#and then maybe that experience will make me feel better

[reneezsq]

forelsket

forelsket (noun.): the euphoria you experience when you are first falling in love.

❛ !¡ pairing; aventurine; sunday x gender neutral!reader.

❛ !¡ summary; a heartbeat too irregular, breathing quick and shaky hands sweating under expensive gloves. who could have thought getting attached is as sweet as your favorite dessert ?

❛ !¡ warnings; it is specified for both that reader likes anything with sugar.

❛ !¡ a/n; kinda self indulgent for me and one of my besties cuz she loves aventurine too much and i have a big fat crush on sunday (gotta cuddle the angel and the gambler)

♡–,✎ smitten:;

AVENTURINE

. never has he fancied himself over falling head over heels with anyone for the matter. any sort of relationship he could have formed, or bond to a certain extension, with anybody was surely for his own selfish desires. as a way to get over his life the control he lacked for so many years, a hope to regain mastery over himself and feel that for once in his life, all over again, his choices belong to no other than him.

. and at first he loathed the thought of falling in love. he knew all about the wonders it does on one’s mind: taking away their ability to form a coherent speech, the loss of the mastery of your own body and a certain yearning for the person of your affection. it scared him to some degree that if he ever fell in love he would yet lose all over again the freedom he fought to regain.

. at first, your meeting was only supposed to remain as a simple meeting. you were a new recruit to the ipc and he had been appointed with showing you around the main building. he had never planned to stick around too close or to engage in a full conversation. but his plans were thrown out of the window as he gazed at your pretty face. eyes sparkling at the view of someone’s cake in the fridge with some drool seemingly forming at the corner of your mouth. you looked so… how can he even explain such a feeling to himself or anybody else ?

. at that moment, he felt like simply coming up to you and wrapping his arms around you. only to keep you within his grasp and make sure you will never run away or be harmed. no matter if you are taller than him. but he had to shake away the thoughts to start the visit. and also maybe to know you better, after all only falling for one’s looks isn’t as wise as it can be, knowing how many beautiful people are the most dispensable people out the whole universe.

. just like he had dreaded, you were oh too kind for his heart to take it lightly. curiously peering at every corner and listening to him as he talked about the necessities of the work without too much details. he had to look away more than once and pray the pink dye on his glasses would conceal the ever growing blush on his cheeks. seriously, how unfair can you be ?! making him all flushy inside that he almost wants to melt when you waved him goodbye to go to your section to get to work.

. but, for some reasons, he did not find this uncomfortable in the slightest bit. his body was still his at the end of the day, and only the brushing of your fingers against his gloved ones remained in his mind. for once, he wished to take off his glove to feel some contact for the first time since so long. if it’s yours, he doesn’t feel like he will mind it too much.

SUNDAY

. he never really spared any real thought towards loving and being loved. he had more important matters like the health of his sister and her happiness, his role as the spokesman of the family and all the worries that came with taking care of penacony. so, truthfully, the idea never really came to his mind, and if it did he would discard it away without any real second chances for it to last.

. but during certain nights, he indulges in those kind of feelings that swirl deep within him as he wonders how he will feel if he falls in love with an individual. will his biggest strength to deliver eloquent speeches to move away a whole crowd for his own benefits turn into sand if he gazes too long in the eyes of the one that would steal his heart ? would his face heat up in the haste of their shared love and would he find himself holding their hands with a grip a bit too tight ? who knows. maybe he does want to fall in love in the end…

. the first moment your gazes crossed paths was during a concert of his sister. he enjoys watching those above all else. drowning in her beautiful melodies and allowing himself to breathe in the imagery of a field of flowers where he can feel the heartbeat of the world as he lies down the grass. ah, what a beautiful view of the sky painted in the hues of the ocean. how much he enjoys indulging himself in such lovely views created by the dreams of his mind.

. this is when he first saw you. all panicked in the crowd and breathing heavily because everyone was being too rough and too noisy next to you. he felt a pang of empathy towards this strangely beautiful stranger that got the unluck of being stuck next to so many disrespectful people. and his steps made him walk closer to you. a hand over their shoulder to catch your attention before he led you away from the concert.

. when you two went to relax in a small cafe away from everyone else, he turned on his phone to watch the live performance of his sister’s concert (which he has free access to). maybe you cannot be there, but at least you will still be able to hear her singing and see the thing as a full. afterwards, one drink in silence turned into two, then three as the conversation continued onwards. and he found himself unable to stop it, wanting to know more and more about you. and for once he did not want to know that in case it was needed, he was curious.

. when he bid you farewell and returned home, his sister couldn’t stop herself from telling him he seemed in such a brighter mood than he was at the start of the day. the honest smile in his lips and gaze dwelling back into what had happened that day. he simply told her he got a new acquaintance as he stared at the screen on his phone, with your number on it. well, that was a very precious day now, wouldn’t you say so ?

♡–,✎ wooing:;

AVENTURINE

. he’s insufferable. honestly. when he got over his little crush, all that stayed was a weird mix between the mask he puts over himself for the attire of confidence he had put over his own heart and the clear indication that you might be a bit more in his eyes. however, you will never know if it is genuine or not for a while. a gambler never reveals his cards.

. instead, the sole lead that remained to help you in your decision making was the small gestures he did all the time, his constant bothering you with calls, messages and funny little notes found in your office as well as the never ending questions by his side. one could be a coincidence, two was weird, after three you knew there was no getting away from that sickeningly stunning man you both adored and loathed sometimes (how can he be so adorably annoying ?)

. your missions end quickly, for one reason: you do nothing instead sitting next to him as he bets his life for the fifth time tonight. you know he will win but you cannot help the faceplan on your face as he proudly places down his cards for a final round and challenges opponents thinking they are a bit too lucky. you are no fool in front of his hand behind his back or the unmistakable shaking of it as it rests against his thigh under the table in a closed shaky fist. you never really dared to hold it, as to not break any bound that might last between you too. but as he looks at you to see the fondness with which you gaze at him, he feels like he already hit the jackpot.

. those nights always end up with your fist lightly hitting the top of his head after stealing his hat as a reminder that he is not eternal and he scared you to death. then he runs after you while making sure to remain slower, only to see the sun smiling back at him in all its glory. if you are lucky enough, he will let you wear it. fret not ! if he says no, attack him by the heartstrings with the cute big round eyes and a sad pout gracing your lips. he never won. his maximum is 26 seconds, dr. ratio counted for you one day. how kind.

. the type to use cringe pick up lines, but he is forgiven by his undying attractive looks. would call you the weirdest things during those times to make a bad joke meant to make your heart swoon. forgive him for being so bad, it’s his first time falling in love and not everyone is born with enough charisma to be both lucky in games and lucky in love. a loser, but one you comfort during his most unlucky defeats against your heart with a little peck in the cheeks. suddenly his mood is brighter and he is bringing you along to a shop or a restaurant.

. his money becomes yours the moment his heart was a bit faster and harder against his ribs. you could gaze at a cake from the other side of a window for 0.4 seconds and he had magically appeared inside. not like you complain but your stomach is starting to be a bit more demanding and whiny when you are close to him. he caught onto that and lightly poke you every time before heading towards another dinner you two will share. you will get your cake, but let’s get a healthy meal first to ensure you will stay all pretty and happy. he wouldn’t want you feeling bad over your body because he couldn’t resist your stare. he is no simp, promise (is that his fingers crossed behind his back ??)

. sometimes he comes to your house too. you two act like a couple more than you would both enjoy to admit. him lazily sipping on some coffee and answering calls here and there from the ipc while you are cooking or doing anything really. he could send you a weird meme of two cats biting each other with a “us <3” while you two are sharing a blanket and watching a film at the same time, in the same house, in the same room, in the same couch and almost cuddling. what a funny little man.

. his confession would be sweet. for once, no casino was involved during the whole night. you might think he was perhaps a bit sick but no, he was not ! feeling perfectly a–okay, although his perfume is a bit more prominent and for some reasons he is buying you more things than usual.

. please, let him talk first. he will not be able to say anything if you even dare to utter a word as you two arrive under the starry sky in an abandoned park. with some lamp, he will use morse code:

.. / .-.. --- ...- . / -.-- --- ..-

. your answer was: ..--- ; and he felt like falling in love all over again as you both started laughing over your own dumb love towards one another. ignore the tears, he is just happy. and perhaps this small shooting star was his sister’s best wishes.

SUNDAY

. the first thing he ever does when he goes to meet you is buying you flowers. now you have a ton of bouquets around your house and had to convince him to maybe settle for something that you two could consume or else you would have enough plants for the funerals of all your family members, that is if the bouquets were not holding a deep message. yes, he loves the implicit. the ones he loves gifting you the most are orchids¹, red roses² for the classics as well as carnations³ and sunflowers⁴.

. the embodiment of a gentleman and i am not joking. for him, courting you is not something to be taken lightly. he is playing his future love life on the line and will not allow any mistake to be made on his end. he wants to win over your heart and be a big selfish as to remain the sole object of your affection, and he will accomplish such a goal but being as gentle as he can be with you — without, of course, being too overbearing or controlling with you. he wants something genuine, not you accepting his love because you felt forced to do such a thing based on his status as a leader or place in the family. hence why he will refuse for a certain while to talk about his profession, he will end up telling you, pinky promise, but not now yet.

. going back to the previous subject of him being a gentleman. he will hold the doors open for you, all the time and it can maybe turn into a competition if you try to beat him. his arms quickly around your waist to stop you as you two giggle like two teenagers a bit too smitten. walking down some stairs ? here, his hand. he wouldn’t want your ankle to be twisted. and the feeling of your hand in his is quite enjoyable too. i am also talking about pulling your chair for you (if you sit first he will do this tiktok trend of being unable to move the chair to have you check it so he can pull it for you), letting his shoulder be soaked when it rains and you have only one umbrella as well as kissing your knuckles when you two meet.

. he always has his hands on you, i swear. it is so very obvious he has fallen head over heels with you and even he cannot deny it any longer. but when his hand is always resting at your lower back — your consent is included, if you do not like it he will let you take hold of his arm instead — as you walk through a particularly crowded place in the streets or in a building. always the perfect guide to accompany you to your destination. travel in security, travel with sunday !

. do not think his sister is not involved in his plans to win over your heart, because if you think so you are solely mistaken. she already knows of his adoration for you and even gives him small pieces of advice. after all, she has a lot of fans trying to woo her, so she knows different tactics and will share those that make her a bit weak in the knees to help her brother with his soon–to–be–lover. she went as far as to do a concert with only the two of you, singing a love song while you were humming alongside her tune. he still cherishes this moment when he hasn’t seen you for a certain while.

. he never enters your home without the green flag to do so. the most he did the first few days you went out together was accompany you to the porch and flash a small wink your way, the two of you letting out small laughs at how corny and movie–like the whole ordeal has been. seriously, it feels like a mix of your favorite book tropes with all the cringy stuff that you can view in your favorite romance movies. but you two are a sucker for traditional romance, how can you be blamed ?

. now, for his confession, oh lord. he became the best husband in one night and you were feeling all hot in the face all day. because, yes, he booked a whole day of different activities the two of you could do together. from sharing a simple meal to making some poems. he wrote the best ballads and sonnets you have ever read in the entirety of your life — seriously, how can a man be so talented in such different fields ?

. at the end of the day, you two walked in a park where you both ended up sitting down on the same bench. there was barely no one around as it was late enough already, and when the lamps finally lit up, you saw the whole city come back to life for the night. it was a whole show in itself, to see the advertisements light up, the street lamp illuminating the roads and the atmosphere changing around the two of you.

. after a small quick breath, he placed a present upon your lap and let you open it. it consisted of a music box, playing one of the unreleased songs of his sister you had the pleasure to listen to with him. but there was a particularity: this was a love song. when you gazed back at one another, you both knew.

♡–,✎ engagement:;

AVENTURINE

. the bad pick up lines got worse. now he uses them when falling off the stairs, upon stumbling with his own two feet over some air and when he has a good hair day (clue: he always has good hair). so no, there is no escaping his constant praises and compliments and cringy flirting. but you’ll forgive him, won’t you ?

. he is so affectionate it feels like he became some glue next to you. there is no joke in that. when you two are at home to simply relax he will have his arms around you while doing anything at all. but don’t let your guard down, he might take off his clothes to move your shirt aside and rest his freezing hand upon your skin directly. just to hear your little squeals as you look up at him. his other hand will hold your cheek to feel the warmth burning at his fingertips before kissing it better as his own small apology. during moments like these, make it difficult to regain his love. more kisses for the two of you and more cuddling too.

. even in the casino he goes, he is affectionate too openly. he has really no shame screaming at the top of his lungs how much he loves you and the fact you are all he ever dreamt of having. your head is resting on his shoulder with one arm around your waist. he found that tracing forms on your skin is better than gripping a chip in secret, and now it comes naturally. if you ever fall asleep on him while he plays, he will not hesitate to take off his hate and put it on your to hide the lights from your eyes and allow you a better sleep. even when the game ended, he will stay at the table a few more moments to then give you the correct time to wake up from your little nap. i hope you don’t mind being awakened by kisses all over your face.

. his hat is the only thing he shares, sorry not sorry. his clothes are his and he wants to keep them as such. if you want to wear them he will happily buy you something similar, but the idea of sharing clothes is not something he cherishes that much. however, matching clothes ? this he doesn’t mind ! matching pajamas sets ? check. matching glasses ? check. matching accessories ? check. wearing matching pairs only add to the whole showing off you are his, doesn’t it ?

. he is not that possessive per say, maybe simply a bit paranoid that things might happen to you in hopes of getting to him. but he is truly aware you are capable and will not sugarcoat you (if you do not have any injury, get one as small as a paper cut and he is throwing dramatic gasps to make you laugh), but he will not hesitate to show that he is yours as much as you are his and no one can take you away from him. however, he can have his own insecurities. not look wise, come on that smirk on his face shows that he knows how pretty he is. no, it is more towards his gambling addiction and financial tendencies to spend everything without a care because of his insane luck. he knows that it might be a red flag, or you might be dragged away from him if he continues too much. you can kiss him better or show him an alternative (don’t do gacha games, please, he will know no limits at all you will worsen the problem dearest).

. all in all, you won your own little jackpot by being with him. sure, he has his own secrets and things he will probably never share with you. but at the end of the day you are both satisfied only holding each other’s hands as you dance under the stars like idiots or jump on the water that stayed in the streets after it rained. maybe you are a bit childish, or maybe you simply indulge together in what you always lacked: an innocent and pure love.

SUNDAY

. his money became yours, quite literally. need to buy a book ? here take his credit card. you want to start having weekly shopping sprees with robin ? he will make a new card just for the two of you that you can use. do not shy away from using his money, he wants you happy and he knows that sometimes only acquiring certain items you cherish will fill your heart to the brim. however, he is waiting for a small peck on the cheek and if you bought close you better make a small show for him. the two of you will end up dancing in the living room and it will end with a small kiss.

. the type to be a sucker for any type of kisses. would randomly come up to you, grab your face and kiss your forehead, your cheeks so no jealousy and then your lips. at first you were taken aback but now you are used to it and no real surprises anymore to be honest. you just melt and sometimes kiss him back when he pulls away. aha ! now he is the one with warm cheeks :P.

. he shares his food a bit too much, his plate becomes yours. not the type to give you his plate though. no, instead he will take your fork or spoon, serve enough in it and bring it to your lips. you can never deny him because of the fluttering of his wings that shows just how happy he is to do such a thing. and let’s not talk about desserts. he would buy five of them, eat one spoonful and then give you the rest. i am not hungry anymore, he says, what a very sweet liar he is. that is not his fault, do not blame him please, he just wishes to see a small smile on your face because you love them so much.

. talking about his wings, you can know his mood with how they react. a pretty useful indicator to be honest. if they are a bit down, he is sad or just tired. a few cuddles might fix the issue and if it doesn’t just massage his feathers, but be careful those little wings are still very much sensitive. if they are fluttering, then he is quite happy. weirdly enough they always flutter when you are with him. sometimes he uses them to hide his face if he is a bit flustered. he looks quite adorable when he wants to.

. also not the type to share his clothes, the only exception being his jacket if you are cold and brought nothing for yourself. unlike aventurine he is not for matching sets of clothing, he would prefer if you two kept your own style. but he is for matching jewelries and such. his favorite match is earrings. he will wear the right one most of the time as you wear the left one. his second favorite has to be necklaces. you have a pair of necklaces that go together like two puzzle pieces, and every time you cuddle you let them click together and they remain as such until you have to go to work or sleep or pee.

. being with him is like walking through a street in the middle of the light. his embrace and touches being the few people complimenting you along the way and his comfort being the warm light cast upon you. and when you fall asleep, it’s like having found your own little haven all over again. perhaps, with you, he will learn to be a bit more honest with himself over time.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

orchids¹ – they symbolize beauty, charm and love.

red roses² – they symbolize love and passion.

carnations³ – they symbolize fascination and love.

sunflowers⁴ – they symbolize admiration and loyalty.

(if any of those informations are wrong, tell me and i will fix it asap !)

TAGGING:: @amxto; @dxmoness; @sweetlyvibe; @quatrdeal

#x gender neutral reader #x gn reader #x gn y/n #x reader #hsr #hsr x reader #hsr x you #hsr x y/n #hsr x gender neutral reader #hsr sunday #hsr sunday x reader #honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x you #honkai star rail x gender neutral reader #honkai star rail sunday #honkai star rail aventurine #hsr aventurine #hsr aventurine x reader #aventurine honkai star rail #aventurine x reader #star rail aventurine #aventurine x you #aventurine x y/n #aventurine fluff #sunday #sunday x reader #sunday x you #sunday x y/n #renee.writes

[heartfullofleeches]

Wait. There's a slime reader? What would happen if slime reader and gigi met?

Wait wait imagine if they were captured by the same organization- They're put together by the scientist assuming they are the exact same species of slime, but the pair can easily tell they're different. Still, they bond over being two sentient puddles of jello and frequently escape their prison once everyone has left for the day to raid the world fridge for treats. Maybe Gigi was outside longer than Reader and tells them about as much of the human world as he's seen - promising to show it to them someday when they leave the facility for good-

GiGi, while not wanting to harm anyone, lives off the moisture from whatever he's consuming. Like I said he'd prefer not to hurt anyone, but if any scientist "hurts" Reader he'll suck all the moisture out of their body.

-

[Slime Reader sulks in the corner alone - drained from all the questions and experiments given to them by the scientists.]

Slime Reader: ???

[The slime looks up as banging can be heard from the vents - two popsicle sticks wedged through the slits in the grates as blue ooze drips from them. GiGi regains his human form and slides over to Slime Reader, sitting down next to them.

GiGi, giving them a popsicle: These always make me feel better when I'm sad. You're sad too, aren't you?

[Slime Reader nods]

GiGi: The humans here are the worst! I hate when they poke us with those needles. It doesn't hurt, but it's still rude. Someday, I'll get you out of here. We'll go wherever we want and eat whatever we want. Like jello?

Slime Reader: J....ello?

GiGi: Yeah! It's really jiggly - like us! It almost feels like eating another slime if you think about it-

Slime Reader: Would Gigi eat...me??

GiGi: No way! I mean - you're really sweet, but I love you! I'd be really sad if I ate you and you weren't here anymore.

Slime Reader: Hmmm?

[Slime Reader licks Gigi's cheek]

Slime Reader: GiGi tastes good :D... I'd be sad without GiGi too.

GiGi, hugging their fellow slime: Yay! Promise we'll get married when we get out of here?

#Gigi my oc #yandere #yandere oc #yandere x you #yandere scenarios #yandere headcanons #yandere insert #male yandere #yandere blurb #yandere imagines #yandere x reader #yandere alien #slime Reader

[eggyrocks]

Hi!! I really love your work and congrats on getting 500 followers!! i was wondering if you could write #83 with mattsun?? thank you!!

yes yes yes i love this prompt fhjdkjkhlj i hope i do it justice

500 follower special: #83 “It’s always been you.”

mattsun x gn reader, friends to lovers, party setting, language, not proofread

written content masterlist

They picked a bathroom to hide in, them and Matsukawa. Outside the closed and locked bathroom door, is a crowd of drunk people listening to loud, bad music with the lights off. But inside that small, cramped bathroom, they sit with their back against the edge of the bathtub, legs stretched out towards Matsukawa, who leans against the opposite wall, his legs resting on top of theirs.

They like it better like this. When it's just them.

"Oikawa's gonna be mad at you," they say casually, holding a plastic cup up to their lips as they speak, trying to hide their self-satisfied grin. "This is the third person he's tried to set you up with that you've bailed on."

Matsukawa snickers, arms loosely crossed over his chest. Out there somewhere is his 'date,' probably bored and probably looking for him. They almost feel bad for whoever it is. They would feel worse if Matsukawa hadn't explicitly told Oikawa not to do this again.

And maybe they're just a little too overjoyed that he's here with them, again, instead of Oikawa's matchmaker experiment, to feel bad. Maybe their chest is fluttering at the idea that they're Matsukawa's first choice for company.

"Who cares? He's always up in arms about something," Matsukawa shrugs. "He'll get over it."

There's a knock on the door. Three loud, impatient bangs. "Occupied!" they call out to whoever's on the other side, not looking away from Matsukawa as they do.

From the other side, there's a groan, and retreating footsteps. Neither one of them feel too bad; they've got several other options, in a house like this.

"What about you?" Matsukawa asks, nodding his head in their direction. "Didn't you ditch the guy you came here with?"

That they do feel a bit bad for. The what's-his-name they showed up with seemed nice enough, they figured. And they had resolved before showing up to this stupid party that they would at least make an honest effort to stay by his side for the majority of the night.

But all it took was one look at Matsukawa from across the room, and they abandoned all of their resolve. All he had to do was smirk, and they were trailing behind him, obedient.

It always ends up like this. Just them.

"Eh," they respond with a shrug of their own, placing their cup on the floor beside them. "I don't think he's really my type."

Matsukawa scoffs. "You say that about everyone. I'm starting to think no one's your type."

Heat creeps up their neck. "Yeah, well you reject every-"

There's more knocks on the door, these ones more aggressive. Matsukawa lifts a leg off of theirs and jams the heel of his foot into the door. "Occupied," he says, voice low and not too concerned.

"Oikawa's looking for you two fuckers," the voice from the other side of the door, and they immediately recognize it to be Iwaizumi's. "And if he keeps annoying me about it, I'm gonna tell him where you are."

"Got it," Matsukawa calls back, eyes still heavy on them as he speaks. "Thanks Iwa."

They can hear Iwaizumi scoff as he retreats. Matsukawa gestures for them to continue. "Go on," he instructs.

"I was just saying," they continue, almost wishing they didn't have to; it's a dangerous line of conversation, "you can't really talk, since you've turned down every single person that's ever been interested in you."

And there's this sort of shift in the way Matsukawa looks at them. He lowers his gaze, and he leans forward, just a touch. "Have you ever thought," he starts, his voice shooting right through them, "that maybe there's a reason for that?"

They're not sure if their desperation for him is making them imagine something that's not there, for if there's a new light in his eyes, that he's looking at them differently. They swallow. "You're picky, is what I always thought."

Matsukawa sighs, and leans back against the wall. "Nah, you're way off."

"Well, then tell me," they insist, and now they're the one inching closer. There's a light knock on the door once more. "Fuck off," they spit out unceremoniously. "What's the reason, Issei?"

He raises an eyebrow. "Why do you wanna know so bad?" he questions.

Their face flushes, and they suddenly feel caught. They force themself to relax, shoulders slumping. "I mean, I dunno. I guess it's just...interesting."

Matsukawa removes his legs from theirs and sits cross-legged in front of them, inching closer. "What's so interesting about it, then?"

The small space of the bathroom suddenly feels much hotter than it did before, like the bright, yellow lights are heating up and burning them. Matsukawa does not once look away from them. "Is it so bad to wanna know things about you?" they question, unable to think of anything else reasonable when he's looking at them like that.

He looks over the details of their face, eyes roaming from the bridge of their nose to their shinning eyes to the curve of their lips. They feel like they can't breathe, when he looks at them like that. "I guess not," he answers softly and evenly. "It's you."

Their mouth feels like it's full of sand. "What?"

Matsukawa reaches forward and loops his fingers around the belt loops of their jeans, and he pulls them closer, sliding them against the tiled floor until their nose almost touches his. The sudden proximity makes their breath catch in their throat.

"I don't want them because they're not you," he says, eyes lowered.

Their eyes are wide and fixed on his, heart beating rapidly in the base of their throat. And they've lost all grip on their thoughts, head now full of buzzing static. All they can focus on his Matsukawa, and the way their body reacts to him.

"The reason I reject everyone is you," he tells them. "It's always been you."

For a moment, his words hang in the air. They don't settle in. They won't really settle in for a while. All that matters to them now is the way Matsukawa is looking at them, eyes intense and unwavering, "Issei," they finally breathe out, able to manage it because his name is one of the few comprehensible thoughts spinning in their head. "I want you."

The words come from them without much consideration of their meaning or implication, but it's true. They do want him. They've always wanted him. And it doesn't take much else for Matsukawa to smirk, and reach his hands up to cup their face, gently pulling them in closer.

And then-

"You two!" Oikawa's voice from the other side of the door rings out, accompanied by his fists slamming against the wood. "I am so sick of you two! Get out here and socialize with everyone else for once! God, with the amount of them you guys have been hiding you better've hooked up by now!"

Matsukawa doesn't even react, like he doesn't even hear the words of his friend as his eyes flutter shut, and his lips finally crash against theirs.

an: another one down....im afraid i'll be writing these forever......(also first time writing mattsun pls let me know what u think im afraid lmafo)

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(my first time remembering to tag ppl in written content <3)

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu fluff #hq x reader #hq x you #hq #mattsun x reader #mattsun x yn #mattsun x you #matsukawa issei #hq matsukawa #matsukawa x reader #matsukawa fluff #haikyuu matsukawa #matsukawa issei x reader #matsukawa issei x yn

[loveueddie]

𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙈𝙚𝙩𝙖𝙡𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙙'𝙨 𝙎𝙚𝙭𝙞𝙚𝙨𝙩 𝙎𝙡𝙪𝙩

Pairing: Modern!Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Summary: Eddie warms you up for "work."

Warnings: +18, Smut, unprotected sex, insults like 'slut', mention of drugs, slaps, Dom!Eddie, mention of 'Daddy', pornographic video. (I think that's just it haha)

Author's Notes: This is my first work, I couldn't proofread it so don't throw stones at me for mistakes lol. English is not exactly my language, forgive me if something is wrong. 🫶🏼🩷

You and Eddie are best friends with benefits. He calls you when he wants to wet his cock and you call him when your pussy needs attention. But what no one knew was that you two made videos during sex and posted them on a famous porn site, you two were famous on the site and made money. All of this had advantages, after all, who wouldn't want to make money just by having sex? Especially with Eddie Munson.

Having money was good and having sex with Eddie Munson was even better, he was her best friend but God, how could someone like him, who hadn't had that many experiences with girls throughout his life, be so good at fucking? It was a secret, maybe he was so fascinated in pornography since he was young and now he was doing his own with you.

Lying on your best friend's couch, wearing nothing but Eddie's old shirt, white lace panties, white socks on your feet and a herb wrapped in silk between your toes, you watch your best friend sitting on the other side of the couch, his skillful fingers, which They were in your pussy a few minutes ago, typing on the laptop on his lap, probably checking the comments on the video he posted of fucking your breasts earlier.

His curly hair was a little messy, shirtless, the tip of his tongue between his lips and the buttons of his black jeans were open, showing the happy trail of his pubic hair. He was sitting lazily on the couch, his legs parted as if silently inviting you to sit on his lap or kneel between his legs to suck him off. Both options were really good.

You pass the herb wrapped in silk for him to take a drag of which he thanks you with a wink and squeezing your thigh with his hand, leaving the marks of his rings and fingers on your skin.

Eddie laughed at a particularly nasty comment about her tit-sucking skills. "Looks like the Hawkins Freak has a new skill." He says with a smile as he squeezes your thigh, enjoying the sight of your ass peeking out of those white panties. "I bet I could make them cum just by sucking on those tits right now." Eddie blinks and blows a smoke ring, flicking the ash from his cigarette into a nearby ashtray. "Want to make us more money, baby?" Eddie asks as he caresses your bare, reddened thigh with his fingers.

You laugh, slapping his hand playfully and making a fake pout with your lips. "Doesn't the star here deserve a rest?"

Eddie smiles smugly, stretching and flexing his arm to show off. "Nah, we're doing good now, honey. I know you can take more." He suggests, pressing a finger against your cheek to gently turn your face to his, and looking at you lustfully. Eddie hands you the weed as he puts his laptop aside and lays down next to you on the couch, turning you onto your side to fit on his side. You feel his bare chest against your back. "I know you can. You never let me down." Eddie whispers, slowly rubbing his hard cock against your ass. Eddie's breath tickles your ear before kissing it softly. "Are you going to deny me, slut?"

Your breathing becomes shaky when he calls you a slut, kissing your ear and making you shiver. You bite your lip and then take another drag of the joint, playfully blowing the smoke in his face. Eddie laughs at your playful teasing and takes a deep whiff of the smoke, then takes the joint from your fingers. "So fucking sexy, baby." He murmurs, pulling your closer by your hips until they're flush against each other. "We'll give our fans something to jerk off to." He hand slides over your stomach, running his fingers over your sensitive skin, causing a soft moan to escape your lips. "Tell me, slut. How do you want to fuck tonight?" Eddie's fingers curl around your waist, giving your ass a gentle squeeze as he ponders your answer. "On your knees, on your back, bent over... It's your choice." His lips brush against her cheek, making her shudder as his hard cock presses against her ass. "We're going to make our fans cum, baby. Let's have fun."

You smile at him, rubbing your nose against his as you blow smoke into your half-open mouth, in which Eddie swallows the smoke satisfyingly. "Anyway you want."

Eddie laughs, placing a lingering kiss on your lips before pulling away. "Open your legs, baby." His voice is full of desire, the command mixed with a harsh tone. "I'm going to touch your soaking wet pussy." Eddie's hand slides up your thigh, pushing your panties aside to expose your slick folds. "I bet your pussy is already dripping for me, isn't it?" He murmurs against your earlobe, his finger tracing circles around your swollen clit as you gasp, your hips arching. "What a horny slut..."

Eddie's finger slides inside you, making you moan louder. His fingers curl deeper, teasing your sensitive spot as you throw your head back, your body shaking with pleasure. "They want to see us cumming on each other... And that's exactly what we're going to do." Eddie's free hand runs down your chest, pinching your nipple as he pumps his finger inside you, until the rings are inside you too.

Eddie pushes a second finger inside you, stretching your wet pussy as you whimper his name. "So wet, slut." He rubs his fingers against your G-spot, his cock throbbing in your ass as you pant. "I want to see that beautiful pussy when I fuck you, baby." Eddie slowly withdraws his fingers, tracing a wet path towards your clit before rubbing it firmly. "Get ready... I'm going to make you cum and we'll film it for our fans." His warm breath on your ear, sending shivers down your spine as you nod anxiously. "Let's give them what they want, slut." His thumb pressing against your clit as he hooks another finger, rubbing your swollen bud until your hips buck uncontrollably, your wet heat squeezing him. "Come for me, baby..." Eddie's voice is low, a whisper harshly as you choke. Your body shaking as you scream and whimper his name, your juices covering his hand.

You cum in his hand, panting and your chest rising and falling. You take a drag on the joint before passing it to him, placing the joint between your lips for him to take a drag on, since his fingers were busy in your soaked pussy.

Eddie sucks on the joint, shaking it as he strokes her tender, sensitive pussy, admiring your sensitive flesh glistening with her arousal. "Perfect, slut. It's show time..."

He kisses your hip, trailing down your inner thigh as you let out a satisfied sigh. "Get on all fours, baby." Eddie orders softly, pulling his fingers away from your pussy, making you moan softly, eager for his touch. “Now.” Eddie says in a husky voice, pulling your hair playfully, his cock throbbing with excitement as you obey, spreading your legs wide. Eddie smiles satisfied, taking the video camera with his hand wet with his cum, the other hand slaps his ass hard before starting to lower his black jeans to his knees, he wasn't even in his underwear.

You tilt your head to look at him over your shoulder, but Eddie grabs your hair and forces you to face forward. "Not yet, porn star." He plays with you, although his tone is hoarse with desire and commanding. He watches your panties stuck between your soaked folds. Eddie basically preps you before turning on the camera, adjusting your shirt above the waist and taking one last drag on the joint. The joint always made him hornier than normal.

Eddie turns on the camera, pointing at your wet pussy from behind, making you blush slightly. He records his finger playing with your wet lips, teasing you and hearing you whimper softly. “Please…” You whimper, breathing labored. Then suddenly he stops and you know what that means, it means he would continue if you called him..."Daddy. Please, daddy..." You add and that makes him smile, murmuring a "good girl" while pushing your panties to the side, revealing your slippery folds.

"Open your legs wider." He commands in a husky tone, his finger tracing circles around your sensitive flesh, making you moan softly. "What a horny slut..." Eddie teases your clit, making your hips shake as he takes another hit of the joint. "I'm going to fuck you deep, baby. So deep..." Eddie's voice grows husky, his cock poking your pussy from behind, teasing you. "Ready?" Eddie asks, his dick pressing harder against your wet entrance.

"Yes, daddy." You say with a trembling voice, unable to take the delay any longer. But Eddie has some fun, pointing the video camera at the hard cock at the entrance to your wet pussy, the pink head of his cock rubbing teasingly against your wet folds, threatening to penetrate, but only penetrating the head of the penis and pulling away to rub the tip on your sensitive clit.

"Eddieeee..." You whimper, already starting to feel your eyes watering from wanting his hard cock filling you so much. Eddie smiles and gently probes your tight opening with his swollen head cock, enjoying the feeling of being enveloped in your heat. "You're so tight, slut." He murmurs against your ear, pushing deeper, filling you slowly.

“This pussy is going to take all of me…” Eddie moans in the back of his throat, sinking completely inside you, your bodies connected in a way that was intended to be filmed. "They're going to love this, baby..." His fingers curl around your hips, holding you firmly as he begins to pump his cock in and out of you, the sound of flesh hitting flesh echoing in the room , captured on camera. Eddie leans over you, his bare chest against your back, the camera suddenly thrust in front of your face. He was recording your face as he fucks you hard.

"Tell 'em, tell 'em you're my slut..." Eddie's breath is hot against your ear, his body tense as he fucks you harder, looking down and growling as he enjoys the sight of his disappearing cock inside your tight pussy. "I-I'm your slut, daddy.." You say, voice shaky and drunk with pleasure and his big cock fucking you.

"Cum for me... Cum while they watch us fuck..." His voice is rough, full of desire as you moan, your body shaking beneath him, close to your climax.

Eddie grunts, his cock throbbing as you squirt around his cock until it leaks out of your pussy, a wave of pleasure rushing through him. “Fuck, baby…” He gasps, his release imminent. He pulls you close, burying his cock deep inside you as he unloads inside you, the sight of your cum-filled pussy caught on camera making your climax even more intense.

"Perfect, slut. Just perfect..." Your breath hitches as he slowly pulls out, his cock glistening with your juices. Eddie smirks at you, rubbing his cum covered cock against your sensitive flesh, enjoying the way you shudder beneath him. "For my horny slut, here you go." He grinds his hips against you, recording with the video camera and flooding your pussy with his hot cum, making you whimper even louder as you grip the couch, your body shaking with pleasure. "That's it, slut. Take Daddy's cum..." Eddie's voice is full of satisfaction, his gaze fixed on the sight of your cum-filled pussy before he pulls away gently, collapsing against your back, panting.

His chest rises and falls against you, his arms wrapped around you as you bask in the glow, completely exhausted. Eddie then turns the camera to focus on his sweaty face and his face, sweaty and flushed with pleasure. He gets up and hits your ass hard, making you jump and moan. Then he smiles, giving the video a thumbs up.

"Use a condom, kids." He says, ironically and playfully.

"You are so stupid." You say breathlessly, playfully rolling his eyes.

#joseph quinn #eddie munson headcanons #eddie munson smut #eddie munson #eddie munson comfort #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fic #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson imagines #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson x fem reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x female character #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n

[bunniesanddeer]

Hate (Alastor x Reader)

Hey, awkward haha. This is only my second attempt at smut, inspired by the lovely @hazelfoureyes. (If you want me to untag you, I totally will).

Obviously minors, DNI.

I'm normally not comfortable with this stuff, mostly because I don't have a ton of experience writing it. I decided, that for practice, I would try writing something where the reader doesn't like Alastor. I figured a dynamic that was different from what I normally wrote might help me learn how to get better at writing smut. So here is something inspired by the best smut writer, about a dynamic I've never written :) Also, my first time writing PiV, so sorry if it sucks :) be gentle with me, lol

Hate

Pairing: Alastor X Reader

Warnings: Reader HATES Alastor, Enemies to enemies with benefits, heat, smut, 18+, Alastor speaks French, praise kink, fingers, PIV.

Word Count: 3,818

You could feel it building. The heat rising and coursing through every inch of you. The way it settled in your core, at the pit of your belly. The twinge and ache in your chest. The pressure behind your eyes. The delirium in which you processed it. It was as much as you could take, and you could feel the tension building.

You hated him. You hated him with every inch of yourself. It was a hate that suffused your bones, that dripped through clenched teeth, and twitched tightly gripped hands. You hated him entirely. It wasn’t just the way he talked, although the pompous air and the two-faced words he spoke with angered you to no end. It wasn’t the way he dressed, despite the fact that it was an out of style suit that he preferred, that pissed you off at even a glance. You knew it wasn’t the way he looked, because as much as you hated the sight of him, he was an admittedly handsome demon and had likely been a handsome man; he had dark skin, and fluffy red hair that framed his sharp face nicely. No, it was something deep inside, that you couldn’t quite explain, that made you despise him so, so much.

Alastor was not a good man. No, it wasn’t exactly the best way to judge those that were already in Hell, but among the many denizens you’ve met, he was surely high on the list of fucked up crimes. Sure, he claimed he had a moral code that he strictly followed, but if no one knew what it was, what the hell was it good for? Maybe it was his hypocrisy. The way he held himself and looked at others with such disdain, and yet he was just as lowly and weak and corrupted as everyone else.

Alastor was a hypocrite, for sure, but maybe so were you. How else could you explain this? Who were you to judge him, for all his faults, when yours were staring you in the face? 

Your thighs ached. You could feel the pain growing, and you knew it would only get worse. You had been around him long enough now, that the cursed body you had been gifted had caught on, and now you would suffer for something you never agreed to. 

It hadn’t even been a thought, when you moved into the hotel. You hadn’t thought about the fact that your form and his might affect one another. How were you supposed to know it was a possibility when you’d never run across another deer demon, let alone a Buck? Hell, quite frankly, hell. Each new, fucked up thing, you found brought you greater misery. Now your own body was a prison. You’d take having periods again, if it meant you didn’t have this terrible thing.

When it had first started, only days before, you had sought out Angel Dust, who had laughed at you. 

“Ha! Are you pulling my chain, toots?” He had asked, his tone filled with bewilderment. “C’mon, you gotta know! You’ve been here for years!”

But you didn’t know, and when he caught the anxious look growing on your face, and the fidgeting of your hands, he sighed. 

“Shit, ya don’t know, do ya?” Angel put one of his many arms around your shoulders, and guided you to his room. He settled you on a plush bean bag, and offered you something to drink. You shook your head, anxiety making your face tingle. “Suit yourself, babes.” He sighed, and scratched the back of his head. “It’s called heat. Some folks don’t got one, some do frequently, and some are seasonal. For folks who got it seasonally, it tends to, uh, depend on whether or not ya got someone, you know, compatible.”

You cocked your head as you scratched and pulled at a stray thread on your pants. 

“You gotta find someone with a similar build to yours. If you ain’t ever seen another deer, it might be why it hasn’t come up, babes.” His words clicked in your head, and your face paled. 

“No,” you said, chest frozen at the thought. It hurt suddenly. Your hands tingled, and your chest hurt. What was happening? “No, no, no. Absolutely not, please tell me it’s not because-”

Angel winced, and gave you a pitying look. “Yeah, it’s cuz of Al, doll.”

You gasped for breath, and you shook. You couldn’t think clearly. Everyone knew how much you and Alastor hated each other. You made it clear, and his constant badgering and rude behavior seemed to solidify it for everyone that it was mutual. But for your body to betray you, for him? This felt like the ultimate Hell.

When you started crying, Angel had soothed you to the best of his ability. The next morning, after falling asleep in Angel’s many arms, he gave you an unopened toy, and told you to gather supplies. Enough to hoard up in your room for a few days. He promised to run interference for you, and sent you on your way. 

So here you were, writhing on your bed, on day three. Your sense of smell was increased, and your ears twitched at each subtle sound in the hall. You had tried putting on some mindless show so you could stop focusing on all these extra sensations, but it didn’t help. The extra voices, all not his, sent your head spinning. You had turned it off after only half-an-hour. 

Your thighs rubbed together, and sweat dripped down the back of your neck. You pushed your face into a pillow and groaned. You had avoided it thus far, but it might be time to break out the little vibrator. 

Eventually, you sat up in your bed, ignoring the blankets that you had pushed to the floor the day before. You huffed, and reached for the toy that had been plugged in the night before. You gave the strange pink toy a squeeze, the soft silicone giving just slightly, and made your way to the bathroom. While you washed the toy, you tried to convince yourself that this was all you needed. One good vibe session, and you’d be back to normal. You were wrong.

It was hot. The whole room was unbearably hot. You were covered in a thin layer of sweat, and your clothes had long found themselves on the floor. You had needed to recharge the toy one already, and it had only been a day. The water in the shower couldn’t get cold enough to cool you down. Your core ached, constantly, and your thighs had a near constant mess of slick spread along them. You were delirious with the unfathomable sensations you had been unwillingly wrapped in. 

With a cry, and your soaked fingers at your clit, you orgasmed, weakly. The release wasn’t nearly enough. You twisted, and bit down on your pillow as you cried, just a little. This was terrible. And all because of Alastor. You thought of his nasty jokes, and how cruel he could be. You thought on sharp eyes, and sharper smiles. You thought of his claws, and a soft grasp around your throat, slowly tightening as a normally clear voice grunted and huffed. You pulled your vibrator out again. With something in you snapping, you kept thinking of his slim hips, and broad chest. The way his hands twitched and grasped at his microphone. His leer and the way his eyes followed you when you walked into the room. His laugh, when he was angry with someone. The way he had shown you to handle a weapon before you fought the angels. The angry look he gave you when you yelled at him weeks later. You thought of his hands wrapping around your wrist, and his chest hovering over your back as lithe hips pressed against your ass. 

You came with another cry, the white-hot feeling surging through you. 

Shame filled you up. You were a hypocrite too, it seemed. 

It was dark. Your head was fuzzy, and you couldn’t place the time of day. You sat up, the room spinning as your heart settled. Something smelled good. Your eyes fluttered as you took it in. After a moment, you flicked your eyes around the room, and in the chair by the window was a figure. 

You screeched. It wasn’t terribly loudly, but it made the figure twitch. You dove to the lamp by your beside, and quickly flicked it on. As the warm light filled the room, it flashed across his eyes, and the look alone made you gasp.

“Alastor?” You whispered. What the fuck was he doing in your room?

“Oh, ma bichette.” His voice was rougher than normal, something dark tinging it. 

“What the fuck are you doing in my room, Alastor?” Despite the yearning in the pit of your belly, and the aching you had suffered through for days, this was beyond not okay. Alarm bells were ringing in the back of your head, and you couldn’t fathom why he would break into your room.

“Oh, ma chérie. I have felt that burn for days, and in your absence it grew worse.” His head cocked, and his eyes flashed in the light again. His hair looked strange, as if it was nearly damp. Something in his smile was unhinged. Your chest tugged and ached, and you had to fight to focus through the tingling in your fingers. “I could smell you, and this ache, this hunger I have never known, only grew worse.”

He stood from the chair, and you leaned back on your hands, ready to twist and run if you needed to. His tall form drew your gaze up his shape. Your mind struggled to focus on any one thing, and it was hard to hold onto your anger, like this. 

“It is impolite, to come in like this, but I need. And I can tell you do too.” He walked towards you, and leaned over you. Your conflicting feelings about the situation caused you to hesitate. You leaned back, your back meeting your sheets, and your knees bent, as if your legs could stop him from advancing. You were right, in that they would not, because a moment later, he was crawling over you, forearms flat on either side of your head. “I will leave if you ask it of me, my dear. But I ask that you let me pleasure you,” he whispered to you. His sharp teeth clacked as he glanced over your form. “Let me relieve us of this.” 

One of his hands brushed some of your damp hair from your forehead, and the look on his face nearly flat lined you. He looked so strange. You couldn’t pinpoint what it was. His eyes were soft and gazing at you with some unknown feeling gleaming in them. His mouth was slanted, and his teeth glittering in the low light — Your train of thought halted as you realized he wasn’t smiling. He wasn’t smiling. What the fuck? What could have done that? Your eyes widened, and you could only stare as his thumb strayed to your lips and tugged at the bottom lip. 

“What do you say, my dear?” His gaze caught yours, and you could barely breathe.

“I hate you,” you said. “I hate you, especially for this.”

Something flickered across his face, but he didn’t pull away. “I know, mon cœur. You have many reasons, but this isn’t about that. I merely wish to ease our suffering. Your suffering.”

You wanted to cry. How fucking dare he? How dare he be so terrible on a daily basis, and yet so kind now? You wanted to scream. You could feel tears pricking at the corner of your eyes. It felt so unfair. But you were desperate, and he was offering to touch you, something he didn’t like to do. You knew his reputation, his dislike and disregard for things of a sexual nature, and yet here he was, crossing that boundary with you. (Something in you hurt, knowing that someone who hated him would be crossing that line with him, not someone who loved him or cared for him in any capacity. Maybe that was his Hell). 

“Fine. Fuck. Fine. We can fuck, just, I don’t know. No kissing. And I uh, I’d like to be on my belly.” You didn’t want to look at him. (You knew it was the thought of him that got you off so many times, but the idea of really seeing him, bothered you in a way you couldn’t explain). His face twitched, but he nodded. 

“I understand, ma bichette.” He pet your hair, again, and rubbed a thumb across your forehead, and he took a deep breath in. “Alright, dear, ass up.”

Your eyes widened, and you gulped down the little moisture in your mouth. With deep, steady breaths, you turned over, maneuvering on the bed with twitching limbs. You pressed your chest against the bed, aching at the tenderness in your breasts. Your hands held onto the sheets tightly, and your ears twitched and pressed flat against your skull. Your tail sprung straight, and you could hear Alastor let out a breathy chuckle. The sound of clasps and zippers coming undone made your tail wag, and you could feel one of his hands swat at the fluffy bundle of fur at the base of your spine. 

“Excited, dearest?” His voice carried in the quiet room. You couldn’t reply with words. You were so conflicted. You hated him acutely, and yet here you were. Something akin to giddiness was building in your chest. Your tail wagged harder. You hoped he didn’t take it as an answer. 

You could feel his warm body lean over yours a moment later. He was so much bigger than you. It was clear with how wide his shoulders were, and how his long legs cradled yours easily. One of his forearms settled beside yours, and his face rested in the crux of your shoulder. Sharp teeth lightly grazed the skin there, while hot breath fanned over your back. Soft touches on the swell of your ass, creeping over your hip, and then cupping your mound softly. (How could he be so soft in this, and yet so harsh? Your mind was buzzing so loud). 

“Stop thinking, mon trésor.” His finger grazed your clit, and your mind went quiet. Oh, you had forgotten what it was like being touched by someone else. 

His fingers moved with focus from there, and your legs twitched. You huffed, and closed your eyes, letting the sensations fall over you. Soon, with the gentle touches getting firmer, and more precise, your thighs were getting slick. Small sounds left your clenched teeth. (It felt good, but the petty part of you wanted to deprive him of the satisfaction of your noises). 

Alastor’s hand moved, and suddenly one finger was sinking into your heat. You groaned, and your back arched. 

“Oh, continuer ma chère. Je veux vous entendre.” His voice is coarse, but his finger curls, and you can’t even try and translate his whispered words. Your body trembles as he slips in a second finger. His thumb catches your clit, and your mind is a muddled mess. Your resolve to remain silent shatters, and your voice leaves your throat with no control. 

“Oh, Alastor,” you say. Your eyes flutter, and you clench down on his fingers. He grunts, and thrusts them a little harder. 

“When you are ready, my dear, come for me. And then we can move on to the main event.” His words attempt for nonchalance, but the way he struggles to get them out has you internally laughing. It stops when his erection, clear as day, rubs against your ass. Your hips twitch, pressing against him. “Oh,” he grunts. “Not yet dear.”

He twists his hand, and presses his chest against your back. His hand on the bed grabs at yours, and he intertwines your fingers. Teeth scratch at your shoulder, and the sudden flood of sensory information sends you over a line you didn’t know you were near. 

“Ah! Alastor,” You cry, and fire flicker up your core, and in your veins. You clench hard on his fingers, and his ever present static swells in response. (Although, with how much your hands and face tingle, it could be in your head). 

“Oh, yes.” His head settles against your shoulder blade, and his hand slowly pulls from your core. His wet fingers graze your hip with soft touches, and the hand holding yours rubs softly. “So good for me, dearest. My doe. So good.”

Your chest aches, and you want to cry. How fucking dare he hit the fucking nail on the head? Your breath hitches, and you have to work to not cry. 

“Oh, my dear.” He sits up, and the loss of his heat nearly makes your tears fall. You can’t fathom why you’re suddenly emotional, but it won’t waver in its intensity. His face settles in your sight line. “Are you alright, dear?” His lets go of yours, and cradles the back of your head. “Did I hurt you?”

You want to cry. Fuck him. Fuck this. How dare he. A tear slips before you can stop it, and his eyes narrow, something nearly concerned looking, crossing his expression. 

“No. Fuck you. I hate you,” you can barely finish the sentence before a hint of a sob leaves you. “I hate you. I hate you. Just fuck me already.”

His brows furrow, and the red of his eyes glints as he manages a nod. “If that’s what you desire,” he says, and then he’s behind you again. 

His hands are on your hips, and you hear skin against skin, and then he’s gently prodding you with the thick head of his cock. Alastor presses his cock into your soaking entrance slowly, and you worry about his size for a moment. But then, he’s pressing more firmly, and your thoughts halt. Electricity is shooting up your spine as he sinks into you. You internally thank him fro prepping you with his fingers, because he’s packing more than you would have expected. 

A sharp breath from him, and then his hips snap against yours. “Hah, sorry, dearest.” His breaths are rough, and you feel his hands squeeze your hips hard. “I had intended to go slower, but this is-” He bends over you again, and his chest is against your back, and he’s grasping at the sheet with you. “You’re so good, my dear. Better than I could have ever-”

His hips snap again, and your body jolts. You gasp as he presses his hips against your ass, pushing as far he can get. You feel so tight. Everything is hot, and all you can think about is him. Your tail brushes against his belly as he starts to set a rhythm. All the pain you had been in, and you were starting to feel like it might have been worth it. 

One of his hand wraps around your waist, over your breasts, and his hand settles on your neck. “Let me know if you wish me to stop,” he huffs, and then he’s squeezing your throat, just slightly. 

You mewl, and roll your hips against him. “Oh yes. Little doe. You are so good for me.” The way he says makes you moan again, and you huff as he squeezes your throat again. 

The pace he sets is just under what you need, and it makes you hate him more. Part of you knows what he’s waiting for, and you dread it. It’s within mere moments, though, that you cave, and open your mouth.

“Alastor, please,” you say. Your voice is weak, with how hard it is to take a full breath. Your body is pressed into the mattress, and with the stinging breaths you attempt to take with each thrust, and the light squeeze of his hand around your neck, you struggle. 

His hand loosens, as if he can read your mind. “What is it, dearest,” He asks. “Use your words. I know you can.”

You sigh, and nearly yell at him when his hips stop, giving you time to speak up. You roll your eyes, and nearly beg, “Please, just a little faster.”

You can hear the smile when he responds, “Of course, my doe,” and then his pace starts up again, faster, and just a tinge harder, than it had been before. Your toes curl and your hands grasp at the sheets. 

That heat was growing again, low in your belly. Your thighs were aching, and your back was as arched as you could get it. Sweat was dripping down your back, and all you could think is that you wanted more. 

“Alastor,” you moaned, and grunted back. As you clenched down on his cock, the heat grew, and you could feel tight wires wrapping around your core.

“Oh, ma biche, tu es si bonne pour moi.” His fingers found your clit again, and he rubbed with focus. “So good. You are so good.” He kept repeating it like a mantra, and you couldn’t handle it anymore. 

The wires snapped, and your body went white-hot. You couldn’t see, and you stopped being able to hear more than garbled syllables and the rhythmic thumping of the headboard against the wall. 

Your body went taut, and you clenched down. You could hear his voice grow sharp and ragged, but nothing more as he kept thrusting. 

When you finally settled enough to focus your hearing, you could hear Alastor muttering to himself. And then he went still. “Do you want me to leave my seed in you, or no?”

Your breath caught. Fuck, you hadn’t thought about that. Without thinking too much, you whispered, “In.” 

You watch one of his hands tighten on the bed, sharp claws piercing the fabric. (you’d make him replace it for sure, jerk). Without much warning, he starts his pace again, his thrusts nearly brutal. His grunts and murmuring start up again, and it’s only moments before you feel him twitch, and then heat filling you. He curls around you, head pressed between your shoulder blades. 

You stay sitting like that for a few minutes, before he slowly extricates himself from around you and pulls his cock from your slick entrance. When he returns with a warm, damp rag and cleans you up, you refuse to make eye contact. When he picks up the dirty sheets, and bring you clean ones, you stare at the floor. It’s when he brings you water, and tucks you into bed, you finally look up at him.

“I hate you,” you tell him. 

His face is neutral, and he nods. “I know.”

“This changes nothing,” you say. 

And he nods, letting his normal smile pop back on his face. “I know.”

Hi, please let me know how this was? I'm really awkward about this kind of stuff, and it makes me a tiny bit anxious. Anyways! I hope you liked it. Should I add an 18+ taglist? Also, I have a few asks and stuff that will be posted soon. House hunting has been going terribly. The market is awful, and I am just sad :(

#alastor x reader #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel #alastor #bun's short fics #alastor fanfiction #alastor x you #hazbin hotel fanfiction #fanfic #alastor x reader smut #smut #hazbin hotel smut

[formulas-bitch]

Come Back Home - Charles leclerc X leclercsibling/reader

4.9k words

The sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows across the concrete floor of the garage. It was always like this, Charles thought, when his older sister, Emily, returned home from her latest tour in the army. There was a certain air of anticipation, of excitement, that seemed to fill the room, as if the very walls themselves were vibrating with the energy of her presence. Even the old, rusty tools hanging on the walls appeared to glisten under her watchful gaze, as if they too were proud to be a part of her story.

Charles could feel his heart race with a mixture of nerves and joy as he watched Emily walk towards him. Her uniform was spotless, her posture straight and tall, her hair tied back in a tight bun that emphasized her sharp features. Her eyes, a deep shade of blue that he had inherited, sparkled with an unmistakable twinkle of pride. She held out her hand to him, and without a second thought, Charles took it, feeling the warmth and strength of her grip.

"You look great, Emily!" he exclaimed, unable to hide his grin. "I can't believe you're finally home!"

Emily smiled warmly at her little brother. "I missed you too, Charles. I've been thinking about that race of yours. You know, if you want, I could give you a few pointers. I mean, I might be a bit out of practice, but I've got some experience under my belt."

Charles' eyes widened in excitement. "Really?" he asked, barely able to contain his enthusiasm. "That would be amazing! I've been practicing a lot, but it's always better when someone who's been there can help you."

Emily nodded, her expression softening. "Of course, little brother. I remember when you were just a kid, always tagging along with me to the track. I never imagined you'd grow up to be such a talented driver." She placed a hand on his shoulder, giving it a squeeze. "We'll make a great team, you and me."

As they walked out of the garage and into the warm evening air, Emily glanced over at the dusty old trophy case by the side of the house. There, amidst the faded ribbons and tarnished medals, were a few shining reminders of her own racing days. She'd never won anything quite as impressive as the prize Charles was vying for, but she knew that didn't matter. Her pride in her little brother's accomplishments far outweighed any lingering feelings of envy or regret.

They made their way to the track, the familiar smell of hot rubber and burning fuel filling their noses. Emily's eyes scanned the course, analyzing the turns and the jumps, the potential hazards and the ideal lines. She'd spent so much time here, honing her skills, pushing herself to the limit. Now, standing here beside her brother, she realized that it had all been worth it.

"So," Emily said, as they walked along the fence, "tell me about your competition. Anyone I should keep an eye out for?"

Charles nodded, his expression a mix of determination and nerves. "Well, there's this one kid, Max, who's been winning everything lately. He's really good, but I think I can beat him. I've been practicing really hard, and I've got you to help me now." He glanced sideways at Emily, a hopeful smile playing on his lips.

Emily placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "I believe in you, Charles," she said, her voice steady and calm. "I know you can do this. And even if you don't win, remember that it's about having fun and challenging yourself. That's what matters most." She gave him a wink, trying to ease some of the pressure he was feeling.

As they continued to walk along the fence, they came across a familiar-looking car, its paintjob faded and its tires worn thin. Emily recognized it immediately as Max's car, the one that had given her brother so much trouble during practice. "Hmm," she mused, "it looks like your competition could use a little help too. Maybe I could take a look at his car before the race and see if there's anything we can do to give you an edge."

Charles' eyes widened in surprise. "Really?" he asked, unable to hide his excitement. "That would be amazing! I mean, I don't want to take advantage or anything…"

Emily smiled reassuringly. "Don't worry about it, Charles. It's not about taking advantage. We're here to help each other out, remember? Besides, if we can help Max improve his car, it'll only make the race that much more interesting." She glanced over at the car, her eyes assessing its condition. "Let's take a look at it, shall we?"

Together, they approached Max's car, and Emily began to inspect it carefully. She checked the tire pressure, the alignment, and even took a look under the hood. After a few minutes of examination, she pulled out a rag and began to wipe away some of the grime from the engine. "This car has a lot of potential," she said to Charles, "but it's not being used to its fullest. If I were you, I'd focus on these few areas." She pointed to a worn-out suspension and a faulty spark plug. "With some TLC and a few simple adjustments, this car could be unstoppable."

Charles nodded, his eyes shining with determination. "Thanks, Emily. You don't know what this means to me." He paused, his expression growing more serious. "Listen, I've been thinking… I know you're my big sister and all, but what if we were to team up? I mean, not just for this race, but for future ones too? We could be unbeatable together."

Emily considered his words carefully. She had always been close to her little brother, but the idea of actually racing alongside him had never crossed her mind. It was an intriguing prospect, but she wasn't sure if it was the right thing to do. "It's a nice idea, Charles," she said finally, "but you need to remember that we're still competing against each other today. I can't help you win the race if it means losing it myself. and also i never know when i will be called back to base and go on tour again."

Charles nodded, understanding her dilemma. "I get it," he said, his voice softening. "But maybe…maybe we could just see how today goes, and then talk about it afterwards? You know, if we both do well and have fun, who knows what could happen?" He flashed her a hopeful smile.

Emily smiled back, feeling a warmth spread through her chest. "Okay," she agreed, surprised by how much she wanted to make this work. "We'll see how it goes. And even if we don't end up teaming up, I promise I'll always be your biggest fan, no matter what."

As they continued to walk around the car, Emily couldn't help but feel a sense of camaraderie with her brother. They had always been close, but this newfound understanding and trust was something special. She could tell that Charles felt the same way, his movements more confident and his posture more erect.

The race finally began, and both Emily and Charles took their places at the starting line. Their engines revved in unison, and the air was filled with the smell of burning rubber and hot metal. As the flag dropped, they roared forward, their tires squealing against the pavement.

Emily and Charles stayed close together, watching each other's every move. They weaved in and out of traffic, avoiding potholes and other obstacles with ease. They could feel the tension between them, a mixture of determination and sibling rivalry. But they also felt a newfound respect for each other, a mutual understanding that they were in this together.

As they raced past the halfway mark, Emily began to pull ahead slightly. She glanced back at Charles, hoping he was doing alright, but didn't want to lose focus on the track. Suddenly, she heard a loud pop from his engine, and saw him slowing down. "Charles!" she shouted over the radio. "What's wrong?"

Charles gritted his teeth as he fought to keep the car under control. "I think I blew a tire," he replied, his voice strained. "I'm going to pull over and see if I can fix it."

Emily felt a pang of guilt as she watched her brother struggle. She knew how much this race meant to him, and she didn't want to be the reason he lost. She considered stopping as well, but she didn't want to give up her lead. Instead, she radioed back, "Don't worry about it, Charles. Just focus on getting the car fixed. I'll keep an eye on things until you're back."

As she continued to race, Emily couldn't help but keep glancing back over her shoulder. Each time she looked, she could see Charles frantically working on his car, trying to get it back up and running. The delay gave her a slight lead, but she knew it wouldn't last forever. She had to keep pushing if she wanted to win this race.

The track twisted and turned, winding its way through the lush greenery of the countryside. Emily expertly navigated the turns, her tires squealing against the pavement as she forced them to break traction. She could feel the engine beneath her, purring contentedly despite the recent setback. She knew that if she could just make it to the finish line, she had a good chance of winning.

In the distance, she could see Charles' car slowly making its way back onto the track. His progress was steady, but it was clear that he was struggling to keep up with her pace. Still, she couldn't help but feel a surge of pride watching him battle his way back into the race.

The finish line came into view, and Emily redoubled her efforts, pushing her car to its limits. She knew that she had to maintain her lead if she wanted to win. The stands were packed with spectators, their cheers echoing across the track as they urged her on. She could feel the heat of the sun beating down on her helmet, but she refused to let it distract her.

Behind her, Charles was gaining ground steadily, his car running more smoothly now that he had fixed the tire. The determination in his eyes was unmistakable as he closed in on her, inching closer with each passing second. Emily could feel her heart racing, a mixture of fear and excitement coursing through her veins.

As they neared the finish line, the cheers from the crowd grew louder, their voices a deafening roar that seemed to envelop the entire world. Emily glanced over at Charles, her heart in her throat as she wondered if she would manage to hold on. With a final burst of speed, she crossed the finish line, her tires squealing in protest as she slid sideways. She looked up to see Charles just inches behind her, his face contorted in a grimace of determination.

The race officials waved their checkered flags, signaling the end of the race. Emily slowly pulled her car to a stop, her heart still racing, her muscles aching from the effort. She climbed out of the car, her helmet in her hands, and took a deep breath. She glanced around, searching for her brother, and saw him emerge from his car a few feet away. His face was flushed with exertion and emotion, and there was a mixture of pride and disappointment in his eyes.

They met each other halfway, clasping hands in a gesture of camaraderie and understanding. "I'm sorry, Charles," Emily said, her voice hoarse from shouting over the engine. "I didn't mean to cause you to blow your tire."

Charles smiled, his expression softening. "It's alright, sis. You didn't do it on purpose. Besides, you helped me realize that I can still keep up with you." He glanced at the track, a distant look in his eyes. "I'm just sorry I couldn't pull ahead this time."

The two of them stood there for a moment, lost in their thoughts. The sound of the crowd slowly faded away, replaced by the gentle rustle of the leaves in the trees and the occasional hushed voice. Emily reached up and adjusted her helmet, feeling the sweat beading on her forehead. She knew that despite their sibling rivalry, she and Charles were a team. They always had been. all of a sudden Emily hears her phone ringing and sees it is her captain from the army calling.

"Sorry about that, Charles. I'd better take this. It's probably about my orders or something." Emily says, already walking a few steps away from her brother. She answers the call, pressing the phone against her ear. "Hello, Captain. What's up?"

There's a brief pause on the other end of the line before the captain replies, his voice grave. "I'm afraid I have some news, Emily. Your unit has received orders for a deployment. You're to report to base immediately for processing." Emily feels a chill run down her spine. "But, I thought… I mean, I was supposed to be here for the rest of the season. What about my brother's race?"

The captain hesitates for a moment. "I'm sorry, Emily, but these orders are top priority. You need to put your training first. We'll work something out with your brother's race, but for now, you need to focus on getting to base." He gives her the details of where to go and when, and then hangs up the phone.

Emily feels a mixture of shock, fear, and guilt wash over her. She glances over at Charles, who is watching her with a concerned expression. "I've got to go, Charles," she says, her voice barely audible. "The army's sending me into deployment." She takes a deep breath and tries to steady her racing heart.

Charles's face falls, and he steps forward to wrap an arm around her shoulders. "It's alright, Em. We'll get through this together. You're not going alone." He pauses, looking at her seriously. "I'll race for both of us now. I promise."

Emily looks up at him, tears welling in her eyes. She knows he's right; they've always been there for each other. "Thank you, Charles. I love you." She returns his hug, feeling the familiar weight of his arm across her shoulders.

Together, they walk back to their pit area, the sound of their footsteps echoing through the empty space. Emily can't help but feel a sense of loss, not just for herself, but for Charles as well. She knows that this will change everything for them.

As they approach their cars, they see their mom and siblings waiting for them, concern etched on their faces. Emily's older brother puts his arm around their mother's shoulders, offering what little comfort he can. Charles's mother reaches out to him, her hand trembling as she wipes away a tear.

The two of them get into their cars, Charles taking the lead as they pull out of the parking lot. Emily looks over at him, noticing the determination in his eyes as he focuses on the road ahead. She can tell that he's not just racing for himself anymore; he's racing for her too.

Their mother and siblings follow close behind, their mother's tears silent but steady as she watches her two children drive away. Emily's brother drives a bit more slowly, occasionally glancing into the rearview mirror to check on his sister.

The race track stretches out before them, the sun dipping lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the track. Charles takes a deep breath and focuses on the task at hand. He shifts gears, pressing his foot harder against the accelerator as he speeds up, his car whipping around the turns with precision. Emily watches him from the passenger seat, a mixture of awe and pride filling her heart.

In the car behind them, their siblings talk quietly among themselves, trying to distract their mother from the tension of the moment. They know that this race is more than just a race for Charles; it's a way for him to honor his sister's sacrifice and to show the world what they can achieve together.

Their mother, though quiet, is fiercely proud of both of her children. She wipes her eyes and takes a deep breath, trying to maintain her composure. She remembers the day Emily left for basic training, how proud she was to see her daughter stand tall and strong. And now, she watches Charles race with the same mix of awe and pride.

and now she has to watch her only daughter be shipped out again and prays she make to back home safe.

Emily leans forward in her seat, her knuckles white as she grips the dashboard. She can feel the tension in her body, the adrenaline coursing through her veins. She's not the one driving, but she feels like she is. Every move Charles makes, every decision he makes behind the wheel, feels personal to her. She can't help but wonder if this is how he feels when he's on the track with her.

Their mother glances up at the sky, watching the shadows grow longer. She wonders if Emily is thinking of her at this moment, if she can see the sky the same way. Perhaps they're both looking up at the same stars, hoping that one day they'll be able to watch Charles race together again.

Charles speeds past the finish line, his car screeching to a halt as he crosses it. He jumps out of the car, his heart racing and his lungs burning. His eyes dart around, searching for his family in the stands. their brothers are already there, clapping and cheering, their mother close behind. They spot Charles and their faces light up, relief and pride washing over them.

Emily watches from the pit area, her heart in her throat. She knows Charles did his best, and that's all she could have ever asked for. As he waves to them, she waves back, feeling a sense of accomplishment and love wash over her. Their mother stands up, wiping away a tear, and gestures for them to join her. They hurry over, their siblings forming a protective circle around them.

Their mother takes Emily's hand in hers, her grip firm and reassuring. "I'm so proud of both of you," she says, her voice cracking. "You did her proud, Charles. And you, Emily, you've been his strength when he needed it most. You've both shown such courage and resilience."

Charles squeezes his sister's shoulder, feeling the weight of their mother's words. "Thanks, Mom. And Em, you have no idea how much I appreciate everything you've done. You've been my rock, my inspiration. I couldn't have done it without you."

emily wipes her eyes as she pulls her mother and brothers in a hug.

" now lets get out of here and grab some dinner before i have to report back to base"

Their mother smiles through her tears, nodding in agreement. "Of course. We'll celebrate tonight, just like you wanted." She turns to her oldest son. "Arthur , why don't you and Emily go with Charles to pick up some food? We'll head straight home and get everything ready?."

Arthur nods, stepping forward. "Sounds good, Mom. We'll be back in a jiffy." He turns to Emily, offering her his arm. "Shall we?" They begin to walk towards Charles' car, a light breeze rustling through the trees behind them.

Charles pulls up to a local food truck park, parking his car between two brightly colored vehicles. The aroma of various cuisines fills the air, making their stomachs rumble in anticipation. "So, Em, what do you feel like getting?" he asks, trying to keep the excitement out of his voice.

Emily shrugs, her mind already wandering to the dinner table at home with their family. "I'm not really sure. Whatever sounds good to you, I guess."

Charles nods, glancing at the menu board above the truck. "Hmm, I'm in the mood for some Mexican tonight. How does that sound? Chicken tacos, maybe some quesadillas?"

Emily smiles, feeling her stomach growl in agreement. "That sounds delicious. I'm sure Mom would love some help with the dinner too."

They step up to the window, watching as the friendly food truck owner takes their order. As they wait for the food, they lean against the car, enjoying the warm evening air. "Hey, Charles, I wanted to thank you again for letting me come with you today. I know it's not easy for you, being away from everything and everyone back home."

Charles shrugs, trying to downplay his emotions. "Hey, it's fine. I'm glad you're here. I'd rather have you by my side than anyone else. Besides, it helps me remember what I'm fighting for." He pauses, looking at Emily seriously.

Their food arrives, they grab it and start driving home.

"I'm sure you'll make a great soldier when you're back in the field," Enzo says, taking a bite of his quesadilla. "I mean, you're already so strong and brave. And I know Dad is so proud of you and remember he is always watching you em"

Emily feels a lump in her throat as she listens to Enzo. She knows he's right; their father is always watching over them, and she wants to make him proud. She takes a bite of her taco, savoring the flavors and the warmth it brings to her insides. As they continue to eat, she can't help but feel a sense of pride and love for her family. They've been through so much together, and she knows they'll always be there for each other.

as soon as they finish their dinner Emily stands up from the table

and hugs her mother and brothers tightly before leaving to go back to base. she kisses her mother on the cheek and tells her that she loves her. she walks with Charles to his car and they drive off in silence. as they pull up to the gate, Charles turns to Emily and says, "you know, em, you're not just my sister. you're my best friend. and i want you to know that I'm always here for you, no matter what. if you ever need someone to talk to, or just want to hang out, you know where to find me." Emily smiles at him through her tears and says, "thank you, Charles. i feel the same way about you. and I'm always here for you, too. little brother. take care of everyone for me ok, and make sure to take care of your self too alright?"

He nods, unable to speak past the lump in his throat. They get out of the car and hug tightly once more before Charles heads back to his car. Emily watches him go, wiping away the tears that fall silently down her cheeks. Even though they're apart now, she knows that they'll always be connected.

As she walks towards the base, she can't help but feel a sense of determination growing inside her. She's going to make it through this, for her family, for Charles, and for their father who is always watching over them. She takes a deep breath, squaring her shoulders, and marches forward with renewed purpose.

Emily arrives at her barracks, dropping her duffel bag onto her bunk with a sigh. The familiar sounds of soldiers going about their duties fill the air, but she hardly notices them as she lies down on her bed, staring up at the ceiling. .

The days blur together in a haze of training exercises and long nights. Emily throws herself into her work, determined to prove herself as a soldier and make her father proud. But even as she pushes herself to the limit, she can't shake the feeling that she's missing something important. Something that was once a constant presence in her life.

She tries to stay in touch with Charles as much as possible, sending him letters and care packages whenever she can. In return, he sends her stories about their mother and brothers back home, about their father's garden and the new puppy they've adopted. Their conversations are brief but filled with love and support.

soon Emily is off to Iraq to start her tour.

The days in Iraq are long and brutal. The heat is relentless, and the dust seems to get into everything. Emily spends most of her time patrolling the streets, keeping an eye out for danger. At night, she huddles in her tent, trying to sleep amidst the constant hum of generators and the occasional gunfire.

She finds solace in the letters from Charles and her family back home. Their words are a lifeline, reminding her of the love and support that she has waiting for her when this is all over. In one particularly heartfelt letter, Charles tells her about a time when they were kids and they would go fishing with their father. They would spend hours by the riverbank, laughing and telling stories, and their father would always cook up their catch for dinner. Reading this, Emily feels a pang of longing for those simpler times.

As the weeks turn into months, Emily begins to see the impact of her service on those around her. She meets soldiers who have been through multiple tours, their eyes haunted by the memories of what they've seen and done. She tries to be strong for them, to be the steady presence that they can rely on, but sometimes she feels so young and inexperienced. She wishes she could talk to her father about it, but she knows he's not here anymore.

One day, as she's sitting in the makeshift chapel, writing a letter to Charles, she notices a familiar face in the corner. It's Sergeant Johnson, the veteran who has been giving her extra training. Something in his eyes tells her that he understands what she's going through, and without a word, he comes over and sits beside her. They sit in silence for a while, listening to the chaplain's voice as he reads from a worn book. Finally, Emily musters the courage to speak.

"Sergeant Johnson," she begins, "I don't know why you're even talking to me. I'm just a rookie, and I don't know half of what you've been through." He looks at her kindly, his eyes creased at the corners from a lifetime of smiling and frowning.

"Ah, Emily, you're not a rookie. You've been here, through this, just as much as anyone else. You're just new to it. And that's the important thing. You're here now, you're doing your job, and you're making a difference. You don't need to have been through ten tours to know that." He pauses, looking out the window at the dusty, barren landscape beyond. "Look, Emily, I've seen a lot of people come and go through here. Some of them…they just couldn't handle it. They couldn't find their footing. But you're different. You're strong. You've got a good head on your shoulders. and you have lead many tour to successes "

" So and with that me and the board have seen all the hard work and dedication you have put after each and every tour that we have decided to announce you as first lieutenant"

"Wait, what?!" Emily exclaims, her eyes widening in surprise. "But I'm not even halfway through my tour!"

Sergeant Johnson chuckles. "Ah, you're a quick learner, that's for sure. But you've earned it, Emily. You've earned it ten times over. And I can't think of anyone I'd rather have by my side as my second-in-command." He puts a hand on her shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "Now, let's go tell the others. They're going to be just as pleased as I am."

As they walk back to their base, Emily feels a strange mix of emotions coursing through her. Excitement, of course, but also a deep sense of responsibility. She knows that she still has a long way to go, and that there are countless challenges yet to face. But with Sergeant Johnson's guidance and the support of her new family here in the army, she knows that she can make it through.

The news of her promotion spreads like wildfire through the base, and the looks of surprise and admiration on her fellow soldiers' faces are enough to make her heart swell with pride. She spends the rest of the day sharing stories and laughter with them, feeling more a part of this unit than she ever thought possible.

Emily is quick to write a letter to her family telling them of her promotion and how she is doing.

As the days turn into weeks, Emily finds herself growing more comfortable in her new role as first lieutenant. She spends countless hours planning missions and training exercises, pouring her heart and soul into making sure that her soldiers are prepared for anything they might face. Her father's words echo in her mind: "A good leader isn't born, Emily. They're made." And so, she strives to be the best leader she can be, learning from her mistakes and always seeking the counsel of Sergeant Johnson when she needs it.

The landscape around them slowly begins to change as the seasons pass. The once barren earth turns green with life, and the skies grow heavy with the promise of rain. Even in the midst of war, there is beauty to be found, and Emily takes solace in the small moments of peace that these changes bring. She finds herself thinking more and more about her family back home, and the day when she'll finally be able to return to them.

anyone a part two maybe????

#charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc imagines #charles leclerc one shot #cl16 imagine #cl16 x reader #cl16 x y/n #f1 blurb #f1 x reader #charles leclerc #leclerc siblings #army #family leclerc

[natt-writes]

~5 Writing tips that actually help~

(These tips are meant for fiction books, especially fantasy. so if you’re writing nonfiction a decent amount of these won’t apply to you. Sorry!)

Find your writing voice.

one of the biggest issues I find in things written by beginners is a lack of emotional connection with the narration. Sure the story can be great, but without personality, without looks into the characters minds, without little quips here and there, it really isn’t all that interesting. Something that really helped me to realize this was a book called the tragical tale of birdie bloom. It’s a kids book but it honestly has such a good narrator (and storyline tbh) that you can look past the little kiddy-ness. I recommend you check the book out if you’re looking for some inspiration. I will be making a post about how to develop your writing and character voices soon so if you want some extra help with that, stay tuned!

2. Get to know your characters.

I know that you all probably already know this, but characters are one of, if not the most important part of a book. Readers don’t want to read about a flat, boring character who just feels like a vessel for the horrifying amount of trauma you add to your story. They want to read about people that feel real, people with flaws and feelings and hobbies and backstories. When I wanted to develop my characters I started going through the drafts, the plot outlines, everything and seeing what the characters did, said, felt. Then I took their basic backstory and started lining things up. Like if a character decided to get into a fight with another character, I would see what had happened to them that might have caused this. Maybe they had been abused as a child and thought that any disagreement meant they had to fight for their life. Maybe this person reminded them of a former enemy. After you start to figure out what connects the characters to the big plot points, you can then start to develop subtle things. You could start writing something, realize this situation would have triggered a character, and then drop subtle hints towards them feeling uncomfortable. Go nuts with it, after all you can never over-analyze a character.

3. Describe things uniquely.

Descriptions are what help us to understand what’s going on in a scene. They can tell us about the tasty drink a character is enjoying, the slick dress that someone is wearing or the way a characters muscles tense when a certain someone enters the room. But sometimes descriptions a fall a bit flat and that can ruin the experience for the reader. Something I always try to remember is to try and come up with new words describe something, for example; “her eyes were a beautiful shade of brown.” Is a very basic and over used description, instead you could try; “her eyes sparkled as she sat across from me, gleaming a rich chocolate shade as the light from the candles reflected off of them”. This is a much stronger sentence as it gives both environment hits and a description of the eyes, all while staying away from overused terms. I often see this theme in stories written by beginners, things being described in a very straight forward manner. And of course this is ok once in a while, especially if this isn’t a very important topic, but it still sounds better when you branch away from that basic sentence structure. I always like to use descriptive sentences to push things forward. Here is another example; “she was wearing a fluffy green dress with lots of lace. She walked over to the door and opened it.” Vs “the lacy trim of her green dress dragged on the floor as she walked towards the door. She smiled wide as she held it open, inviting her guests into the building.” Making strong sentences is very important, so please toy around with different words, structures, etc, until the sentence fits the type of book you’re trying to write.

4. Make trauma realistic.

Yes, even if you’re writing a fantasy book, characters experiences have to be realistic. Something that always gets on my nerves is when writers come up with a good idea for some trauma, so they just give to a character, even when it doesn’t suit them at all. if you are going to give a character trauma you need to explain it, set it up so it actually fits into their character arc, then have the character actually be affected by it. They can’t just randomly be like “I got shot by a dude.” And that’s it if there is no way that character could have gotten shot given their life experiences. Also if you want a character to be relatively unaffected after an extremely traumatic event you have to plan it out so that they have a specific and consistent trauma response that makes them not react shortly after an event like that. Characters are supposed to be like people, and no two people react to trauma the same way, so you do have some leeway if necessary, but people also don’t just stay the same after something horrible happens, they are affected by it and that has to be accurately portrayed. This does get easier the more you get to know the characters though, as soon you will know how they react to things and how to plan trauma that suits them.

5. Make a plot outline.

I cannot stress this enough, make a plot outline. Making a plot outline literally saved my book, and they are really easy to make! I recommend you download a spreadsheet app like XL spreadsheets or Apple numbers but you could even use google docs if you want. You want to put in all the chapters and then give each chapter at least six spots to write scenes. Add a spot for adding the main event of the chapter/a summery of what you have to write. This will help you to understand what you have to write for that chapter and how it fits into the next chapter. After that you start to fill all the scene boxes in with your plot information. Having a plot outline is great as it can be super vague and messy, but still hold all your ideas. It also helps to prevent unnecessary rewrites later, as you can just edit the plot outline before you start writing the first draft. You can even make a plot outline after you’ve started writing your book. That’s what I did and I promise, it still is very helpful. (Example of a plot outline below.)

#writers on tumblr #writing #novel writing #writing tips #tips #writer stuff #writer #writeblr #writing prompts #writer problems #writers and poets #writerscommunity #female writers #writing prompt #fantasy novel #fantasy #whump #writer things #writerscreed #ao3 writer #whump ideas #lgbtq #lgbtq books

[lunajay33]

Been Waiting🩶

Summary: You are Maggie’s little sister and since meeting Carl on the farm you’ve been pinning after him for years until eventually things fall into place after Negan nearly tears you apart

Pairing: Carl Grimes x f!reader

•Masterlist•

Laying in the infirmary barely a shell of a human, the pain that coursed through you everytime you moved, arm shattered, ribs bruised, face busted and blue, fingers broken

After trying to stop Negan from chopping off Carls arm he had one of his goons beat you to a pulp, but you’d do it again and again and again if that meant you could save Carl from another traumatic experience

“Hey junebug how’re ya feeling?” Maggie asked as she sat on the side of your bed

“Thirsty” you groaned with a dry throat

She took the glass from the bedside table and raised it to your both

“Thanks” you said as she sat the cup back down

“Why’d ya do it? You could’ve just waited until Negan stopped, he wasn’t going to go through with it”

“How was I suppose to know that Maggie after what he did to Abraham and…….and Glenn, I couldn’t see that happen to Carl, I would die without Carl”

“You really are head over heels for him aren’t you” she said with a faint smile

“Maggie you know I do, have you seen him around is he okay?”

“He seems fine maybe still a bit shaken”

“Can you tell him…..when he’s free that I wanna see him, he hasn’t stopped by yet, gets pretty lonely here laying in bed all day”

“Okay sis, get some more rest” she said as she placed a kiss on the top of your head before leaving the infirmary

The pain over took you making your head spin so you got some more rest hoping to be a bit better when you woke up

Hours later a knock shock you out of your sleep

“Come in” you called out groggy

Carl came in with a faint smile as he sat on the bed next to you

“Maggie said you wanted to see me”

“Where have you been Grimes?”

“Sorry I’ve just been trying to distract myself”

“I missed you”

“I missed you too, I’m sorry this happened to you because of me” he said rubbing his hand up and down your leg

“It’s not your fault Carl, I’d do anything to save you”

“But why I don’t understand”

“Carl you big idiot, I love you I always have”

“Really? Me?”

“Come on you can’t be that blind, no offense, but everyone seems to know except you”

“I love you too, and I guess I never made a move because if I had you and I mean you were mine that if I lost you it would maybe hurt less if we were never together but after what happened I don’t wanna ignore this anymore”

“I love you Carl”

“I love you too”

Taglist: @carlsdarling

#twd fanfiction #carl grimes series #carl grimes x y/n #carl grimes fluff #carl grimes x reader #carl grimes smut #carl grimes fic #carl grimes imagine #carl grimes fanfiction #twd carl #carl grimes #carl grimes x you #twd #the walking dead carl

[princessoflalaland]

so y'all know the sick man from lady k and the sick man? well, i've only read that thing one time, and im not afraid to admit how unhealthily infatuated i am with lady k's man. he's literlaly my favorite flavor of man: older, kind of a deadbeat with a good heart, can and literally wil fuck you from sun up to sun down, built like a greek god, he. is. PACKIN, looks half dead, a genuine sweetheart with his lover's best interest in mind. i think his name is tostumoto yuushi, and lemme just say that i would gladly, GLADLY, take lady k's place if it means i get to breathe that man's air for even a second.

just imagine you've known tostumoto yuushi since maybe high school, having even dated him at one point. you two experimented with your bodies, tested the waters of intimacy because who better to do that with than someone you love. adversely though, life managed to drift you two apart for a few years. when you two reconnect it's a dingy casino. by that time, he's already jumped from job to job, left a recent custodian gig, and gambled most of his savings. he's on the verge of eviction and feels like he's at his lowest. the only thing he truly feels is his undying sex drive, which isn't much in the face of everything. the flame between you two rekindles as quickly as it did all those years ago, and before you know it, you're back at your apartment with his tired face nestled between your thighs.

"forgot how good you tasted, baby, fuck.." he rasps, his tongue dragging hastily over your clit, making your legs quiver and close around his head. your fingers yank at his dark hair, incoherent babbles falling from your moist lips. "yuushi," you mewl helplessly, your sensitive core constantly leaking your essence into his greedy mouth. "'m gonna cum again, s-slow down, nghhn.." he leers up at you, his eyes dark pools of lust burning holes into you. "do it, cum in my fuckin mouth."

and you do. the pressure in your gut is far more intense than what it usually is, and as you achieve your third orgasm of the night, you squirt onto yuushi's face, leaving him glistening with your release. he licks whatever landed on his lip and rises so that his large body is hovering over where yours lays sprawled on the couch, the look in his eyes makes your core pulse. "c'mon, be a good girl and clean me up."

i'm probably gonna write something abt him one of these days :')

#adding the photos made me realize i would do anything for this man holy shite #lady k and the sick man #princessdelusionsᡣ𐭩 #anime smut #the sick man x reader #im weak for the half dead older men out there i swear #tostumoto yuushi x reader #lady k and the sick man x reader #tostumoto yuushi smut #lady k and the sick man imagines #a full blown fic is on the way #tostumoto yuushi imagine

[comfortless]

ur konig fics heal me thank you my morning is better :DD

anww, i had a bit of a question! i wasnt sure if u have already answered this question, but how would konig react if he finds out his darling is somehow affiliated in the same field he's in? whether that be a medic or smth else etc etc aside from that, i love ur fics c:

thank you, beloved! ^^ i did a bit here!

but to expand on that a little, i think you may get more leeway with him being a medic.

Instead of being pestered to return home (his home), you may just get this brute extending a hand to help you out. Not that he’s got a lick of medical training. He can patch a wound with a makeshift tourniquet in the midst of some firefight, knows well enough not to fall asleep when he’s been banged up a bit too much, but assisting you with other people is a very large, pronounced “No.”

Soothe him by letting him hover a bit and watch you work. He’s not supposed to be in here, but it’s nice having some wolf in sheep’s skin nearby to pass you the gauze from across the room. So long as he isn’t lifting or touching the poor injured souls in your care, it shouldn’t be much of a problem, right? No one dares to peep any criticism for your work when you’ve got a smitten Goliath nearby, anyway.

Except, he does get a bit jealous here. You’re so gentle with the operators in your care, cooing to them and tending to their every need like a servant rather than the lovely angel that you are to him. He almost wishes that he weren’t so good at what he does, just to experience that once. Or twice. Or for a lifetime. Whatever time you’re willing to give to him, he will take it.

Maybe he gets a bit reckless, gives himself a minor injury by pulling something in the midst of lifting weights. König doesn’t do that; when he fucks up, he deals with it himself, so it’s more than a little strange to see him crossing into the room with an actual injury. It won’t put him out for long, just enough time to experience your gentle hands over him, see that caring look in your eye directed toward him instead of one of these bastards that doesn’t truly appreciate you, not the way that he does at least.

He misconstrues you just doing your job as an outright declaration that what he feels is mutual, and maybe it is, because the care that you give to him is different. You laugh, not at him or his injury, but out of pure mirth when you ask who’s going to offer you ibuprofen instead of gauze now. Your touch is lingering, and you playfully shove the shoulder that hasn’t been wounded when he tells you a kiss would cure him better than any medicine.

His wayward courtship comes with every nick or scrape he “suffers”. The comments grow increasingly strange the moment you’re on your knees tending to the tiniest bruise you’ve ever seen on a man. You both know it’s absolutely nothing, that all of this is absurd and silly and he should just make some sort of move already. Except, that when he does tell you this scene would be so much better in his room, you’re quick to shush him and request that he leave.

… But you don’t stay angry with him for long.

Your favorite soldier always returns to you.

The next time with a clumsily plucked, yellow wildflower and a stare that borders on unnerving when he thrusts the dainty thing into your face; a tight-lipped apology follows when he tells you that he’s not sure what came over him, you’re just so pretty, and that he thinks about you so often it’s making him more than a little crazy.

The time after that with food from a restaurant away from base and another vague profession of love.

And again, with some pretty necklace in tow that he claims used to belong to his mother. König is more intense than ever when he strings the jewelry around your throat with shaking hands, dips his head down to huff into your ear as an arm snakes around your waist to keep you trapped there against him.

“Is that enough?” is the growl that follows, the warmth of his breath and the sheer intensity in his voice causing every hair at the back of your neck to stand on end.

“For what…?” And you could almost pray he’s not truly dumb enough to attempt to lure you into his bed for a string of jewelry his mother trusted him with.

“To make you like me.”

To anticipate something that sounds so innocent from a man who kills for a living is unheard of. You already suspected after his ridiculous comment about a kiss, already knew from the start with all of the trinkets he’s fetched for you, but the thought that he didn’t know already… poor thing.

So, you tell him that you already do, that you have for a while, it’s just that maybe suggesting you blow him before offering a proper date is more than a little inappropriate. Not that having your overgrown suitor chasing your heels is any less.

[lestappenforever]

okay so I wanna voice my opinion bc I feel your blog as the only safe space where I can do that.

regarding Newey leaving the team: I absolutely agree on not seeing him returning to McLaren. I don't think this team at the moment can provide to Newey both sufficient salary and leeway. McLaren are coming back from a slump and I think Newey would be interested in working with those who have come out of that more or less reliably or have long established themselves as a top team. He does not have time to rebuild the team which fell. McLaren needs time, though they are making great progress.

going to Aston Martin: maybe, especially from 2026 as they are switching to Honda engines and Newey already has experience and connections with this company and their supplies from his time in Red Bull. also in the team there is Alonso, which could interest Newey, but most likely this is the last contract for Fernando, and therefore there won't be long years of joint work. further to work with the team in which one of the pilots absolutely cannot realize the potential of the car (side-eye to Stroll) is a waste of time. and with all the rumors of selling Astons – Newey needs someone who can stand their ground confidently.

I don't think Newey is interested in Mercedes in any way, because they've currently lost a driver that he would like to work with, and also got the car concept horribly wrong. all the ground effect era doesn't go well for them. and atm I don't see it changing.

if I remember it right (correct me if I'm wrong) Newey has twice in his career expressed interest in working with scuderia and perhaps now he finally has the opportunity to do so. he was seriously stopped by the fact of moving to Italy, so we'll see how it turns out.

I am not a tifosi, god knows I hate this traditional team, but I respect the work they are doing and the probability of Newey leaving to go to Ferrari is the greatest right now. two drivers with the potential to compete for the title and both can adapt their style to the car. one of them has 7 titles, the other has the potential to compete for the title PLUS importantly has a natural preference for oversteer.

Hamilton and Leclerc are gonna be the best duo to extract everything out of the car and push it to the limit. we'll see how the teammate dynamic will go, but they're both respectful enough to each other. even if once they'll crash, they will talk, solve the problem and move on.

but to be honest I wouldn't worry about Red Bull fans. at least until the end of the current technical regulations. the 2025 car is being developed during 2024 so maybe Ferrari will gain strength and by 2025 Max will have some competition, but there can't be a failure for sure. and lastly: with the new technical regulations Newey usually does not immediately get exactly into the concept and build a "self-driving" car. it usually takes him time so it depends not only on Newey's work but also on how the other teams fucked up or on the contrary amazingly get into the concept.

I've read info that a lot of things on the technical side have also been under Pierre Vache's direction in recent years. so that's when Ferrari pulls him (and then Hannah Schmitz) off as well, I'd start to panic.

I seriously rationally see Ferrari getting stronger, Mercedes falling lower and lower (and it won't be any better in 2025, they fucked up) and maybe at some point these two teams will form a league of top teams, Aston, Macs and Mercs as mid-fielders and then the further outsiders.

however over the next decade (?) I think Williams can make a serious comeback. James Vowles is actually quite ruthless, don't let his insinuating and calm tone fool you. this is the man who swapped places between Valtteri and Lewis in a Mercedes even without the need. he cares about the drivers but first of all he cares about the team. so don't be surprised if Logan will end up without the seat next year.

James Vowles is a strategist and has already started to change the team and also the approach to the car. imo it is a known fact that the car of the top team is built so that it is good everywhere: straights, fast-corners, low speed corners... they might not be the best. but they're good everywhere. balance is the key to success. outsiders, on the other hand, make sure that the car has pronounced strengths. therefore, the car can only score points on a track that suits its configuration. the strong point of Williams was the straights. this year it is not as pronounced as in previous seasons, but it is a sacrifice for future development. keeping an eye on this team because their approach is the most promising in the long run of all the outsider teams.

and one last thing I wanted to say for everyone reading this post and especially for those new to Formula 1 fandom: don't let vroom vroom world events affect you emotionally. otherwise every new weekend will be an emotional swing. don't cry about Newey leaving, don't get mad at James for his decision on Logan in Australia. there is no point. you have no influence on these events and negative emotions are not the nicest thing to feel. so just observe. this will keep you sane.

thank you very much for reading this long ask, I really want to know your opinion on my takes. please, tell me if you disagree, I'm very open to see arguments, why am I wrong. thank you once again 💚

First of all, I'm so happy that you see my blog as a safe space to share your thoughts! That makes me so happy.

Anon, I don't have anything at all to add to this, not to mention that I do not have anything I can say I disagree with. So if you don't mind, I'm just going to leave this here in all its glory. Just know that I am in love with your mind. 💚

#Asks #Anon asks #AN asks

[plubbo]

major bad batch s3 finale spoilers

oh my god guys what the FUCK!!!

THE FINALE WAS SO GOOD OH MY LORD HELP ME

THE ANIMATION, THE INTENSITY, THE SUSPENSe!!! I WAS ON THE EDGE OF MY SEAT THE ENTIRE TIME I KID YOU NOT

AND EVERYTHING WAS SO BEAUTIFUL

OMEGA'S SKILLS, NALA SE'S SACRIFICE, EMERIE (MY BELOVED), wet hair hunter 🤭, HEMLOCK'S DEATH, THE HUG!! PABU, HUNTER AND OMEGA OLDER!!!! ALL BEAUTIFUL!!

but

i feel like

something needs to be said

pls did anyone else feel like we were absolutely BAITED by that cx-2 guy

like i did not obsess over him and make up insane conspiracies just to watch him get brutally impaled..

but this had me thinking. what if they purposefully gave us such obvious clues? what if they intended for the audience to piece things together and figure out that tech was under that helmet? that last little look crosshair gave cx-2 after he was impaled sorta fed my thoughts too

but thats a silly idea sooo not only do i have to cope with the end of the show, i have to (actually) cope with tech's death for realsies!!

anyway, it's been so much fun being in this fandom. i'm not going anywhere, im still gonna write for them and draw them

this show has really been everything to me tho. like genuinely. ive never been so excited for wednesdays, and i actually havent had a hyperfixation quite like this either. im definitely going to still think about this show in my late 60's (maybe even later if my memory doesnt go)

and everyone in this fandom is so incredibly supportive of each other and i love that so much like aaabdksjdjfjfj

i think us fans truly make the experience better for each other :)

🫶🫶🫶

goodnight everyone!

#crying screaming throwing up #sw tbb #tbb #the bad batch #tbb tech #tbb crosshair #bad batch #tbb omega #tbb hunter #tbb wrecker #i am unwell #cx 2 #tbb spoilers #the cavalry has arrived #i love you guys :( #the bad batch season 3 #clone force 99 #star wars the bad batch

[deluweil]

Based on the shows history with Eddie, I’m not expecting the Abuela and Shannon pop ups to do anything more then propel him into the find new wife for himself and new mother for Chris mission successful. Especially with Edy still on set and them almost being done with the season. Why bother going for a better story when a lazy makes no sense hetero story will do just fine. It’s their specialty when it comes to Eddie after all. Plus They already got that extra queer rep with Buck and Tommy 🙃

Yeah, *sigh* I feel the same on the Eddie front.

God forbid the talent that is Ryan will get a worthy story when we get two white dudes getting the interesting storylines.

I mean, much as love Buck being thrown into curious situations, I am getting tired of the storylines Eddie keep getting, because that's always more of the same, and that's exhausting.

If they weren't going to invest in his story they could have tied him to the first gf he had - being the serial monogamist that he is - and have his storyline revolve around domestic problems, new babies and managing that with work - at least we'd be clear of what his essence is aside from loving Buck like they've been married and intimate for years.

They had that queer rep with Henren and David and Michael - which WAS a great rep and such a well written relationship! I miss them and Michael's interactions with Bobby are sorely missing as well.

I don't think that Buck's storyline is as happy and healthy as ppl make it to be, Tommy literally left him for feeling uncomfortable and fibbing in front of his best friend because he's newly minted out of the closet and maybe he wanted to figure this out by himself first before sharing it with the people closest to him?

Tommy had no right to get upset, and if he wasn't sure of them, he shouldn't have agreed to go to that wedding with Buck, he should have said that he understands where Buck is coming from and to take this slow and that there is no pressure - and maybe keep this friendly until they figure out what they want to be together.

Buck, it felt to me, that has done what he did, the chasing that he said he wouldn't do, because in a certain way he is still in a place where he pleases people even though it is his journey to make and no one should push him to get to that finish line as fast as possible.

Like I said before this is more of the same, Buck does this chasing because like Taylor said, and not in a kind way mind you, that he can't stand not being liked by everyone.

Eddie nudging him to call tommy wasn't exactly the best thing either, because would Buck have still done it if he wasn't told to?

A lot of things don't sit well with me in this story, I've made journeys with my friends when they first came out, one as early as the seventh grade, it is not something that becomes normal immediately, I also saw after the fact what happened when one is shoved out of the closet to his family and friends by force. And how my best friend still bears the guilt of being gay almost 20+years later because that's not how he was raised, and his father didn't accept him, and his first serious boyfriend was a demanding asshole.

He didn't seem like this to us, he was friendly and seemed like a really good guy, but neither one of us knew what really happened there until my friend opened up about it years later.

So when I say Buck's story feels rushed, I talk from experience.

So maybe we have queer rep (which we had before only it wasn't bi) but it doesn't feel like quite there to me, maybe it's the flawed writing, maybe that's the way it was intended to be told to get to some kind of turning point and epiphanies, who knows? I've learned not to expect higher purpose from this show.

I will tell you that though, if the whole Eddie story is to push him to somehow marry M I will retire from this show, I mean that is the laziest form of writing there is, and makes this show completely unwatchable for me, because there is no way we were dragged 7 seasons just so that Eddie can force marry some lukewarm LI out of the need to follow the traditional hetero normative need he was raised into.

Especially since originally Eddie was the one who was supposed to be the coming out story, it would be disappointing on so many levels and I'm not even touching buddie here.

Ryan deserves better than to end with that kind of crappy story-telling.

#911 ask #911 spoilers #911 speculation #evan buckley #eddie diaz #flawed writing #lukewarm relationships #so done with those #buddie #not anti bucktommy but not pro so far either #it doesn't feel healthy

[catbeeisafraid]

I don’t have like a ton to say about this but I have mixed feelings- also spoilers ✨

I like Crystal I really do but at times her dialogue bothered me and some of her behavior was kind of obnoxious to me- like at times when she started aggressively inserting herself into situations and just kind of made it about her? Like in episode seven (though this happened many other times too) where she was having a total fit about not going to hell when it’s clearly for her own good and not about her no matter how much she cares? and I totally understand that this is her being written as an immature teenager who hasn’t been dead or a teen for 30-100 years but as a teenager this sort of selfish immature writing kind of gives me icky feelings because I know so many people who are mostly emotionally intelligent not just raging all the time.- and I mean that for a lot of teenagers and teen girls in writing, to make them tough and likable they are made volitile and annoying which to me is not likable (my opinion, I just don’t like the trope that’s not what I’m talking about right now anyway-) I do think she had good development and I liked her a lot better by the end, some people on other forums were saying that her actress was weaker than the rest of the cast and I don’t really know about that? I think maybe she was artificial at times but I’m blaming that on the writing. I also didn’t like her dialogue about her “crazy demon ex” either, it felt very forced? -Not her emotions about the whole mind cage thing I get that but just all of the “UGH WHY ARE THEY SO FUCKING NOSY IM JUST TRYING TO GET OVER MY STUPID STUPID CRAZY ABUSIVE STALKER DEMON EX BOYFRIEND UGHHH ILL DOUBLE KILL THOSE BOYS IF ITS TGE LAST THING I DO” that felt out of place to me- Lastly I get that this is also an aspect of her teenager-ness but I didn’t like the amount she cursed? I have no qualms with cursing but it felt to me like when little kids and middle schoolers start cursing where they just explosively yell fuck when like literally nothing warranting that kind of expletive has happened? She curses too often it makes her sound really stupid? Like the ep 7 “take me to hell I won’t die” thing, she was screaming at Charles who was being pretty reasonable like “fuck that I’m going he’s my fucking friend too fine then fuck it- fuck you ill find another way to get to hell” like yes she was emotional but that isn’t what teenagers sound like guys?

idk- I’d love to hear what other people think and to be clear I do like her I just focused on the negative- I guess it’s a human thing. She had lots of strong points just I ending up not liking how much she was on screen, this isn’t really about you? It’s about the dead boy detective? Give me more ghosts or Edwin or Charles or Jenny or Niko or Mr walrus please? They were fun I like them? I just felt like there were times where she was over shadowing Edwin and Charles and they are what’s actually important to the show? I think I’d like her more in smaller doses- I felt like I spent too much time having to stop and be like “girl step back this is not about you, you are not the star right now”

and to the argument of her actress being inexperienced or over acting or just not great- I have no specific feelings on this but like the other main cast had for the most part very little screen acting experience and were Fantastic so i don’t know what to feel in that area? so yes, i think crystal is an interesting character and i think she grew on me and developed in the season but i also definitely think that she’s annoying and I’m conflicted because i don’t want to not like her-..

what are your thoughts? Id love to hear different perspectives but please be nice to me because I’ll probably delete this and cry (unless that was your goal, then carry on)

that was all like super ramble-y sorry- but I hope I communicated semi accurately! Thank you

#neil gaiman #dead boy detectives #dead boy detective agency #george rexstrew #kassius nelson #jayden revri #good omens #spoilers #crystal palace

[wu-sisyphus-gang]

Motion Sickness Chapter 20 Snippet

“What do you mean you don’t have any range?”

“I have eight-ish feet of range with this thing.” I gestured to the weapon on my back as I rolled Qrow up to the bar. 

“I mean a gun, kid.”

“I don’t like guns." I was petulant but determined. I don’t like ‘em. I think they’re cheating. I think you should have to see the person or thing you’re killing. I think that’s fair. 

"What do you do when the other guy has a gun?"

"I have a bigass shield.”

“Look, I can show you some of what I know. It should help. What do you say?”

Ruby had convinced him to mentor me, then. That was fine. I needed the teaching and Qrow’s weapon was a bit like mine. His experience also eclipsed mine by shades. “I don’t have much choice.”

“That’s the spirit. Speaking of spirits, two whiskeys on the rocks,” he ordered to the bartender in the little hole in the wall we’d found. Or Qrow knew about it beforehand. The rose wood walls were brightly lit. It had a comfortable feel.  

“Should you be drinking that much?” he did lose a bit of weight recently. 

“I'm not. You’re drinking with me.”

"I'm the designated driver."

"You're my designated roller at best."

“I don’t have much choice in this either, do I?” The bartender, overhearing us, carded me. I handed him my ID while Qrow took the drinks. I suppose I was a match for the guy in the picture so the barkeep handed it back with just a single nod. “So, you mentioned some plan to get some legs?”

I figured he'd appreciate some brutal candor. It seemed like his style.

“I did. It's sort of something that Ruby doesn’t need to know the details on.”

“Oh I don’t like that,” I disagreed. I wasn’t keen on secrets between her and I. It wasn’t healthy. 

"Relax. A quick trip to some of the lower levels and a deal with an old friend. And after that I should be walking again."

"Oh I really don't like that." I sighed. "I'm not sure I can handle any more meetings with your friends, let alone secret dealings with what are probably criminals."

"Cute." He swirled his glass for a moment and I listened to the ice clink against the glass. "Well I don't like not having legs or a weapon. This should solve at least one of those. Besides, my understanding was that you’re a bit of a criminal yourself."

“It was self defense.” Sorta. He had a weapon and was running at me. That counted. 

“I meant how you snuck into Beacon. Ruby mentioned it. But what were you talking about?”

“I uh, I killed a guy. With my semblance. Sort of ripped him in half. Then I killed another guy. Bandits. The both of them."

“Stone cold killer. Who would have thought?"

“I don’t know if I’d say that.” I took a long drink on an empty stomach and my vision blurred fairly fast afterwards. 

Qrow paused. “Did you cry?”

“Uh, no?”

“I cried the first time I killed someone. That makes you stone cold.”

I swallowed whiskey. Qrow had no idea how much I really liked having power over who lived and who died and it was probably better to keep it that way. I was a bit of a mess and I was all over the place when it came to that sort of thing. 

If my sisters knew that their big brother had become a killer… or worse my mother… well, the consequences would be dire and long lasting to say the least. I’m not sure what to make of my family. They probably didn’t think I’d make it this far. And now that I had I was at a loss regarding how I would ever return to them. If I would ever return to them, that was. Maybe they’d find me somehow or someway. Home for me was with Ruby now. Ruby and the remnants of my team.

"Look,” I searched my addled brain. “What sort of favors are we talking about here?”

“Probably running drugs. I've done it before for her for some information."

“What kind of drugs?”

“Does it matter?”

“It will when Ruby finds out.”

“Ruby won’t find out unless you tell her.”

“That’s pretty much how that’s going to go down. She’ll ask me one question: ‘hey Jaune, where’d you and my uncle get those legs?’ And then because I’m a bitch I will tell her. I will out you for absolutely nothing. Bet on that old man.”

“Old man? If I wasn’t in this chair I’d knock some of your teeth out.”

“But you are in the chair. And unless you’re gonna transform and try to peck my eyes out I have a pretty good idea of how it would go down.”

“Cute. You think you’re such a big shot now, don’t you.”

“Unlocked my semblance. Pulled your ass out of the fire. I got a big ass sword and it’s pretty dope.” I got the girl. “I’m doing pretty well for myself. You, on the other hand, have been sidelined. That chair you're sitting in is worth more than you are. You bag of bones. Give me a break.”

“Bartender, another round.” Qrow called over. The bartender poured our drinks and slid them towards us. 

“We’re running the drugs. Or doing whatever else is needed to get me out of this chair. And Ruby doesn’t need the details. You feel me? I’m proud of her moral compass but it will only get in the way with this sort of thing. You and I are adults. We can handle ourselves. We don’t need her nannying us.”

“So is it just greens or something harder, like ether or hyper?”

“I don’t know yet, kid.”

“You don’t even know if you can bang out this deal, do you?”

“...” Qrow rolled the ice in his glass around silently. 

“Got it. We need a back up plan. One that sees you in a real hospital. Not some gangster’s chopshop.”

“I’m thinking, alright. I want out of this chair.”

“Well, Ruby ran off with the last of our Lien to repair Harbinger." I took another drink and grimaced. I ignored his low chuckle at me. "So that's one of our problems down." 

"Yeah. Just need to walk again and I'll be right as rain. So, we just need to get a favor from somebody on the lower levels. Now the reason I picked you is because I figured you were up to do something criminal, am I wrong? You're a murderer."

I groaned and slammed the last of my whisky. I hadn’t realized I’d gone through my second one so fast. 

“Ruby has decided that it wasn’t murder,” I defended myself halfheartedly. 

“And what have you decided?”

“It was totally murder. I cut them down like it was nothin’. I did it like it was a sport going out of fashion. I meant for them to die. Ruby can cut it however she likes but my soul isn’t like that. She comes up with these justifications for me and they don’t do me any real justice. It’s like she has no idea I’m a fuckin’ disaster. She just sees what she wants to see, I think. Which I really, really appreciate her for. Don’t get me wrong. I love that she gives me the benefit of the doubt.”

“But she shouldn’t. Because it was murder and you meant it,” Qrow interpreted. “I knew a girl like that once. Really believed in me. She really couldn’t see me for what I really am. A scumbag. Yeah I’ve fought for the good guys. But I didn’t fight like a good guy. You know what I mean? I didn’t fight with good intentions in my heart. And that’s what really matters. Don’t it?”

I leaned way over the bar and stretched. I sighed heavily. That was pretty much how I felt about it too. Outlaw justice. Yeah right. Give me a fuckin’ break. I killed because I found it immensely tasteful to unwind another person’s mortal coil. Killing Cinder… now that just might be better than sex. 

"Excuse me?" A younger looking dude in farm hand attire approached the bar. We looked at him, then at each other.

“Aren’t you a little young to be in here, pipsqueak.” Qrow wondered.

To be fair, the dude looked younger than me and was about five two. A solid maybe on that five two. He was well under one hundred eighty centimeters but he didn’t have a drink in his hand so it was probably fine. Probably. I wasn’t sure about the rules of a bar like this. Or any bar really. I wasn’t a bar guy.

“Shut up, I'm getting there.” He said to the air next to him.

Okay?

Where was the wire?

Qrow didn’t seem put off by this. Instead he wheeled himself around to fully face the guy.

Sure. Why not?

“I’m supposed to tell you, I’d like my cane back.”

“What the fresh fuck?” I blurted. 

Qrow reached behind him in the chair and pulled out a length cane with some gears and a switch at the gray handle. He tossed it to the kid and it extended into something like a weapon. And with a hunter’s strength… fuck it. Why not? It wasn’t like I really cut things up with the broadsword form of Crocea Mors. More of a crushing action. The Nuckleavee was big enough such that it was fine. Sure. It did some cutting. But on people it crumpled them more than sliced them. 

“Bartender!” I turned and called. 

“You’re Jaune Arc.” The kid said. 

“You know me?” I asked. “How?” 

“Um… I let you into my school.”

“He’s Ozpin,” Qrow leaned back and laughed. “I did it. I found him. Bartender!”

“How the hell is he Ozpin?” I asked. “Headmaster Ozpin? Are you nuts?”

“Bartender!”

“I didn’t believe it at first either…” the kid murmured. He stroked the length of the cane. 

We got our third round. I hammered mine immediately. I gasped off the alcohol. 

“Slow down, son,” the bartender suggested. 

“You…” I wavered. “Keep ‘em comin’. You… one of you two… explain.”

“When Ozpin died he was reincarnated into me.”

“Why?” I demanded. “Can’t he just die and be dead like a normal person .” I spat out the word ‘person’ like it offended me. 

“Um… it’s a long story.” 

“Yeah. I’m in a real rush.”

“It’s a personal story, then.”

“Okay. And you woke up one day and were cool with it.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say that at all. But… I have responsibilities now.”

“Because- can Ozpin hear me right now?” I asked.

“Yes. He hears what I hear and sees what I see.” 

"Because you’re schizophrenic.” I finished. “You’re delusional. You should go home. Do you even have your aura unlocked?”

“Well… no. But… neither did you? Wait, why didn’t you?” The kid asked. 

“And you knew I didn’t have my aura unlocked? And you flung me into the emerald forest anyway? Why?” 

“What’s your name, kid?” Qrow requested from the chair. 

“Oscar Pine.”

“Well, Oscar, welcome to the real world,” Qrow sat back and drank his whiskey. 

#rwby #jaune arc #ruby rose #lancaster #cloud strife #qrow branwen #oscar pine #ozpin #motion sickness

[frecklystars]

I know how hard it is to wait for things to get better, when things have been so bad for so long that it feels like there's only one option left.

I don't know why it's so easy for all the negative in a person's life to outweigh the positive. I don't know how everyone else seems to manage just fine while we have to struggle so much just to not want to die. Fighting this much just to exist is so tiring.

I'm sad and angry on your behalf at how your coworkers and family treat you. It's easy to see the parallels in people I know. You deserve better.

I love seeing your art (it's so cute and sparkly and emotive) and seeing you gush about shows and characters you're passionate about. You're a lovely and fun person.

We barely interact, we're technically strangers, so I have no right to ask anything of you. But I get it. I hope you stay around a little longer. I'll miss you when you decide to go.

I didn't want to answer any messages for a while, and I'm still gonna wait for a bit, but I wanted to address this one in particular

I appreciate how you phrased this... 90% of the messages I get are "you're so selfish, people would miss you" "just get a different job" "just do xyz" "killing yourself wont solve your problems tho" ... telling me things I already know. As if I'm not already spending all this time trying to find different jobs, as if all of my problems will magically be solved... I talk a lot on this blog, but I don't share everything abt my life and there is just So Much More happening that weighs on me every single day, and I hate when ppl just assume that they know me from a few posts... ppl just don't fucking understand and it's so infuriating when they give responses like that, and that's the main reason why I tell people to not leave any comments directly onto my vent posts unless if it's just something like "feel better soon" because most of the time people are just trying to act like they know so much better

And yeah, you're right!!! It's so fucking exhausting!!! Fighting this feeling all the goddamn time, it uses up all of our energy. I hate it. People say "just solve your problems instead of ending your life, why would you put your energy into such an irreversible decision" but it's hard! Most people can just... do several tasks a day without getting tired but I can't even do one single thing everyday. Depression is so, so draining. It isn't fair. Suicidal thoughts are so much worse, especially during full suicidal episodes/meltdowns because it eats at you constantly and you can't think. A serious breakdown can last for days or weeks or even months. I haven't been in my right mind in over a week, I am not myself at work and so many people can tell. I'm relapsing into old habits I had three years ago when I first attempted. I'm giving away my stuff. I'm writing goodbye letters. I'm not looking when I cross the street at my workplace. I'm looking at my friends in the eye and studying their face as if it is going to be my very last time seeing them. And you don't know how to make it stop until the episode passes, and you never know when it plans on passing, you're always scared it's never going to pass at all, that you're stuck feeling this way forever. And people just keep telling you to suck it up, or that it gets worse so you have to learn how to deal with it, or that if you do xyz then it gets better -- but you can't do xyz and then you feel even worse than before because you feel like everyone else can accomplish things to survive in this world, but you can't. It fucking hurts and I'm sorry that you have to go through this too, it's literally the worst feeling I've ever had and I haven't felt it this intensely in years. It's so fucking heavy and it really sucks, but it's even harder when people don't give support. We have to fight just to survive and then ppl look at us and act as if we aren't even trying and it really. fucking. sucks.

This message, though. This one made me actually breathe a sigh of relief. I was waiting for the inevitable condescending comments but there weren't any. Feeling suicidal is so alienating and so many ppl who even study psychology just... don't get it, they always say the wrong thing because they just assume we're choosing to feel this way. But hearing from someone who understands helps me most of the time... "I'm sorry you're going through this" "that sucks" "it's gonna be okay" those kinds of phrases are helpful. It doesn't cure me or anything but it's the most soothing thing I can hear, all I rly need to feel more grounded into the moment, and from there I can try to pull myself out of a spiral. It takes awhile and it's really hard and it will still take me a few days... and it took me several hours just today to feel like I didn't want to die every second, to stop planning things at least for a half hour; 13 hours after waking up today it's now almost 3 in the morning and I finally got around to eating something and feeling sort of like a person after watching some cartoons. I won't be able to sleep but that's just how it is. But in this moment I am not crying and not writing my goodbyes and not packing my figurines into boxes. I am still so heavy and broken and hurting and my arm is still bleeding but I am not spiraling and that's enough for me right now

Thank you for empathizing. I don't know what I'm gonna end up doing, and obviously right now i am in a very bad mental headspace so I'm unable to really contact anyone in the moment, but... in the future, if you need someone, feel free to reach out to me. Even if we don't rly know each other, you can reach me via inbox and I can try to dm you if you're comfortable with it. I will give you supportive words and I will be as empathetic as I can be. because I get it.

Thank you for giving me your kind words, they really did help. 💙💙💙💙💙💙💙

#i honestly dont know what im gonna decide to do #leaning very much towards a harsh decision but im gonna try to get out of it #i want to get better no matter how hard it is i just want to get better #and im hoping that my one day off on may 20th will help a lot #getting to meet my fave voice actor and giving him my art #and then maybe that experience will make me feel better #or at least more motivated to stick around to try to fix things #anonymous #asks #keepsake #suicide mention #and hey seriously thank you #ive had so many unsupportive messages for *weeks* #it was just a fucking relief to read that someone understands #all someone needs to do is sit next to me and hug me and say 'hey that sucks' #and then i feel a little less hopeless