her little pats on the back.

"Did you just compare my baby princess to your dog or am I dreaming?" said Leah with a frown.

Feeling the argument getting ready when Beth in turn frowns and bends over to Leah to answer, Lia jumps on her legs and takes the blonde with her to help bring more water. Wise decision in your opinion and you mask your amused smile by laying a kiss on Leah’s cheek.

July

For your first summer family vacation, you and Leah decided to take off in the sun so that Leah could rest a little after a rather tiring season. You chose Spain and one of its islands. And the least you can say is that Charlie seems to acclimatize very well to the Spanish climate. Luckily for her, she doesn’t seem to have inherited Leah’s English skin, which is hard to tan.

You’re actually fighting with Charlie who hates sunscreen prodigiously and pushes your hands back every time you approach her face with it. She tolerates when you put it on her body, but on her face you have to arm yourself with patience. A distraction is however quickly brought by Leah, even if you would have done without it.

"What the hell are you doing with a giant inflatable llama?" you ask skeptically.

"He’s so handsome! And Charlie loves llamas"

That’s right. Her favorite to sleep is actually a soft, hairy llama that was given to her by Leah’s brother. You cowardly take advantage of Charlie’s distraction to quickly spread sunscreen on her face before letting her crawl to the llama. She skillfully climbs on it before sitting on it and applauding.

"See?" Leah smiled big before taking Charlie under one arm and the llama under the other.

"And where are you going?" you ask, with an amused smile.

"Having fun. Go back to your lame reading"

Leah pulls her tongue at you and you roll your eyes with an amused smile before sitting on the sun lounger decorated with sunscreen. But you don’t lie there, preferring to watch Charlie and Leah play in the water from afar. You make some photos and videos that you send to each of your mothers before deciding to join them.

The two blondes greet you with big smiles and you simply sit down next to her in the sand. It's impossible for you not to smile when you hear Charlie's laughter mixed with the laughter so recognizable and that you adore from Leah.

While you admire them both, you can’t help but wonder what you’ve done in your life to be so lucky. And you’re not just saying that because Leah’s swimsuit allows you to get a great view of her abs.

Your eyes are quickly intercepted by Leah, who addresses you her famous cocky smile.

"Haven’t you finished staring at me like that?"

"Never" you answer with a smile.

Leah laughs softly and you stand from the sand in which you sat, finally joining them in the water. One hand in Leah’s back, you kiss her. The blonde smiles tenderly, tightening against you but your moment is quickly interrupted by Charlie. Until then sitting on the llama, the little blonde seems to have suddenly decided to get on all fours and almost fall in the water.

"We’re going to have to work on your survival instinct, Baba" Leah says after preventing her from falling head first in the water.

September

Like every Sunday night, your meal consists of pizza since it's Leah’s cheating meal day. This lunch, also like every Sunday you don't have a football game, you went to eat at her parents' for the famous Sunday roast. When you got home, Charlie taking her last nap in the car, you bathed her before you ordered pizzas over the phone. Margarita for Leah and all cheese for you.

Meanwhile, Leah sat in the living room with Charlie and turned on the television to watch the Arsenal men’s football match. Dressed in her pajamas in the colors of Arsenal, Charlie is sitting next to her mat. Why sitting on something comfortable when you can have something cold? And she puts the shapes into her toy by lifting the plate rather than passing them through the holes, but nothing surprises you with this young lady anymore.

"Pizza orders" you tell Leah by sitting next to her

"Great baby" Leah says without leaving the screen.

You roll your eyes with a slight smile, watching Charlie continue to play. You enjoy watching your wife play with her teammates, but that’s not what made you want to watch other people play. Well, until you…

"Leah" you almost shout abruptly by grabbing her arm abruptly.

"What" jump the blonde.

You don’t answer, searching for your phone on the couch without leaving Charlie with your eyes. Leah quickly turns her gaze in the same direction as you, only to realize that Charlie has risen. And that she is walking.

Her first steps.

That you manage to immortalize with a "What the f…luff" from Leah in background. On the rest of the video, we see Charlie turning towards you with an interrogative look. But it's quickly erased by her big smile when you rush to take her in your arms.

December

"I can’t believe she’s already a year old" Leah whispers from behind you, her arms around your waist.

"I know" you sigh softly as you let yourself go against her.

You both watch Charlie sitting on the floor with Kyra and Alessia, playing with one of the toys she received as a gift. Even though she seems to have enjoyed the idea of tearing off the gift wrap more than anything else, the game finally seems to catch her attention.

You set up her first birthday party and probably exaggerated a bit about things, but Charlie seems to have enjoyed her day. Your close family was there, as were some of Leah’s teammates who eventually also play the role of aunties to Charlie.

Your daughter probably received too many gifts and seems to have taken a malignant pleasure in destroying the cake planned for the photo shoot. Photos you’ll cherish in a few months.

When you gently turn your face towards Leah to kiss her, you realize that tears are visible on her face.

"Are you crying?"

Well, maybe the question is stupid. Anyway, Leah is burying her face in the hollow of your neck before answering.

"No"

You smile softly, touched by your wife’s emotion. Leah’s breath is hot against your skin and it makes you shiver. Turning in her arms, you pass your arms around her.

"Come here, you big softy"

You lull her tenderly against you, happy that all the attention of others is on Charlie or on the remains of cakes that are still on their plates. If Leah likes to give an impression of mastery and distance in everyday life, her friends and family know that her sensitivity is one of her main characteristics.

"I love you" whispers Leah after a few seconds. "So much"

"I love you too" you smile tenderly.

When Leah pops her face out of your neck her eyes are dry but her cheeks still wet. You gently wipe them with your thumbs and kiss her tenderly, as you wanted to do at the base.

"And well done for the organization" Leah continues after your kiss. "That was perfect. Thanks for organizing that."

"Of course. But you helped me too"

Leah laughs at your amused smile. It’s true that she helped you a lot, especially when she learned that you had an appointment with a pastry chef to taste different mixes of tastes for Charlie’s birthday cake.

Your eyes turn to Charlie walking in your direction, leaving behind Alessia and Kyra who continue to play with her animal zoo. Since she took her first steps, the times you have seen her on all fours are counted on the fingers of the hand.

"Hi Baba" you smile as you lift her off the ground to take her in your arms.

You kiss her cheek and Charlie laughs when Leah does the same on the other side of her face.

"Photo!" cheerfully makes your mom when she appears suddenly in front of you.

You just have time to turn to her before your mother capture the moment. A photo that will end up enlarged above your television, then followed by many others when time will continue to offer you millions of other good moments and memories with them. All your life.

#woso x reader #woso imagine #leah williamson #leah williamson x reader #leah williamson imagine #woso fanfics

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