#and the self esteem bar is in hell

[clockwayswrites]

City Pigeons Bleed Green Part 6

WC:1288 Masterpost CW: Self-esteem issues, past abuse, past experimentation, past starvation

“Hey Kid,” Jason said after he knocked on the door. It may have been left open a crack for safety reasons, but Jason still wanted to give the kid as much privacy as they could with all this.

The kid looked up at him from the bed with wide, startled eyes.

Right.

“I’m the one with the helmet.”

“I, yeah, same outfit,” the kid mumbled but didn’t look any less wide eyed.

Jason held back a sigh “Can I come in?”

“Sure, yeah,” the kid said as he forced himself to sit up against the wall with shaky arms.

Jason took the seat that Tim had used and kept a careful distance between them, even as he leaned forward and clasped his hands. “I want you to be honest with me, Kid, because you feeling safe here is the most important thing. I’ve made some soup and I’d like you to eat it and some bread, but if you don’t feel comfortable eating something I made we can do am MRE instead. That way you can know it’s still sealed.”

“No. I mean, no to the MRE. Soup sounds…” the kid had to stop and swallow. “That sounds really good.”

“Okay, Kid,” Jason said with as gentle of a voice as he could manage right then. “It’s only going to be a small portion to start, just to give your body time to adjust, but you keep it down and are still hungry there will be more. Whenever you’re hungry there will be food, I promise, and you don’t have to do anything to earn or deserve it. You can just ask whoever is around. Hell, when you’re well enough to walk around you can get anything you want from the fridge or pantry, okay?”

The kid nodded slowly, but that wide eyed look was back. Jason was going to have to warn the others about making sure that the kid ate and knew that he had free access to the food. They should get some granola bars, chips, and bottled drinks for the kid’s room too, but only once they knew the kid wouldn’t gorge himself.

“And just to check, any allergies or restrictions? I made the soup vegan, just to be safe, but it’s got some corn starch as a thickener.”

The kid shook their head.

“Good. After you eat, if you feel up to it, it would be good for you to take a bath or shower. But if you can’t,” Jason gave a little shrug, “that’s fine too. It can be another time.”

The kid shook his head. “I want to. I mean, if I can, I want to. A shower sounds… really good.”

“Yeah, I bet it does. I’ll go get you that soup and a sports drink. I know it’s going to suck, but we’re going to want to track you staying hydrated so you’ll be drinking lots,” Jason warned to another answering nod. He closed the door most of the way behind him again as he left the bedroom.

“He was awake then?” Dick asked softly when Jason moved to fill up a bowl.

“Yeah. Hey, can you start a log? I want to track what the kid eats and drinks and when,” Jason said.

“What’s the starvation concern?” Dick asked with a little frown as he tapped on the tablet.

“Right now I’m worried about the kid not believe he can eat whenever he’s hungry, so we’ll have to keep asking. But we need to watch for gorging. Lots of small meals often right now.”

Dick nodded. “Okay. I’ll make the log and set a silent alarm for whoever’s with him every hour. Did you talk about moving safe houses?”

Jason shook his head as he place two bowls and a plate of buttered bread on a lap tray. “We’ll let him get fed and through the shower first, maybe even another nap.”

“We don’t want him to get too settled here,” Dick pointed out.

“But we also don’t want to spook him,” Jason countered.

Dick just sighed. “Fucking timing.”

Jason opened his mouth—

“And if you make a dick joke right now I will throw something at you, little wing, I am not kidding.”

Jason help his hands up in surrender for a moment before he picked up the tray and headed back to the bedroom. He knocked with his foot before he pushed the door open.

The kid had fixed the bed while Jason was out of the room. He even straightened up the mess of tools that Tim had left.

It made Jason’s stomach turn over.

“You didn’t have to clean up,” Jason said, hoping to let the kid know he didn’t have do work to stay. “Red leaves a mess wherever he goes.”

The words had the opposite effect and the kid ducked his head. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have touched.”

“Nah, it’s fine,” Jason soothed. He’d have to mention this to the others too. “It’s nice not to accidentally step on a screw or something, just that you didn’t have to. Can I set the tray on your lap?”

The kid nodded and scrambled to straighten back up. Jason was careful not to touch him as he set the tray down and made sure it was balanced.

“So I divided the veggies up differently. Which bowl do you want?”

The kid’s eyes darted between the two bowls and then up to Jason, as if trying to find the right answer.

“I don’t mind either,” Jason added, casually as he could, and sat on the bed next to the kid. “I can get more if I want it. Hell, I probably will. Spoiler always says I’m a bottomless pit with how I eat.”

Slowly, the kid reached out to scoot the bowl more more potato chunks closer to him. He glanced up at Jason from under the messy white bangs. Jason just smiled and took the other bowl for himself. He blew on a spoonful of soup before starting to eat. A beat latter, the kid did the same.

Jason ate steadily, setting a rhythm for the kid to follow, and the kid was mimicking him. It was almost like the other didn’t even know how to eat any more. For a moment, Jason had to close his eyes and breathe. The Pit Rage wasn’t what it used to be, but there was a still an anger that could burn inside him and when it did, it burned so fiercely hot. Right then, it wanted to burn whoever did this to the kid to ashes. Jason didn’t much want to stop it, but he wouldn’t risk scaring the kid for vengeance.

Not when this was his new little brother.

(He wasn’t going to mess up this time, not again.)

The sound of the spoon scraping softly against the bowl next to him trailed off. Jason kept eating, focused on his own bowl, so not to call note to it. He’d like the kid to eat a little more, but he wouldn’t push it. He’d push so little with this kid, not outside of keeping him safe.

When the barely there weight settled against Jason’s side, he froze.

Slowly he turned his head as little as possible.

The kid was tipped over, head pillowed against Jason’s arm, sound asleep.

Jason reached up with his other hand and tapped his comm twice. Dick was at the door in a flash, silent despite having obviously run. The alert bled out of Dick as he took in the sight and his face split into a grin. Silently laughing, Dick raised the tablet still in his hands and started taking photos.

Jason flicked him off for the next shot.

Damn brothers.

---

AN: Another mostly soft Trauma Tuesday! But my is poor Danny messed up... at least he has his big brothers looking after him! (Even he doesn't know that part yet.)

I no longer tag, but you can subscribe here!

#dp x dc #batpham #city pigeons

[funfettifrills]

♣️; caregiver! husk x kid/agere! reader [headcanons]

[all platonic] + my inbox is open for reqs!

♡ʚ⁺˖↪husk is canonically good with kids!! He would be great at taking care of you !!

♡ʚ⁺˖↪ initially, husk keeps up his grumpy self around you

♡ʚ⁺˖↪but you find yourself enjoying being around him, to you he's a silly little kitty !!

♡ʚ⁺˖↪ he notices you will sit by him or stay in the same room as him, and he doesn't mind at all

♡ʚ⁺˖↪ at first you're a bit shy, but he tries initiating conversations with you and you happily speak to him a bunch!!

♡ʚ⁺˖↪ Once your wall of shyness is broken down, you'll find yourself sitting at the bar and info dumping to him about things you like or just your day in general

♡ʚ⁺˖↪He doesn't say much, but he always listens with a small smile on his face while he tends to his bartending tasks

♡ʚ⁺˖↪he has a huge soft spot for you, that he'd deny at first but everyone else at the hotel would clearly notice it

♡ʚ⁺˖↪whenever you go out, he starts going with you. He really wants you to be safe, even if you're in hell

♡ʚ⁺˖↪since you obviously wouldn't be drinking any alcohol, husk starts keeping things like juice at the bar just for you!! He even gets sippy cups !!

♡ʚ⁺˖↪even though he doesn't enjoy being a cat, you can't help but call him "kitty."

♡ʚ⁺˖↪ Sometimes, when you want his attention, you'll babble a bit and call out "kitty!"

♡ʚ⁺˖↪if anyone else would call him kitty, he would be sooo livid

♡ʚ⁺˖↪but he loves you and knows you mean no harm, he finds it endearing!!

♡ʚ⁺˖↪his default nicknames for you are just 'kid' or 'kiddo'

♡ʚ⁺˖↪he lets you play with his tail !! He just sits nonchalantly as you do it, and the others in the hotel watch in awe over how comfortable Husk is with you

♡ʚ⁺˖↪even if he has a soft spot for you, he's still husk so he's a very patient caregiver but also very stern when he needs to be

♡ʚ⁺˖↪if you get bratty or fussy, he won't hesitate to get you to behave, and he's very effective at it while not being tooooo harsh

♡ʚ⁺˖↪since he loves sleeping, when it's nap time he'll join you sometimes!!

♡ʚ⁺˖↪he's very comfy to snuggle with cause his fur is surprisingly soft

♡ʚ⁺˖↪as you two sleep, he holds you so gently

♡ʚ⁺˖↪He purrs during these naps too and its silly to feel the vibrations

♡ʚ⁺˖↪whenever you'd be overwhelmed and in tears, he had struggled to deal with it at first because he was intimidated

♡ʚ⁺˖↪Over time, he had learned how to handle those moments with ease and will hold you in his lap as you regulate yourself

♡ʚ⁺˖↪Depending on the severity of your emotions, he'll start doing magic tricks to distract you, and it's effective for calming you down

♡ʚ⁺˖↪he struggles with low self-esteem, so he questions whether he's good enough to be taking care of you (he is much more than good enough!!)

♡ʚ⁺˖↪you're happiest and comfiest with him, sometimes you cling onto his legs as he does random tasks and he just goes on as normal

♡ʚ⁺˖↪before he had gotten onto better terms with Angel, he'd tried to keep you away from him

♡ʚ⁺˖↪But afterward, you become close with Angel as well, and he thinks you're the cutest ever !!!

♡ʚ⁺˖↪you and Angel sit at the bar, with you in his lap, and have silly conversations with Husk

♡ʚ⁺˖↪Angel goes insane hearing you get to freely call Husk "kitty"

♡ʚ⁺˖↪ And Angel teases Husk over how soft he's gotten for you, Husk gets embarrassed in response

"Ya' let the kid call you 'kitty?' Why can't I do that too?"

"You are a GROWN man. There's no reason for you to call me that."

"You're just turning into a big softie, ya know?"

"..."

♡ʚ⁺˖↪don't even get me started on how adamant Husk would be to keep you away from Alastor

♡ʚ⁺˖↪but Alastor does find a way to get your attention, much to Husk's dismay...

♡ʚ⁺˖↪he'll find Alastor playing you, and you giggling along, which leaves Husk horrified

♡ʚ⁺˖↪he is really dedicated to keeping you safe from anything that'd cause you harm!!

♡ʚ⁺˖↪and he truly wants you to be redeemed, he knows you don't deserve to be in Hell

♡ʚ⁺˖↪overall, he adores you a bunch and would probably kill for you!!!!!!

#may be a little ooc for the sake of being cute.. #age regression #agere #age regressor #agere caregiver #hazbin hotel #headcanon #headcanons #husk x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #platonic #angel dust #alastor

[ohtobeleah]

Secret Sacrifices // Jake Seresin

Chapter One: [Mermaids Don’t Exist]

Summary: Jake continues to plays your knight in shining armour when tensions rise between you and an overly intoxicated patron. Bob brings up a mutual memory.

Warnings: Jake Seresin x F!reader. Witness Protection F!reader. Sexually degrading comments made towards reader. Sexual tension, trauma. Mentions of death & violence.

Word Count: 3.5k

Author Note: Still not writing as much as I once was but I’m getting back into the swing of things. Any comments, thoughts or concepts are welcome!

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Dreams mainly occur when the body falls into a stage of sleep referred to as R.E.M. Rapid eye movement occurs when the brain and body are finally able to completely rest. But that doesn’t necessarily mean that when your body is able to rest, it allows you to do so. 

“We’ll find you, Y/n!” 

Nightmares are typically thought to be an evolutionary conserved trait. Some researchers believe that nightmares provide a rehearsal for life-or-death situations. Before you lived one? You would have said something along the lines of ‘that checks out.’

“No no no no please, Patrick, stay with me—“ 

Some researchers believe nightmares to be a practical experience for many people as it allows the brain to run through multiple different algorithms to find the most desirable strategies, and solutions to often critical and complex situations. 

From a procedural standpoint, simply imagining doing an action can improve your performance.  

“I love you—take Charlie.”

This applies when we simply imagine doing an action such as playing the piano or running for your life after being run off the road, it activates something called a mirror neuron. 

“You have no idea what you’re dealing with here, girly.” 

In theory, the more nightmares you have, the more of those algorithms your brain is able to run, and the more prepared you’re likely to be for the daily struggle of survival. 

But evolution herself is seen by the scientific community more so as a tinkerer than as an inventor. 

“Oh god—please, not my baby, please! Someone! Help us!” 

So, that’s probably why you have the same nightmare over and over and over again every single night. 

Every morning you wake in the same way, with your face pressed into your pillow and your chest sinking into your mattress. Secretly, every morning you wished that your pillow would have suffocated you in your sleep so that today would forever be unobtainable. But you couldn’t do that, no. Not when the only way to bring a sense of worth to your life was to keep putting one foot in front of the other. 

With a groan and a look that spoke volumes to your lack of self-esteem, you rolled onto your back and let out a heavy sigh. Your hands were quick to shield your eyes from the mid-afternoon rays beaming into your bedroom via the slightly cracked windows. 

“Your name is Y/n Y/l/n, you are doing the right thing.”

Guilt and grief aren’t linear emotions. They don’t have a perception of how much time has passed. Realistically it had been three years, six months, and two days since your entire world had been flipped upside down. But every morning, after seeing your husband bleeding to death as he sat pressed against the steering wheel, and having held your five-year-old son in your arms while he took his last breath, the wound was reopened.

And the clock always resets.

“Ah, there she is.” You couldn’t help but hang your head in shame almost. Penny’s glare from behind the bar was as piercing and sharp as it was endearing and playful. Like a woman who took no shit from no one. “You know, you’d think management would be here on time more frequently than whatever the hell this is.” All you could do was take the semi-serious scattering from the owner of the bar you’d been lucky enough to be set up with a pretty good gig at. “Get over here and give me a hand will ya?” 

“Sorry, Penny—” There wasn’t much more you could say to justify yourself. You woke up late, got ready slowly, and got lost in the steam of your mid-afternoon shower as you fought off the existential dread that was your current situation. “Flat tyre,” You shrugged like it wasn’t that big of a deal that you were currently twenty-three minutes late for your shift, “I’ll make it up to you.” 

“Yeah well, you can start by clearing off the table by the piano,” Penny smiled as she nudged her head in the direction of the unruly table of patrons that had surely had far too much to drink. “Think Rick’s had a little more than his liver would care to admit.” 

“Yeah righto,” you sighed as you came behind the bar, doing up your apron as you looked around at the utter mess that had become the place. “I’ll sort him out.” 

North Island wasn’t somewhere you ever saw yourself living, but that was the real kicker in all of this. You didn’t mind the picturesque town with clear blue skies and water that mirrored it. But being the outsider, being the new resident, being the Hard Deck’s newest manager was all some of these people saw you as. Six months in a small Naval town was barely a dint in the years some of these families had been living here. 

“Aw hello, Brewer!” Rick Spencer, the resident rioter, cooed as he beamed your way. For someone in their mid-sixties, he surely went alright. “What brings you in on this fine Saturday afternoon?”

Typical - If you could have, you would have rolled your eyes so far into the back of your head you would have fallen over. Instead, you chose to smile and settle into the nightlife festivities with a can-do attitude and a rather cheeky smile. 

“Came to check on you, Spence? How’s everything over here boys?” It wasn’t uncommon for you to entertain the banter most of the patrons would give you. Most of the locals had caught on quickly that you enjoyed a good laugh every now and again but also knew how to handle your own. 

But there's always one in every group, isn’t there? 

“Would be a hell of a lot better if the barmaid was a little more topless! Right boys!?” A man you hadn’t seen before interrupted before a roar of ‘yeahs’ and agreements were made. Fists and beer bottles along with spirits alike slammed against the tabletop. “Come on girly—” The man continued as you stood there holding the empty bar tray, ready and waiting to collect the empties that littered the table. “Get your kit off.” 

“I don’t think so, boys,” You politely declined the offer of public indecency. “Perhaps in another lifetime.” 

“Sorry about him, Brewer,” Rick explained as he shook his head and stood from his seat at the booth. “My nephew’s here for a few days.”  

“Yeah well, so long as he remembers I run the joint and can have him tossed any time,” You replied sternly. “Keep him in line, Rick.” 

“Oh come on now, sweetheart, I was only joking!” The man you only knew as the nephew chuckled as he overheard your comment. “It’s slim pickings around here anyway, you just look like the best of a bad bunch is all.” 

“Hey!” That voice, that far too familiar voice echoed through the crowd. “You speak to her, or any woman for that matter, like that again? So help me god I’ll punch your teeth right through the back of your skull.” Jake snarled as he came to stand in front of you with his back nearly pressed right into your chest. “Got it!?” The close proximity, the overwhelming aroma of the familiar cologne, and the notes of burnt orange and bourbon made your heart warm. It all had your heart beating against your chest with a force so intense you thought it might break through. 

“Yeah right,” the man only known as the nephew agreed. “Sorry, sweetheart, I’ll get on the waters for a while.” 

“That and a pretty big tip should call us even,” you added with envy conviction laced in your voice that you even had yourself fooled that everything was alright. “Let me just grab these empties for you fellas.” 

You didn’t mess around with it, you simply let the group fall back into their regular chatter as you filled your tray. 

Jake stood with crossed arms a little off to the side, eyeing off all the men who sat idly. Fucking pricks. 

“Been here all of five fucking minutes—” Jake could sense your frustration as you turned into him. At first, he didn’t move, he simply stood there drinking you in as you held the now full tray of dirty glassware. 

“You didn’t have to do that for me,” was all you said. 

With wandering eyes, Jake didn’t miss a single inch of you. 

“I know,” Jake smiled softly as he reached around to lead you back to the bar for a moment to decompress. His hand gently fell to the small of your back as you walked side by side, “I know you’re capable of taking care of yourself, but just because you’re capable? Doesn’t mean you have to go it alone.” 

Alone, that’s all you’d ever been for the last three years. 

“Yeah, yeah I guess you’re right,” the sigh that left your body allowed your shoulders to relax as you placed the tray onto the bar and slid it over for Penny to take. “Thanks, Jake, I owe you one.” 

Jake Seresin had never been the kind of guy who saw himself settling down. But when he first saw you, that thought hadn’t left his mind. 

“Name a time and place,” Jake teased as he sent you a wink. It didn’t take Jake long to find himself at home up by the bar, perched on one of the bar stools as he entertained his favourite bartender. “I’ve always wondered what our first date would be like.” 

“Do I look like I came down in the last shower, Seresin?” You knew Jake had a thing for you, it wasn’t all that hard to put together. But it could never work, not in a million years. Not when you were playing pretend on a professional basis.

“What’s that even mean?” Jake asked as he leaned his elbows on top of the bar, grinning ear to ear as he pressed your buttons more. 

“It means—“ You cooed as you leaned into his space, making it known that the flirting was welcome, but the end goal wasn’t in sight. “I know you’re just trying to get in my pants.” 

“Pretty good-looking set of pants if I do say so myself,” Jake teased as his eyes trailed down the expanse of your body, then back up. Those emerald cities of his were full of complex wonder and undoubtable loyalty. Something you could never give back. “But despite the fact I think you’re pants would look a hell of a lot better in a pile on my bedroom floor, I’m not just doing any of this for a chance to, well, you know what I mean.” 

You did know what Jake meant, and for all intents and purposes you could admit to yourself that it sounded very tempting. But you knew what the repercussions would be.

“Jake, that’s all very sweet of you,” you felt as if you had this very conversation every week. The gentle let down. The kind-ish conversation where you reminded the overly-confident and somewhat self-assured Aviator that you weren’t looking for love or lust, or anything. Besides, there were already too many people looking for you. “But you know, as much as I think you’re a good guy and friend, I’m not interested.” 

Jake stood silently before you, drinking in all that was you. From the lines etched into your forehead to the small scar that ran through your left eyebrow. He wasn’t listening, there was just something about you. Something so intriguing that he couldn’t stop trying to win you over. He couldn’t stop trying to get you to give him just one chance. One chance was all Jake wanted to convince you he wasn’t everything he knew people had told you he was. 

“What would you say if I asked you to–” Before Jake had a chance to finish his question, the echoing sound of a glass shattering into smitherings against the wooden flooring, interrupted his train of thought. 

“OOOIII– TAXI!” It was almost as if all the patrons, besides Jake that was, had all congealed into one as they yelled shouted and cheered towards the man who had dropped his glass. With a heavy sigh and a quick roll of the eyes, you knew you would be the one who ultimately had to clear the mess. 

“I should probably get back to work.” The silence that came from Jake was deafening as you pulled away from where you had been standing far too close to a man you thought you didn’t want. A man you couldn’t have even if deep down you really wanted. Life was unfair like that. You couldn’t have anything you wanted, anything you loved. Anything that made you happy in the smallest of ways. 

“There’s really no chance of getting you to agree to just one date, is there Brewer?” Jake watched as you made your over to where you kept the cleaning supplies in a small section behind the bar. 

“If you already know that then why do you constantly make such an effort?” It was the look on your face that told Jake everything he needed to know. There was no chance in hell he was ever getting that date. 

But Jake Seresin never gave up without a fight, and he sure as hell wasn’t about to now. 

“Because you gentled me, Brewer,” Jake Seresin had never been the type of person who wanted to settle down. He was always so content with the relations he chose to have and the way he chose to have them. Short simple quick flings. Girlfriends who lasted no longer than a year and one-night stands he’d promise to call but never got their numbers. But then there was you. “No one’s ever done that before.” 

“Please don’t put that on my shoulders, Jake,” You weren't sure how to respond to that, how to process that kind of admission. “Just lay off the heroics for a while alright? I don’t want people getting the wrong impression.” 

“That impression would be?” Jake questioned like you’d just insulted his very being. That it would be a crime to love him. 

“Jake, I have a job to do alright,” It wasn’t that you were angry or upset that Jake cared for and about you. It was more frustration on your part for not being able to act on your own feelings towards him. It had been three years since your husband died. Three years since you felt the loving embrace of another human being. That alone was enough to frustrate anyone. “Please, just–just, I need to get back to work.” 

The thing about nightmares is that they often don’t stick to their own parameters. Sometimes, you end up living a nightmare more often than you dream one. Right now? As Jake looked at you like you’d just shot him through the heart, you knew you were wide awake. Living a nightmare that continued to punish only the good. 

“You’re untouchable,” Jake sighed to himself softly as he shook his head in defeat. “The untouchable woman who won’t let anyone in, you’re too proud or something aren’t you?” 

“It’s just–” All you wanted to do was explain yourself, pull Jake aside and let him in on why you couldn’t allow him to love you the way you wanted him to. But no words came out as you stood there holding the old dustpan by your side. 

With every blink, you saw flashes of Patrick. The love you lost too soon, too suddenly. He made sure to haunt your dreams to keep you safe. For a brief second of all-consuming anguish, you saw him too. Standing right behind Jake, warning you not to. “I need to get back to work, I’m sorry.” 

“Right,” Jake clenched his jaw when he felt the word vomit about to spew from his lips. He wasn’t mad, rejection just wasn’t something he was familiar with. “When you get a chance, put a Budweiser on Bradshaw’s tab.” Jake pressed his lips together into a fine line of regret, instantly kicking himself for pushing. He knew he shouldn’t have, but the chase was as addicting as it was thrilling. With a simple knock of his knuckles on the bar before, he turned on his heels. Leaving you to stand there in your own self-loathing. 

Your heart sank as you watched Jake shove his hands into the pockets of his jeans with a head that hung so low you almost wondered if his neck would be sore. Guilt, shame, it all felt the same. But you couldn’t let Jake in, you couldn’t allow him into your life more than what you’d given him over the last six months. 

You’d tangled yourself in barbed wire so you couldn’t be reached by anyone. Unknowingly bleeding when as it digs into you more and more. You would think the touch of skin on yours wouldn’t be so terrifying, but you’d been bruised before. You couldn’t allow Jake to fall into your web of lies that kept you safe from harm’s way. If hurting him was the only way to keep him safe, you’d hurt him twice over every single day.

Perhaps it would be safer to stay the untouchable woman. 

***~***~***~***~***~****

As a child, there was magic in the mundane. You often found yourself missing the mermaids among the koi in the pond, their glittering scales reminiscent of a childhood fairytale. Summer mornings you’d make bouquets out of the same flowers adults would now mow away while wrinkling their noses at the weeds. 

You often wondered to yourself when the awe of the day-to-day faded away and when you stopped believing in your ability to see mermaids in the momentous world around you. 

“Another round fellas?” You tried not to think too much about the way Jake’s eyes burned into you like a fiery sunbeam as you stood behind Rooster. “Same old same old? The usual orders of Bradshaw’s table?” The squad, affectionately known as the Daggers erupted into laughter all the while Rooster remained silent and brooding. 

“You are all bleeding my dry,” Bradley sighed as you made the rounds and collected all the empties onto your bar tray. “Seriously, I know you aren’t all working for free, cough up.” 

“You could– just apologise for being a Neanderthal and I’ll close it out?” Your statement left a bad taste in Rooster’s mouth, he wasn’t one for apologising for things he didn’t think he’d done wrong. 

“I could,” the brooding moustache-having man replied. “But it’d be an empty lie.” There was something about Bradley Bradshaw that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand to attention. He wasn’t necessarily a bad person, he was–an only child. He probably never imagined mermaids among the koi.  

“Appreciate the honesty there, Bradshaw,” you chuckled deeply as you finished you collecting all the empty glasses and beer bottles. “Guess the next rounds on you.” 

“Here here,” Coyote chimed in with a Cheshire Cat grin. “All in a hard day’s work there Rooster, you always know how to piss off the barkeep.” 

“Works out in our favour,” Bob smiled as he passed you two empty glasses. “I don’t think I’ve paid for a drink of my own in a few weeks now.” 

“No, you just keep trying to convince everyone Brewer here was your first kiss,” Phoenix smirked as she finished off her beer. 

All the air inside your lungs felt like they had been sucked right out. The chills that ran down the expanse of your spine made your blood run cold. You stood tall with your now full tray of old beer bottles and empty glasses and sent a polite smile Bob’s way. 

“You still riding that wave?” 

“You just really look like Y/n from Nurellun Public,” Bob countered with an almost pleading tone. “She was my first kiss by the sandpit and I remember she had a little yellow dot in her right eye.” 

“Brewer has a yellow dot in her right eye,” Jake decided to enter the conversation from his place in the corner of the booth. “Tell you what Floyd, you must have been one shocking kisser if you got Brewer here to change her damn name.” The table erupted into a loud boisterous laugh as the Weapons System Officer sunk a little lower into his seat. 

You felt for Bob, being the butt of the joke was never a good feeling. But when your case officer relocated you to North Island, he didn’t bank on one of its locals being your first snog. You hated gaslighting the guy, but you had no other choice. Bob Floyd had to stay in the era of Meridamis and weed bouquets. 

“Like I told you last time Bob, you’ve got the wrong girl,” It was as nonchalant as it was dismissive. “My first kiss was with Johnny Bennett out at some random guys shed.” You had gotten used to lying about your life and who you were. At the very beginning it was almost impossible, but three years on? You’d gotten pretty good at playing pretend. 

Only you wished it could be with the mermaids in their fairytales. But much like all those mermaids and all those fairytale stories……you didn’t exist. Much like Johnny Bennett.  

***~***~***~***~***~ 

Tags: 🏷️ @a-reader-and-a-writer @xoxabs88xox @hiireadstuff @buckysteveloki-me @athenabarnes @els-marvelvsp @blindedbythelightt @tayl0rhuynh @na-ta-sh-aa @kmc1989 @sunlightmurdock @mamachasesmayhem @jaxfart @lauenderhaze @sugarcoated-lame @maisie-rebloging-blog @captainmoonknight @seitmai @shanimallina87 @kajjaka @imnotcreativeenoughforthisblog @imladrisofabookdragon @buckysteveloki-me @mrsevans90 @allepaula @els-marvelvsp @djs8891 @paperbag33

#secret sacrifices // jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #jake seresin x y/n #jake hangman fic #jake hangman imagine #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin fanfiction #jake seresin imagine #top gun hangman #top gun fandom #top gun fanfic #top gun fanfiction

[rebelliousstories]

Not On My Watch

Relationship: Cooper “The Ghoul” Howard x Reader

Fandom: Fallout

Request: Yes by @victias

Warnings: Strong Language, Brief Violence, Suggestive Themes

Word Count: 1,128

Main Masterlist: Here

Fallout Masterlist: Here

Summary: There is something that can flip a switch in even the most trusting of men; jealousy. Now what switch that is all depends on the man.

Walking alongside each other in the desert was not the most ideal plan for anyone. But it worked for them. Salvation from the blistering heat was found just up the road at a small city that was hustling and bustling with people and shops. 

“How many you got left, baby?” She asked, peaking her head out from the lip of her matching cowboy hat. Deftly, Cooper dug around in his satchel to pull the bag with his chems out. 

“Got three. Know anyone with access here?” He replied, tucking them back in and continuing to walk. 

“Please. You know I always know a guy, baby. Don’t worry about it.” Her tone was teasing as she playfully hit his shoulder. Cooper allowed a small smirk to overtake his face at his partner’s jests. Thoughts ran rampant in his head as he continued to walk. His self esteem was finally on the up and up after they collected the latest bounty, but it was times like these that tested that. 

It seems like a lifetime ago that he had stumbled upon the woman in the middle of the Wasteland, half beaten and looted, but determined to get her effects back in a timely manner. An unusual partnership struck up when she offered a hundred caps to help her find the men that took her gear. As they tracked them through the Wastelands, they quickly realized that they had more in common with each other than they previously thought. 

Oh, and get her gear she did. Cooper did not realize that he was that attracted to someone so covered in blood and gore until he saw the hell she unleashed upon those men. From that point forward, they continued to travel and make their living together. Trading chems and caps for companionship. 

However, in between the nights nestled together for warmth, and days on the open land, doubts came in to the scarred head of Cooper Howard. There was the persisting thought of never being there in the long run. If being feral doe not get him, it is going to be someone else. Or he will just have his body shut down because even he does not know what is going to happen exactly. Or maybe she would realize that being with a ghoul is more of a hinderance rather than a benefit. 

“Hey,” she jolted him out of his thoughts, “you alright there, baby? You left for a little while.” Her voice was honey sweet, and lace with concern as she observed her partner. 

“Course I’m alrigh’. Let’s go.”  He trudged on ahead, leaving the woman to catch up to him yet again. Once in town, they took inventory of what was around them. A few street vendors for food and crafts, a medical shop, a bar, and a little inn that was left from the old days. Walking into the doctor's place, the sterile smell was a welcomed change of pace from the dirty way of. life outside these white walls. Their boots clicked against the hard floor as the saddled up to the counter. 

“We don't take your kind here, Ghoul. Go somewhere else.” A man behind the counter spoke, looking up from his ledger. His eyes scanned the deformed man before his gaze landed on the woman next to him. 

“Now what can I help you with, little lady?” He leered, teeth yellowed beyond saving in his smile. 

“Sixty vials of chems. Now.” She stated. Her face was devoid of any emotion other than contempt. But the man in front of her only saw that as a challenge, while the Ghoul watched. 

“Oh. I think we can strike up a deal. Just for you of course.” Once more, he tried to make himself more appealing than he actually was. 

“Chems for caps. I have no interest in a man that looks, smells, and acts worse than the foulest of ghouls.” She said bluntly and watched the man's face fall. He shuffled around quietly and produced the sixty vials they requested. 

“Sixty chems for one hundred twenty caps.” The doctor eyed the woman nervously for her next movement. 

“That sign out front says ‘five chems for three caps.’ Now, the only you're gettin’ a hundred twenty caps from me, is if you supply the appropriate amount of chems. Now, here's thirty-six caps for sixty chems.” Tossing the bottle caps on the counter, the woman kept them just out of reach until the doctor produced what he had promised. He kept to himself while working on grabbing the vials. Once they had swapped hands, she tipped her hat as the duo walked outside. 

“Pleasure doin’ business with you.” And with that, they left. She passed the chems to Cooper so he could replenish but he just stood there dumbfounded. 

“The hell was that?” He questioned, voice tinged in false fury. 

“That was me getting your meds. What's the problem?” She pushed back, wondering what was going on with the Ghoul. 

“Why didn't you want him?” Cooper's quiet voice whispered as he kept his eyes to the ground. 

“Whatcha talkin’ about baby? What do you mean?” Stepping closer, she tried to get him to look up but to no avail. 

“You could have your choice of man. Even one not so… deformed. What are you even doing with me anyways?” There goes his barriers yet again. Howard had perfected building the walls back up around his heart when they would fall down in front of her. But she just stepped closer to him, and pressed her fingerless gloves hand to his cheeks so that she could look in his eyes. 

“Coop, I don't want no one else but you,” she started, “I don't want someone not deformed. Most of these men are far uglier inside then out. I can deal with someone not attractive to most people. He just needs to be attractive to me.” By the time she had finished, Cooper was looking her in the eye, and feeling himself crumble. 

“Now you gonna make this old cowpoke go soft which is not gonna be too good now, sweetheart.” He drawled out, resting his hands on her hips softly. Pulling her even closer, they stood underneath their hat brims for a moment. 

“That's okay. As long as that cowpoke knows I ain't goin’ nowhere for no one. And I'll continue to make sure he believes and knows that. No self doubt on that front. Not on my watch.” She replied, saying them ever so softly. 

“What's you say we try and find us a nice spot to camp tonight? Wanna be able to treat you for bein’ oh so kind.” Cooper smirked, finally Slipping right back into the charming ghoul she knew and loved. 

“Lead the way, partner.” 

#rebelliousstories #writing #cooper the ghoul howard #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard #cooper howard imagine #the ghoul imagine #the ghoul fallout #the ghoul x reader #the ghoul #fallout imagine #fallout

[geralts-yenn]

Bonfire

Captain Syverson (Sandcastle) x reader (female reader, no race, body type or physical features mentioned other then blushing)

summary: After months you finally see Sy again. But how will he react to you after he cancelled his date before he left?

warnings:  fingering, oral (f and m receiving), protected p-i-v sex

word count: 6,7k

A/N: I had this in my WIPs for sooo long, probably wrote this three times, deleted, changed, wrote it again. Sy just didn't do what I wanted to. But when I stumbled over that gif I knew I had to finish this story and I think I am finally happy with everything. Hope you like it too.

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I'd love to get some feedback so please don't hesitate to reblog, comment, ask. Like all my fellow writers I long for every bit of interaction with my readers.

taglist: @raccoon-eyed-rebel @deandoesthingstome @mayloma @fvckinghenrycavill @ylva-syverson @ellethespaceunicorn

(please let me know if you want to be added or removed)

You feel lost. Why the hell did you even come here in the first place? This was Sy’s coming home party. And you two aren’t really friends. Maybe you could have become. Maybe even more. But time wasn’t on your side. You look over to the man that held your mind and heart captivated in the last year, without even being near you most of the time. 

You were surprised when you first saw him today. The buzz cut and the beard were new and unfamiliar. But it made him even more attractive. You wonder how it would feel to be kissed by him. Would his whiskers be soft or would they rub your soft skin and leave red marks?

You take in how he pulls his upper lip into his mouth, licking the beer from it. The next girl is coming over to him. You have watched them the whole evening: Making doe eyes at him, playing with their hair. All trying their best to get his attention. Of course, he had this effect not only on you. They all wanted him.

Well, you wouldn’t stand in their way. If Sy had had any interest in you, you would have heard from him. But he never called, he never texted, he never wrote. 

All your friends are enjoying the evening, drinking, talking and laughing by the fire. No one seems to notice that you don't join them. You walk away from the bonfire into the woods. 

You sit down on a rock and think about what led you to feel so sad.

May, one year ago:

You were excited to go to your friend’s wedding. It was the first event in your new life. You’d finally be able to get to know some of the people here. You had moved from Chicago to a small town in Texas. Your college roommate Megan had got you that amazing job offer that you couldn't decline. And, because she moved in with her fiancé, she even offered you her old apartment, which you gladly accepted. But the first few weeks in the new job had taken all your time. And Megan didn't have time to show you your new home in Texas either, she was occupied with her wedding. So you didn't know a lot of people yet.

When you saw him for the first time at the wedding, you immediately knew that you would fall for him. He was not only attractive, he had an aura of self-esteem and authority that you couldn’t call anything but ‘big dick energy’.

You watched him striding over to the bar. He took his drink from the bartender and turned, letting his gaze wander through the crowd. You realized too late that his head turned in your direction and when your looks met, you dropped your eyes to the floor hastily. Surely he could see you blush even from the opposite of the room. You walked over to your friend, trying to look like you were very much busy with something else as that gorgeous big guy. But to your shock, only a few moments later, he came over to you. 

He bent his head down to you and whispered: “No need to turn away darlin', I like being eye-fucked by beautiful women.” And he winked at you and walked away with a cocky smile spread over his face.

Now you were sure that everyone in the room could see your cheeks glow brightly. Megan grinned at you, she was near enough to overhear his words. 

“That was Sy. He's quite the charmer, right?” You covered your eyes with your hand. 

“Doing my best to embarrass myself at the first opportunity,” you said, grimacing. But Megan insisted that he didn't want to embarrass you but he was flirting. 

Over the evening, every now and then your look met Sy's. And every time, he gave you a smile. But you were glad that he didn't come over to talk to you anymore because you felt like you would only be stuttering. Especially after the wine you were drinking made your tongue heavy.

When Megan and her now-husband Fletcher had left, you decided to go home, too. You got to know some people and had fun during the evening but you still felt a bit like an outsider and you were too tired for conversations anyway. So you grabbed your cardigan and your purse and headed for the door.

As soon as you looked up, you saw Sy’s eyes, following you the whole way through the room. He had gotten rid of his jacket and his bow tie. The first buttons of his shirt were open now and the sleeves were rolled up over his elbows. That man was a fucking tease on legs and he knew exactly what he was doing. He was standing close to the exit, so you had no other choice as to walk past him. And when you were close enough, he saluted you with two fingers. 

“Sweet dreams, sugar! Hope I see you again soon.” You gave him a shy smile, not daring to speak. Sitting in the Uber that got you home, you wondered if he was talking like that to all the women today, or if he was curious about the ‘new girl’, or maybe he truly was interested in you.

It was unbearably hot the last few days and you were so happy to finally have a free weekend to spend with your new-found friends. Megan, you and a couple of other people had planned a trip to the beach. When you walked down the boardwalk you got really excited. You were a summer girl through and through and you loved the sea.

You were lying on a blanket, sipping on your drink and reading, when you heard some of the guys cheering. You looked up, thinking they were playing a game or something like that, when you saw them waving at someone. You turned around and almost choked on your lemonade when you saw who was walking up to your group. He was wearing camo shorts, a red shirt that was probably a size too small for him and some dark aviators. Like the first time you had seen him, Sy strode along with an attitude of big dick energy that took your breath away. 

After the wedding you couldn’t get him out of your mind anymore and so you were really disappointed that you hadn’t met him ever since. You had tried to subtly ask Megan about him, but of course she knew right away. She told you that he is in the army and he was always quite busy when he was on leave, working on his house, meeting friends and family. But yet you always hoped he would show up when you were out. Three months later you had given up and almost forgot about him, and that's the moment he appeared in your life again.

You turned back to reading your book, trying to look unaffected. But Megan dropped beside you the next moment.

"Look who has time for his friends today…" she said to you playfully. You closed your book and sat up, but instead of an answer, you just rolled your eyes at her. Sy had reached your group and greeted everyone with a nod and a smile. One of the guys handed him a beer can and they started talking. 

Megan, of course, couldn't stop teasing you. "So, how do you like him better, in a suit or with that tight shirt?" She grinned at you. "Damn, I should have waited until he went swimming for that question, I guess. It would be an easier decision then." 

You smacked her on her shoulder but both of you were giggling. "I don't think it would be an easy decision at all. He looks damn fine in a suit, but this shirt is… uh… nice, too. I doubt it can get any better." Megan knew you were going to learn soon how wrong you were so she just let out a loud belly laugh.

Sy looked over to you two, probably searching for the source of laughter. And you could tell the moment when he noticed you were there, too. His eyes got slightly wider and his mouth fell open for a second. He turned his head back to the guy he was talking to, but he seemed to be distracted, fiddling with his fingers, licking his lips and every so often squinting over in your direction. You were surprised to see him like that. This wasn't the confident guy you had seen until now. 

Megan saw it, too.  "D'ahw, he likes you, girl!" she remarked. 

You tried your best to act normal and apparently Sy found back to his cocky self after a while, too. But when he grabbed the back of his shirt to pull it over his head, you couldn’t keep your composure any longer. 

“Fuck me!” you mumbled under your breath. Megan shoved her elbow into your side, grinning. 

“Told you so!” she sing-songed into your ear. You both watched how Sy stepped into the water, diving into a wave. 

Megan’s husband Fletcher dropped down next to you. “Ladies, you are staring!” he said amusedly. 

You decided that you should go back to reading when Megan and Fletcher got up to get some sandwiches. But the book you read lead into a quite smutty scene exactly now that you tried to stop thinking about that half-naked hunk in the water. That didn’t help at all! You rolled over to lie on your stomach. At least you weren’t able to look at him now. 

Two pages later, a shadow fell upon you and your book. Followed by tiny cold drops of water dripping down your warm skin. You let out a shriek and turned to see who it was that startled you like that. You had to squint your eyes due to the sun, but it was very clear whose wide frame was standing in front of you. Sy threw a towel into the sand next to you and sat down.

“Hey, sorry, didn’t mean to make you scream like that.” The corners of his mouth turned up into a cocky smirk. "Watchu reading?” He nodded at your book. 

Oh no! You definitely didn’t want to tell him about that cheesy vampire smut. “Uhm, just a fantasy novel,” you muttered under your breath, hoping that this would be enough information for him. But you weren't lucky. 

“Fantasy? Really? I read a lot of fantasy stuff myself. What is it? Maybe I have read it, too.” Sy grabbed your book from between your arms faster than you could react. He turned it to look onto the cover. 

Sy amusedly raised an eyebrow when he saw the artwork and the title. “Hu, now that is probably still on my to-read-list,” he said with a deep chuckle. 

You wished the sand under you would just swallow you, so you didn’t have to look into these beautiful ocean blue eyes next to you ever again. You were mortified! As Sy noticed you not only blushing but also turning your head away from him, he shook his head. 

“Shush, hey, I’m just joking. I didn’t want to make you feel bad.” He laid your book down again onto your blanket and instead put his hand onto your shoulder. 

That was unexpected. But it felt good and somehow it made you feel more comfortable again. You turned to look into his face again and you noticed that the cheeky grin had disappeared and was replaced with a warm smile. 

“I’m Sy, by the way. But I guess someone already told you.” He looked over to Megan.

You nodded and gave him your name. “But I guess someone already told you,” you parroted him, which he answered with a smirk. “But Sy isn’t your real name, right?” you asked. Sy raised his right eyebrow and pulled up one corner of his mouth. He probably had to answer this question way too often. 

“Benjamin Jacob Syverson it is. But since there were four Ben’s in our football team we had to get creative with the nicknames.” He drew quotation marks into the air with his fingers at the word ‘creative’. “And somehow ‘Sy’ stuck with me. Even my sister calls me Sy now, which is quite stupid if you think about it.” There was that deep chuckle again that gave you goosebumps despite you lying in the warm Texas summer sun. 

Sy and you got to talk and you soon realized that he not only had a hypnotizing appeal, but he also was smart and your conversation with him just felt so easy and relaxed. Damn, you were falling hard for him. It was the second time you saw him, the first time you talked to him and there you were, totally smitten.

When Megan came back to you and practically pulled you with her into the water you were almost furious that she had interrupted your talk with Sy. But then you saw him following you into the waves and you couldn’t be mad at Megan anymore.

The rest of the day felt like a summer daydream. You were swimming, drinking, laughing. And all the time Sy was somewhere around you. In the evening Megan and Fletcher asked you to join them for a beach volleyball match. 

“We need a fourth person,” you said, looking around. 

Megan's cousin Terry came over to you. “I could join!” he suggested. But then Sy stood up and stepped between you and Terry.

“No offense, but it would be kind of unfair teaming her up with you, Terry. You would look like hobbits playing against giants. I think she needs a partner that is a little bit taller than you.” And yes, Sy looked ridiculous tall next to Terry. And broad. And sexy. 

So it was you and Sy against Fletcher and Megan. It was no surprise to you that Sy was very competitive. He went all in, throwing himself into the sand, sweat running down his bare back. You enjoyed every minute of it. In the end you won and before you could think, you found yourself jumping onto Sy, hugging him like a koala. 

He grabbed you by your thighs and chuckled. “That was worth the fight!”

In the next couple of weeks you met Sy sometimes at the bar or at gatherings with friends but to your disappointment you never got that close to him anymore like you did at that day on the beach. You were tempted to ask Fletcher for his phone number, but somehow you wanted him to make the next step. Maybe you were kind of old-fashioned but you wanted him to woo you. And so you were waiting, and waiting, and waiting.

And then there was this day in October, the sun was shining and you were driving home from your office, singing loud and wrong to your favorite songs. Ahead of you you noticed a truck standing in the dirt beside the road. The hood was open and you saw a pair of jeans leaning against the front. 

Okay, you were taught to be kind and offer help. But you were also a woman alone on an empty road. You struggled if you should stop. Reducing your speed, you carefully approached the car. And then you let out a snort when you saw who was standing at his broken truck. 

“Hey Sy, need a savior?” you asked him with a wide grin when you stopped next to him. He looked up from under the hood and answered with a surprised huff.

"I'm not sure what kind of help I need at all right now, darlin'. I thought I could fix that goddamn piece of scrap like I usually do. But it seems this time it's not that easy." Sy scrowled while scratching the back of his head with his greasy fingers.

You parked your car in front of his truck and got out to him. You leaned against the fender and looked onto the engine as if you had any idea how cars work. Well, to be honest, you looked at Sy's arms and hands that rested on some parts of which you had, of course, no idea what they were. Somehow this grime look, greasy and oily, affected you more than you would have guessed. As if you needed to be more drawn to that guy as you already were.

Sy ruttled on some cables, according to his facial expression not with any success. "Sugar, can you get into the car and try to start it?"

You climbed into the driver's cabin and adjusted the seat a good amount forward so you'd be able to get to the pedals. You turned the keys but the car just spat out some sad noises.

Sy shook his head and worked on some other cables. "Once more, please?"

You tried again but there was no change. The engine didn't start.

Sy dropped the hood shut and kicked against the tyre. "That damn marten probably munched on my cables again. I'm gonna kill that little bastard!"

He got to the driver's cabin and held out his hand. "Can you give me a ride into town, darlin'?"

"Sure!" you answered, although your voice didn't sound sure at all. You put your hand in his and jumped to the ground. But you didn't expect that fluttering feeling that suddenly hit your stomach and so you stumbled forwards. 

Sy's arm wrapped around your waist and pulled you flush into his embrace. You didn't even feel embarrassed as you inhaled his scent while you stayed in his arms way too long for that accidental situation.

"You okay?" he asked you when you had finally managed to take a step back.

You nodded and gave him a smile. "Yeah, I'm just awful clumsy," you told him. 

Both of you got into your car, Sy looking ridiculously big in the passenger's seat of your Toyota Yaris. You turned down the volume of the radio and talked with him for a few miles. 

"You really care for your truck, don't you?" you asked him. You had noticed that although it was an old model it was very well maintained.

Sy gave you a strange look, somehow sad. "Yes. I really hope it's just that stupid rodent again and nothing more serious. The truck was my dad's! He gave it to me on my 16th birthday. It was old even back then but it was mine." He took a deep breath before he continued. "I lost my dad half a year later. He didn't come back from Iraq."

"Oh!" Your hand reached out to his and pressed it slightly. This time you were prepared for the sensation of feeling his warmth. "I'm sorry," you said in loss of other words.

A silence fell upon you that wasn't actually uncomfortable but after some time you felt like you needed to say something.

"So, where can I drop you off? Some repair shop?" Sy shook his head.

"No, I'm just texting my cousin to go fetch the car and I'll fix it on my own. Could you please drive me home?"

You nodded and continued to drive in silence until you made it to town. Sy cleared his throat like he wanted to say something, but didn't continue. At the next crossroad you turned left. Sy turned his head to you and finally started to speak.

"You know where I live?" he asked with a raised eyebrow, although he looked more amused than surprised. Heat crept up your cheeks and ears. You felt like a stalker. Probably because you were a stalker.  Megan had pointed out his house when you were driving by a few weeks ago. And maybe you had made a little detour sometimes since then, hoping to catch a glimpse of him. 

"It's a small town." You shrugged awkwardly and luckily he didn't seem to mind.

"That's true. How'chu like it here? A little bit different than Chicago, hu?" A grin spread over his face.

"Hell, yes, but in a good way. I know people are always talking about southern hospitality, but you know, it's really true. At least here in this town. I feel so welcome, I made more friends in these few months than in Chicago in half of my life."

Sy's chest puffed out proud when he listened to you, which was really kind of cute.

"And do you enjoy the southern hospitality of someone in particular?" he asked next. You weren't quite sure if you understood that question correctly so you just blinked at him.

"Are you seeing someone?" Sy rephrased with a wink.

"Oh!" You felt stupid. "No, not like that." You hadn't even finished your sentence when Sy's smile widened across his face.

"That's good!"he said, just to correct himself in the next second. "I mean, it's not good that you don't have someone. It's good because I actually wanted to ask you out."

You felt your heart race in your chest. He really wanted to go on a date with you? Yes, that's what he had said.

"I'd love that!" you told him.

Sy didn't say anything in response but grabbed your hand and rubbed his thumb over your palm. Though you felt like you couldn't focus on driving any longer somehow you made it to his house shortly after. 

Sy let go of your hand and you both got out of your car. With wide steps, Sy circled around the car to get to you. 

"Thanks for the ride, sugar!" He leaned down to you and gave you a kiss on your cheek. It was so gentle you almost weren't able to feel it. What a shame!

Sy pulled his mobile out of his back pocket, unlocked it and gave it to you.

"If you give me your number I'm gonna text you later. If you really want to go out with me, it is, of course." The wink he gave you made sure that he was very well aware that you wanted to. So you added your number and gave it back to him. He held the phone up, silently asking for permission to take a photo of you. You gave him a small nod. But instead of taking a picture immediately, Sy leaned forward to kiss you once more on your cheek. This time his soft lips rested longer on your skin. And while he was kissing you, he took a selfie of you two.  

"Sy!" You were too flabbergasted to really enjoy it but the feeling in your stomach told you, you really liked him being so near to you.

Sy looked at his screen grinning and held it up for you. You looked absolutely ridiculous, eyes wide in surprise.

"Oh no, please delete this. I'm looking so stupid!" you begged him, but he just chuckled and shook his head. 

"No, you're pretty as a speckled pup!"

Over the next week Sy and you had texted with each other every day and when you really had a bad day at work, he had even called you and you talked for almost two hours, feeling so much better after. 

When you met with Megan on Friday for lunch you were starting to get nervous because of the upcoming date.

"I have no idea what he's up to. He told me it's a surprise but what the hell am I supposed to wear?" You shoved your salad from one side of the plate to the other, not really eating much at all.

"Girl, calm down. Just wear some tight jeans and a top. And nice matching underwear, of course." Megan giggled as you gave her an annoyed look.

You were under the shower when you heard your mobile ring. Hastily you grabbed a towel and went to answer the phone. It was Sy. 

"Hey, handsome!" You sat down on your bed, ignoring the fact that you were still dripping wet.

"Hey!" The hesitant, almost silent answer made your heart drop. This was the sound of someone knowing they'll disappoint you soon. He changed his mind.

"Sugar, I'm so sorry. I won't be able to go out with you." There it was. You gulped, not able to say something, so Sy continued.

"I got notice that I have to leave next week. I..  There's a lot I have to get done before that. I wasn't expecting to be deployed that soon."

You still just sat there. He was leaving in a few days. You won't be able to see him for months. And he chose to cancel your date. The last chance to be with you.

"Darlin', I'm sorry. I really am." 

"It's okay, Sy. I understand." You really did. But it hurt nevertheless.

You had hoped for some texts coming from him. Some sign that he was thinking of you. 

Then you thought that maybe he wasn't able to send messages at all. But when Fletcher told you that he had gotten text messages from him you knew that this wasn't true. He just didn't want to stay in contact with you. 

Well, it's not like you two were a thing after all. You barely knew each other. 

You tried to move on, tried to forget him. Megan even managed to persuade you to go on a few blind dates with guys she thought would distract you enough. 

But nothing you did was enough to stop thinking about him. Every night you lay in your bed, thinking of the few moments you had shared or wondering what he was going through right now.

After a while you hid your heartache from your friends, even Megan was sure you were over Sy. And so no one thought it would be hard for you to come to the homecoming party your friends organized for him. But it was.

You look up to the stars, blinking the tears away that gather in the corners of your eyes. The night sky in Texas is so beautiful. But it makes you feel even smaller and insignificant. Maybe you should just go home. 

You get up but instead of just leaving, of course, you have to glance over to him again. He leans over to Fletcher, talking and gesturing. Both men share another look and then Sy walks away. He moves into your direction. Fuck!

The whole evening you pondered what you would say to him when he would come over to you. If he would come over to you.

Now your brain just feels empty. You turn around again, looking up to the sky once more. You hear his heavy footsteps approaching. And then you feel his warm hands rub over your arms.

"Damn, you're freezing, darlin'. Why dont'chu get a little closer to the fire?" His hands don't stop moving up and down your arms and he even moves closer to you and you feel the heat of his chest on your back.

"I want to look at the stars. At the fire it's too bright." 

You feel Sy nodding. You two stand there for what feels like an eternity without talking.

"You didn't say hi," he remarks after a while. 

“You didn’t say goodbye!” is your answer and you can’t hide the bitterness in your words. 

Sy inhales deeply. “I didn’t,” is all he says. Then he pulls his Hoodie over his head and gives it to you. “Here, you are shivering.” 

You don’t want to accept it, but he is right. You really are freezing. And you need to talk with Sy, give it a closure, whatever it was that you two had last year.

So you put it on. And you realize immediately that this was a fault. You take in the scent it radiates. The scent that takes you back to the moments where you were lucky enough to be near him. When he leaned down to you at Megan’s wedding, that day on the beach when you jumped into his arms, the day you stumbled into his embrace and he kissed your cheek. 

“I wanted to protect you. I didn’t want you to sit there waiting for me when we didn’t even know if this is something worth waiting for. And to be honest, I wanted to protect myself, too. I was afraid I couldn’t make it through these months if I felt more for you than I already did.”

Sy sits down on the rock, his thighs spread wide. He pulls you down to sit in between them and wraps his arms around you. 

“Didn’t help anyway. I couldn’t stop thinkin’ of you the whole fuckin’ time. Every hour of every day of every week of every month. Was starin’ at the stars so often. Always thought that at least they are the same, shining down on me and you. That made me feel a little bit nearer to you. And I was lookin’ at your photo all the time.” You hear his deep chuckle, although it sounds a little bit different than you know it. It has some sad undertones this time.

Of all the things he told you, you pick the most stupid thing to answer him. “Noooo, not that stupid photo, I’m looking awful in it.”

This time Sy’s chuckle is brighter, the way you know and love it. “Nope, darlin’, already told you. Pretty as a speckled pup!”

You turn your head to look at him. And at the sight of him, looking at you so soft, the fire throwing light and shadow over his face, you know it’s going to happen. You lean into him, you can feel his breath and then finally he closes the last distance and his lips brush over yours. His whiskers tickle at the corner of your mouth but you decide immediately that you love it. 

Sy grabs you at your waist and pulls you sideways onto his lap. With the new angle, he is able to pull you closer and deepen his kiss. His tongue carefully licks over your upper lip and you respond to it by opening your mouth to let him explore it. You feel like the world around you fades away and it is just Sy and you. Both of you put all the love, all the desperation you felt in the last eight months into this kiss and so your hearts are racing when you finally part your lips again, gasping for air. 

Sy stands up, carrying you bridal style without any effort. When he moves you near the fire, you notice that everyone else is gone. Sy sees the confused expression on your face and grins.

“I asked Fletcher if he could make sure to give us a little more privacy.” Sy kneels down on a blanket next to the fire and puts you down. His wide frame leans over you the next moment and his mouth is on yours again. Soon his lips travel from your mouth to your jaw and neck, finally resting on a spot under your ear where his kisses and sucks made your whole body shiver. 

He pulls his head back, looking down onto you with his eyes dark. “Are you still cold?” he asks you. 

“No, I’m feeling as good as never before,” you whisper. Your hand travels to his jaw and you run your fingers through his coarse beard. Sy leans into your touch, closing his eyes.

“I can shave it!” he tells you but you shake your head. “No, I think I like it. Missing your curls though.” you answer him while running your other hand through the soft hair on the back of his head. 

“Yeah, gonna need to grow them out again. You will need something to hold onto.” He winks at you and you can’t hold back a laugh. That’s the Sy you missed so much.

You get back to kiss each other, and soon your hands are traveling over each other's bodies. The heat of the fire and of Sy’s body gets to you and you lean up to get rid of Sy’s hoodie. Sy mirrors you and pulls his shirt over his head. You gasp at the sight of his bare chest. His shoulders are even wider than you remember and you can’t help it, you want to bite into his pecs that heave with every one of his deep breaths.

You straddle him and kiss him passionately. Sy’s hands grab your ass and he pulls you impossibly close to him. You feel him pressing against your core, hard and big, and you moan at the sensation. Sy tugs on your shirt and you help him to get it off of you. You hadn’t bothered to wear a bra and Sy grunts in appreciation as his hands cup both of your breasts. Soon he repalces one hand with his mouth and he circles your hard nipple with his tongue. “Damn, baby you are gorgeous!” he tells you and sinks back into the soft flesh of your breasts.

Then he moves, laying you down onto your back and slowly he trails a path of wet kisses down to your belly until he reaches the waistband of your jeans. His eyes move up to your face as his hands go for the button. Instead of an answer you help him open it and pull at your zipper. Sy rolls down your jeans, tugging the tight fabric until you are finally laying in front of him, only in your soaked panties. His beard tickles you as he kisses you all the way up from your ankle to your knee and then further up your thigh and you squirm under him. Soon you feel his warm breath through the lacy fabric of your underwear. 

“Please, Sy!” you beg and he answers you teasingly with a chaste kiss onto your clothed mound. “Sy! Please!” you plead once more and he finally listens. He pulls down your panties and parts your legs with his shoulders. And then his mouth is where you wanted it to be. 

Slowly, way too slowly, he licks with his tongue through your folds up to your clit. A gasp escapes your mouth when he reaches your pearl. Sy keeps playing with it, drawing circles around it, sucking it into his mouth. With his tongue flattened, he laps along your entrance and then he gets back to your clit again. When you already notice the tension in your middle build up, you feel a finger push into you.

Sy curls it to find your most sensitive spot. And when he reaches it, he adds a second finger and pumps them into you. All the while he rolls your clit between his lips. You can hardly breathe over the sensation Sy's tongue and fingers give you. You press your hips up to his mouth when your climax washes over you and you feel your whole body melt under his ministrations. And even after you come down from your high, Sy doesn’t stop moving over your now oversensitive pearl.

You wriggle under his touch. „Sy, come here!“ you tell him and pull him up to you. Droplets of your juices fall from his wet beard onto your chest when he leans over you with a wide grin.

He sinks his head down to you and kisses you frantically, building up the ache in your core again. You start to fumble on his belt. You’re impatient and want to feel him in every way possible. You had waited so long for this to happen, now you can’t wait a minute longer. But Sy takes all his time to drag this out.

Finally, you manage to undo his belt and your fingers work on the buttons of his jeans next.

“Sy!” you moan into his ear. “I want this so much. I want you.” He just growls in response. His mouth is on your neck and his hand travels down between your legs again. You are still not able to free him from his damn pants and you let out a frustrated huff. 

“Will you just already get out of these jeans and fuck me?” you almost cry out. Sy chuckles lightly. 

“Oh, baby, I will. Trust me. Just give me one minute. There’s a condom in my jacket.” He gets up and your gaze follows him as he walks to his truck. You take in how the thin layer of sweat that covers his back glistens in the light of the bonfire. It’s the hottest thing you have ever seen. 

He gets the condom and then, when he turns back to you, you have to correct yourself. THIS is the hottest thing you have ever seen: Sy walks back to the fire, and when he is towering over you, his chest glistening of sweat all the same, he opens his jeans and lets them drop into the dirt. He’s been going commando under them, so he stands there in all his glory. And because it’s Sy, he’s looking at you with his signature cocky smirk and his eyes dark with desire. 

You grab his hand and pull him down to you. Sy drops next to you and the moment he’s on the ground, you take your chance and get on top of him. You kiss him, starting on his neck, then going down over his chest and stomach and then you follow the trail of dark hair to his hard and veiny cock. You pause your movement to lick your lips and then you finally sink your mouth over the swollen head of his cock. Your tongue circles around it and Sy answers with a loud growl. 

You can’t take him fully into your mouth but you do your best to make him feel good with your lips, tongue and hand. And you feel him twitch and grow on your tongue.

“Baby, please, you need to stop or I’m not going to last. It’s been too long.” He pulls back and puts the condom into your hand. You sit up and carefully you open the package and roll the condom over his dick. 

Then you straddle him, one fist around his cock. Slowly, you guide him through your wet folds to your entrance. You stop for a second, your eyes meet, and your heart is going to burst by the sight of him, looking at you hungrily but also so soft. You sink down onto him, inch for inch and you can barely breathe at the sensation of him stretching you out. When you are seated completely, Sy leans up to you and kisses you. You hook your legs around his hips, put your arms around his neck and pull him tight. Your lips meet again as you start to roll your hips in a slow rhythm. 

Your breasts brush over his chest with every movement. You kiss over his jaw and his throat, grind your core on him as you ride him. Sy's head sinks down to your breasts, needily he sucks on your nipples while he rakes his nails over the soft skin of your back. 

After some time where you move on top of him in a slow pace, Sy loses his patience, grabs your sides and starts to thrust up to you. Now your hips are crashing together roughly as you both chase your high. Sy lets out deep moans in the same rhythm as his thrusts. One last time he pushes his hips up to you and then he comes with a rumbling groan. He holds you tight against his chest. You follow him only seconds after, just by feeling and hearing his release you reach your high, too and you ride him slowly until the shockwaves that rush through your body cease.

Sy softens the grip of his arms around you and looks at you with hooded eyes. You climb off of him and you fall onto the blanket next to Sy. Panting, both of you look at each other and just smile like idiots.

“So, can I finally take you on a date, then?” Sy asks and you both laugh.

Sequel: Something like that

#captain sy x reader #syverson fanfiction #syverson #captain syverson x reader #my writing #bonfire #syverson x reader #captain syverson fanfiction #captain syverson #captain syverson fanfic #henry cavill #henry cavill characters

[zensations35]

Watch My Back (Haz/bin)

WELP I didn't think I'd be whumping the short king before my deer boi but HERE WE ARE. I blame @instarsandcrime for my newfound simping after this absolute disaster of a man 🥵🥵🥵 and this got INDULGENT LET ME TELL YOU. Now, enjoy this fic based on a prompt by my aforementioned friend, where Alastor plays bodyguard to Lucifer and finds out Mr. Silly has a holy wound (and then unFoRtuNatELy gets whumped by the author). ;)

“Must I?” 

Charlie gazes dolefully up at the Radio Demon, hands clasped in what some people (not Alastor of course) would call prayer. 

“Pleeeease, Alastor?” she begs. She doesn’t ask for a lot, but this request seems…well. Strange. Really? A bodyguard for her father? Fathomless.

He sighs, bandwidth crackling. “Very well, though I really don’t see the necessity for it. Your father is quite capable of taking care of himself, you know.”

Behind them, Lucifer picks up a glass trinket between two sharp fingers to examine it, his mouth crooked and casual. As if connected to it by a wire, Niffty’s crimson hair stands on end. She all but teleports to Lucifer, startling him so suddenly, he drops the trinket, shattering it so it’s shards fan across the hard floor. 

“Noooo!” Niffty bursts into tears, her tiny arms scrabbling to scoop up the pieces. “My new boyfriend got me that!” she wails. 

Alastor hums. “On second thought, perhaps he could no sooner care for himself than tie his own shoelaces.”

Charlie resists the urge to smack him. “Alastor, you have to be nice.” 

“Mm~ I’ve already agreed to help you. Let’s not push the limits of my capabilities.” 

Charlie hurries off to give the news to her father while Alastor swaggers toward an empty table propped flush against a wall. Niffty hadn’t finished decorating this one, but Alastor has quite the idea for it anyway. He was just fluffing the long white petals when the pouting visionary of Hell stomps over.

His gaze crawls over the perennial plant and he scowls harder. “What are these?”

“Lilies! Aren’t they swell? I thought you’d appreciate some charm during your stay, oh esteemed one,” Alastor’s voice is sticky with sarcasm.

Lucifer scowls at the sadistically named plant. He sucks on his lips and Alastor suppresses a chuckle. 

“Are you displeased, sir?” 

“Hm, what?” Lucifer blinks out of his wayward thought. “No, of course not,” he thumps his cane on the plush carpet. “Do whatever. I don’t c--hiih!” 

Lucifer jerks away, eyes pinched. He dips down with a strange, “IkPFShw!” The jerk of his limbs strikes a bronze anteater figurine and, again, sends the trinket crashing to the floor to break into pieces. 

“NOOO!” Niffty screeches, flying to its rescue. “My other boyfriend made that for me!” 

Lucifer’s fingers squeeze his moist cheeks and he sniffles thickly. “I…I do apologize, little one. I--”

She rears back and kicks him in the ankle. “You’re the wrong kind of bad boy!”

Lucifer grunts as she skitters away with the pieces tucked into the balloon of her apron.

Alastor smothers a snicker at his expense, antlers lengthening just a tick. 

“Well,” Lucifer draws the word out, adjusting his crooked bowtie, ignoring the flush in his own cheeks. “I have errands to run--”

Charlie suddenly appears in the doorway as if the word ‘errands’ manifested her. 

“You’re leaving?”

Lucifer’s lip forms a triangular frown. “I, uh,” his cheek feathers, “Sweetie, I have to make appearances now that I’m not…”

“Self isolating for years on end, with only negative self talk as your social activity, and trying to get through it by throwing yourself whole ass into repetitive passion projects that seem fulfilling at the time but end up not meeting your expectations just like your own self image?” Angel calls from the bar.

Everyone stares at the puffy porn star. Husk rolls up a newspaper and smacks him hard upside the head. 

“Ow!” 

Lucifer scratches his jaw anxiously. “Uh, yeah. That.” 

Charlie masks her disappointment with a glimmering smile. “Well! I’m sure that will be a great bonding exercise for you and Alastor!”

The two men exchange wilted looks. 

“Sshhhhhure sweetie!” Lucifer faux beams. He straightens his tophat and pats his thigh at Alastor as if coaxing a dog. “Come on attendant. Pip pip!” 

Alastor’s teeth grind, smoke trailing as he follows behind the shorter King. 

“Have fun!” Charlie waves her whole arm after them, fangs flashing in her winning smile. “Make good choices!!”

The bar Lucifer goes to is on the edge of the pentagram. The outside is brown brick partially crumbling but held together with thick, gristly magic. A scarred bouncer with gills and an oval mouth allows them in without a word.

Inside, the music is surprisingly tolerable. No thumps and booms, no bleats and drops like clubs Vox would have dragged Alastor to.

It’s…refreshing.

Lucifer makes a beeline for a corner clear of furniture but thick with an assortment of hellborn rulers and a few overlords. He must be making those appearances…

To Alastor’s right, a sinner catches his eye. A silver-haired demon with long rabbit ears and a plaited braid. Her features are guarded and soft with youth. She holds an empty glass, bone dry. A purple nail taps the rim, her eyes fixed on the bottom but not really seeing it.

Alastor pauses at the young woman, fingers curling tightly around his cane. The youth’s dull eyes flick to his and her soul bares for a fleeting moment. 

Fear. Abuse. Mangled by hands more powerful and more able-bodied than she. 

Alastor feels his blood ignite, his fangs sharpen with desire for vengeance. 

The youth flinches, reacting to Alastor’s anger, not knowing the cause.

A faraway sound skirts the edge of his rage, strangely familiar, a twisting of lips and grating throat.

The sound snaps Alastor’s rage into shards and he blinks himself back into the noise around him. He circles toward the bar, moseying his way through the greasy crowd and leans in to hum statickly at the barkeep. 

“Serve that young woman anything she wishes,” he gestures to the silver haired sinner. 

The barkeep grunts, “She's gonna wait her turn.”

The Radio Demon growls, his height and timbre climbing several inches. “Apologies…I was not clear.” His claws cut jagged lines into the wooden counter. “I meant Ń̷̤̫̎̄̽͆̈̏͐͜O̶̭͂̃͑̚W̶̧̡͙͍̊́͆̾̚͠” 

The barkeep swallows and nods. And moves to obey. 

Now, where the fuck is his highness?

Lucifer has buried himself in the cloud of sinners and hellborn. Alastor doesn’t recognize some of them. He doesn’t move in those circles--not for lack of trying. 

They’re chittering away like warbling fowls. 

‘So and so! Good to see you!’ 

‘It’s been too long!’ 

‘How are things on your side of the pit?; 

‘Still tormenting in the ancient methods?’  

‘Have you seen the big guy in charge?’

‘Oh he’s still jacking off to his thunderbolts AH HAH HAAA’

Dreadfully boring.

One of the more vibrant hellborn cracks a joke and Lucifer tosses his head back in laughter. It sounds fake as fuck. 

Something slips under Alastor’s foot, giving him pause. It’s the scent--something venerated and familiar...

He looks down and sees a spatter of gold dotting the grimy tile, with a larger puddle at the tip of his shoe. 

Curious, Alastor taps his cane to the floor, leveraging himself so he can kneel. He bends low enough to dip a claw over the silken, rippling surface. 

As soon as his skin warms with the liquid, his nerves purr. The buzz tingles up his body and he shivers violently.

His throat crackles, “Hvv٨ﮩSH٨ـﮩZh!” 

Smoke mists from him and he wrenches away from the puddle, wiping his hand on the end of his coat. Hmph. A strange enigma…

His ears twitch, picking up another trill of laughter from the gaggle surrounding Lucifer. How long is he going to put up this farce?

Alastor watches the king of Hell intently and recognizes uneasiness in his firelit eyes. Definitely a veneer, batting away personal inquiries and distracting with jokes or redirecting by asking after the speaker. 

Oh, clever bitch he thinks he is. Alastor sees right through him. The Radio Demon hones in on the audio, intent now on eavesdropping. 

“...majesty,” a thatchy demon gurgles, boisterously laughing along with a large forked claw grasping his square belly. “How’s the wife?”

Lucifer’s smile slips, brief, and the gleam in his eyes dim. “Oh, fine, fine. Beautiful as ever, of course. And how is your partner? Are you still dating the Y2K virus?”

The square demon barks a laugh. “Oh, no no no. We broke up ages ago. Toxic as fuck. Noooo, I’m dating Vine now. You wouldn’t believe the cosplay sex--”

Lucifer slaps his chest and gasps. “Vine died??” 

Alastor groans. What the fuck are they talking about?

Lucifer suddenly makes a jerking motion, mirrored by a violent squeak. Alastor’s heart races when he sees the King wince and bend in what looks to be a pained twist. 

Fuck! Is he actually being attacked? Alastor vanishes in a cloud of spindly shadow, reappearing next to Lucifer and spurring shocked gasps from a few of the rulers in the group. 

“Your highness,” the Radio Demon titters, with as much respect as he can fucking muster.

“H-hgxPST!” Lucifer’s raspy sneeze bursts into a squeezed fist, startling Alastor, who hesitates his next sentence. 

Was he wrong? Did he overreact and now he came to Lucifer’s rescue over…a fucking sneeze? Rrrgh. Shame sharpens his claws around his microphone and anger shortly follows. How does this asshole even sneeze without a nose??

Lucifer scrubs his face with his palm and lets out a ridiculous whoop. 

“Hooo! Sorry about that! Didn’t mean to scare ya, buddy,” he jabs Alastor with his elbow as if they were best friends. Alastor’s teeth powder with the effort of restraint. 

“No worries your hig̵͐h̶̘̕n̴̡̕e̴s̵͛٨ـs.” his smile climbs nearly into his eyes. “I am here to serve.” He hooks his arm under Lucifer’s, linking elbows so the King cannot escape and dragging him away, ignoring the startled protests of the shorter man.

Alastor stops when he arrives at the golden droplets and releases Lucifer before tapping his cane on the floor. “Have you seen this?” he asks, cracking his neck to the side inquisitively.

Lucifer rubs his finger over his chin and hrms. 

“Ah, well,” he shrugs, barely looking at Alastor, “Someone must have spilled ambrosia I suppose.”

Alastor’s brows shoot up. “Ambrosia? What, may I ask, is that?”

He didn’t think it was possible for someone so ceramically pale to whiten further, but Lucifer seems to do just that. “Ahhhmmm, nevermind…” Lucifer’s fingers brush the hem of his suit and his face crimps. He clears his throat and slithers away.  

“Will you excuse me for a moment?”

Alastor scoffs. Even if he might have been wrong about the sneeze, there’s a chance he isn’t. And his gut is telling him something’s amiss. He’s not about to let this asshole swan off alone. “Oh, I’m sorry, but I was charged with your care, your grace. I have a duty, you see~”

Lucifer’s eyebrow twitches, annoyance painting his face with a flush. “I assure you, I can use the fucking restroom by myself,” he gives a fangy smirk.

“In a dump like this?”

“Alastor, leave me the fuck. Alone.”

Before Alastor can press further, Lucifer does indeed swan off. The door to the restroom clips shut, separating him from the King.

What a dramatic wretch. Well, a door won’t stop a demon. A clattering rap with the back of Alastor’s hand causes a thump from within followed by a vexed, “Occupied!”

“Obviously. Yet I am entering regardless.” Alastor grips the warm knob. It rattles, hinges reisting as Lucifer’s protests grow increasingly less convincing.

“I’m--hhh! I’m fi--Ihh! Hii! XSH! Ehk’SHHh-HieWW!” 

Yeah fucking right. Alastor better fucking get in there or Charlie will have a field day with rainbow sprinkles. 

A flurry of sound, thudding and grunts of…is he in pain? God dammit! Miserablefuckingcocksuckingpieceof--

Finally the door wrenches open. Alastor wades inside and a wash of humid air hits his skin, making him cringe. Lucifer is bent over the white marble sink, heaps of tan paper towels littering the counter, some having fluttered around his feet dark and anointed with a glittering substance.

His face is currently wrapped in the crook of his elbow and his shoulders shudder with heaving breaths, “IX’SHWW! HF’pSHW!” His sleeve absorbs most of the sound but it still sounds truly dreadful, “Nghh…” 

Alastor grumbles disapprovingly, “I am starting to suspect you’re lying, sir.”  

Lucifer’s hat lies to the side, top down and limp, as well as his cane. A clawed hand grips the sawed edge of the counter, the King holding himself steady as he shakes with the effort of his labored breaths. 

“I told you,” his voice is low and serious now, no hint of his playful kinder. “To stay. Out.” Something drips on the tile next to him. The same liquid Alastor saw before--raw, angelic blood.

“So you did take a blade.”

Lucifer growls, moving his hand to cover the wound, but all he ends up doing is smearing his clothes slick with the gleaming fluid.

Alastor tuts, “You should have told me, you know.” He sets his cane against the wall and moves closer to Lucifer, stretching his arm out toward the injured side.

Lucifer lashes out, grasping his wrist with his free hand, “Don’t.” 

The Radio Demon pauses, staring into his haunted eyes. 

“The blood will…affect you.”

“A-hah! You think I care?”

“I think you put yourself first. I think you’d love to see me wither here if it keeps your pompous ass safe.”

Alastor grimaces and yanks away from his weak grasp. In an electric snap, Lucifer’s shirt is bunched in his fist and he is pulling the King in close. He speaks in static, voice measured and quicksilver cruel. 

“Your assumption that I have an agenda would be correct, m̴y̶ ̷͋K̸i̴ng̶̈͗. And it does not involve you dying.” 

Lucifer’s chest inflates but he doesn’t retaliate. 

Alastor releases Lucifer, features retracting with his mood. “Now, let’s see this wound.” 

“There’s nothing you can do for it,” Lucifer mutters as he painfully shirks his jacket.

“Your capacity for being misguided is astounding,” Alastor drums his fingers on the counter, claws clacking. “Show me.”

The jacket falls to the floor and the wound is fully revealed: twin slashes crisscrossing his side, a glossy expanse of wounds just below his left rib.

“And these wounds cause you to…?”

Lucifer massages the circle of his cheek with a sigh, “I’m just…not handling it well.”

“You’re pushing yourself.”

“Not…not so much--I--” his face falls and air corckscrews through his teeth, “Ng-Eh’KPSH!! EiiSHH-iieuww!” 

His wound flares bright with the gilded liquid and Alastor seals his lids against the blinding light.

“Alright,” Alastor moves closer, positioning himself to spread his hands above the slit of seeping light. Lucifer watches with interest as the Radio Demon’s eyes gleam black like the shells of tiny beetles. Runes pop and fizzle over the glowing shreds.

Lucifer’s eyes widen as he watches the runes morph and vellicate. “What magic--”

“Quiet.” 

“But, those runes. I know--”

“I said silence٨ـ.” 

“No, Alastor. Where the fuck--”

Alastor wrenches back, magic dissipating, but his eyes remain inky with rage. His fist slams against the wall, cracking a line in the frail plaster. “You and I both know your idiot act is just that! An act. You know exactly what I can do, so stay still and quit prattling.”

The lilies. 

Lucifer’s lips guppy open and closed. “Your deal. It was…”

Alastor grunts, frustration rippling the bandwidth of his voice. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you don’t want to be healed.”

He pushes his own sleeves up to the bend of his elbows, anchoring them to his forearms. Then, he pinches the hem of his pinstripe coat and tears it in a full around strip. His pupils float toward the King’s body, hesitant. Static clings to the air as he nears the wound. 

Lucifer flinches instinctively. “I’m warning you, it will--”

“Affect me, yes yes. I’ve touched angel blood before.”

“I’m an archangel, Alastor.”

 Alastor rolls his eyes. Will he just shut the fuck up already?

The Radio Demon presses the cloth against the holy wound, adhering it instantly. Lucifer’s skin is hot like a freshly lit fire. Alastor feels the effect of the pale poison straightaway. He clamps his jaw, brow creasing as his skin beads with sweat. 

Lucifer winces, claws carving slits into the counter. As Alastor works the strip around his midsection, his teeth grind against the shudders of breath battling in his throat. 

“Your hands are shaking.” 

“Shut ũ̷̼͆̇͑̈̄́́̏̉̚̕͝͝ͅp̴̰̪͎̲̲̗͎͝. Alastor’s voice crackles.

Lucifer's lip wobbles. “Hvvv-nn!” a hiss of indrawn air. 

“Don’t do that now.” 

“It’s not my hhhih choice!” 

“Can’t you just--”

“He-eih KSHHieeψ!” The filaments buzz within the light bulbs, flickering them into darkness and then back into squinting light. As Lucifer wracks forward, it jostles Alastor’s hands and breaches his careful conservation, smearing his wrists with gold. 

He dips back, chin tilting as his throat buzzes with a snap of energy. “Hhh--ehhh-HH!” 

“Dammit, Alastor--”

“Too late--hhh-for tha-HH٨ـZZT٨ـY!” He pushed his fist to his nose, using pressure against the damp rim of his nostrils to chase away the itch. Not to any measure of success. “HK! ﮩ٨ـﮩZZ!” A wail grates in Lucifer’s ear and he recoils. 

“You’re making it worse,” Lucifer twists with a grunt, grabbing some of the towels to clean Alastor’s cheek. 

“I don’t--hih-nn eed…”

“Heaven alive can we both stop with this cocky bullshit. Truce, okay? Or would you rather spend all day in here sneezing with me?”

R̷͕̪̤̈́̓r̸̳̻̕͠rg̵̡̞͊̔͝ẖ̷͉͋̐jh̵̜͇̦͐̉  Alastor saws at his face, each motion crackling with energy. “Very well, get it over hhhhﮩ٨ـﮩ-! With.” 

Lucifer works with the towels to wipe away the smears while Alastor finishes knotting the makeshift bandage. Once they’re done they both pull back with twin sniffles and a bucket of awkwardness in the empty air.

Alastor shunts his gaze, ignoring the gnawing in his chest. Lucifer cleans up the scattered flaxen towels and starts burning them until their ashes film the ground. The scent of honey and seeded mulch fills the room, like no bonfire Alastor had ever attended.

Four papers remaining, Lucifer finally speaks.

“How do the humans handle it?”

Alastor knits his brow. “Handle what?”

“Losing. Over and over.”

Alastor’s lips press firm. “Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answers to.”

Lucifer finally looks at him then, his mouth a small circle. He doesn’t pursue. He flicks the last of the ash off his fingers and sucks in a breath. 

“Well,” his orange eyes meet the Radio Demon’s, “shall we head back? Tell Charlie we had a…bonding exercise?”

Alastor laughs. It’s more real than he’d laughed in…ages. “Details aside?”

Lucifer offers a genuine, if modest smile. “Agreed.”

#yeah I had to add some Al/astor snz too #bc he's my main bae #while I intend these two to be platonic #radioapple fans can enjoy this however they want #yes there are gre/ek myth references in there sry not sorry #and millennial humor #ha HAHA enjoy those easter eggs idc if they make sense #this got WHUMPYYYYY #and ANGSTY with BIG WHOLE ASS FEELINGS #but I like me a nice ending soooo dw #snz #snz fic #whump #snzfic #snz kink #whump fic #haz/bin #al/astor #luc/ifer #zen fic #zen fanfic #illness #angst #angst with a happy ending

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

Do you, by chance, have anything rattling around your genius wonderful brain that deserves all the good things for secret!reader? I miss them

"Elmer, dude-"

Jason looked down at the stoned cat on the floor and sighed. He was gonna have to get a lock box for the catnip and pray the beast didn't figure out the combination.

In the meantime he was just gonna have to sweep around him. He sure as hell wasn't going to call you. It was the first day you'd actually left the house in... a while.

Longer than he wanted to think about.

If it weren't for grocery deliveries and the occasional visit from some of his family, Jason would assume he was the only human you talked to. He knew you talked to the cat all the time. Responding to his grumpy complaints with baby talk while you carried him around like a toddler.

But. You'd declared your intention to go out. You wanted some new shoes. And Jason took that as positive. And he knew Steph and Barbara planned to "bump into you". Both to be a semi-familiar presence and to play muscle if you needed it.

Laurel had been given a good scare and chased out of Gotham. And the rest of them were all aware and alerted now that someone MIGHT still try and finish the job at her behest but... If he was honest Jason was more worried about your self-esteem and the fucking crushing depression.

He didn't care if you shaved your head or wore sweat pants for the rest of your life. If you were healthy and happy then fuck it. The scars didn't phase him the voice didn't phase him... But then. He'd never seen or heard the 'before'. And he knew it loomed. You missed your life. You missed having a job you loved. And friends. And being flirted with at bars... Fuck you missed no one noticing you at all.

Elmer helped. Bastard theif that he was. But Jason knew eventually you were gonna have to learn to manage... and if some new shoes were how it started then so be it. It was something at least.

He'd just have to mind the monster until you got home.

#Jason Todd #Jason Todd x reader #secret!reader #ask answered #minors dni #reader insert

[galvanizedfriend]

Fic: The Unexpected Grace of Falling Apart

Summary: AH/AU. It's Tyler's wedding weekend and Caroline is back in Mystic Falls for the first time after the most traumatic and depressing year of her life. And it's about to get even worse as she's made to share breathing space with Klaus, The Worst Guy Ever. Except they might have to join forces to save the wedding, and to the discovery that things might not be what the seem. As Caroline teeters on the edge of a breakdown she'd been trying very hard to conceal, an unexpected savior appears to help her through the haze.

---

About a year ago, Caroline met the worst guy ever.

No, really. The Worst.

Men are, as a general rule, pigs. If women were to make in-depth pro-versus-cons evaluations of every guy they met before deciding on whether to hook up with them or not - well. Let's just say the perpetuation of the human species would be in serious jeopardy.

There's only a handful of guys out there of a certain age, still single, who are really worth any woman's time, and Caroline hasn't had the pleasure of meeting many representatives of that rare, dying breed. Those are the real-life unicorns.

It doesn't help that Caroline seems to be a walking magnet for the dudebro kind. She doesn't know what it is about her that gets them to crawl out of sewers and holes in hell to greet her with their Hey there, gorgeous or Have I died and gone to heaven?s whenever she walks into a bar. It's probably the blonde hair. Men tend to get friskier around blonde women for some ancient misogynistic reason.

There have been moments in her life where her faith in the male half of humanity was so deeply shaken that she even - God forbid her - considered going a few shades darker. She's a natural blonde, though, and it takes her hours (and a small fortune) every few months at her colorist's chair to achieve that perfect sweet spot between kissed by sunshine and blessed by the angels for her to commit that crime against herself. Caroline's hair is the one part of her life that has remained absolutely flawless even when everything else around her has fallen apart, including her mental health and self-esteem. She refuses to dye it just because men can't bother to put some honest effort into updating their lame pick-up lines and yet, somehow, still expect her to have sex with them.

And the sad truth is, catch her on a bad night, and she just might. Horny melancholy is where a woman’s dignity goes to die.

It's exhausting to be a twenty-something woman in the XXI century. There's the pressure of making it in this godforsaken world as an adult, there's the pressure from society's understanding that a woman of her age should be looking for serious commitment with marriage in sight, and then there's also the pressure that stems from the very human needs of her hormonal body. It's a jungle out there.

Things would be so much easier if she didn't need men at all, not even for the specific parts of their anatomy that appeal to her. She really hopes next life brings her back as anything other than straight.

In the meantime, in this lifetime... The Worst Guy.

Caroline has met her fair share of jerks and idiots of all shapes and colors, so it takes something really special to shock her. As a seasoned woman in the woes of the dating market, she can 100% state that this guy is no ordinary asshole. This is a king among douchebags. And that's not just her personal opinion; she has shared the evidence with all her friends, and the friends of her friends, and all the women at her work, and even some random people at powder rooms at bars and parties. Basically, every woman in New York's grapevine who was willing to listen.

The collective response to her tale is always a disgusted gag sound, followed by Please, tell me you punched that son of a bitch or Did you gouge his eyes out with a hot poker?

If you discount abusive, aggressive and violent men, who are criminals and not in the same category as everyday lame-ass men, he really is The Worst.

Caroline doesn't like to say she's not over it yet because it implies bestowing a level of importance to His Royal Dickshness that is not merited. The guy was a friend of a friend - her best friend, yes, but still only a notch above a complete stranger. She’d known him for less than a week and, technically, they did no more than make out for a little bit, so it's not like they had any kind of relationship going on. He's not important, just some guy who did something astoundingly douchebaggy, even by someone whose standards are sadly low.

The whole incident was bound to go down as a funny anecdote to be shared among friends, a Oh, you think you've had the worst hook-up ever? Hold my beer kind of story. Provided, of course, that she never had to see him ever and could just wipe him out of her life and memory for good. Given that they live in different time zones, it shouldn't be too much of a hassle.

That is precisely why Caroline is livid when she emerges from the arrivals area at Richmond airport to find Douchebag, in the flesh - sunglasses indoors and all, like the proper jerk that he is - holding up a sign that reads Clarisse.

Read the full story here

--

For four years, this was known as Random Fic, and so if you have been following me here, you might have heard me whine about it at some point. I've just decided on the title ten minutes ago. lol I can't believe this is finally done!

Thank you @definedareasofuncertainty for hearing me talk about this for almost as long as you've known me and never telling me to shut up.

As always, your kudos, comments and reblogs mean the world and have been feeding my fic-writing soul for four years so that I could get a grip and round this up. ❤️ Ty and if you read it, hope you enjoy it!

#Klaroline #Klaroline fanfiction #Klaroline fic #kc fanfiction #kc fic #kc fandom #klaus x caroline #yokan writes #yokan has the awful habit of posting fic in the middle of the night #klaroline shippers club #this is a long one folks so make sure you're comfy hydrated and have a snack

[fernegirl]

larry johnson + being pretty headcanons

fluffy hcs about larry's appearence (ft. the sf gang) author's note: the larry simping is real and i will not apologize >:)

→ larry doesn't have bad self esteem, it's more that it's entirely neutral. he doesn't think of himself as attractive or unattractive, just not someone that people consider. no, those are never the words that comes to mind.

→ he's aware of the impression he makes on people, with his long hair, pierced face, and looming stature. he's seen the way that people's eyes will widen before they politely shy back.

→ larry johnson is scary, seems to be the consensus.

→ he can't help the dark circles though, they're genetic on Lisa's side, and even if he could change them he wouldn't. he's happy to look like her--she's never been short of beautiful to him. It's a badge of honor to look like his mother with her warm eyes and broad smile.

→ he could cut his hair, but he's always liked it. ever since his mom let it slip that his father had long hair before going bald, he's never thought twice about it. besides, what's the point in headbanging without hair, that's half the fun anyway. same with the grungy band shirts--they're a part of him now. his armor.

→ sure, the piercings didn't help but those match with sal and ash (hell, even todd got a cartilage so they'd all have something linking them). besides, larry's never been a fan of needles. it took a fair bit of nerve to get these ones and he doubts he'll have the stomach to get them re-pierced.

→ so in short, he's got no plans to change, despite the apparent discomfort of strangers.

→ it doesn't bother him most of the time. really.

→ except for occasionally, when he makes eye contact with a girl at a bar and she looks away like she's been spooked. or when the cashier at the grocery store seems to actively avoid his gaze. or when guys step between him and their girlfriends (as if larry even noticed them in the first place).

→ so sometimes it stings. not that he'll ever say anything. he knows how minor it is in comparison to the way sal and ash are treated for their appearances, positive or otherwise.

→ he can deal with scary. he gets used to it, like a lumpy mattress.

→ really though, there are so many other qualities about himself that he never even thinks to notice

→ long eyelashes, like seriously eyelashes for days. always gets asked if he's wearing mascara (he isn't, he tried it once but he rubs his eyes too much for it)

→ does wear waterproof eyeliner sometimes, when he goes to shows or out for the night

→ is a big fan of chapstick since he often gets chapped lips. his favorite ones are ones with weird flavors, like cinnamon bun or hot cocoa

→ he's been painting his nails black for as long has he can remember, but only starts trying other colors once he becomes closer with sal and ash

→ generally wears dark colors, mostly because paint and ink shows up on them less and he hates worrying about stains. accidentally results in him looking like he has legs for daysssssss

→ assumes that people are scared of him or find him intimidating (which is sometimes the case) but it never occurs to him it could be for any other reason

→ ash and sal try to hell him that sometimes people are just...shy but it never really sinks in

→ in short, larry johnson is one pretty motherfucker and everyone but him seems to know it

#sally face #sally face headcanons #sally face hcs #sally face fanfiction #larry johnson headcanons #larry johnson #fernefic

[thesherrinfordfacility]

Longwinded anon again. It's very easy to see where Aziraphale needs to get his act together/get therapy in regards to his belief in Heaven's essential goodness (and it was always very odd to see fans believing that four years would have been sufficient, narrative-wise, for that to happen--four years is nothing to characters who are immortal). Crowley, though, is still doing one of the most toxic things on his side of the relationship: he's being over-protective. In S1, the "damsel in distress" bits, which I know some fans like to romanticize, are harmful to both characters, because they make Crowley feel like he's doing something heroic when he isn't (every rescue in S1 is unnecessary) and encourage Aziraphale to abandon his agency. In the narrative arc, Aziraphale's discorporation, which Crowley fails to stop, is liberating. He does his conscientious objector bit, chucks himself out of Heaven, kicks Crowley out of his depression in the bar, vanishes the soldier, and then has to forcibly remind Crowley at the airfield that /now/, in fact, Crowley needs to do something or there will be irreversible consequences. And then they rescue each other through the body swap.

S2 doesn't have the big swoopy rescue scenes, aside from the 1941 replay, but what it does have is Crowley withholding key information that might well have altered Aziraphale's behavior. He clearly hasn't been forthright about what Gabriel really said at the execution, and he never gets around to mentioning that Aziraphale has put himself in danger of being zapped out of existence by Heaven. (This is very PRIDE & PREJUDICE: Lydia elopes with Wickham in part because her older sisters don't publicize his bad behavior.) Again, he thinks of himself as Aziraphale's protector, and while Aziraphale knows that Crowley likes to protect him--he even says so--in S2 he doesn't fully understand what Crowley is protecting him from. Nina asks Aziraphale why he doesn't stick up for himself, and he shows once again that he can, but in S2 Crowley thinks it's his job to keep Aziraphale safe from any real Heaven-sent nastiness that might puncture his innocence. Which prevents Aziraphale from evaluating his choices once the Metatron shows up.

(As for S3: Gaiman does appear committed to getting them together in their cottage, so I don't think a permanent breakup is on the horizons. I do think something drastic has to happen, whether becoming mortal, becoming a "new" sort of immortal being tied to Earth rather than Heaven and Hell, Aziraphale delivering a full-bore public rejection of Heaven with attendant consequences, etc.)

Longwinded Anon✨, light of my life, you are officially driving me insane with these asks (screenshots of others under the cut); there is so much fascinating insight to talk about. first of all, though, welcome back and i hope you are also Surviving following s2!✨

these two characters are two of the most fun to dissect and examine. they are hugely multifaceted, and every time i watch s2 and ruminate on them, there is more and more to find. the below is the result of those ruminations, and i feel the obligation to warn anyone reading that it is going to be a very, very long one, so ✨buckle tf up✨

further messages from Longwinded Anon✨, my beloved:

aziraphale: insecurity

to me, one of the key tenets of aziraphale's character is a deep-seated and complete sense of insecurity and lack of self-esteem. and it's not unfathomable to think that he's had a lack of self-worth for some time, carrying all the way through to the Feral Domestic™ (FD). bear in mind that all of the below is without reference to the pre-fall scene, which ill cover separately later on.

there is however the fairly obvious element that heaven and the archangels completely disregard aziraphale, and are condescending and reductive in how they perceive and interact with him. aziraphale, i think, adopted this mindset pretty heavily in s1 - one such example being the "I'm soft" line - and it is further explored in s2, but specifically at the later end.

aziraphale in s2 seems much more self-possessed and 'together', and a key element of that shift is not only his liberation from heaven, but also that he somewhat starts to see himself through crowley's eyes as possibly being worthy of being loved. i think that he starts to think of himself as, in fact, having intrinsic value.

this is shown, in particular, in s2 by the contrast between ep2's rock scene (where he starts to question the depth of his angelic allegiance, and that he might have actually done the right thing by following his own personal conviction and helping save job's children), and the majority of ep5 (ie. his absolutely astounding - by aziraphale standards - amount of confidence in himself to get him and the ball attendees out of demonic danger).

this is brought to a head though by shax's comments in ep5, where she really drives a stake into the core of aziraphale's insecurity. she remarks on his propensity for indulgence (sushi/meals), his tendency to be overtrusting and naive ("softest touch"), his lack of traditional angelic quality ("went native"), and the question of what exactly crowley feels for him ("emotional support angel").

setting aside Michael's acting - which was truly mesmerising in this one little scene, probably one of his set-pieces in the show, honestly - that tells us that this really got to him, we know from everything we have seen of aziraphale in GO that these are likely thoughts that he has repressed, or pretends are not conceivable when they absolutely are.

my final interpretation of aziraphale's insecurity, however, is not necessarily that he thinks he is without value or merit whatsoever, but that he is not enough.

he's good enough to guard the eastern gate, but not good enough to keep adam and eve from temptation. he's good enough to guard and monitor the antichrist, but not enough to be truly accepted as part of the heaven hive (his physical sentry post on earth notwithstanding). he's good enough for crowley to run away with to alpha centauri, but not enough to convince crowley to choose to stay and fight with him to prevent the apocalypse.

this starts to wane in s2, and he's noticeably more happy and confident... right up until ep6 when he's good enough to be loved by crowley enough to spend eternity with, but not enough for crowley to sacrifice his hang-ups with heaven and help him rebuild it as a team so noone else ever has to suffer what they both did.

the lines however in ep6 that particularly broke my heart, because aziraphale literally conveys this whole painful, bleeding part of his psyche to crowley, are the following:

a: "if im in charge, i can make a difference."

a: "i don't think you understand what im offering you."

whatever the motive behind metatron's offer to aziraphale (and therefore calling into question the sincerity of his compliments to aziraphale), aziraphale has literally just been told that not only does someone who - whichever way you slice it - is the highest being in heaven that he has the ability to run it, but he has the ability to completely gut and rebuild it for the better.

harking back to ep1 with crowley's statement that aziraphale only calls him for three reasons, one of which is telling crowley something clever ie. his own achievements, it does make me wonder how often this scenario truly happens. maybe it does happen often, but what does aziraphale actually consider to be an achievement? something to be proud of himself for, that is purely reflective of his ability and - by extension - worth?

when aziraphale tells crowley that he might be misunderstanding what aziraphale is offering him, i don't interpret it as anything to do with restoring crowley; instead, i just see aziraphale telling crowley that he is offering up absolutely everything that he is, every single atom and aspect of him, and all crowley has to do is trust him enough to take it. he is saying that he will love crowley, and crowley can be free to love him, but only, in aziraphale's eyes, if crowley can accept aziraphale as he is; that he is enough.

during this whole part of the scene, crowley won't even look at him. won't even face him, sunglasses or not, and acknowledge what aziraphale is saying, right up until this line. you can visibly see that aziraphale starts to get angry that the one person who made him feel any self-worth might in fact have never seen him as good enough in the first place, that crowley didn't in fact love every part of him, and was choosing to cherrypick the aspects of aziraphale that suited crowley, rather than the whole.

this snippet of the scene is compounded by being sandwiched by these two crowley lines which, in my eyes, really highlighted that crowley is in fact only choosing to accept aziraphale in small measures, and that other elements of him are not enough:

c: "...you're better than that, angel!"

c: "you idiot, we could have been us."

aziraphale is enough exactly as he is; he's not perfect and certainly not wholly complete, but for crowley to dig at aziraphale by intimating that he is not reaching the bar that crowley has set for him - potentially subconsciously - is likely be the true end for how much stock aziraphale put in crowley's perception of him, and by extension the worth that he thought he had in crowley's mind. instead, aziraphale is now left to find a way of building his sense of self-worth all by himself - and does so by stepping into that lift.

crowley: salvation

im not going to necessarily talk about all the times that crowley demonstrates an almost pathological need to be aziraphale's saviour, because frankly Longwinded Anon✨ has that covered. but as with all things GO-related, i think it's important to try to understand why.

i truly think that a cornerstone of crowley's romanticism is deeply rooted in the concept of salvation. now, we know that he doesn't appear to give a flying fuck about salvation from heaven, but he certainly seems to put a great deal of import on being aziraphale's hero, and later he seems to question a great deal when aziraphale essentially finds a hero elsewhere.

as LW Anon✨ said, aziraphale is very cognizant that crowley likes to play hero where he's concerned, and seems simultaneously resigned and excited by the matter; resigned because actually, sometimes, aziraphale is smart or powerful enough to keep himself safe, but excited because this is possibly the epitome of how crowley expresses his love for him.

aziraphale shows that he is fully aware of this characteristic of crowley's, and whilst he does play into it (which we saw throughout all of s1e3) to 'make crowley happy' (and, dare i say, also because at this point it is the supernatural, sex-less interpretation of centuries-long foreplay) in s2 it almost starts to become neglectful, overbearing, and dismissive of - as LWA✨ says - any true agency that aziraphale has built since breaking from heaven. this, incidentally, is highlighted in the following exchange:

c: "im gonna get the humans out of here and then im coming back, i won't leave you on your own."

a: "i know, but i have a suggestion-"

c: [interrupts] "ive got this."

whether crowley feels like he is missing any genuine overture from heaven to apologise for making him fall for a minor infraction, or he feels guilty about something that he did (ie possibly what made him fall) and is making his own reparations in the outlet of constantly being aziraphale's saviour, the one that is certain is that crowley has to feel needed, and by extension - loved.

he does have a nasty habit of putting aziraphale down (which ill talk about next), however much in jest, and placing aziraphale constantly under his metaphorical wing. aziraphale going so far in s1 to actually work out the apocalypse and proceed to take what he believes is the right action to prevent it on his own must have, by extension, sent crowley reeling - if aziraphale can in fact look after himself, where does that leave crowley? what else, in crowley's eyes, could he possibly bring to the table that would make aziraphale want to keep him? love him?

i think that this is crowley's own brand of insecurity; that unless he is performatively saving aziraphale and protecting him from harm, and actively dismissing aziraphale's ability to protect himself sufficiently enough, he has no discernible quality that aziraphale would want. so instead he tries to make himself so integral to aziraphale's survival so that aziraphale has no choice but to keep him.

the fact that aziraphale saves himself in s1, and they then reflectively save each other, did wonders for aziraphale in progressing as a character. however, in crowley, i feel that this frightened him so emotionally that it regressed his character somewhat. all coming to the climax of when aziraphale, in good faith, offers crowley the chance at salvation for himself, crowley vehemently refuses it and takes it to insult. there are many other valid and understandable reasons why crowley rejects the prospect, but one of them to me is that it would leave crowley's fundamental role in aziraphale's existence as completely redundant.

both: demonstrating love

essentially what i put in an ask recently, but needed referencing here too.

leading on from crowley and his hero/saviour complex: the thing is that these are two diametrically opposing people in all but a handful of aspects. crowley by large is usually the more obviously demonstrative in his affection, borne out of many different reasons, and he is the ultimate Acts of Service (ft. Quality Time) dude. aziraphale tends to be more subtle, with Looks and Words, in how he displays his, so let's give him the Words of Affirmation (ft. QT) crown.

in s2, it seems to me that this hasn't really changed, but they are starting to cross over into speaking the language that the other understands. and to me, this comes to a head by the time of the ep5, and the ep6 FD. so obviously crowley has finally bridged into verbally demonstrating to aziraphale how he feels. aziraphale did the same action but mirrored by - however misguided - offering crowley the chance to be restored.

but neither want what the other is giving; they want what the other usually does to show their affection. aziraphale wants crowley to demonstrate his willingness to be with aziraphale by coming with him to heaven, and crowley wants aziraphale to acknowledge what he is telling aziraphale and respond in kind. neither are at fault for wanting that; they have simply demonstrated their devotion to each other in different ways, but those ways have been quite damaging.

crowley does do a lot for aziraphale, that can't be denied, but AoS is way more demonstrative, and yet it's easy to miss what those acts are actually saying. WoA can be more casual but the words you choose speak volumes... "our car/bookshop", "id love for you to help me", "my friend crowley", etc.

whilst i don't necessarily subscribe to the psychology of love languages, they're useful for this sort of analysis. aziraphale does even branch out in other languages; he is constantly touching crowley this season; the pub, the ball, the bookshop in early ep6. quality time is a given, and has always been their common ground. giving gifts im not so sure on, but i think the significance of readily offering crowley the bookshop as being his - something that was wholly aziraphale's, not heaven's, and is aziraphale's own sanctuary - spoke volumes.

specifically in ep5 however, aziraphale really goes ham in demonstrating to crowley how he sees love, defines it, and that he could give this to crowley - the pinnacle of this being the dance and the evident romantic implications of it... it summarises all of aziraphale's own romantic idealistic make-up; touching, intimate conversation, choosing crowley as his partner, romantic literature, classical music, etc.

and whilst comedic and obviously reflective of crowley being otherwise preoccupied re: demon incursion, i also thought that the physical imagery of aziraphale literally dragging him to the dancefloor, and crowley questioning when they've ever danced in the past, was particularly telling about crowley's reaction to how aziraphale is trying to convey to him, without saying the words, that he loves him.

aziraphale in s2 truly does give crowley everything that he can. his love is quiet, and gentle, and romantic, and whilst not as high stakes as saving aziraphale's life, it is still valid. however, it seems that where aziraphale seems to have recognised his feelings quite early on and acknowledged them early on, having time to settle them into his soul (even if he couldn't act for fear of heaven), s2 seems to indicate that crowley refused to acknowledge his until the eleventh hour.

but crowley's love has been there all along, ticking away. ignoring his tendency to stick his oar in where it isn't needed (saving aziraphale and treating him as if he were made of glass), he shows his love in his own ways - following aziraphale around soho, silently supportive, admires him for calming down the bookshop and handling the IB situation, tidies the bookshop for him (which also possibly indicates that he's now finally accepting the bookshop as his home), etc.

both of them take a swan dive in the declaring-love endgame in ep6, but neither of them are responsive to the love language that they usually give. aziraphale is given words but wants actions, and crowley is given actions but wants words. the chronic lack of communication between the two of them throughout the show is the main contributing factor to this disconnect, and leads to serious ramifications in their ability to possibly mend it going into s3.

aziraphale: pre-fall

at the risk of daring to contradict LWA✨ in their assessment of aziraphale's feelings towards the angel-who-crowley-was (AWCW) in the pre-fall scene, upon reflection i don't get the sense that aziraphale falls in love with AWCW in this moment. and exactly as pointed out by @assiraphales, we don't have any of the gaps filled in between this scene and The Wall, so it's arguably unknown when exactly those feelings deepened.

there is definitely attraction of some kind (can angels experience physical attraction? presumably they do, if aziraphale thought the "gorgeous" comment was directed at him), an admiration of AWCW's abilities, and an immediate concern for AWCW's wellbeing if he were to question god. but i don't get the sense that he falls in love; more that he's bumped into a cool, attractive kid outside his locker and immediately starts spouting angelic heart eyes, and at the least develops an immediate fascination.

AWCW is presented as being rather classist in this scene, and whilst not outright maliciously rude, he definitely seems to look down on aziraphale, or consider him relatively inconsequential. which is odd, because i think if he actually listened to what aziraphale was telling him, aziraphale actually comes across as having his own brand of status. i can't imagine that any bog-standard angel would be entrusted with helping god with building Her ultimate creation, building humans, and being allowed to see the Great Plan. whilst maybe not the same level as AWCW, i think the fandom is underplaying aziraphale's own significance in this part of the story.

the fact remains however that the aziraphale we see in this scene is still the fundamental foundation of the aziraphale we see later on in the story. AWCW calls for him as he's wandering (rocketing) past, and aziraphale doesn't hesitate to come to AWCW's aid. he's presumably going somewhere, but prioritises helping someone who needs him, and does so out of kindness and then, it seems later on, out of attraction.

he recognises the achievement of AWCW's nebula, asks questions to learn more (and thus demonstrating his interest) of the construction and purpose of AWCW's craft, and outright compliments it for its brilliance and wonder. all behaviours that id say is rooted in wanting to establish a friendship, and meanwhile developing an arguably shallow crush.

i think that these are also general admirations that aziraphale brings forward as he gets to know crowley as a demon, but has to adjust his world-view that he may admire the principle if not the act; he thinks crowley is clever and fun and talented, even if he doesn't condone the new ways in which crowley displays this.

there are definitely times where aziraphale is still caught up in crowley being a good person and concluding that crowley must still be an angel in all but name, but i do not necessarily think that he thinks lesser of crowley as a demon out of maliciousness. i think it's hard for aziraphale to conflate the two ideas that a) crowley has moments of being a good person regardless of hellish or heavenly identity, and that b) crowley doesn't want to be an angel. aziraphale still parallels good with angelicness, holds being good (and therefore being an angel) as the epitome of character, and can't as a result understand that if they were given the opportunity to change and improve the bad bits of heaven, why crowley wouldn't want to help him.

as LWA✨ says, the further we see their story progress, it becomes clear that aziraphale then begins to hold himself above crowley morally, and this is largely lynch-pinned on their separate identities as an angel and demon respectively. aziraphale constantly bats crowley down and puts him back in his place throughout s1, but less so in s2; in this, id refer back to aziraphale's insecurity around his being a good enough angel, but now that we have the context of AWCW having been aziraphale's technical superior, doing this possibly helps him to feel better about himself. this is abhorrent behaviour and is not at all kind, that can't be denied, but i think it is however possible to empathise with it.

aziraphale has spent a long time having an endless reserve of love and not having a lot of places where he can meaningfully channel it. he's got humanity and earth, but whilst he certainly cares for it, it doesn't mean that he candidly loves it. he still feels kinship to heaven and the other angels, but he certainly doesn't love them. in fact the only person he's ever had to fully pour out his love has been into crowley, but faced with the prospect that crowley may still be like his angelic self in that regard (ie not love him back), i think that love has been repressed so much that it's almost atrophied and turned self-destructive and self-sabotaging. in that context, whilst awful and generally inexcusable, aziraphale's behaviour starts to make sense.

crowley: Lucifer theory

i will preface this by saying that despite initial excitement, i don't necessarily think that crowley was lucifer in the colloquialised sense that we regard lucifer in general culture, but perhaps more represents lucifer in the wider sense of having a story that mirrors the one we can somewhat attribute to lucifer. whether or not he will actually be named as lucifer i think is up for debate, but in any case let's take a look at what lucifer's story actually entailed.

now i realise that i am absolutely not an expert on the matter, but there are indeed a wealth of misinterpretations where lucifer as a biblical figure is concerned. i am very behind on this discussion, angelology (shudder) is not in my limited repertoire of specialist subjects, and i welcome anyone else adding in their thoughts on the matter.

but if anyone else has zero knowledge on lucifer, like me, we'll start with the basics as i see them. name coming from the Latin for light- or dawn-bringer, lucifer has been linked to the planet venus in various tellings in roman mythology. given the occasional bright illumination of the planet as seen from earth, this is in part where we coming to the moniker Morningstar when also historically referring to lucifer. so on this base level, we have the link between lucifer and crowley by way of celestial context.

now down to a potential mistranslation, the hebrew for the name of satan, helel, has become synonymous with the name lucifer, down to their respective translations akin to the Latin for 'light-bringer'/'morningstar' as above, but that does not necessarily indicate that lucifer and satan are the same being. so this is where im fairly confident in that whoever crowley was, which is possibly lucifer, his story ran parallel to that of the former relatively unknown being and not the latter more infamous one.

crowley has referenced lucifer in s1, which has led to the debunk that the two are the same being, but when rewatching it, i think it can be completely reinterpreted:

c: "i never asked to be a demon. i was just minding my own business one day and then... "oh lookie here, it's lucifer and the guys!"... ah, hey - the food hadn't been that good lately, i didn't have anything on for the rest of the afternoon..."

this doesn't need to mean that AWCW was the one who came across lucifer and cohort, but possibly that someone else did, or just exclaiming it in the general sense. getting whimsical in the headcanon space, AWCW may well have been enjoying his afternoon, chatting with friends that he thought he could trust, and thought he could share his thoughts on challenging how things are run (same as he did with aziraphale). evidently, whatever happened completely bit him on the arse, and at minimum partially resulted in his fall.

there are multiple references to crowley being at least an angel of import, almost too many to count. however a common theme in many references to venus in various religious and mythological texts is the concept of reaching for higher power, but to be cast down and punished for it. given the indication (iirc) from interviews and also the pre-fall scene that crowley was up for collaborating with god on how to improve things in heaven, it could stand to reason that in a moment of anger or frustration he voices the thought that he could do a better job running the place.

and if other angels were behind him in this, equally dissatisfied with their lot in heaven, and being set aside by god in favour of humanity, it similarly wouldnt be a huge leap to think that this one sentence, this singular half-baked thought, might have precipitated the war. following said war, as LWA✨ suggests, it would make sense that in an effort to lick his wounds and keep a low profile, crowley would take or accept a middling rank in hell, and possibly even volunteer for the assignment of original sin; all the more opportunity to remove himself completely from the narrative between heaven and hell.

which then, now that i think about it, completely recontextualises crowley's aversion to being a part in helping aziraphale rebuild heaven. why would he want to, why wouldn't he be petrified of it, when the last time went so badly? there must be a sense of resentment towards aziraphale in this regard - what makes aziraphale, a potentially lower angel, so special that he would be invited to completely revolutionise heaven, when all AWCW did was make suggestions, and end up being villified for it? if he did join aziraphale, and challenged him, would aziraphale then be forced to cast crowley out again? what would crowley stand to lose this time?

so this is where i think the concept of crowley having a huge secret that he's keeping from aziraphale comes into play, and i agree must come out in s3. it would completely derail any faith that aziraphale had in crowley, for him to have kept such vital information from him, his potential part in the fall. i could imagine aziraphale interpreting the reveal of this secret as being that crowley fooled and hoodwinked him, however false or unintentional that might have been, and it representing the last vestige of aziraphale's innocence and naivety being swept away.

edit, because @baggvinshield has put this theory so eloquently and with far more comprehension and education than i could hope for: Lucifer theory

there are so many more topics that i have sat in various documents and in my notes as concerns these two characters; aziraphale's obsession with control and 'playing god', their shared inability to communicate effectively and meaningfully, crowley and his propensity for unintentional temptation, whether the love between them truly equates to any semblance of trust, etc etc. some of these topics have been alluded to in the above, but i felt that the above essay might be sufficient reading for now. im adoring (if a little bemused by it) the amount of discussion this silly little blog is generating, and im always more than happy to share my thoughts on anything GO-related where people want it!!!

and now - back to answering the hundreds of asks that have accumulated whilst i've hyperfixated on the above. ta-rah!✨💓

#good omens #good omens season two #good omens spoilers #good omens 2 spoilers #good omens meta #good omens analysis #good omens speculation #not a shitpost but its good omens babyyyy #ask #the great go angelology debate of july 2023 #aka 'was crowley an archangel and was he raphael? answer: fuck knows' #the legend of the longwinded anon✨ #🚨 lucifer theory🚨

[nonotnolan]

Soulmate Swap

“Look, Roy... I know you’re still hurting from your break up... but there are plenty of fish out in the sea!  Or, you know, casual hook-ups, whatever is more your speed... anyway, most of them aren’t as crazy as Lacey.  I promise.”  When Roy invited me to spend the weekend at his family’s beach house, I sprang at the opportunity.  He needed time to get away from life, but he didn’t want to go alone.  Sure, I was gonna spend the weekend on sob duty... but he’s one of my closest friends.  I’d be lending him an ear either way, so at least this way I’m getting a vacation out it.

Roy smiled back.  “Admittedly, being less crazy than Lacey is not a high bar.  I dunno, Pedro... I’m just not sure I’m cut out for the bachelor lifestyle anymore.  Trying to find someone is such a pain in the ass, so whenever I do manage to hook a girl, having a one night stand just feels like such a waste, you know?  I’m looking for a relationship.  I can’t just hop on Grindr and find a hookup like you can.  I... don’t mean that to be rude,” he added quickly.  “Just... between the tats, the chest hair, and the muscles, you never have issues hooking a guy.  But me, I don’t have much in my favor except my family’s money.”

I shook my head.  Roy had self-esteem issues on a good day, but ever since Lacey broke his heart, it was getting even worse.  He was a good looking guy-- sure, he was pretty slender, and his smooth skin confirmed that he’d never worked a hard day of manual labor in his life-- but that didn’t make him any less of a man.  And if a girl couldn’t appreciate his good looks and sharp wit, well, her loss.

“Are we really going to have this argument again?” I asked.  “We’re not going anywhere until you stop selling yourself short.  You’re a hell of a guy, and your perfect girl is out there, somewhere.”

Roy pulled two vials out of his back pocket, and placed them on the table next to his beach chair.  “I had a different plan, actually.  It’s a modified true love potion.  The red one causes the drinker to swap bodies with their soul mate, and the purple one reverses it.”

I paused, examining the liquid in the vials a bit closer-- the purple one had bits of globby slime suspended in it, while the red one was thick like honey.  “And your soulmate is just supposed to be okay with having their entire life interrupted like that?”

“Okay, see, the fact that your first reaction is to complain about the logistics of the potion, rather than express any sort of skepticism?  Yeah, that’s why I invited you out here this weekend.  If they’re my true love, they can handle a little bit of weird magic.  The potion’s supposed to take ten minutes before it takes full effect.  So just... sit here next to me, find out who ends up in my body, and ask them some questions.  Get their name, write down their phone number... stuff like that.  Then, give them the purple vial once you’re done.”  He paused, flashing a wide grin before downing the red liquid.  “What could go wrong?”

Frankly, I could think of any number of things that could go wrong, but it was too late now.  I grabbed a pen and paper, and joined Roy outside on the rear deck.  I was all set to interrogate whatever woman ended up inside of his body once the potion kicked in, but the warm sun and salt breeze was far too relaxing.  Well, if she was going to be his true love, she could figure out how to wake me up.

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

I woke up to someone shaking my arm.  “You dumbass!,” the voice said, playfully chiding me.  “Why didn’t you tell me you had a crush on me?  I went through all of that work to find this potion, and we could have just talked to each other instead!”

I opened my eyes and found myself looking up into a mirror.  No, wait, I was looking up at my own body.  Hang on.  I looked down at my chest, only to find that I was suddenly wearing a blue polo.  The same one Roy had been wearing today.  My arms were less hairy, and Roy’s Apple Watch was on my wrist.  But if we switched bodies with each other, then...

“Roy, you have a crush on me?  Since when did... I thought you were straight!”  I felt myself blushing with embarrassment, but I couldn’t help but feel my chest ignite with hope and passion.  “I didn’t think I had a chance with you, and I didn’t want to make our friendship awkward, so I just... I didn’t say anything.  Besides, you and Lacey were cute together, so I figured that ship had sailed.  You’re not gay, are you?”  

He leaned down next to me, grinning ear to ear.  “Pedro, I’m bisexual.  I thought you knew.  And here I was, thinking that you were out of my league.  You’re like, the pinnacle of strength and masculinity, and I’m over here--”

I leaned over and kissed him full on the lips.  It was somehow everything I had imagined it would be, even if we were in the wrong bodies.  “Don’t you dare sell yourself short,” I said, once we pulled away.  “If I wanted a muscle bro for a partner, I’d just stick my junk in a glory hole at the gym.”

Roy just smiled.  “Speaking of which, perhaps we should explore the bedroom before you drink the purple vial?”

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

It’s been three weeks, and I still haven’t taken the purple vial.  Roy’s parents were thrilled to learn that their son was suddenly willing to take a finance job at his father’s firm and slowly earn his way up the ranks.  In my own body, nobody wanted to take a chance on the gym employee who earned a business degree at a community college.  In Roy’s body, suddenly the glass ceiling had been lifted.  It’s amazing what the right connections will do for a guy.

It’s a new job, so no one noticed when Roy suddenly started a more intricate manscaping routine.  Well, maybe his father would have... but we’re on opposite ends of the building so that no one can complain to HR about the nepotism.  The fact that I’m getting on-the-job training in Roy’s body means it will be near impossible for us to swap back, but I don’t hear him complaining.

Roy’s made himself at home in my body, and he’s been doing a great job of keeping up with my gym routine.  He insists on wearing my glasses instead of my contacts, but otherwise you’d never suspect anything was different.  Well, he did quit my job as a Personal Trainer at the gym to focus on “my” new OnlyFans account, but we both agreed that would be for the best.  

Honestly, I think we’re going to stay like this.  Roy knows exactly where to rub my back whenever I start getting sore muscles, and I know precisely where to nibble on his earlobes to maximize pleasure.  We’ve even started calling each other by our old names.  Looking into my eyes and calling myself Pedro was weird at first, but it’s starting to become more natural.

Do I feel a bit silly that it took a magical body swapping love potion to figure out that my best friend and I were in love with each other?  Absolutely.  But I don’t regret it in the slightest.

#male body swap #gay body swap #casual body swap #gay male story #queer romance #after the swap #bisexual body swap

[gayshrug]

pit babe ep 8 thoughts

(a peteken obsession was born)

first of all: i cannot believe i have to wait another week for the next episode. how am i meant to focus on anything when The Thing might happen but ALSO the other thing. things are happening. i am stressed and horny.

- i am sooooooo in love with kim. i know i say that every week but holy fuck his strength of character is admirable. i have no idea how the kimkenta thing is going to develop when kenta hasn't even started his redemption arc yet. HOWEVER........ that look™ between them when kim was bloodied, beaten and thrown into the elevator............ yeah.

- ALANJEFF. my angels. so much open communication from them both. i can't believe all it took for jeff to open up was one (1) handsome older guy in a tank top with kind eyes and open ears. that boy needs someone to lean on so badly. he's done so much reflecting. him finding a place of comfort in alan, no expectations or ulterior motives, is so important. (also low key worried alan is gonna turn jeff down at first re: the preview but we move.)

(- unrelated but i'm a nose guy and sailub's nose.......... amazing. can't stop staring at him.)

- GIVE ME MORE OF JUNE. those arm garters. holy fuck. are they a staple in his wardrobe or did they shoot both bar scenes the same day

- way in his villain was to be expected but him straight up implying he's gonna carry out an evil plan to his SPONSOR is insane. like, apparently pete knows way more than he should so he isn't surprised in the slightest but way shouldn't know that 😭 like girl are you so set on your revenge and bitterness that you're willing to throw your team's finances to the wolves as well (the answer is yes) (he's gonna do way worse things) (i'm excited)

- i love jeff and charlie's bond. jeff's doomsday thinking (which.... is warrented, lbr) and charlie's optimism should be clashing but i think they ground each other.

(- Not A Fan of how often charlie expressed that he'd do and risk anything for babe in this episode. yeah it's foreshadowing and He Means It but i love him so much. thinking about what might happen, keeping in mind jeff's visions, makes me so anxious. charlie is my puppy.)

- PETE AND KENTA. listen. he called him ken. those looks. the exasperation from kenta and the calmness from pete. there's history there. FUCK. i wish we didn't already know that pete/way will be a thing because the chemistry in that scene..... holy fuck. idk if they're ever gonna address it but in my mind, they're 100% exes who split due to external circumstances (kenta staying with tony because of his low self-esteem, pete needing to leave because of his conscience and need for independence). there's obviously still lingering feelings. i could eat off that tension for a lifetime.

- also pretty sure that garfield could have chemistry with a tree

- i saw someone wondering why there was so much (undried) blood in kim's hotel room and like. yeah. but, because i like to make excuses for the shows i enjoy, to me it was A Trap. they made it easy for them to figure out where kim had been staying. they left the door unlocked. they staged The Crime Scene to be as dramatic as possible in order for whoever would come to investigate to have Lots To Look At. so they could get them, too, while they were distracted. tony was watching a recording of that hotel footage almost in real time, wasn't he?

- tony seems to be stupid as hell, not gonna lie. are the cogs just now starting to turn?????? girl

- charlie starting to get acquainted with babe's senses is so cool. like, yeah, he can't really utilise them well yet but. baby steps. he is our collective baby after all.

- the amount of charliebabe protecting each other and throwing punches at goons in this episode gave me so much serotonin. dream team with maybe a handful of brain cells between them

- i love jeff but him going back to tony's mansion a) after he just told alan he'd never be dragged back there and b) seemingly without telling anybody about it is sooooo frustrating. babygirl this wouldn't have ended well in any universe

- all i could think when kenta was pressing jeff against that wall and deleting his Exposing Way message was "i wish that was me". the arms 🥴🥴🥴

- i need somebody, ANYBODY, (preferably pete or kim) to give kenta a convincing reason to leave. like, he's obviously conflicted but tony's abuse has its grips on him. tightly. like, i KNOW that man cries himself to sleep every night but maybe the tender touch of another man could heal him

- i had to pause the charliebabe doctor scene sooo many times (and then rewatched it for half an hour). i'm too fucking single for this. their little faces and banter and Visible Love-Eyes. have some mercy on me.

- that being said... we've had public sex. breeding kink. mommy/daddy kink. now medical kink. (scenting is a given.) is anyone doing ao3 tag bingo

- alan noticing that jeff's not there and being worried about him even though it hasn't even been a full day is so 🥺

- i felt so bad for andy like. a fucking GPS bracelet? the guy who's bought him seemed creepy as hell. they named him so i hope we're gonna get to see them free him (and hopefully other kids) too.

- good on way for helping out the boys when they were in a pinch but. i can't help but feel like everything he does has an ulterior motive now, despite (or maybe especially?) because of his talk with babe earlier

- charliebabe looked so fucking good in those maroon shirts 🧍🏼‍♂️

- how i'm tryna be:

might make this my new header somewhere.

- NORTH AND SONIC. my little gremlins. i still feel so bad about underappreciating them at the start of the show. their romantic tension is so good and silly and they were out there risking their lives with less than zero of a plan 😭 sweet boys

- winner is such a loser. he wins at losing. over and over again. it's so much fun.

- listen........ i get that they had to get away from the goons (thank u alan) but.... could they not have grabbed kim at the last second 😭 there was a truck between winner/the gun and kim and the goon, was there not? it's self-preservation above all else but........ my baby got a kick to the fucking face 🧍🏼‍♂️

- jeff with the sneaky escape plan 👁️👄👁️

[preview talk]

- JEFF WITH THE LIES TO GET AWAY FROM TONY 👁️👄👁️

- way being the one (1) enigma basically confirms what he's there to do and. uhhhhhh. if we're also getting The Incident in next week's episode or episode 10 then...... he might actually try. [throws up in my mouth]

- ALANJEFF? jeff being the one initiating contact for once? "alan's boy"?????????????????????

- charlie talking in that deep voice, the Mirror Scene Preview, him throwing his head back. uhhhhhh. i rewinded that more times than i'd like to admit. make that scene 5 minutes long please 💓

- didn't jeff have a vision of tony killing someone with a katana. why was he pulling that while in his office. (hopefully not) while talking to jeff lol

idk how they do it but i'm even more excited/ scared for next week's episode than i was for this one. it's about to get bonkers

#is this my longest one yet. i don't even care anymore #give me some petekenta backstory please god #pit babe the series #pit babe #thai bl

[jams-sims]

I'll never emotionally recover from that stream. It was so fucking good- the character growth the talking. Im sorry i can't look at anyone else right now. Imma spend my whole ass shift thinking about the whole break down and come together at the end.

How the whole family needs so much work in the Self esteem section. How the bar is in hell for them- im surprised Tallulah and Chayanne didn't bring up the fact. They have sorta become the same, as in. They both have absent fathers, just one feels more guilt about it. An im sure that won't come to a head :) im sure Chayannr won't ever hear Missa say anything out of context about not wanting to be a father. :)

But can we talk about how good the rp was and just how this does so much for the death family god. How everything was set up prefectly, it was building to this for so long and the pay off was amazing.

#philza #qsmp

[allegra-writes]

"Starstruck"

Original gifs by @kamillahn

Aleksander Morozova x Reader

NSFW

Warnings: Praise kink, size kink, mentions of semi public sex, bit of a choking kink, bit of manipulation (come on guys, this is the darkling here), mild self esteem issues.

After a night of drinks with friends in a strange country, you let a tall, dark and handsome stranger take you home. The next morning, you discover you slept with a super star.

MY MASTERLIST | BUY ME A DRINK

You tried not to make a sound as you scouted the bedroom for your underwear. The early morning glow filtering through the blinds that in your enthusiasm you had failed to close, provided you with barely enough light to find your sparkly dress, but your cream colored panties, so close in shade to the plush carpet under your feet, were another thing completely. Giving up, you sighed, getting up from the floor. It was useless, the panties were probably as ruined as the torn thighs in your hands anyway. Tall, dark and handsome please-call-me-Sasha had been very thorough in his wreckage of you the night before.

Leaving such a path of destruction behind was apparently, exhausting, because said man was currently snoring softly, hugging his pillow, looking far too innocent for someone who had done such wicked things to you in that very same bed -not to mention the elevator, or the ride home, or the bathroom bar before that- not even a handful of hours ago, and far too beautiful for your poor heart. Tearing your eyes away from that angelic sight was almost as hard as tearing yourself from his arms five minutes before, but you forced yourself to do it. He wasn't yours to keep, and though he had been very passionate about you last night, who knew what his reaction to you would be in the harsh light of day.

You told yourself it wasn't cowardice, you simply would rather to keep your memory of him and your perfect one night stand like that, perfect than have it tainted by the regret in his face when he woke up to... well, you. You also told yourself it wasn't a self esteem issue either, you considered yourself an average, moderately attractive woman. The thing was, he wasn’t moderately attractive. He was drop dead, hollywoodesque, carved by the gods cliché level of hot.

Yes, better to save yourself and him the awkwardness of the morning after and leaving before he woke up. Besides, you had a day full of bridesmaid duty ahead of you, the sooner you could get back to your hotel, the better.

If only you could find your other boot...

And maybe a hoodie or something to borrow, you didn't mind (much) the walk home in last night's dress, but you didn't really fancy to freeze in the glaciar air of Ravkan early spring mornings either. 

It looked like divine providence when you located both items in the reading nook by the window, all you needed to do was navigate around Sasha's side of the bed without waking him, and the task didn't seem a difficult one, considering all you had to do was walking barefoot on a very plushy rug to the other side of the room. In a couple of seconds, your treasure was within reach and you were bending down to grab your elusive left boot, grey knitted hoodie already in hand, when you saw it.

There, greater than life, staring right back at you through the windowpane from a gigantic billboard across the street, was your one night stand's face. Sure, the hair was longer, darker and the beard was thicker but there was no possible mistake, no chance of it being a simple, if uncanny, resemblance. Not when that face sported the same cupid's bow, the same onix eyes, hell, the same freaking beauty mark under his left eye. And it was really dramatic too, his tall figure, all clad in black in medieval period clothes, huge green characters against a dark background announcing "Aleksandr Morozov is The Dark One". Your limited knowledge of the Cyrillic alphabet prevented you from reading the name of the movie but one thing was clear: This wasn't a small or independent production, this was big, this was mainstream, a lot of money had to be involved for such a massive sized campaign. And for him to be the focus of it, for his name, albeit unknown to you, to be advertised like that, as big as the name of the movie, it could only mean that his name had weight, that it was as important as the movie or show they were promoting. 

You had slept with a freaking movie star. 

Suddenly, the luxury surrounding you was so conspicuous, so glaringly obvious you wondered how you hadn't noticed before. The soft hoodie in your hands was high quality cashmere, the luscious carpet under your feet probably real fur, the books lining the bookshelves, precious first editions. 

Jesus, had the opulent car that had taken you there the night before been his car, his chauffeur instead of an Uber ride like you had originally thought?

You were so stunned, so lost in thought, you didn't even notice your date was awake, until a hand shot through the air, quick as a whip, catching your wrist. 

In two movements, you were flat on the bed, sleepy, irresistibly disheveled, completely naked Aleksandr Morozov hovering over you.

"Where do you think you're going, malyshka?" 

In complete disconnect from your still short circuiting brain, melting twice over because he was there, so handsome and so close -and had you mentioned, naked?- you opened your mouth. 

"You're famous" 

A beat of silence. Then two. Until he finally grinned, easy and charming and handsome as the devil. 

"I am. Is that a problem?" 

He said it casually, smirk still firm on his face, but his eyes betrayed him. There was something guarded, something almost sad about them then, something that made your gut twist with guilt, your cheeks heat with embarrassment. 

"No, of course not!" You scoffed, searching for the right words to reassure, to comfort. 

But he was already over it, if the way he dived to kiss your neck was any indication, as the hand not braced against the mattress stroked the contours of your body, skimming the side of your breast, caressing the curve of your hip, splaying on the outside of your thigh, down and down until his fingers found your knee, hooking on the back of it to bend your leg around his slim hips as they pushed your thighs apart. 

"I- I have to go…" You stammered as his hand found its way to the inside of your thigh. 

"Do you, now?" Was that amusement in his voice?

“Yes. Ana, my friend, is getting married the day after tomorrow and I can't just bail on her when-” He swallowed the rest of your sentence, kissing you, open mouthed and slow, managing to make it dirty and sweet at the same time. Sensual. 

You couldn't remember anyone kissing you quite like that before, with such artistry, such abandon. As if the kiss wasn't a preamble or a means to an end, but a sexual act in and of itself. 

“You taste like my toothpaste” He growled into your mouth, before slipping his tongue past your lips again, chasing the flavor, hips undulating against yours so languidly, so softly, you doubted he was even aware he was doing it. 

You hated yourself for ending the kiss even as your lungs burned from lack of oxygen, but as you broke it and let air fill your lungs, so did your head fill with clarity and you remembered the long day of bridesmaid duty you had ahead of you.

“Im sorry, I really am” You lamented, sincerely, “I'd love nothing more than staying and spending the morning with you, but I really have to go”

Aleksander didn't seem to hear it, though, staring intently at you, index finger tracing the line of your brow, the bridge of your nose, your cheekbone, as if trying to commit your face to memory. 

“Sasha? Sasha! Are you even listening to me?”

Aleksander shook his head,

“Sorry” He didn't sound sorry at all, “It's just, you are truly beautiful in the daylight”

You felt your cheeks get warm again, so you buried your face against his neck, the way his breath hitched not escaping your notice. So, his neck was sensitive, interesting.

No, you couldn't let yourself get distracted again. You had to return to your life, had to get out of there before things could get any further. It was one thing to sleep with the sexiest man you had ever met under cover of darkness, with alcohol blurring his perception and your inhibitions. To let him fuck you completely sober in broad daylight was an entire different beast. 

“I mean it, Sasha, I have to go”

He let his whole body weight fall on you, trapping you under him. 

“I'm afraid I can't let you go, malyshka” He replied, not looking at you anymore, focused instead on the place where his hands were pushing up your already short dress till it was indecently bunched around your hips. 

“Why not?” You questioned, even as you let his fingers slide between your legs, find the wetness already seeping there for him. He didn't comment on your lack of underwear, which made you suspect he knew exactly what had happened to your panties and their whereabouts. 

"Because" He started as his index and middle fingers grazed your slit, coating them on your slick before coming up to rub circles on your clit, a rhythmic, electrifying friction sending sparks up your abdomen in record time, "I'm supposed to be dating my co-star, and as much as I like this pretty little dress of yours, if a paparazzi or a fan sees you leave my house in it, we'll both be in big trouble…" 

Your hand was on his wrist in an instant, trying, inefficiently, to halt his movements.

"Wait, you have a girlfriend??"

“It's not real, moya malyshka” He appeased, soothingly petting your head in a deeply patronizing gesture, “it's all make believe, publicity for the show”

Offended by his condescension, you batted the hand still patting your hair away, but he chose that moment to breach your entrance, just barely, only burying his fingers to the first knuckle, yet enough to send a wave of pleasure through your lower belly. 

“I'm only asking you to have a little patience,” You tried to focus on his words but it was really hard when he kept teasing your entrance like that, penetrating you less than an inch at a time and withdrawing his fingers again, only to caress your labia, your slit, your clit with a butterfly's wing pressure. “Just wait here until I can call my assistant to bring you some casual clothes, so if someone sees you leave here, at least it won't be so obvious you spent the night…” He rolled your clit between the pads of his fingertips then, making your eyes roll back. “Just a couple of hours, what do you say, pretty girl? I promise I'll make it worth your while…”

It did sound like a logical course of action, you were sure that made sense, or as much sense you could make of something with his hands driving you to distraction like that.

“Just… just a couple of hours?” It was pretty early anyway, your friends would probably sleep till noon, nursing their own hangovers, they wouldn't even notice your absence.

“Just a handful of hours” He brought his thumb to the mix, ghosting it over your most sensitive nub of nerves.

“Oh… ok” You sighed, giving in.

“There's a good girl” You could hear the smirk in his voice but couldn't find it in yourself to care, not when he rewarded you by burying his fingers inside you to the hilt wasting no time in starting to pump them in and out, thumb rubbing at your clit expertly, multiplying your pleasure to eleven right then and there. He seemed to relish in the noises leaving your throat, whispering praises in your ear, sending goosebumps down your spine. “That's it, just like that, let me take care of you. I can make it good for you… let me make it good for you…”

“Yes…”

His strokes changed then, exploring, searching your tight, wet heat for something. You knew the moment he found it because sparks exploded behind your eyelids, making you whimper and moan, and writhe. He pinned your hips to the bed with his other hand, keeping you in place as he intensified his assault, picking up the pace. 

It was almost embarrassing, how quickly you had become such a mess in his hands. 

"So beautiful… so responsive… God, you're perfect" 

You had never been one for praise kink, but his words in that voice, so deliciously husky with desire, was doing something to you. Something that obliterated your brain function better than any drink ever did. 

"Yeah, just like that… ride my hand just like that, looks so sexy… Fucking sexiest thing I have ever seen…" 

You had no idea when you had started following the movements of his fingers with your hips but you were glad he liked it; you didn't think you could stop if you tried, you were too close, too far gone.

"Wanna see you ride my cock just like that… think you can do that for me, malyshka?"

You nodded not really processing his words, you would have done anything he asked of you at that moment, that was why it was so disorienting to suddenly find your positions reversed, with him laying on the bed on his back, and you manhandled until you were straddling his lap.

"Are you ready for it, malyshka?"

A quick look down told you you weren't. Objectively, you knew you had already managed it the night before, but you hadn't seen it. Now, faced with the dimensions, the sheer girth of the appendage he called his dick, you froze.

Obviously, Aleksander noticed your hesitation.

"I know, printsessa, I know. It's too big for you isn't it?" 

You felt yourself nodding, eyes drawn back to where his hand was stroking his length leisurely. You had the distinct impression he was showing off for you. Bastard. 

"But you can take it, I know you can. You took it so well last night…" There it was again, that damned praising that made you want to do anything he said, fly yourself to the moon and back, only to get to hear that sinful voice call you a good girl again. So you let him notch the flared head of his cock to your entrance but didnt push inside, letting you take control, take your time, which you were grateful for because the stretch of his tip alone felt like almost too much, soaked and eager as you were.

You lowered yourself slowly, feeling every inch, every ridge and vein, watching in satisfaction as his eyes rolled back inside his head, as his hands flew to your asscheeks like he needed the purchase. Like he was as affected as you were. The little groans leaving his mouth motivated you to keep going whenever the strain threatened to be too much, until you were sat flush to his pelvis. You took a moment, then, as much to get used to him, to the feeling of being filled to the brim by his massive cock, as to center yourself. 

When you finally felt ready to start moving, you opened your eyes to find him staring up at you, slack-jawed, as if awestruck, as if he couldn't believe such a tight fit either. Rocking your hips just a little proved enough for his mouth to fall open completely, the most pornographic sound you had ever heard resonating through the room and searing itself onto your brain.

This man was going to be the death of you. 

“Just like that… fuck, you feel so good”

You wanted to tell him the same, wanted to tell him how incredible his cock felt inside of you but your voice was stuck in your throat, mouth open, fixed in a silent oh. Your silence didn't deter him though, because he kept whispering dirty nothings as your hips picked up their rhythm, hands grabbing at your thighs, your ass, your hips, everywhere he could reach that was unimpeded by your dress, adding fuel to the fire already burning low on your belly thanks to the maddening friction of his pubic hair scraping your sensitive clit as you rocked on top of him.

It wasn't enough.

To be stuffed full of him, to have his mesmerized attention, his hands on you. No, you were greedy, hungry. You wanted more. You wanted everything.

So you took the hem of your sequined dress and lift it over yourself, revealing all of your body to Aleksanders ravenous gaze. 

“Ara, moya malyshka… yes, take it all off!” Aleksanders hands flew immediately to your ribcage, traveling up to seize your breasts, squeezing the handfuls and making your head fall back in pleasure. “I knew youd look beautiful sitting on my cock, krasotka…”

“Sasha…” You managed to plead.

“Do you need something, malyshka?” 

You nodded.

“Do you need more? Do you need me to fuck you?”

“Yes” you were not above begging, “Sasha, please…”

He didn't reply with words, instead, he snaked an arm around your back, holding you to him as he sat up and started moving you up and down his cock one handed, the other cupping your face, holding you in place as he devoured your lips. Your own fingers searched, blindly, gripping at his dark locks, trapping him as much as he was trapping you, if only to have something to brace yourself against the slight sting of being stretched almost to your limit, the abrasion of his cock pistoning in and out of you, reaching deep, impossible deeper with every upward thrust. 

“Sasha…” You exhaled into his mouth, and he breathed it in, as drunk with passion as you felt, little moans in tandem with yours. 

You could feel it building already, every impact of his thighs against your ass, of his pubic bone against your clit hurtling you up higher and higher, a climb that almost frightened you, you weren't sure you would survive the fall.

But there was no stopping it, no way to fight it, not when Aleksander let go of your mouth just to lock his lips around one of your nipples, sucking and nibbling with far less skill, far less self control than he had shown as he fingers you open, biting on your little nub with enough force to hurt, to really send a sharp pang of pain that echoed through your body mixing and blurring with the pleasure until you didn't know which was which, until you didn't know if you wanted to lean into it or get away. 

The decision was made for you (or maybe there was never a decision to make) anyway, as his thrusts found that elusive little spot his fingers had already conquered before, and you were falling, abruptly and unprepared,  coming with such force you thought you'd might break apart, come undone at the seams, shattered by the force of an orgasm so powerful even Aleksander felt it, hissing at the vice like grip of your cunt strangling his cock as your climax rippled through you. 

"Fuck! Just like that, come all over my cock, Malyshka, give it to me, let me feel it…" 

You could tell he was close too, his movements faster, more erratic and found that you wanted it, wanted to feel him come inside you, feel him fall apart with you. 

So you reach out, wrapping your hands around his neck, and squeezed, crushing his pipeline, until his words were nothing more than an unintelligible wheezing, until his eyes widened and his face went red with lack of oxygen. 

Until you felt his cock pulsate inside you and the liquid warmth of his come paint your womb. 

You collapsed on the bed in a tangle of limbs, chest to chest, heartbeats pounding in unison, both shipwrecked by the intensity of what had just happened.

"You know," You panted, after a few minutes, "If your evil masterplan was using sex to stop me from leaving… it totally worked, I can't even move my legs'' 

His only response was a far too self satisfied laugh.

***

"Are you sure, Ivan?"

You were standing naked on the heated tiles of Aleksander's bathroom, tapping away on your phone as he ran a bath for both of you (you had insisted on a shower at first since it would have been quicker, but one glance at his colossal labradorite bathtub had obliterated all your resistance). The entire bridal party had watched you leave the impromptu Bachelorette's with "the Aleksandr Morozov lookalike" and were now demanding details, the dirtier the better. 

"... and there isn't anything you can do? Well, can't you ask Alina for help?"

That name you did know: Alina Starkova's face was everywhere, starring in the campaigns of every luxury brand from Bvlgari to Lancome. You simply had thought she was a new supermodel, up until half an hour ago you had no idea she was an actress, let alone Sasha's co-star and fake girlfriend. 

That you were absolutely not jealous of. No, if the name made you lift your eyes from your phone screen, it was mere interest. No pang of annoyance or anything else remotely unpleasant. That was ridiculous, you didn't even know the woman.

Aleksander was pacing the bathroom, as naked as you but somehow managing to still look regal af, even as he closed his eyes and pinched at the bridge of his nose in frustration. 

"Fine. No, seriously, it's ok…" the rest of his sentence was spoken in a ravkan so fast you had no hope of translating, but when he was done, he put his own phone away and turned to you.

"Was that your assistant?" 

"Yeah, Ivan" He confirmed, sighing, "I'm sorry, malyshka, but apparently there's a handful of paparazzi camping on my doorstep, I'll have to ask you to stay a little while longer while we figure out what to do about them" He sounded sincerely apologetic, "You don't have to say yes, of course, and I would never force you to stay, but you would really, really spare me a scandal if you do" 

You frowned, and his face fell even further.

"You keep calling me that, but I don't know what it means"

It was his turn to frown a little, in confusion, 

"What? Malyshka?"

You nodded. He smiled, just a little bit, taking a step towards you, into your personal space.

"It means 'babygirl'"

You scrunched up your nose,

"So what, I'm supposed to call you 'daddy' in return?" 

"Of course not," He replied, wrapping his arms around you, "just call me papa"

"Ugh, no way!" You batted away at his chest, but couldn't disguise the smile trying to break free. If it was a little goofy, well, no one had to know "I'm not calling you that, you dirty old man!"

"We'll see…" He shrugged, noncommittal, before bending to kiss your smirk off your face, "Wait, so, you're not mad?"

You shook your head, rising to your tiptoes to kiss him again.

"Nah, it just means we have more time in the bathtub" He hummed at that, hand on the small of your back traveling lower. "To wash!" You admonished. He didn't look chastised at all. "And after that… you can make me breakfast"

His smile was real this time, big and open.

"Of course, anything you want… Papa will give his malyshka everything she wants"

"Ew, stop!" 

His laughter filled the bathroom, and your heart, with warmth. 

The end?

#aleksander morozova #aleksander morozova x reader #aleksander morozova smut #general kirigan #general kirigan x reader #shadow and bone #shadow and bone fanfiction #ben barnes #smut #modern au #actor!Aleksander Morozova #grishaverse

[bassettmemes]

A GUTS ASK MEME ISN'T A BAD IDEA, RIGHT? prompts from olivia rodrigo's sophomore album, guts (2023) — part 2/2. ↳ trigger warnings for mentions of grooming, abusive relationships (mental/emotion, not physical), eating disorders, body image, and negative self-esteem. some lines have been edited or omitted for clarity and comfort.

LOGICAL.

"Master manipulator, god, you're so good at what you do."

"Come for me like a savior, and I'd put myself through hell for you."

"Hear all the rumors lately that you always denied."

"I fell for you like water falls from the February sky, but now the current's stronger and I couldn't get out if I tried."

"You convinced me it was all in my mind."

"Now you got me thinking two plus two equals five, and I'm the love of your life."

"If rain don't pour and sun don't shine, then changin' you is possible."

"Love is never logical."

"You built a giant castle with walls so high, I couldn't see the way it all unraveled."

"All the things you did to me, ou lied, you lied, you lied."

"The sky is green, the grass is red, and you mean all those words you said. I'm sure that girl is really your friend."

"Lovin' you is lovin' every argument you held over my head."

"You brought up the girls you could have instead

"You said I was too young, I was too soft, can't take a joke, can't get you off."

"I know I'm half responsible and that makes me feel horrible."

"I know I could've stopped it all, God, why didn't I stop it all?"

GET HIM BACK!

"I met a guy in the summer and I left him in the spring."

"He argued with me about everything."

"He had an ego and a temper and a wandering eye."

"He said he's six-foot-two and I'm like, "Dude, nice try"."

"But he was so much fun and he had such weird friends, and he would take us out to parties and the night would never end. Another song, another club, another bar, another dance."

"When he said something wrong, he'd just fly me to France."

"So I miss him some nights when I'm feeling depressed, til I remember every time he made a pass on my friend."

"Do I love him? Do I hate him? I guess it's up and down."

"I write him all these letters, then I throw them in the trash, 'cause I miss the way he kisses and the way he made me laugh."

"I pour my little heart out, but as I'm hitting "send", I picture all the faces of my disappointed friends, because everyone knew all of the shit that he'd do."

"He said I was the only girl, but that just wasn't the truth."

"When I told him how he hurt me, he'd tell me I was trippin'."

"I am my father's daughter, so maybe I could fix him."

"I wanna get him back. I wanna make him really jealous, wanna make him feel bad."

"'Cause then again, I really miss him and it makes me real sad."

"I want sweet revenge, and I want him again."

"I wanna key his car."

"I wanna make him lunch."

"I wanna break his heart, then be the one to stitch it up."

" I wanna kiss his face... with an uppercut."

"I wanna meet his mom, just to tell her her son sucks."

LOVE IS EMBARRASSING.

"I told my friends you were the one after I'd known you like a month, and then you kissed some girl from high school."

"I stayed in bed for like a week when you said space was what you need."

"I waited by my phone like a goddamn fool."

"Now it don't mean a thing. God, love's fucking embarrassing."

"Just watch as I crucify myself for some weird second string loser who's not worth mentionin'."

"My God, love's embarrassing as hell."

"I consoled you while you cried over your ex-girlfriend's new guy."

"My God, how could I be so stupid? You found a new version of me, and I damn near started World War III."

"Jesus, what was I even doing?"

"I placed my bets and it's not worth anything."

THE GRUDGE.

"I have nightmares each week about that Friday in May."

"One phone call from you and my entire world was changed."

"Trust that you betrayed, confusion that still lingers."

"You took everything I loved and crushed it in between your fingers."

"I doubt you ever think about the damage that you did, but I hold on to every detail like my life depends on it."

"My undying love, now I hold it like a grudge."

"I hear your voice every time that I think I'm not enough."

"I try to be tough, but I wanna scream. How could anybody do the things you did so easily?

"I say I don't care, I say that I'm fine, but you know I can't let it go. I've tried."

"It takes strength to forgive, but I don't feel strong."

"The arguments that I have won against you in my head in the shower, in the car and in the mirror before bed."

"Yeah, I'm so tough when I'm alone and I make you feel so guilty."

"I fantasize about a time you're a little fucking sorry."

"I try to understand why you would do this all to me."

"You must be insecure, you must be so unhappy."

"I know in my heart hurt people hurt people."

"We both drew blood, but, man, those cuts were never equal."

"Do you think I deserved it all?"

"Your flower's filled with vitriol, you built me up to watch me fall

"You have everything and you still want more."

"I try to be tough, I try to be mean, but even after all this, you're still everything to me."

"I know you don't care, I guess that that's fine, but you know I can't let it go. I've tried, I've tried, I've tried for so long."

"It takes strength to forgive, but I'm not quite sure I'm there yet."

PRETTY ISN'T PRETTY.

"Bought a bunch of makeup tryna' cover up my face."

"I started to skip lunch, stopped eatin' cake on birthdays."

"Bought a new prescription to try and stay calm."

"There's always something missin'. There's always something in the mirror that I think looks wrong."

"When pretty isn't pretty enough, what do you do?"

"I could change up my body and change up my face, I could try every lipstick in every shade, but I'd always feel the same, 'cause pretty isn't pretty enough anyways."

"You can win the battle, but you'll never win the war."

"Fix the things you hated and you'd still feel so insecure."

"I try to ignore it, but it's everything I see. It's on the posters on the wall, it's in the shitty magazines. It's in my phone, it's in my head, it's in the boys I bring to bed. It's all around, it's all the time and I don't know why I even try."

"I bought all the clothes that they told me to buy."

"I chased some dumb ideal my whole fucking life."

"None of it matters and none of it ends, you just feel like shit over and over again."

TEENAGE DREAM.

"When am I gonna stop being wise beyond my years and just start being wise?"

"When am I gonna stop being a pretty young thing to guys?"

"When am I gonna stop being great for my age and just start being good?"

"When will it stop being cool to be quietly misunderstood?"

"I'll blow out the candles, happy birthday to me. Got your whole life ahead of you, you're only nineteen."

"I fear that they already got all the best parts of me, and I'm sorry that I couldn't always be your teenage dream."

"When does wide-eyed affection and all good intentions start to not be enough?"

"When will everyone have every reason to call all my bluffs?"

"When are all my excuses of learning my lessons gonna start to feel sad?"

"Will I spend all the rest of my years wishing I could go back?"

#rp prompt #rp meme #rp prompts #writing prompts #roleplay prompts #sentence starter #sentence starters #writing prompt #rp #sentence meme #lyrics sentence starters #lyric sentence starters #lyric starters #olivia rodrigo sentence starter #olivia rodrigo sentence starters #olivia rodrigo lyric starters #olivia rodrigo lyric meme #olivia rodrigo lyrics starters #rph #grooming // #abusive relationship // #abuse // #eating disorder // #disordered eating // #body image // #negative self esteem //