#best thing to come home to after a long day of work

[aerynwrites]

God Forbid

Simon “Ghost” Riley x Fem!Reader

A/N: had this idea in my head and it wouldn’t leave so here you go lol. Sorry for the later than usual post but hope yall enjoy! Word Count: 2.5k Warnings: attempted SA, hurt/comfort, canon typical violence, home invasion, breaking and entering, Simon saves the day as usual lol, gun violence, reader using a gun, soft at the end.

You can’t stop the smile that tugs at your lips as you light the candle in front of you, the smell of vanilla and cinnamon hitting your nose once the wick catches and starts to burn. The windows in the living room connected to the kitchen are open, a gentle breeze shifting the gauzy curtains and bringing in the cool autumnal air. 

It’s the perfect day.

It’s a Saturday, so you have the day off work. The weather has been wonderful you’ve been listening to your favorite music as you practically glide across the kitchen most of the day baking or moving to tidy up the house. Even now, veggies sit half chopped on the kitchen counter, broth on the stove getting ready to boil and -

Simon’s coming home. 

That’s what made it the best day of all. 

He had texted you early that morning - long before the sun rose from the horizon. He said he’d be home around dinner time if all went well with flights and such, and you couldn’t help the way your heart fluttered in your chest or the smile that split your lips. 

He’s coming home.

He had been away for six months this time - the longest he’s ever been gone. And while you were able to talk to him more often than usual, it just wasn’t the same as him being here. It never was. But you never complained. You knew what you were getting into when you started dating Simon - he had even tried to end things with you early on claiming you “deserve better than a ghost…”

But you’d shut him down and after some tears and reassurances on your part…he’d stayed. 

But it wasn’t without conditions. 

He tried to keep his work life separate from his one with you. He truly did. But being in the military - being part of the task force he was - it made him paranoid. After a year of trying to shield you from his own worries and fears, he couldn’t do it anymore. 

You’d been hesitant when he brought up the fact that he wanted you to learn to defend yourself. You didn’t mind taking the self defense classes he’d signed you up for, even going so far as to accept training from Simon himself. But when he brought up the fact that he wanted you to learn your way around a gun…you’d almost said no. 

But the flash of fear in his eyes made you relent. Something had scared him, and nothing scares him. So you’d agreed - silently grateful when he mainly insisted on you just knowing the basic like where they safety is, how to hold it and of course how to fire. 

“God forbid you ever have to use one,” he said, voice grim. “But at least now you know how.”

All of it was worth it though. 

The joy he brings you when he’s here and the joy you bring him vastly outweigh anything else. 

You smile to yourself again as you move back to the cutting board. 

God…you can’t wait to see him.

The next while passes by slower than you’d like, the giddiness of his arrival making the arms of the clock seem to move at a snails pace. But as you’re moving to dump the vegetables into the stew, you hear the telltale sign of a the front door knob jingling.

Excitement explodes in your chest and you’re heading for the door before you can blink. It still hasn’t opened, and you let out a small chuckle as you reach the door, imagining Simon fumbling with the keys and muttering curses under his breath. You reach for the door, unlocking it and pulling it open with a laugh.

“I didn’t take you for the nervous type, Si-”

Your words cut off abruptly when you come face to face with a stranger on your door step. Three of them, actually. Tall, muscular, intimidating military types that make a pit open up in your belly. Your fingers tighten on the door, closing it every so slightly as to lessen the opening into your home. 

“Oh, uh…can I help you?” You ask, fighting off the dread settling in your stomach. 

You can’t pinpoint where it’s coming from, but alarm bells go off in your head as the two men in the back glance at one another for just a moment, whispers you’re unable to decipher leaving their lips. 

The one in front is the one to respond, words laced with an accent that you immediately identify as Russian. 

“You can, actually,” he says casually, one thumb hooked through his belt loops while the other rests casually above the pistol on his hip. “We need to speak to a Simon Riley. Is he here?”

At the mention of Simons name you struggle against the instinct to freeze up. All of Simon’s warnings from the past flooding to the forefront of your mind. 

“If someone ever approaches you asking about me, don’t answer them. Ever.” His voice is firm. “They aren’t asking after me in a friendly way,  I can promise you that.”

You smile, trying to feign confusion.

“I don’t know anyone by that name,” you lie, palms getting clammy. “Maybe you have the wrong house? You might want to try-”

A heavy palm settling against the door cuts you off, the man in front of you looking down at you with an evil grin. 

“Come now, little one. Please don’t lie - it just makes things harder.”

Panic shoots through you in an instant, and before the man can react you slam the door closed as hard as possible, flipping the deadbolt in place as you run back through the kitchen to where you left your phone. 

Loud curses come from the other side of the door, and just as you reach your phone you hear wood splintering from behind you as they kick the door in. You see Simon’s name lighting up the screen on your phone and you answer as you grab the kitchen knife from the counter and move to sprint towards the back door. 

“Simon!” You cry out, bumping into the couch in the living room as you hear thudding footstep behind you. 

“You need to get to a gun,” his voice is steady, unnervingly so. He must have seen the men approach on the cameras he has installed around the house. “I’m almost there, love, please-”

You can hear the roar of the engine in his truck in the background as you approach the back door. It’s so close, just within reach, if you can just-

Your fingers barely brush the knob before a thick arm is around your waist and in half a breath you’re airborne. It isn’t long, but the shock of your feet leaving the floor, your phone falling from your hand as well as the knife, it makes the impact against the coffee table that much worse. 

Air is forced from your lungs as you tumble roughly over the wooden surface, the table toppling over as you crash to the ground. The vase that was in the middle shatters as it follows you, and in a strange moment of delirium you can’t stop the wave of disappointment hat washes over you as the daisies that were in it scatter across the floor. 

It doesn’t last long though, because soon your lungs burn for air that you can’t seem to inhale, your eyes move to see the man that had thrown you as he stoops down to pick up your phone, clicking a button and allowing Simon’s booming voice to crackle though the speakers. 

“I’ll fucking kill you!” He spits, vitriol lacing every word. “If you lay a fucking hand on her, I’ll kill you myself-”

The man above you tuts mockingly as he approaches you, and you manage to find the wherewithal to rise up, hands behind you as you try to scoot away from him. You notice the other men pacing lazily around the room, seemingly unconcerned with the helpless woman on the floor. 

“Now, now, Simon,” he jeers, “You mustn’t be so violent. I simply came for a chat, that’s all.” 

The man’s hungry gaze never leaves you, but you don’t deviate from your path backwards across the living room carpet. The end table at the end of the couch is your goal - more specifically the 9mm pistol in it’s drawer, loaded and ready to fire whenever necessary. 

In a moment of sheer bravery you jump to your feet, lunging for the table and its contents. The metal is somewhat familiar in your palm, and you manage to it raised at the intruder and the safety switched off, but before you can do much else a skilled fist knocks the weapon from your grasp and you don’t see where either goes as you’re tackled  to the ground by one of the other men. 

He’s heavy on top of you, squeezing what little breath you had from your lungs rough fingers tangle in your hair. You barely have time to react before blinding pain erupts from your head as it connects painfully with the floor beneath you - once, twice, three times until the assault stops. 

Unfamiliar warmth trickles down your face, pain blooming from your nose and out in a spiderweb of pain as the tears finally come. You can just barely hear Simon’s enraged curses over the phones speaker, the entire world muffled as fear and panic and pain set in full force. 

You’re going to die. 

The man on top of you moves just enough to flip you over onto your back beneath him, the world spins around you, not stopping when your body does, and you have to fight the urge to vomit. The main assailant laughs cruley from where he stands above you, letting out a low whistle.

“You’ve got one feisty bitch, Simon. I’ll give you that…” he trails off for a moment, completely ignoring the curses being spit at him from the other end of the line. 

He nods at the man trapping you, and without hesitation you feel his hands move down to the waistband of your jeans. 

“I was honest,” the leader drones on. “We’re not going to kill her,” he appeases. “But you’re going to wish we did.”

You can’t stop the wail that escapes from your throat as he undoes the button of your jeans, your eyes immediately moving to check your surroundings for something - anything - that will save you. you feel the hope slowly  drain out of you as you shove uselessly at the man on top of you, until a soft glint of metal shines at you from beneath the couch. 

The gun. 

In a moment of pure desperation, pure panic - a moment of life or death - the classes that Simon insisted you take, force their way through your panicked mind. In one quick movement you thrust your hips upwards, managing to just ever so slightly throw the man above you off balance just as you bring the heel of your palm up into his jaw with as much force as you can muster.

The impact startles him, you can physically hear and feel his teeth clack together from the force of the blow as he lets out a shout. You use his surprise to buck him off of you just enough to scramble to the right. The metal is cool against your burning skin and you turn just as you feel his hands on you once more. 

The crack is deafening and your ears are ringing once more as dead weight settles in top of you. a chorus of shouts ring out around you but you can’t react, the body on top of you effectively trapping you to the floor your only weapon pinned between your chest and his. 

You seem to observe the world through a fish bowl, the sounds far away and vision distorted as your mind tries to make sense of the visceral fear coursing through your veins. You hear more shouting, louder this time, and more gunshots and all you can do is close your eyes and cry as you wait for the inevitable. 

But as soon as it started, it’s over. 

Silence backfills what the ringing  in your ears doesn’t, until you hear a faint call of you name. 

It’s just your name over and over until the weight that’s on your chest lifts and your eyes fly open in panic until stormy brown eyes capture your own as calloused yet gentle hands pull you up from the floor. 

Simon…

More tears flood your vision at the sight of the man you love in front of you, a strong arm wrapping around your waist. You can see his lips moving though the haze, but you can’t understand what he’s saying the ringing in your ears still blocking everything out, your panicked mind still scrabbling for control. 

Simon reaches up, snapping his fingers next to your ears a few times until you start to register the noise, and when you flinch, he stops - letting go of you only long enough to shed his jacket and bring the soft fabric up to your face. 

“Simon,” you say, his name coming out on a sob.

He shushes you softly, wiping gently at what you realize now, is the blood trickling down your face. 

“I’m here love, you’re alright, you’re safe…”

Finally you get your limbs to cooperate, hands reaching out to clutch desperately at his shoulders, balling the fabric of his shirt between your fingers. 

“A-are they…can they-”

Simon shakes his head, eyes filled with regret and sorrow. “They can’t hurt you. Not anymore. Made sure of that.”

At the acknowledgment of their demise, you break down even more, but this time out of utter relief. 

“I’m sorry,” you cry, moving to shelter yourself in the familiar warmth of his chest, “I - I tried. They asked abo-about you and I tried to stop them but I-” more tears interrupt your words and Simon just holds you tighter. 

“You did good, love” he assure you, his own voice breaking. “Goddammit,” he mutters. “I knew this was a bad idea, I knew it - I told you-”

You just clutch him tighter, shaking your head. 

“Please don’t,” you shudder, fear gripping you again. “Please don’t leave me.”

He drops the jacket opting to wrap both arms around you, holding you tightly against him.

“Never,” He promises firmly, lips pressing to your temple. 

He continues to hold you, rocking side to side gently until your cries quiet and you’re able to take full breaths once more. Only then does he pull away, examining you quickly. 

“I called the team when I found out what was happening,” he says quietly, hand reaching up to cradle your cheek. “They’ll be here any minute to deal with…all this.”

You nod, wincing at the jolt of pain it sends through your head, making a frown tug at his lips. 

“Let’s go get you cleaned up, yeah?”

You nod again, gentler this time, and Simon goes to stand. However, you stop him before he can get up, and he looks down as you wrap your arms around him again. 

“I still love you,” you tell him softly, able to read his inner insecurities from a mile away. 

He freezes at your words, struggling to accept them before letting his shoulder finally fall. 

“I love you too.”

[punkkture]

how i view simon riley

for a second, let’s just forget everything about him that actually is true and let me lie . . .

simon riley is 6’5” and is chubby with hella muscle underneath. hes got a lot of tattoos covering his arms and hands, and one on his torso thats battered with scars. i like to think he has dark brown hair, its just my type okay? his eyelashes are sooo long and his hands are always washed, he hates having dirty hands.

simon is a good leader, he kind of has to be. he is an amazing man when it comes to his job and his teammates, but when he gets home, thats the only chance he has to just let go. there isnt some persona he has to put on when hes home. his temper gets the best of him sometimes and hes lwk toxic asf.

“baby c’mon you know i didnt mean to, ‘m sorry” — “dont be dumb sweetie you know im busy right now, go somewhere else and leave me alone” — “stop acting like this, im tired of you right now”

but he will always come to bed with you. always kiss you goodnight. always fixes the covers back over you when he gets up in the morning. its not his fault that he just has some anger issues he never got over when he was a kid. simon is either a big teddy bear or a stone wall. hes hard to read on most days but his tone will always give it away. mf has an awful tone problem when hes having a bad day. simon’s words are often harsh when hes having a bad day but his physical nature says the complete opposite.

“just shut up baby, you sound so stupid” he’d groan at you, but at the same time he’d pull you closer into him, kneading your soft skin in his hands gently. as if he is always apologizing after every mean phrase that comes out from those parted lips. and when that hurt whine comes from your lips hes already ‘shh’-ing you and rubbing your side.

my simon riley is infatuated with his sweetheart being all dolled up and dumbed down. he loves himself a stupid dumb girl that just cant do anything by herself. of course he knows hes needed for work, but simon has never felt needed outside of his job title. even if he’d never admit it without some emotional talks, he could cry over the fact that you need him. that something as precious and pure as you needs a man as rough and battered as him. he knows deep down youre not a stupid girl, youre bright and just curious, as he likes to put it. he loves being able to explain simple things to you, loves that you call him because you forget how to turn the oven fan off and how to cut a mango. hes so thankful that hes not needed for life or death situations with you like he constantly is for work.

my simon riley is obsessed with the idea of getting you pregnant. he is a sucker for breeding. when hes left alone in thought he always, without a doubt, thinks about you having his babies and forever being in his life. he just knows you’d be such a good mom. you are the only person he can even picture caring for his own. your sweet and kind nature on the daily shows how maternal you are and it just makes that soft spot in his heart swell and get bigger every time he pictures it. hes also smitten with your waist line. oh god dont even get the man started on your back dimples and the curves of your hips. simon’s lips are always on your abdomen and tummy.

“gonna have my babies in here one day sweetie, youre gonna look so pretty all knocked up” he mumbles in between warm open-mouth kisses right under your belly button. his heavy fingers digging into the dips of your back as he pulls you inexplicably closer to him.

he really is such a sensitive man under all that scar tissue and bulky muscle. in my head simon is an april taurus sun, pisces moon, and rising gemini. so basically, the taurus in him showcases he has a very rough exterior that is great at displaying leadership and grounding skills, but the pisces on the inside makes him sensitive and he has a lot of emotions, then the gemini in him makes him come across as independent and deceitful at first. i could go on forever about this mans astrology chart.

simon riley who always brags about you to his friends. he’s very careful with talking about you at work though. he would most definitely set the world on fire if anything bad happened to his sweet angel girl. when he’s back from deployment, out at some shitty pub with johnny . . he can’t keep his lips sealed about you.

“i know ‘m gonna marry that girl. i know it, gonna give her my last name and at least four kids . . you wanna know what she made for dinner when i got home from the last deployment?” he rambles to poor soap who just wanted to get out of his apartment.

[shantechni]

Natsume's Fear of Thunder

I'm gonna be honest, this can hardly be considered an analysis. It's more of a "sporadic and unnecessarily deep observation" of how Natsume's astraphobia has been presented in the series over the years, both in the anime and in the manga. So, please for the love of God take all of this with a grain of salt.

Yes, I'm using the term "phobia" very loosely, but I'm not about to get into that rn. Natsume has an irrational fear and strong dislike of thunder, that's an undeniable truth.

Before I dive in, I'd like to briefly explain why, of all the little bits of information Midorikawa has given us about Natsume, this one is the one to ceaselessly bump around in my brain like a DVD logo. This series is not in the horror genre (it's serialized in LaLa DX after all), but it does get suspenseful, and pretty disturbing depending on whatever topic it touches or the types of situations the characters may find themselves in. I don't fault anyone, particularly Natsume, for growing up with valid fears and preconceived misconceptions about most youkai; they can sound scary, they can look scary, and they can do some scary stuff if they really feel up to it.

That's why I'm so fascinated to see Natsume develop and still harbor an irrational fear for something like the everyday phenomena of storms. He's landed himself in all sorts of trouble and has come face to face with many beings, both natural and supernatural, who didn't have his best interests in mind, and yet the clap of thunder somehow keeps its spot on the list of things that has him scared stiff.

Aight, spoilers for both the anime and the manga beyond here, you've been warned👏🏽

Our first introduction to Natsume's fear is near the beginning of chapter 42, when he and Tanuma accidentally stumble across Taki's home while seeking shelter from a sudden shower. He questions how Nyanko-sensei ended up at her home as well and the youkai, much to Natsume's visible dismay, cheekily explains:

That doesn't end up happening since the rain remained light until its swift end, and the mention of Natsume's fear is glossed over rather quickly to save him the embarrassment, but it's an interesting mention made by Midorikawa nonetheless since it adds another layer to whatever image the audience has of Natsume and the series itself. Nyanko-sensei, having been around this kid long enough to know a lot of his vulnerabilities and insecurities (even the ones his dreams unwittingly reveal to the youkai), has seen and grown accustomed to a side of him that the audience had yet to be formally introduced to for once.

Right about now, you may be wondering how the anime adapted this scene. It didn't💀.

While the start of the episode (S3 EP5) is a one-to-one recreation of the chapter with virtually the same dialogue and scenery, any mention of Nyanko-sensei following Natsume to pick on him when it thunders is nonexistent and entirely skipped over so the gang can go straight to cleaning out the storeroom.

Most fans who have read the manga will tell you how notorious the anime is for excluding some of the characters' lines or scenes that take place in the manga, or just straight up rearranging or changing up those same factors. Sometimes those alterations work wonders, and other times they leave more to be desired, mainly if you know what happened in the manga counterpart of the episode. This such example is one of the times that'll leave people scratching their heads and wondering what warranted getting rid of a scene so insignificant that it'd have no effect on the plot of the episode whether or not it stayed. The only answer I can think of for that is the directors likely wanting a smoother progression of events to make for a viewing experience better tailored for an anime episode rather than a manga chapter.

Or, they genuinely didn't have enough space in the episode to squeeze in that little bit, which I highly doubt, but what would I know, I don't work for them. At the end of the day, we didn't get to see that scene in the episode.

After some more anime switcheroo shenanigans go on behind the scenes, along with an original episode pulling a retcon during a lightning storm, we receive our next moment in a surprising scene from the anime team in S3 EP10 (adaptation of chapter 28). Though the scene itself is short and not exactly an example of Natsume's astraphobia, I feel it should still be included because of its relation.

The chapter originally starts with Natsume and Nyanko-sensei searching for a tree that was struck by lightning during a storm the night before. However, the anime makes an addition of their own by rewinding time to that very night and showing Nyanko-sensei excitedly watching the storm take place while Natsume is tied up with his homework.

Nyanko-sensei goes on to tease him by suggesting that he doesn't want to watch the storm because he's scared, but Natsume dodges the youkai's mocking and begins to tell him to close the curtain before a crack of lightning cuts him off and illuminates his room.

Not only does Natsume not simply deny Nyanko-sensei's claim of him being scared, but his reaction to the thunder is seemingly more sudden than Nyanko-sensei's. Both of these points could subsequently lead the audience to interpret this entire sequence as the anime's first acknowledgement of his phobia, and it'd make for a very intriguing choice on the anime team's behalf after taking their ommitance of the previous scene into consideration. It could be a stretch though ngl, I tend to stretch like crazy, it makes sense to close a curtain when a pet is being noisy—

Finally moving on from S3, we eventually reach the most overt instance of Natsume's astraphobia, and potential origin or exacerbation of it, in the S4 finale (adaptation of chapter 46). This three episode arc is a largely intimate and heart wrenching one as it focuses on Natsume's journey to revisit his childhood home before it gets renovated by its new owners, a task he initially denied himself the permission of doing before realizing Touko and Shigeru would never deny him something so personal. Of course, he wouldn't be Natsume if he didn't attract a youkai along the way, and he's being pursued by one that seeks to feed on the tragic memories he formed while staying with the Aoi family, who was strongly implied to be the first family (if not, one of the first families) he was taken in by after his father's passing.

One of those memories shown to the audience is a younger Natsume relaxing in a shrine while memorizing where his childhood home is located, all in the hopes of gaining more discernible memories of his father and no longer being a burden to Miyoko and her parents.

Unfortunately, he falls asleep at the shrine and consequently loses track of time before having his slumber disturbed by a violent boom of thunder. He's so frightened by the ordeal that he can't even bring himself to rush back to the Aoi family's place, and his exhaustion puts him back to sleep until he's eventually found by some of the neighbors who went out searching for him.

The anime, with the natural strengths it has over the manga, goes the extra mile by not only keeping this portion relatively untouched, but further setting up the scenery and depicting just how rapidly the area goes from peaceful to turbulent. The character animation and voice acting make for a splendid combination and do a wonderful job of capturing this image of a helpless childhood version of Natsume.

What comes soon after this scene is a depressing sequence of events on its own, even more so when we can see he's still reeling from the storm and believing he caused the Aois to get into trouble by not getting back before dark. The adults obviously don't fault Natsume for getting stuck in the storm, but he doesn't see it that way in his shocked state.

The way Miyoko reacts by throwing her frustrations onto him doesn't help either.

And so, after aimlessly running off in his last unsuccessful attempt to find his childhood home, the memory fades away with a somber note as his present self recalls the moment he finally stopped calling for his long gone father.

Now, one could argue that Natsume had his fear of thunder prior to his time with the Aois since we don't have much reference material to work with when concerning his short period of time with his father, and they could be right for all I know. It's common for children to be startled by loud noises and bright flashes since they just aren't quite accustomed to those loud noises and bright flashes being customary for weather disturbances. Natsume, who we know grew up to be pretty sensitive to the things that go on around him, may have been one of those children who felt apprehension anytime a bad storm rolled in, and his father may have been the one to quell his fears back then. So, if we go with the conclusion that his fear didn't originate here, then this scene likely could've aggravated it. But I'm personally leaning a bit more towards the concept of this being the cause of it (partly due to how appealing that conclusion is to the obsessive part of my brain).

His initial reaction to the thunder is seemingly one of surprise rather than fear, and his behavior suggests that he's more concerned with making it back down the mountain before the thunder halts his progress. Although he's seen trying to talk himself down and fails to do so with how relentless the thunderstorm is proving to be, he doesn't need to have preexisting fears or anxieties over thunder to resort to calming himself down.

The dialogue differences strike me as something to consider too, but they're likely irrelevant.

Setting aside everything I just ranted about in the above paragraph, I should specify that I'm not simply pointing to the storm scene as the singular root cause for his future woes. Many psychological problems often aren't so black and white that someone can definitively point to one person or thing as the sole reason for the existence of their psychological problems. And phobias obviously don't always develop as a result of going through or observing a traumatic event; people can grow to fear or strongly dislike something merely by its association with an unpleasant memory or stressful situation. I know I'm starting to stretch hard rn, and this part of the post is getting awfully wordy, just hear me out—

Going back to that aforementioned short period of time with his dad, it's plain to see just how innocent of a time that was for Natsume. He was playful and affectionate with his dad like many children growing up in a healthy environment would be at that age. He doesn't even appear to have an awareness of youkai (if so, only slight enough for it to not become a problem for him just yet). We're shown later on that he would commonly draw around the house too, as evidenced by the nearly two decade old pieces of artwork his father never removed from the kitchen area and closet.

Natsume even proceeds to make a comment about this childhood version of himself likely being the mischievous type for him to run around drawing on surfaces without a care in the world.

He undeniably had his own troubles at that stage of his life though, with one of those troubles being his mom and the empty spot left behind by her passing away. Apart from his heartwarming portrait of a family with both parents, he's also shown lamenting to Miyoko after the death of his dad about not being able to remember his mom. We've seen with those two examples that her absence indeed left an impact on him early on in his life, but he doesn't stay too broken up over her considering how little he got to bond with her, and he doesn't openly despair about the loss of his dad until his growing sense of loneliness and longing becomes too much for him to smooth over.

The point I'm trying (and admittedly struggling) to make here is that after moving in with Miyoko and her parents, the worries on Natsume's plate increased tenfold and weighed him down far more than he was willing to accept at first. Suddenly, this kid had little to smile about in life, taking a glance at his only picture of his parents causes grief and envy to flare up in his chest, he's afraid of being a burden to those who took him under his wing, he's eating less than Miyoko because he's concerned with coming off as too greedy, he feels responsible for Miyoko getting picked on because of his relation to her, he's still learning the way back to the Aoi family's home, and now he's surrounded by all of these weird creatures that apparently no one else can see.

Suddenly, he's no longer that carefree toddler we saw sitting on his dad's lap as the two of them watched over his late mom's garden.

I feel moderately certain about Natsume's experience with the storm, coupled with this pivotal and devastating shift in his life, being the plausible cause for him developing his irrational fear of thunder as a child.

After this arc, we aren't greeted with another scene featuring or centered on his astraphobia until chapter 85 (which doesn't appear to be adapted in S7 judging from the PV😭), and it focuses on Natsume, Tanuma and Taki viewing a limited exhibition at an old inn that has a deep history with youkai. Not too long after the owner engages in conversation with Taki, Natsume and Tanuma briefly comment on how peaceful the inn is making the both of them feel, and a sudden lightning strike cuts through the tranquility of the inn.

It catches everyone off guard and, unsurprisingly, has Natsume frozen in place as Tanuma asks him and Taki if they're alright.

Much like Nyanko-sensei's first time mentioning Natsume's fear, the moment doesn't last long as the gang soon realizes they'll have to spend the night at the inn while they wait for the sudden storm to pass.

By this point in the manga though, Midorikawa has evidently decided to make Natsume's astraphobia a recurring element of the sorts. She could've easily left his astraphobia as another facet of his that we get to see once or twice and never again since it's not serviceable to the story as a whole, but she's started using his phobia as an additional means of displaying his discomfort in any given situation. Having a thunderstorm suddenly appear during a moment of serenity, immediately after Natsume tells Tanuma the place is making him feel strangely good, was a brilliant move of jarring him. And it works especially well here as a sign of the looming threat that'll find its way into the inn over night and slowly creep upon the group the longer they remain there.

Midorikawa pulls this same stunt again to slightly greater effect in chapter 117, where Natsume, Tanuma and Nyanko-sensei happen upon the Kisaragi Manor and find themselves taking part in a ritual for summoning youkai.

It starts with the trio meeting up in the evening to view the bamboo lanterns, but a woman claiming to be in search of a mansion requests their help to find it before it gets too dark, as well as to avoid getting caught in a downpour should the drizzle grow heavier. While Tanuma shows interest in the ritual, and the people they meet are treating them somewhat cordially, Natsume is disconcerted by the arrangement they've found themselves in. He's surrounded by five women he's never met in his life, is once again in an unfamiliar place that feels weird in Nyanko-sensei's own words, and is thrown for a loop by everyone's enthusiasm with the idea of meeting youkai rather than being put off by them.

The group isn't even a minute into their summoning ritual when a huge boom of thunder shakes the room and causes a power outage, sending them into a brief stint of darkness until Hitomi relights the candle.

While waiting for the candle though, Natsume answers Tanuma's question by for once admitting that he's bothered by thunder, leading to Nyanko-sensei characteristically picking on his phobia by calling him a chicken.

Again, the moment is subtle and restricted to one corner of the page, but it sticks the landing. Instead of using the lightning or thunder as a sign of things to come as she's done before, Midorikawa uses them here as an integrant of an already somewhat concerning scene slowly veering towards being disturbing. In addition to selling just how uncomfortable of a situation this is for Natsume, it also depicts how far along he is in his friendship with Tanuma to be honest about an irrational fear we know he'd rather not speak of.

Alas, chapter 117 was our last time seeing thunder scare Natsume, at least until the next time Midorikawa chooses to use his fear to her advantage, unless the anime miraculously surprises us with its own original take as we've seen it isn't afraid to do. What we've been given so far though is plentiful in comparison to many other plot points or quirks that get reused or called back to far less than this one. I won't throw a tantrum if his never gets referenced to or utilized again (which I doubt will happen knowing Midorikawa's writing), but I eagerly anticipate seeing it again should it reappear.

It's captivating to watch this minor detail frequently make it's way back into the story somehow, to the point that it eventually cemented itself as a miniscule yet effective way of shedding different shades of light on the many complexities of Natsume.

[strawberryblue-blog]

could you do birthday sex smut with Pedri

Like old times —Pedri González.

summary: Pedri invites you to meet his friends on his birthday and it ends like you never expected.

warnings: YES. +18. smut, friends to lovers, cute, soft.

words count: +2k.

#SEXYNOTE: Happy birthday to our Pedri (late) We love youuuu 🩷

Laughter spilled through the house as the voices talked about things. You were talking to a friend of Pedri's while he was talking about you, remembering things from the past. Today was your best friend's birthday and all his friends had come to celebrate. Your old childhood friend that even though you still saw each other from time to time, you had agreed to be close friends. But you hadn't been able to see each other lately because of his work and your studies. You were more than happy that he invited you to have dinner with them today for his birthday, with his teammates that you were excited to meet.

They were great, you barely talked to them but you already got along so well. Pedri kept talking about you. About your childhood. Old anecdotes brought back vivid memories of your times, everyone laughed and commented. You could tell that some were a little more over the top than others and the birthday boy was not far behind.

You felt melancholy. You didn't know if it was the alcohol or the fleeting glances you and Pedri gave each other as you reminisced. His eyes looked at you with that same sparkle they had when you were young and you're sure yours sparkled like that too. All night long you had been giving each other complicit, honeyed and challenging glances. As if you owed something to each other. As if you were waiting for something from each other. Still, you tried to make the most of your time with his friends. It wasn't every day you were surrounded by people as nice as they were.

You dined, drank, talked, toasted and ate cake. Everything was perfect. The reunion had been successful and most of them were already starting to say goodbye to go home.

"It was nice to meet the famous Y/n!" said Ferran, hugging you fleetingly. You hugged him nicely too.

They all agreed, smiling.

"It's pleasure is all mine, guys" you thanked towards them.

"We have to do it more often" Gavi said before hugging you goodbye. "If Pedri accepts, I don't think he's that happy about it" he whispered when he reached your ear. His hug lasted a little longer than the others and your heart skipped a beat when you heard it.

Behind you was Pedri, looking at you somewhat seriously while still holding Gavi in a hug. You heard a chuckle from him and hid your laughter. He winked at you when you pulled away and you smiled at him.

"All right, bye" Pedri muttered, running to Gavi quickly and dragging him to the door. Everyone burst out laughing in amusement.

You shook your head ignoring him. You were her best friend, none of that would change by hanging out with the boys.

Pedri escorted them out, while you stayed behind to sort things out. You felt a little guilty about the mess and you weren't going to let Pedri set everything up alone in the morning.

"Y/n, leave it. Tomorrow I'll clean up" he said when he got back to the house.

"Please, let me do it" you asked with a look, Pedri snorted but had no choice when you kept putting things together.

You stayed a while longer, tidying up, washing and chatting. You didn't mind helping him at all, in fact you were enjoying it. He kept catching you up on his life and you took the opportunity to tell him about yours. It had been a long time since you had had a conversation as deep and lively as this one and finally you and Pedri were alone.

"Would you like one more drink?" he asked as you sat down to rest on the couch after you finished.

"I think I need to go home" you say with a grimace.

"Come on!" he squeals in amusement. "It's my birthday" he pouts. "Besides you could stay, there's an extra room if you want..."

His eyes pleaded for you to accept, it was obvious you were both excited to see each other again. You weren't going to deny it, you had been waiting all night for a moment alone with him, just like old times. You wanted to stay but were afraid to admit it.

"Okay, let's open another bottle" you nod smiling.

He goes to kitchen for another champagne from the fridge and two clean glasses. He returns, sits down on the sofa with a chuckle and pours the glasses carefully, still talking. You've never seen him as chatty as he is tonight, he was enjoying his alone time and you wanted to know all about him. Once again, you toast clinking your glasses and you bite your lip nervously. You take a hurried drink, trying to calm your anxieties. Your heart started pounding and you begin to hesitate as you smile thinly.

"Remember when we ran away from home to go to camp with Fer?" you asked with a laugh as you continued to reminisce.

He long a laugh as he remembered. It had been when you were six years old, Fer and his friends had gone camping at the beach and you curious little kids followed them to go too. You had run away from home, as your parents had not let you go, since you were small. But you wanted to see the waves and become teenagers like the others.

"I still remember that I didn't leave home for at least three months because of the punishment" Pedri river denying. "And when we fell out of the tree hammock?" he said and you burst out laughing.

That had been another experience. Your father had told you not to ride in the tree hammock together because he clearly wasn't going to put up with it but you didn't know what that meant and did it anyway. Said and done, the hammock didn't hold and the branch snapped, making you fall in a big crash that you still remember perfectly.

You sighed trying to stop laughing, your belly already hurt and you felt dizzy.

"Remember when we kissed for the first time?" you ask with a shy laugh, grimacing in embarrassment.

Heat rises to your cheeks as you remember their first kiss. Yes. Your first kiss had been with Pedri when you were thirteen. You watched everyone kiss, Fer and his girlfriend at the time, your parents, your friends, the movies, everyone. You wanted to have your kiss too and you were grown up, according to you.

"It was terrible" guffawed Pedri clutching his belly. "We didn't even know how to do it"

Another guffaw comes out of your mouth. Tears were starting to build up from the laughter, your belly ached and you had no desire left. It was definitely the best time.

"We didn't know what to do with our tongues, it was so gross" you remembered and again laughed out loud.

He catches it and laughs too. For some reason, his laughter makes you feel a knot in your stomach. It's so magical. It takes you back to those moments where you were soul mates, inexperienced and curious young people, trying to find yourselves in each other. Your friendship with Pedri was one of the most precious things you had.

The laughter begins to subside and you stare at each other. Her face is slightly flushed, probably from the alcohol, his gaze shining in the dim light of the room. His hair is tousled and looks so soft it makes you want to comb it. You swallow saliva as your gazes never leave each other's eyes. So deep that you feel spellbound. You smile a little shyly, your heart races with every second, your chest tightens and you want to keep talking to him. You love to hear his voice, his laughter. You want to keep remembering your moments with Pedri, because every time you listen to him he makes you feel a special spark inside you.

But you don't really feel like talking. You want to touch him, to pull him closer to you, to kiss him. To have him as close to you as possible.

The silence is overwhelming and uncomfortable. Your gazes are still glued like chewing gum on your shoe Your breaths are agitated and irregular. You want to kiss him so badly. You don't know when he moved but he's so close to you, you doubt if it was you who approached. You don't know, you're lost in his eyes.

"Just like old times" he murmurs taking your hand gently. "You and me"

You smile biting your lip. You nod without even being able to speak, your heart soars and your pulse rises. It's just him and you. It's just the two of you.

His gaze pleads for something you understand perfectly. But neither of you dare make a move. You're so scared you're afraid of misreading the situation. If you kiss him, there's no turning back and you don't know if he wants that.

Minutes pass and you're still there, looking at each other. With feelings afloat as they continue to bloom on your breasts.

You bite your lip, sighing slowly. And without thinking and you jump into his mouth, kissing him with some fear.

It's a soft touch, as if asking for permission. Pedri accepts it and quickly with your hands encircle his cheeks as his hands wrap around your waist, pulling you closer.

He wanted to kiss you, you wanted to kiss him. It was the perfect moment to remember old times. You kiss for eternity, savoring each other, feeling each other, remembering each other. This time the kiss is nothing compared to that first kiss you had more than ten years ago.

It's hard, sure and hot. Although his lips taste exactly like they used to at that moment and your heart felt the same as it used to feel some time ago. Agitated, needy and in love with Pedri.

You want to kiss him. You want to touch him. You want to feel him.

His body traps yours and he lays you down on the couch, still kissing, his hands caressing every corner of your skin while your fingers hold the dark fibers of his hair. His touch burns into your skin, leaving warm traces that will be marked for life in your heart. His lips walk down your neck, it's rough but sweet at the same time, gasps escape from your mouths. You can't stop kissing you, over and over again. From seeing each other, from feeling each other, from remembering each other.

Your hands begin to undress your body, removing your shirt and skirt, your fingers caress every corner of your skin, touching it. Yours help him take off his shirt and then play in his soft hair, his body presses against yours as your legs embrace his bare back. You don't want to stop kissing him, you don't want him to stop. You need him.

"Are you okay?" he whispers as his forehead presses against yours Your confused look makes him hesitate but it's not because you want to stop. "Do you want to go on?"

"Yes, I do" you say holding his red cheeks. But you take the time to watch him. Above you, his lips red and swollen, his cheeks flushed from the heat beginning to rise in your bodies, his eyes shining like mirrors, his chest heaving.

It is beautiful. Through his gaze you can still see the boy only four years old who came to play with you on the playground, the only boy who didn't judge you and came to you, the boy who visited you every day after school, the boy who taught you how to kick and a thousand other things that live forever in your heart.

"Kissing you that day wasn't really gross, Peter" you murmur sincerely.

Yes, maybe it was in a sense. You didn't know how to do it, it was slobbery, short and it felt awful. But on the other hand it was innocent, tender and delicate. It was the beginning of everything. Your feelings were never the same as before after that.

"It was beautiful" you whisper as his fingers stroke your hair, he tucks a loose strand behind your ear and smiles. "It was magical" you admit excitedly.

"You are beautiful" he says looking so deep into your eyes. "It was the best first kiss I could have ever had."

You smile nostalgically as you continue to talk through your eyes.

“Let me show you how much I missed you” he asks in a whisper as his nose plays with yours. “Let me show you when I love you.”

A small tear escapes down your cheek falling. He catches it before it touched your skin. Your head is about to explode, the butterflies in your belly feel like dinosaurs.

“Only if you also let me do the same” you also whisper with a small smile.

His lips kiss yours again, this time firmer, more desperate. His mouth leaves no room on yours and he kisses you fiercely, as if he wants to devour you. And he does. His hands roam over your belly and chest, making small gentle touches to acknowledge your skin. Finally they reach for your bra pin and unclasp it, removing it from your body. His eyes slide over your round breasts, you let him see them, admire them, know them. Your stomach vibrates as he licks his lips and you smile with laughter.

Your fingers take his jeans and unbutton them, seeking to feel his body closer to yours. He lifts up a little to take it off, dragging it down with his underwear and you stare at him for a second. You'd seen other naked bodies but none of them resemble Pedri's. He is perfect.

He turns to you and takes the panties from your sides asking for permission with his eyes, which you quickly accept with a smile. As many say, a picture is worth a thousand words and the way Pedri just looked at you, he just made a testament.

You find yourselves completely naked, looking at each other, as your hearts beat in tandem. Your breaths meet again as you kiss again. Like a magnet their mouths attract each other again and again. As they begin to touch, to know each other, to meet again. Her hands encircle your breasts and squeeze them, making you gasp with pleasure. Yours hold his ass firm, pulling him closer to you. His kisses follow a trail down your neck, down your skin, his lips find your nipples and you kiss them softly. Gently. Moans come out of your mouth, his eyes have never left yours, it's as if they've been bonded for life. Your bodies hot, needy, waiting to join. He positions himself at your entrance and gently moves in, probing your wetness as he makes room between your walls. Your mouth opens and lets out a moan as you feel his cock fit perfectly into your cavity, it's slow and smooth, not even moving. His gaze never leaves yours as your hands hold his face so close to yours that they almost rub together.

You don't need to say anything. Your eyes, your feelings, your hearts have said enough. Skin to skin. Joining together, and I don't mean blissfully sexual. Something beyond a bodily union. But something deeper and more spiritual.

It is a magical moment. So unreal that you doubt if it is a dream but his movements make you believe that he is inside you. Inside your heart. Inside your soul. You hold tight to his neck as he begins to thrust faster, though his movements are delicate, smooth and deep. It feels so good. Him. You. Together tonight. United in soul and body.

Something you had dreamed of your whole life. From that innocent and premature kiss you had out of curiosity until today when you saw him talking about you and the complicit glances you gave each other. Tonight was special for him and it was special for you too.

“Happy birthday, love of my life” you whisper with a proud smile.

His body stops inside you and you feel an emptiness in your chest but his eyes make everything about you vibrate.

“You are the best gift, you are my dream” he murmurs sincerely and your chest burns.

He joins your lips again and you kiss so romantic, soft and polite. Without rushing taking your time because today nothing runs you, it's just him and you.

He admires you, you admire him. Your bodies yearn for each other, you are joined for life. The way he touches you, feels you, looks at you. He makes you feel special by his side, he always has. Pedri is the love of your life. And meeting again made you realize that you are meant for each other.

[seullovesme]

red velvet hcs » love languages

irene

- acts of service

irene loves to take care of you all the time. whenever you're stressed or overwhelmed, she'll prepare you your comfort food and make sure you eat knowing you already have a lot on your mind <3 she also checks the weather every time you plan on leaving the house so she can remind you to bring a jacket if it's cold or an umbrella if its raining. even if it's simple things like making sure your car keys are always by the front door so it's easier for you to find them, or sneaking extra snacks in your bag in case you get hungry when going about. it slowly becomes apart of her routine. she doesn't really do it to expect anything in return because she loved knowing she's helping you, but she does enjoy all the love and affection you give her all the time in gratitude of all she does for you.

you do try to return the favor though. when she's ill, you leave medicine and water on the bedside with a sweet note before you leave. if she's feeling cold at night, you'll give her the majority of the blanket and cuddle her to sleep. the things you do for each other are basically instinctual and they come so naturally, all formed by the love you shared. people may have seen it as chores or added responsibilities, but irene never thought of it as that and neither did you. you both–not always having the right words to express it–were happy knowing that there were little things you could do to show you cared.

seulgi

- physical touch

being able to be wrapped in your warmth makes seulgi so happy! she unconsciously longs for your touch whenever your not around, and when you're with her, she doesn't hesitate to hug you and hold your hands. you'll be laying on the couch and seul comes home exhausted, and immediately she starts walking to you. no words, she just lays on top of you and enjoys feeling your chest rise and fall on hers. when sleeping in the same bed, it's impossible to every be cold with your bear latched onto you. <3 she especially loves when you initiate contact. holding her face with both hands on her cheeks makes her smile instantly, and she really loves when you squish her cheeks when she's smiling. she always feels the need to be as close to you as possible.

she'll finish a performance and bolts backstage to find you. when she finally spots you sitting in her dressing room, she jumps onto you and hugs you like she hadn't seen you in weeks (it was more like a 2 days, but that's too long in seulgi land). she's just like a koala to a tree, never letting go. inevitably, she lets go so the staff can fix her up, but she can't go a few minutes feeling your touch and holds your hand as they work around the two of you. it was so reassuring for seulgi to feel you there physically and you knew that. it never bothered you in the slightest.

wendy

- words of affirmation

every day, she tells you that you're the best partner in the world. even after every fight or argument, she reminds you that her love for you never wavers. wendy also loves showering you in compliments. you'll be getting dressed, and she'll just sit there and watch you piece your outfit together. when you're done, she claps while saying something along the lines of "wow, i'm truly the luckiest girl in the world" or "i can't believe your all mine". she's a little cheesy with her lines, but she'd do anything to make that million dollar smile show on your face.

wendy not only likes giving words of affirmation but also receiving. sometimes, she gets self-conscious because of what people say about her. she comes home from work absolutely drained, on the verge of breaking down at the foyer, and you come rushing to greet her. once you see her in that state, you immediately know what to do as you put down all her stuff and drag her to your shared bedroom. you lay down and wrap her in your arms with her head under your chin, rubbing her back while telling her how proud you are of her. "i don't care what people think, you are amazing love. i've seen how hard you work, i'm so proud of you and i love you so so much".

joy

- receiving gifts

it's not that she wants you to spend your money on her or that she needs objects to represent your love; she just enjoys how much thought you put into picking out something specifically for her. it's never just random thing you think might please her, but things your time and effort go into. every time you bring her something new, you love seeing her face glow in happiness and her smile is enough to soothe any kind of stress or tension in your life. joy absolutely adores seeing you rave about how you came up with the gift idea as she sees and hears the love from within you.

her favorite gift of yours–which she must admit had some really close contenders–was the photo book you made for your anniversary. it was almost as thick as a dictionary, filled to the brim with cute pictures of the both of you. firstly, you got a crapload of photos printed at a print shop before cutting the hundreds of images into their own individual pieces. then, you very carefully glued each picture one by one in the many pages until there was no empty space left. she had it dead center on her shelf, and whenever she saw it, she was reminded of the love you held for her.

yeri

- quality time

yeri values her time and she never wastes it on anything unimportant. that's why it was either spent with her career, her family, her friends, and with you. all her time was invested in the things she loved most and you were apart of that list. she made sure the two of you didn't go a full week without at least two dates (one if your schedules were packed), and mainly it was because she needed it to stay sane in the midst of the chaos. just being with you took her mind away from her problems.

she loves having your absolute attention. she does receive a lot of attention from fans and all, but with you it was different entirely. you gave her love that she couldn't get from just anywhere, and the fact that you'd put down everything to just be in the moment with her filled her with a warmth only you provided. something simple like sitting on the sofa together and talking about you've been up to all the way to a fancy dinner where you're sharing stories over expensive foods, yeri just loves spending her hours with you.

[melkyt]

You know a modern au that would hit with the angst and I eat up everytime?

17~ 18 year old Luffy working way to many jobs under the table, not all of them always paying him but he always does it with a smile and works constantly, so he is dead tired most of the time but doesn't let it show.

He needs this money to helo his brothers or his friends, Luffy who tries to help anyone he can even if he is going through this

Law who meets this Luffy, but doesnt notice that the kid is tired, he just assumes that its just another brat that never qorked a day in his life,

Maybe Luffy is coming hom from Sanji's who is only rich in name and the big empty house he can't afford if it wasnt paid off.

Still that means he is n the more well off neighborhoods with a gated community.

Law who is there as a tutor or on-call doctor for those that can afford it just assumes Luffy is yet another rich brat. Them running into each other ans hanging out on their daily walks.

Luffy who doesn't say anything about himself and lets Law assume whatever he wants.

While Law slowly tells what his life is like and that he is working this late to pay of college and medical bills

Luffy says he can relate but doesn't elaborate and they reach the station before Law can question it. Luffy never gets on the bus/train so Law did also assume he lived in the neighboorhood but the more they got to know each other, the less likely that seemed.

Law getting curious and prying without actually. That slow journey of Law finding out that Luffy is preatty much homeless, and surviving as best he can on the streets

There is some drama as Luffy isnt about to make Law worry. He likes that Law doesnt look at him like some other who pitty him, or try to help when there isnt anything they can do that he isnt already doing. So he likes their talks and goes back even if he doesnt have a reason to be there. Luffy dodging all of Law's questions with really bad lies

Until Law pretends to go home and tails Luffy to a bar, Makino's bar where he often crashes after hanging out between jobs.

Law being concerned about this kid, maybe it reminds him when he was in the same situation. Law trying to help only to make things worse for Luffy.

Them arguing that its nit Law's business and Luffy would have asked for help if he needed it! Luffy daying sure he might like Traffy alot but thats why he's not going to be a burden

The silence heavy around the bar.

Luffy swearing and leaving because he has to go to work, telling Law not to follow him.

Law who is not just going to give up like that, but also not sure what to say, sending cryptic messages that ask Luffy to meet him at some spot.

Luffy who works two shifts that night, and gets the message way too late, and it rains. He checks his phone only to see a message from Law

"Ill be waiting as long as it takes"

Luffy running to meet him, there us a dramatic confession. They are both soaked and the kiss is messy and they dont know what this is but that they are going to try.

Then Law ofc gets sick and thats how Luffy finds out where he lives, and starts crashing there and eventually they start dating without actually putting a name to the relationship.

[starryredpandawrites]

Siblinks Turkey Shenanigans

In honor of the holiday, I have this silly Thanksgiving scenario stuck in my head that I want to get out that I might turn into a Bendy Bite someday. There's so much shenanigan potential I'm having trouble deciding what to keep and what to laugh about and move on from, so there's a poll at the end so y'all can help me decide.

Anyways, there are three ways I picture this scenario happening:

Option 1:

Audrey has been having a lot of fun introducing Bendy to all the holidays, and decides to surprise him with Thanksgiving. Big-little man loves to eat (both forms) and she knows he’s gonna love it. She’s also really looking forward to celebrating it because she hasn’t celebrated it since Joey died. Like, she was the type of person to be annoyed/sad that they were given the day off and wished that she could work instead because she had no-one to come home to. Now, she does! She doesn’t tell him she has the day off either, and is just hoping he sleeps long enough to get most of the cooking done so it’s a proper surprise.

A couple days before Thanksgiving, she sets the turkey in the fridge to thaw. She doesn't explain it to Bendy because she doesn't want to ruin the surprise and doesn't even think about it being necessary because who in the world would eat a raw turkey? (she recognizes her mistake later)

Problem: Bendy is a hungry boi, and often gets late night munchies as the Ink Demon. He sees the turkey in the fridge and is like, "A snack? For me?" and just eats the whole damn thing raw and partially frozen. In this scenario, he might leave Audrey a leg behind or something like that to be considerate (she's probably talked to him before about leaving her some when she's brought home big meals like this before).

Audrey wakes up, goes to work, gets home to find the turkey being gone and is, like, where tf is the turkey?!? until she remembers she's living with a demon and is surprised but not surprised because he used to eat whole people raw. She tries to goes out to buy another one but either the stores have already closed or they already ran out of turkeys. Also, it would have been too late to thaw it by then anyway. She might buy a ham or a chicken or something to replace it or she might just go home in defeat, saying they'll just celebrate it some other weekend.

However, Bendy feels really guilty for eating the turkey, even though Audrey told him it was partially her fault for not telling him what the turkey was for. So, that night, he sneaks out, and when Audrey wakes up she finds another surprise in her fridge. It's filled with dead birds. Pidgeons, sparrows, a duck or two and maybe even a pheasant.

Audrey freaks out and confronts Bendy, and he explains that he caught them to replace the turkey he ate. Audrey has another talk with him about not putting dead animals in the fridge but decides to go ahead and try using one of the larger birds for the dinner.

New problem: she has NO IDEA how much work goes into cleaning birds and this is back when the internet wasn't a thing. She sets Bendy on plucking duty to make up for his theft while she works on the other thanksgiving dishes. Bendy is a little miffed she doesn't want to try any of the other birds he brought home, but stops complaining after being given plucking duty (he hates it/finds it super boring/tedious and doesn't want to pluck anything else) Back to the bird, she tries to clean and prepare it the best she can, but it's gonna end up super gamey and weird, so she just eats a little and lets Bendy have the rest and focuses on the other dishes and her singular turkey leg.

They still enjoy the day together just by hanging out and watching all the thanksgiving/christmas themed shows on TV so the day is still a success. Audrey just makes a mental note to buy an extra turkey the next year just in case.

Option 2:

Audrey does tell him about Thanksgiving and they're both hyped about it. When Audrey sets the turkey out to thaw, she is very clear that it's for Thanksgiving, but doesn't outright tell him not to eat it because, again, most people wouldn't need to be told that. Bendy is not most people.

This time, however, he knows the turkey is for thanksgivng and he knows it's off-limits. The first night, he keeps opening and closing the fridge, walking away then walking back, over and over again while berating himself for being so weak. He stays strong through the first night, but halfway through the second night he gives in and just devours it.

On Thanksgiving Day, Audrey wakes up and is weirded out because usually Bendy likes to sleep in the same room as her, and he’s nowhere to be seen. Then, she realizes he must have done something he feels guilty about, and just runs to the kitchen to discover the missing turkey. This time, he's left nothing behind.

She chews him out, he's super guilty, she feels bad because it is his first Thanksgiving. She goes out to try and get something but all the stores are closed (this is before Walmart normalized being open all year). She comes back empty-handed to an empty apartment and is about to panic until Bendy comes back just in time with, you guessed it, more dead birds!

Again, Audrey chews him out for sneaking out in broad daylight but he excuses it since she explained to him earlier that almost everyone is home for the holiday and they needed a replacement bird.

Situation ends like the first, with Audrey trying and failing to cook one of the random birds and they just enjoy the rest of the day.

Option 3:

In the other two versions I imagined the Ink Demon going ham on the turkey late at night, but there's another option that's possibly funnier

Yanno how in my fic there's a memory disconnect/blurr of Bendy between his Ink Demon form and his Baby Benders form? Let's say Audrey sets the turkey out to defrost while the Ink Demon is watching soap operas or smg and tells him it's for Thanksgiving. Ink Demon kinda waves her off because he really wants to know if Missy is cheating on Peter with Austin, or if Austin is actually her long-lost brother like she claims.

They go to bed, Bendy wakes up as Baby Benders with midnight munchies, opens the fridge, sees the turkey and thinks, "A snack? For me?" and eats it as Baby Benders.

This scenario proceeds to play out like the other two OR

He goes to bed and wakes up early as the Ink Demon again, or he switches before going back to bed, realizes he screwed up, and immediately goes out to replace the turkey so when Audrey wakes up to not only a missing turkey, but also a bunch of dead birds in her fridge.

Now, I wanna know which one YOU guys (gender-neutral) think is more likely to happen, plus a couple bonus options because funny.

Bonus thought: After the first thanksgiving and seeing how much Bendy can eat, she decides to buy two turkeys and only cooks one of them/the other one is for Bendy. The year after that, she buys three. The year after that, she buys five. She could keep going but decides more than five is excessive and Bendy will just have to deal.

[thebirdandhersong]

Lol

[chicanomick]

🥹THIS IS SO CUTE!!!!!!!

HAPPY VALENTINES DAY🥰💖💖💖💖

[girlivealwaysbean]

sometimes i miss talking to that one person who didn't NEVER turned it into a competition about who has it worse and never told me well atleast you have [x]

[saetoru]

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩ how long does it take to fuck your brother's best friend? (four whole days)

synopsis. suguru comes home to visit from college at the same time you do—except he brings satoru along. this is going to be a long break

word count. 8.5k (i am tired of this tomfoolery)

contents. college! au, brother's best friend! satoru, fem! reader, minors do not interact, three-year age gap (you're both early twenties), slightly mean satoru (when you’re kids), slight enemies to lovers, jealous! satoru, mentions of reader having an ex-bf, male masturbation, satoru is taller + carries reader, cunnilingus, fingering, handjobs, unprotected sex, brief mentions of alcohol (satoru), creampie, pet names (baby + sweetheart), not proofread i could not be bothered i’m sorry

notes. this was not supposed to be this long bye i am embarrassingly down bad for the blue-eyed freak

everyone knows that where there is satoru, there is suguru—and likewise, where there is suguru, there is satoru.

they’re a bit of a packaged deal, really. satoru befriends your brother in what you think must be some twisted stroke of luck—there is no way suguru would lower his standards for some rich bastard who’s had life made for him since the day he was born. but apparently, he does, and you’re stuck with a white-haired nuisance in your house at least once a week. for years.

you’ve known satoru since he was a whiny, snot-faced, and spoiled little brat. back then, he used to call you toothless—you were six, it’s normal for children at the age of six to lose a few teeth. just because satoru is nine and has grown his teeth back doesn’t mean he escaped the toothless phase himself—but satoru is just a jerk like that, pushes your buttons, and calls out your insecurities to get a good laugh.

you don’t smile with your mouth open even once around him that summer, not until suguru assures you that regardless of how many teeth you have, you have a lovely smile.

when you’re twelve, puberty does its thing, and now you’re stuck with acne-prone skin—also a normal occurrence for people your age, but satoru makes sure to point out the giant pimple on your forehead every time he sees you. you make sure to let him know his haircut is as awful as his sense of style, and suguru tries his best not to choke himself with his charger as you both bicker.

satoru is gone that entire summer for a family cruise that you’re sure costs double your house—he comes back frighteningly taller than you remember him within the span of just a few weeks.

it’s been like that since you were kids. he comes over, finds a new thing to pick on through his smug grins and smooth chuckles, and you fume as you bite back with just as snarky rebuttals. he makes sure to never cross the line of going too far—it’s more for suguru’s sake, you’re fairly sure—but stays right on the dot of getting just under your skin.

he’s annoying. a jerk. a rich snob. a privileged dickhead. he’s rude and disrespectful, with no tact, let alone any semblance of respect. you don’t understand what could possibly make suguru want to hang around such a douchebag, but suguru cares about satoru—and satoru has always been there for your brother.

you don’t understand it, but you respect it. as long as he doesn’t wet your entire bathroom sink and mirror in the mornings after he stays over, you suppose you can coexist.

but you haven’t seen him in ages—not outside of suguru’s instagram stories and posts. it’s been a long few years since the two of them have left for college, and by the time you leave too, life has its funny way of working, and, well…you don’t bump into him anymore. it doesn’t occur to you that satoru is not the same guy you used to know until you come back home to visit after your second year of college.

“suguru,” you call, “i borrowed your hoodie. but you can have it back—”

you cut yourself off when you open the door to your brother’s room, and lo and behold, stands a very shirtless gojo satoru, the white-haired and blue-eyed asshole you’ve had to deal with since childhood. except he’s way taller than you remember him—just how much does this guy grow, exactly? his shoulders are broader and….and since when did he have abs? there’s a small tattoo just under his collarbone—when did he even get that? his hair is also longer, just enough to fall over his forehead and curtain those striking blue eyes of his.

he looks…well, handsome. very handsome, in fact. dangerously handsome that it catches you by surprise as you blink.

he’s still shirtless, holding his t-shirt in his hands as he grins.

“hey, toothless,” he greets, voice deeper than the last time you heard it—but it still sounds relatively the same. you think you’d always recognize satoru’s voice, whether you’d like to or not. and, of course, he just has to still use that ridiculous nickname after all these years. “long time no see.”

“i have all my teeth now—i have for a long time, y’know. and put a shirt on, you freak,” you huff, rolling your eyes, “where’s suguru?”

“what, you don’t enjoy the view?” he motions at his bare torso, like the shameless bastard he is, “most girls love this view—”

“and yet, you’re still single,” you cut him off, staring at him pointedly.

he grins impossibly wider, tugging his shirt over his body swiftly—you have to exercise all ounces of control not to gulp as you watch his biceps flex.

“keepin’ track of my love life?” he wiggles his brows, “i know older men can be appealing but have a little class. your poor brother would lose his shit if you went after his best friend—”

“satoru,” you sigh, pinching your nose, “do you age backward or something? how are you still this obnoxious after so long?”

“i practice in the mirror,” he winks, “it’s my charm.”

“that’s hardly charming,” you roll your eyes, “anyway, whenever suguru comes back, let him know i left his hoodie, yeah?”

“sure,” he chuckles.

and then you close the door as you leave—right before you stop, pause, and open it up again as you’re sticking your head back in when you make a shocking realization.

“wait, how long are you here for?” you ask, eyes wide.

he has the audacity to look smug as he taps his chin and pretends to think—“oh, y’know. just the rest of break. my old man took my mom on some trip, so i’m killing time here,” he shrugs.

great. lovely. wonderful. just what you needed.

you wish he’d drop dead—maybe suguru will finally be forced to go outside of his one-man circle and actually befriend some respectable people.

“you can’t just stay at your place?” you hiss, “it’s certainly big enough.”

“well, why be lonely in an empty home when we can have fun here?” he hums, “consider yourself lucky—you get to be housemates with me for a—”

“keep to yourself,” you warn, cutting him off again through narrowed eyes and a dangerous glare—satoru only looks more amused, raising his hands up in surrender.

with that, you turn again and almost shut the door when he calls for you—“hey, toothless,” he says lowly, making you pause before turning to him with a raised brow. he smiles—it’s so unlike that usual smirk of his…somehow this one is a bit gentler as he murmurs, “you look good. grew up well, y’know.”

you blink. you’re not ready for that…didn’t expect a compliment from gojo satoru himself—especially not after all this time of throwing mediocre insults your way.

you decide he must be messing with you, so you purse your lips as you click your teeth in irritation. “yeah, sure,” you say dryly.

you can hear his chuckles as you close the door again—this is going to be a long break.

—————

just as expected, the house is simply not big enough for you and satoru.

the first time you run into him happens to be first thing after waking up—you’re walking up to the door just as he twists the knob and opens it, walking out shirtless. again.

this time, however, he’s got beads of water rolling down his skin from his shower, right between his pecs, as a towel hangs around his shoulders. you can see his tattoo from up close now, a small infinity sign right under his collarbone that contrasts against his pale skin.

how tacky, you think—just as you’d expect, even his choice of tattoos is questionable.

his hair is wet—it’s sticking to his forehead instead of the multiple directions it usually scatters around in that messy way it always does. you’ve only felt satoru’s hair once—when you were fifteen, and you’d hit him in the back of the head as you walked past him at the breakfast table. he’d made a jab at your dark circles. tests were around the corner, and unlike satoru, your grades actually mattered. you didn’t expect his hair to be so soft, but it is, and you almost itch to twirl the strands around your fingers for a quick feel.

instead, you scowl and stomp off to your room as soon as your dishes are washed.

his hair is probably just as soft now—maybe even softer now that he actually probably cares to look after it. you’ve heard suguru grumble about using two-in-one shampoo too many times when he comes back from spending the night at satoru’s. for a second, your fingers twitch to reach up and brush through a few strands on his forehead—just to feel them because they look soft. nothing else.

the urge is quickly killed as soon as he opens his mouth, however.

“oh, hey there, roomie,” he grins, “you’re really doing all you can to catch me half naked, huh?”

“don’t flatter yourself,” you grumble.

“i’m just sayin’,” he chuckles, “that’s twice now. if you ask nicely, i might walk around like this just for you.”

it’s way too early for this.

by early, it’s actually late noon. now that finals aren’t killing your free time, you stay up until ungodly hours to catch up with your social life—and it doesn’t help that you can hear satoru and suguru stay up playing video games the next room over, either. suguru is probably still sleeping.

that’s a bit of a shocker, in fact—usually, it’s satoru that has to be dragged out of your brother’s room to have breakfast (or brunch, really) before the kitchen is cleared up. why satoru is up first is beyond you.

maybe it’s just a cruel way for the universe to enjoy watching more of your veins pop.

“does that apply to asking you to leave? because then i suppose i can ask rather politely.”

he grins, eyes sparkling with amusement as he shoots you that smile with those pearly whites that irritate you to no end. you’re not sure why, but something about his smile looks so much different nowadays—something about it just seems so….mature.

that’s a word you didn’t think you’d ever use to describe satoru.

“mm, not quite,” he hums, “you’re still stuck with me.”

“whatever,” you mutter, rolling your eyes. “move, i want to shower before suguru wakes up.”

“you have time,” he steps to the side, letting you enter the bathroom, “he’s probably not waking up anytime soon—woah.”

satoru’s shirt is on the floor—why, you may ask? because he’s an annoying idiot who doesn’t have to clean up after himself when people have always been around to do it for him. he never has to care to aim and toss his clothes into the hamper because the maids will pick up after him anyway. old habits die hard, you suppose—you’ve listened to suguru complain about satoru’s messiness not improving even after being his roommate for the last few years. it’s never been your problem, but you don’t appreciate it now that you’re slipping over the fabric on the tiled floor, falling backwards with a squeal.

but satoru’s quick—he catches you with those strong arms of his and wraps them tightly around you, keeping you securely in place as he steadies you against his chest.

his bare chest, in fact.

you can feel the slight dampness seeping into your shirt, and you can feel his hot breath on your neck as he exhales in relief once he makes sure you’re safe. you almost shiver—almost, but you manage to scrape together enough self-control to stay painfully still in his grasp.

“you okay?” he murmurs gently, voice a low whisper against your skin. there’s no bite to his words. no amusement or teasing or even smugness. it’s genuine, the way he checks on you.

this is…new. very, very new.

“yeah,” you breathe, letting out a sharp breath. and then—“maybe keep your clothes in the fucking hamper next time, though.”

“sorry,” the smile in his voice is almost audible—you can’t see it from where you are, but you can hear it in his voice. you roll your eyes, and satoru makes no move to loosen his arms around you. for some reason, you don’t move.

you’re not sure why, but you just don’t.

“you’re still just as messy, huh?” you roll your eyes—he laughs, and it’s a smooth, boyish chuckle that almost makes you wonder for a moment if this is why girls seem to love satoru so much despite his god-awful personality.

it’s a pretty beautiful sound—you hate that you have to admit that to yourself.

“yeah,” he admits, “it drives suguru nuts.”

“yeah, i can’t imagine why,” you snort. it’s like that for a moment—satoru’s muscled arms around you and hard chest pressed against your back. finally, you clear your throat. “you can let go now, you know.”

“right,” he mumbles, slowly pulling away—and when you turn to face him….is that disappointment? on his face? you don’t get a chance to be sure because then he’s bending down to pick up his shirt before he’s standing—he’s already wiped the expression from his features completely by then. “sorry about that, toothless. i’ll keep my shirts off the floor next time.”

“that would be so kind of you,” you smile sarcastically.

and then you shut the door in his face and exhale as you lean against the wall.

this is going to be a longer break than you thought.

—————

the next time you run into him, it’s late at night. everyone is asleep—even your brother and his headache of a best friend, if the silence tells you anything. you can’t sleep, though, so you make your way to the kitchen to hunt for snacks. you’re skimming through the pantry before your eyes land on a surprise—a box of strawberry pocky sits nice and enticingly, right there for you to open and devour.

you grin, reaching over when—

“those are mine,” satoru calls, stepping into the kitchen, “brought them over myself. you should ask before touching people’s things.”

“you literally ate my leftovers the other night,” you say incredulously.

“those were yours? i thought they were suguru’s.” he raises a brow in surprise, making you click your teeth in irritation.

“the principle of asking still applies,” you purse your lips. and then defiantly, you open the box and grab a pack right before his eyes.

he scowls—but you know he doesn’t actually mind because he waits for you to finish grabbing yours before taking the box and grabbing his own pack and a coke from the fridge. you both take a seat at the kitchen table, across from each other, as you open the packaging and silently eat your newfound snack.

it’s satoru who breaks the silence first.

“do you still throw away the ends of these?”

you huff indignantly, not meeting his eyes as you take a bite off the strawberry-covered end, stopping at just where the cookie portion is uncoated. “yes. i’m eating these for the coating—not the bland biscuit part.”

“what’re you, five?” he snickers, earning a glare from you. defiantly, you pop the end of the pocky stick into your mouth just to prove a point—and then the look of distaste makes him cackle louder. 

“shut up,” you hiss, “you talk too much.”

“the ladies love it when i do,” he bats his lashes—you stare at him blankly, unimpressed.

“yeah, as if.”

“hey, my ex-girlfriend totally did,” he defends.

ex-girlfriend? that’s a bit of a shocker—you didn’t know satoru dated anyone in the last few years, you haven’t seen or heard anything of it through suguru’s end. in all realness, you didn’t even think satoru was the boyfriend type…but then again, he’s not really the anything type. he just kind of exists to take up space and be the bane of your existence. 

“i hope the poor girl is recovering well after dating you,” you shake your head, feigning a concerned look on your face that makes him roll his eyes—they’re still disturbingly bright even in the dark kitchen, dimly lit by the slightest bit of moonlight pouring in through the small window.

“i dated her freshman and sophomore year,” he says casually. you also didn’t expect that—that it lasted that long. something about satoru doesn’t strike you as the long-term relationship kind of guy. something about him doesn’t seem like the relationship kind of guy at all. not because he’s the type to mess around casually, but because he seems the type to seem disinterested all around—he’s snobby like that. “she was…alright, i guess.”

yeah. very snobby.

“you are such a sick bastard,” you spit.

he snorts, taking a bite of his pocky as he shakes his head in amusement. you’re as feisty as ever—it’s always fun riling you up, even if unintentionally.

“hey, it’s not like she was bad. she was just…well, she wasn’t interested in me like that either,” he shrugs, “i think it was just the sex. it was good, can’t lie there.”

“you’re so gross,” you roll your eyes, “have some decorum.”

“what, you’re still sixteen?” he raises a brow, lips curling into a smirk as he reaches for another pocky, “can’t say the word s-e-x?”

“i don’t broadcast my sexual activities out in the open,” you shrug.

satoru chuckles, taking a bite that more or less finishes the entire stick in one go before he presses a finger to his lips, “shh. don’t say that too loud—suguru will come chase you from his room if he hears.”

“suguru,” you groan, “he’s such a pain to have around sometimes. y’know i dated this one guy last year. i think suguru might’ve paid him to dump me.”

“i know. he definitely thought about it,” satoru hums, “he used to go off about it all the time. he was right, though—that guy was a total prick.”

something about you is mildly shocked that satoru knows about your private life—sure, it’s not outrageous or even the slightest bit unlikely that suguru mentions you. satoru and suguru are best friends, and you happen to be suguru’s sister—of course, suguru is bound to mention you here and there. it’s just the fact that satoru even pays attention to anything to do with you that surprises you—although you suppose it would be a good way for him to find his next source to push your buttons.

“i’m not surprised you think he’s a prick,” you nod, “it takes one to know one, after all.”

“oh yeah?” he snorts, waving you off, “i do, in fact remember anniversaries, y’know.”

“okay,” you sigh, defeated—your ex-boyfriend is admittedly not at the top of the list of your brightest choices. not even up halfway on the list. in fact, he’s so low on the list of good choices you’ve made, that willingly choosing to interact with satoru feels like an exceptional decision in comparison. and that’s saying something. “he was pretty bad. but he was really hot. when a guy looks like that, his values are the least of my worries.”

it’s a joke—you’re sure he knows that. but satoru takes a long sip from his coke, silent for a moment. you don’t think you’ve ever seen him so serious, especially so suddenly.

“he can’t be that hot,” he mutters.

“oh he was really hot. probably the hottest guy i’ve ever talked to—” satoru bites his pocky a bit aggressively at that, “and he was so tall. maybe taller than you—how tall are you again? anyway, he was pretty enough to overlook his shortcomings.”

“he’s probably not taller than me,” he grumbles, frowning. you snort—men and their fragile little egos, you think in amusement.

“he was,” you tease, “he was so tall, i’d let him do whatever he wanted.”

“that’s a terrible way to look at it,” he scrunches his brows, “you shouldn’t let some guy walk all over you because he’s tall and his face is a bit easy on the eyes—”

“i know you’re not talking—”

“i’m serious,” he cuts you off. something about him reminds you of suguru for a moment—like he cares who you’re with because he has a reason to. as if you mean something to him, as if knowing someone who doesn’t deserve you has you in their palms is upsetting.

but then you shake the thought out of your head—satoru doesn’t care. he’s never had a reason to, and you don’t exactly plan to give him one, either.

“okay, dad,” you roll your eyes, “i learned my lesson. i have standards now.”

“good,” he nods—and then, as if to keep himself in character, he adds, “because i don’t want to help suguru kill someone, and it’s over something lame like forgetting his little sister’s anniversary. i’d like to go to jail for something more badass.”

“you and badass don’t belong in the same sentence,” you raise a brow. “let’s be realistic.”

“oh yeah? that’s rich coming from—”

“guys, it is five in the morning,” suguru grumbles, throwing a water bottle at satoru’s head. you glance at the kitchen entrance, eyeing a half-asleep and very irritable suguru as he crosses his arms, “can’t you idiots fight over who’s more of a loser at reasonable hours? some of us like to sleep.”

“want one?” you offer your pack of pocky, holding it out to him.

suguru blinks, contemplating for a second before sighing and trudging over.

“yeah,” he mutters, flicking your forehead. “gimme that.”

you watch woefully as suguru takes the entirety of your pack, swiftly sitting next to satoru and leaving you empty-handed. satoru snickers obnoxiously at the deflated look on your face—and then he holds out his pack to you.

you look between him and the pack for a moment before giving him a genuine smile. it’s a rare sight—he drinks it in as you carefully take one and bicker over something with suguru.

you’re pretty when you smile, he thinks—pretty enough that if you had horrible values (which you don’t), he might feel inclined to understand your (awful) reasoning for a moment.

and then he blinks and shakes the thoughts out of his head—it’s going to be a long break.

—————

satoru meets you when you’re six. 

he’s nine at the time, and he feels on top of the world knowing he’s three whole years older than you—in hindsight, three years is not a very large gap, but to nine-year-old him, it feels like centuries. he’s remembered you as the fun little drama queen that’s too easy to poke fun at for years—that’s all you’ve always been: suguru’s younger sister who puffs her cheeks out and scowls way too often to be normal, the girl that’s way too easy to tease than should be standard. 

somehow, he wasn’t expecting for you to come back so grown…and so hot. suddenly, it really hits him that you’re not a kid—have not really been for a long time now. he’s always treated you like you’re way younger than he is, way too little to be in his presence and be worthy of it—but you’ve really become a fine young woman.

a magnetizing one, in fact.

it’s now his third night at your house—your parents are as lovely and welcoming as ever, and suguru is always a good time to be around. but somehow, satoru is not satisfied. not anywhere near sated by the few, minimal moments of contact with you. 

when did you get so pretty? although, as much as satoru has always liked to poke fun at you, you’ve never been ugly. not even a little—but you’ve grown into your features better, outgrown the awkward teenage era of your life, and now present yourself with a newfound confidence that just looks…so good. satoru doesn’t see his best friend's kid sister anymore—no, there’s something so alluring about you now.

the nail on the coffin that solidifies he’s officially screwed is when you mention your ex-boyfriend—why would your dating life make him this irrationally angry? why is the thought of someone being on the receiving end of your praise (and shameless heart-eyes) so aggravating for him? 

he doesn’t know—but what he does know is that the raging boner has been killing him all morning ever since he woke up from…well, less than proper dreams about you.

so now he’s here, forehead pressed against your shower wall as the hot water hits his back, swollen cock in his fist as he thumbs at the tip, teasing the slit just the way he likes. he thinks about you—how he’d show you what makes him feel good, how you’d probably learn fast and take care of him just the way he needs. 

your hand would look so much daintier compared to his—smaller, but he’s sure it would still feel infinitely better. 

he bites his lip, fighting back a moan as he strokes himself slowly, pre cum smeared along the length of his hard, aching cock—red and angry at the tip, leaking with more pre cum no matter how many times his thumb collects every drop. 

“f-fuck—” he breathes, and his voice lets out a shaky, breathy little call of your name—he’s screwed if anyone hears it. he’s sure you and suguru will both band together to kill him, but thankfully, the words are lost in the sound of the shower running. “fuck baby,” he says hoarsely, voice cracking ever so slightly as he whines. 

it’s soft and quiet, the noises he makes—careful and deliberately hushed to make sure no one hears the improper way he’s thinking of you right now. but fuck, your tits are so pretty when you walk out of your room in a t-shirt in the mornings—he can just tell you’re not wearing a bra. he can’t stop thinking about it, can’t stop trying to picture what they’d look like uncovered and bouncing.

“jus’ like that, baby,” he pants, whimpering softly as he squeezes around his tip, teasing himself with that slow, painful pace of his. 

satoru is sure that if it were you, that if the hand stroking his cock right now was yours, you would never let him cum so easily—you’d drag it out just like this, pump him slowly and twist your hand around him in a pace that’s painfully not enough before ever thinking about letting him come undone. 

it’s just the way that you are—never ready to back down from a challenge, unwilling to go down without a fight. but he loves it, he thinks—lives for the way you keep him on his toes and work for the satisfaction. 

“more,” he gasps, “n-need more—gimme more, sweetheart.”

he imagines it—the way you’d kiss his jaw, maybe even the corner of his mouth, as you hum. say please, toru, you’d probably say—and fuck, he’d kill to hear you say toru. 

“please,” he rasps, “please, baby. d-don’t tease.”

he can practically hear your light giggles, the sweet, okay, baby. no more teasing, that you might whisper. he’d also kill to hear you call him baby—he’s almost nauseous at the idea that some other guy must’ve heard the pet name from your lips before him. and then he lets himself pump his erection faster, squeezing tighter as his thighs quiver while he stands in the shower. 

fuck—you feel so good. you’re not even here, but he’s sure you do, and he’s desperate to envision it. it practically hurts—the way he’s so hard and swollen and ready to release. just for you, he wants to tell you, he’s going to cum all for you. 

“baby,” he whimpers, “‘m so, so close—fuck ‘m gonna cum. ‘s for you—gonna cum for you—ngh, sh-shit.”

and then there’s cum on the tile walls, on his hands, on his abs as they flex with every labored breath. satoru cums—hard. his eyes are squeezed shut, lips parted with a silent cry as he pants and strokes himself through his high. you’d kiss him, he likes to think, on his jaw and cheeks and maybe the tip of his nose as you sit on his lap and work him through his orgasm. you’d watch him closely, take in the way he comes undone for you, maybe even call him your pretty boy as he paints your hand white with his seed.

would you praise him? murmur softly into his ear and seal the gentle words with a kiss to his skin? would you stroke his hair from his face as you admire his blissful, fucked out little expression? maybe he’d ask you then—maybe he’d ask you to admit he’s way more handsome than that douchebag you dated as your hand holds his softening cock, sticky with his release.

god, what he wouldn’t do to see your hands coated with his cum—did you do this for your ex? did he look as hot as you claim he was when he came for you? the thought makes him sour—he grits his teeth and clenches his jaw at the idea, panting and catching his breath as he stares down at the mess he’s made.

he should feel bad—this is wrong. so, so wrong—suguru would kill him if he was aware satoru was lusting over his little sister. but it felt so fucking good—he’s never cum as hard as when he’s pictured cumming for you. 

it can’t be that wrong, if that’s the case—can it?

——

“suguru,” your voice is shrill, deadly—like you’re out for blood. “next time you jack off in the shower, maybe clean the fucking wall? are you joking?”

“wha—i definitely cleaned that,” suguru defends. 

oh, fuck, satoru thinks—he forgot to clean that. so he makes himself very scarce and stays within the confinements of suguru’s bedroom—his messy habits are starting to really catch up to him. if his defense, he really would clean that up…it’s just that he was a bit distracted. 

“so you admit you jack off in our shower? our shower?” you sound inconsolable, downright devastated, and borderline hysterical. having siblings seems like a lot of trouble, he thinks—but then again, sometimes satoru is jealous of your bond with suguru. it’d be nice to have someone in his family he can actually depend on. “keep that shit for your bedroom, you jackass!”

“well, how am i supposed to do that when satoru is there? you tell me.”

“i don’t know! figure it the fuck out—you guys probably jack off together anyway.”

“what?” suguru sounds appalled, “we do not—that’s outrageous.”

“whatever,” you say—you sound almost murderous as you warn, “next time you better clean up your fucking mess, you asshole.”

satoru can’t help but smile a little—your pointer finger is definitely held up as you scold suguru—you’re so cute when you’re mad, he thinks. he almost wants to step out and catch a glimpse, but he decides against it for now.

silently, satoru thanks his best friend for taking one for the team—even if it was unknowingly.

—————

it’s night four. 

satoru has surprisingly kept to himself—he even promptly looked away after meeting your eyes in the kitchen yesterday morning as you walked in for breakfast. that’s…new. a lot about satoru is new. 

he’s taller and more muscular now—at one point, suguru used to tower over his scrawny little form. now he’s seemed to grow into his body, seemed to learn how to style himself better, and actually do his hair a bit. it’s still messy now that he’s just lazing around in your home—but it’s oddly handsome. 

scarily handsome, in fact. 

you don’t enjoy the idea of thinking about the jerk of your childhood like that—but ever since you felt the hard press of his chest against your back, sometimes you wonder what it’s like to know satoru outside of just your older brother’s obnoxious friend. 

maybe, somewhere along the line, had you put your pride aside and actually tried to get to know him, maybe you both could at least be friendly. but then again, there’s never been any real animosity between you two—you can share a lighthearted talk from time to time, like that night in the kitchen. 

you decide not to dwell on it too much, decide that he’s not really worth your thoughts when he’s just a guy who’s always been a bit too spoiled to learn how to be humble. instead, you go down to the kitchen to grab another pack of strawberry pocky—satoru will just have to deal with it. if he doesn’t want his snacks eaten, he shouldn’t keep them in the pantry where anyone could stumble across them.

you walk into the kitchen until—oh. it’s satoru. again.

“oh, hey,” he grins cheekily, taking a sip of his coke—he needs to break the habit of having so much sugar this late at night…but then again, why would it matter to you? “stalkin’ me?”

“for an unwelcomed guest, you sure do talk a lot,” you roll your eyes, making his lips curl into a smug little smirk. 

“i don’t know—your parents seem to love having me over. what if i become their newest son?”

“i doubt my parents are looking to adopt you,” you raise a brow, slightly amused. 

he hums, sipping his coke before blinking at you through those long, perfect lashes of his. “well, there are other ways to blend into a family. marriage, for example, is a great way.”

“you and my brother might as well marry each other,” you snort, “no one else will do it.”

“who said anything about suguru?” he winks, chuckling when your face twists into an exaggerated look of horror—always as dramatic as ever, you are. he can’t help but find an endearing side to it now.

satoru stands, walks over to where you are and stands in front of you as you scoff, shaking your head as you huff out a disbelieving chuckle. 

“that’s pushing it,” you muse, “marrying you would be the last open option i’d have left—and even then i doubt i’d ever take it.”

“yeah?” he raises a brow, leaning in so close, you can practically feel his breath fan over you. he smells like expensive cologne and your shampoo—why is he using yours instead of suguru’s? before you can even ask him what he’s doing, he throws away the empty can of coke in the trash can behind you, eyes bright with amusement as your breath hitches.

it’s like he knows—the fucking asshole.

“yeah,” you breathe, “you don’t deserve me,” you try to say matter-of-factly. it comes off a bit more breathless than you intended—the air feels suffocating. maybe because satoru is so close, maybe because his breath is on your face, maybe because all you can smell and feel and hear is him. 

you can’t find it in yourself to pull away—why aren’t you pulling away? it’s just like that day he caught you, when his arms wrapped around you and all you felt like doing was lean into his chest. what about satoru and you has shifted so quickly to make you want to do that? what makes him so easy to fall into when all you’ve always known was to shove at him?

he hums, leaning in closer and closer until his forehead touches yours. “you know who didn’t deserve you?” he asks, “that shitty ex of yours.”

you look up at him with wide eyes, speechless as his hands find purchase of your hips, grabbing them and pulling you closer—and against better judgment, your hands lay themselves across his chest. it’s as firm as you remember it. 

“how would you know—”

“heard suguru rant about it all the time,” he murmurs, “how he forgot your dates. got you a shitty birthday present. didn’t show up to your anniversary. made you hang out with his friends and didn’t even meet half of yours. you’re tellin’ me he deserves you more than me?”

“he was hot—”

“yeah? and i’m not?”

he’s cocky—you hate that about him. always did. but he’s so close, so intoxicating, so irresistible, and fuck, he is hot—so incredibly hot, you’ve been losing sleep over it the last four nights no matter how hard you try to deny it. 

“satoru, what are you—”

“y’know, i’ve been helping suguru pick your birthday presents since you were twelve. i’d pick you the best gifts,” his nose is brushing against yours now, lips just millimeters away from his as he speaks—“and i never forget an important date. i’m very punctual too, believe it or not. i’d meet your little friends—show ‘em what a catch i am when you introduce me.”

“and what am i supposed to do with this information?” you ask defiantly.

it’s a last-ditch effort—you both know this. you know exactly what he wants you to do with this information. 

“i don’t know, sweetheart,” he chuckles, “what do you think?”

and then you’re kissing him—because fuck, satoru is right there, and how could you not? his chest is under your palms, his lips are right against yours, and you can feel his thumb rub circles into your hips. 

so you kiss him—loop your arms around his neck and tug him closer and press your lips to his. he groans, responds almost instantly as his mouth molds against yours, kissing you deeper as his hand moves to cup your cheek.

your lips are softer than he thought, and his hair is silky against your fingers. you tug at the strands, grab a handful, and feel them against your fingers like you’ve wanted to for so long. and when he nips at your bottom lip, who are you to deny him? your lips part, letting his tongue slide in and taste you with a breathy sigh that makes your knees wobble. 

“s-satoru,” you stutter, whispering between kisses, “suguru might come in like last time—”

“god,” he groans, head burying into your neck, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses against the skin, “don’t fucking talk about your brother right now. please.”

“my room,” you say urgently—it’s all he needs to hear before his hands are on your ass, grabbing you as you wrap your legs around his hips. it’s urgent, the way his mouth is back on yours—he doesn’t pull away even once the entire walk to your room, not even when he lets your back fall onto the mattress as he hovers over you, pressing kisses along your collarbone. 

no bra, he notes happily, his hand sneaking under your shirt to toy with your pert nipples. 

“god, you’ve been driving me fuckin’ crazy,” he mumbles, tugging the hem of your shirt over your arms and tossing it over his shoulder. he stares, takes in the sight of the same tits he’s been fantasizing over for the last few days in awe. “you know that? been thinkin’ about these for days,” he says lowly, cupping your tit and massaging as he presses a kiss to your jaw. 

“you’re shameless,” you mutter, snorting before you cut yourself off with a gasp as he squeezes your nipple, pinching and rolling it between his fingers and pulling a soft whine from you.

“shhh,” he chuckles, tilting his head toward the wall next to you, “don’t want suguru to hear, do you? that wouldn’t be nice, would it?”

“it’ll be worse for you than me,” you grin, tugging at the hem of his own shirt, indicating you want it off. he grins widely, wiggling his brows and making you purse your lips.

“wanna see me shirtless again, huh? third times the charm, as they say,” he winks. you would retort with something as witty, but then your eyes fall on that tattoo again—right under his collarbone, making your hand reach out to trace it with your thumb. 

“what compelled you to get this corny little tattoo of yours,” you grin, giggling as you trace over the small infinity sign. 

for the first time, you think you witness satoru shy, blushing as he rubs the back of his neck and chuckles awkwardly. “that…that was an accident. when i got drunk for the first time.”

“oh,” you snort, “you’re so weak, satoru—”

“do me a favor, sweetheart,” he hums, cutting you off, “as much as i love when you say my name, say toru for me, yeah? i wanna hear it.”

you roll your eyes, huffing as your hand finds the back of his head and pulls him into another kiss, moaning into his mouth as he grinds the throbbing erection in his sweats over your heated core. 

“toru,” you say breathlessly, “more.”

that’s all he needs to hear—satoru doesn’t waste a second before he’s crawling between your legs, sliding your cute little pajama pants down your legs before meeting your dripping pussy.

it’s wet—so wet, he almost wants to chuckle and tease you a bit. just for old-time's sake. but the ache that shoots down to his cock reminds him that he’s in no position to tease you when he’s not faring any better himself. so he spreads your legs, kisses lightly at your clit in a feather-like touch that has you whimpering and clutching the sheets in anticipation.

“how pretty,” he mumbles, “been hiding this pretty little thing all this time. what a perfect pussy.”

“satoru,” you gasp in embarrassment, hands reaching for his hair and tugging him closer to where you need him most—equal parts because you really need his mouth on your cunt and equal parts because you really need him to shut up. 

but he chuckles, takes his time to spread your folds open with his thumbs, and watches in wonder as you flutter around nothing, arousal dripping and leaving a mess. it’s perfect—you’re perfect, and he wants to take his time with you. 

“god, you’re soaked,” he groans, chuckling as he murmurs, “that’s fuckin’ cute.”

before you can even whine at the way his words are shameless, his mouth is back to kissing your clit, lips wrapping around it as he sucks and rolls his tongue along the sensitive bud. his fingers sink deep into you, pushing past your folds and slowly bullying into you until the tips of his fingers curl and brush against a spot that makes you squeal. 

you gasp a breathy, “fuck, toru—” before he hums around your clit, vibrations making you whimper as he thrusts his fingers back in to hit that spot again. it’s sensitive, the way he makes you feel—your nerves are on fire, and your head is light, and fuck, it feels so good you can’t help but sob brokenly and squeeze your thighs around his head. he moans against your cunt, pulling his fingers out before letting his tongue lick a stripe along your slit, tasting you with a sharp inhale. 

“f-feels good,” you whimper, biting your lip as your eyes crinkle at the corners from squeezing shut.

“yeah?” he hums, kissing your inner thigh, leaving a wet little sheen of his spit and your arousal on the skin, “that’s a good girl—just keep telling me how good i make you feel, kay?”

he could stay buried nose-deep into your pussy for as long as you let him—tongue alternating between fucking into you and rolling over your swollen clit, hearing the broken little gasps and whines of his name as you repeat toru over and over again like a prayer. his hand grips at your thigh, sinking his fingertips into the plush skin and rubbing soothingly with his thumb as you rut your hips and grind against his face. 

satoru has half a mind to watch it again—to lick and suck at your core again and again just so he could burn into his mind what you look like when you cum. it’s divine—like he’s halfway to stepping into heaven and has to pause just to admire the sight before him. 

your hips leave the mattress as your back arches, and your fingers tug relentlessly at his roots as your walls quiver, letting satoru taste every drop of your release as you press a palm to your hand and try to keep yourself from squealing at the pleasure.

suguru is right next door. you can’t wake him—can’t let him know this is what you and his best friend get up to in the late hours of the night. 

it’s not until satoru pulls away, catching his breath as he wipes the wet trail on his chin does he realize how hard he is—how badly he’s aching as his cock strains against his sweats. he hisses as he frees himself; ridding his sweats and boxers and wrapping a large hand around the tip of his erection and smearing the leaking pre cum along his length. 

you watch in awe, reaching over and replacing his hand with yours. satoru was right—your hand is infinitely smaller than his, and yet, it feels a great deal better. so much better, in fact, that his arms shake as he hovers over you, burying his head into your neck and groaning as you slowly stroke him, squeezing at the tip and rolling your thumb through the slit.

he didn’t even have to show you what he wanted, what makes him feel good, what makes his mind fog with pleasure and burn through every nerve. no, you figure it all out on your own, pulling strangled moans and hushed gasps from him that make your clit ache once more. 

“fuck, baby,” he pants, “can’t last long like this—c’mon, g-gotta feel you.” gently, he pries your hand from his thick, pulsing cock, laying it against your stomach as he peers down in fascination. “i’ll be right here,” he hums, drawing a line on your skin right where his tip ends, “see that? that’s where you’ll feel me, sweetheart.”

“then let me feel you,” you murmur, cupping his cheeks and brushing a thumb over the skin, “fuck me, toru—wan’ it so bad.”

so he does—drags his tip along your folds and collects the slick pooling at your entrance before pushing his tip past your folds, splitting you in half as he slowly buries himself to the hilt. his jaw is clenched, breath labored as he waits for you to adjust, lets you kiss his cheeks and nose as you murmur how handsome he is, how perfect he feels, how good is to you. 

“that asshole ever make you cum?” he asks lowly, “he ever eat your pussy like that? make you cum hard enough you had to cover your mouth so you’re not screaming his name?”

“no,” you breathe, quivering as his thumb rolls over your clit in slow circles, still painfully still as he stares down at you, “n-no, never. just you—only you—”

“good,” he grins, “that’s what i like to hear. and when i make you cum on my cock, make sure to tell me he’s never done that either, yeah?”

“you’re full of it,” you scoff, “always have been.”

“and you’re full of me,” he says cheekily, chuckling as you glare half-heartedly. “can i move, baby? please? need more, ‘s not enough. n-need more—”

“yeah,” you whimper, pulling him closer, chests brushing against each other as your lips meet in a sloppy kiss, “yeah—need more too, toru.”

satoru, in all his years of knowing you, has never seen the side of you that could be this gentle. the side that glides your hands over his back, feeling every flex and every pull of his muscles, gently caressing the skin like it’s holy, like it’s not worthy of marks—instead to be worshipped and revered with thoughtful touches. your lips sear into every part of him they can find—his lips, his forehead, his nose, his hair as his face digs into your neck. even your voice is a gentle whisper of his name, so soft and careful, it’s like saying it wrong could break him. 

your hips buck up in tandem with his, meeting his rhythm as he slams into you, his balls slapping against your skin as he buries his cock into you as deep as it’ll go with every harsh thrust. you can feel his tip kissing against that sweet spot in the back of your walls, your abused cunt sucking him in and hugging around him as he groans. 

the friction feels sickening, like he’ll pass out any second, like he’s floating between the precipice of pleasure and the edge of consciousness. 

you do that to him—he doesn’t know how or when or why, but you make him feel like he doesn’t have a grip on his own senses. he doesn’t mind it so much, he thinks—doesn’t hate the idea of letting himself fall into your palm and wrap around him. it feels nicer that way, like it’s where he belongs.

“fuck, ‘s so tight,” he rasps, whining into your neck as your hand cups the back of his head, holding him in place. his hips are rutting into you sloppily now, barely maintaining the rhythm from before as he nears his high—but that doesn't stop him from angling into you perfectly, slamming into your sensitive spot every time without fail. “c-cum—’m gonna cum. cum with me, sweetheart.”

“‘m so close, toru,” you sob—and then, just as his thumb finds your clit again, rubbing harsh, desperate little circles to get you over the edge, you cum again—harder than the last time, spasming around his cock and pulling him in as you squeeze around him. “t-toru,” you gasp brokenly, “fuck, ‘s good—so good.”

“baby,” he moans lowly, “fuck, you’re so perfect. prettiest thing ever—prettiest pussy ever. i, sh-shit—” your orgasm quickly has him falling into his own, hot, thick ropes of cum spilling into you with every twitch of his cock, sweet little noises pulled from his throat that he sings into your neck, fucking his load into you. 

it’s messy, the way cum spills out of you and coats his cock—but it’s perfect and feels so, so right. you can’t help but think how perfectly satoru fits against you as his body slumps on top of yours, panting and spent as he cages you in his arms.

your hand doesn’t leave his hair—now that you know how it feels, you don’t think you can stop threading your fingers through it, ever. 

“wow, toothless,” he chuckles after a bit, “you’re seriously obsessed with me, huh? i mean, how long have you been nursing this crush on me, hmm? thinking about your brother’s best friend, you naughty little thing—”

“satoru, would you shut that mouth for once,” you hiss, rolling your eyes—still, there’s an affectionate grin on your lips this time as he chuckles into your skin. 

“oh baby, i’m afraid this mouth never shuts, so you should get used—”

suddenly, you both freeze as you hear suguru’s voice through the door. “you two better not be fucking doing what i think you’re doing,” he seethes, making your jaw drop and satoru’s eyes widen.

fuck—that was never supposed to happen. suguru was never supposed to hear, let alone know.

“hey,” satoru starts, “if suguru kicks me out of our place, i can come be your new permanent housemate, right?”

do not comment about a part 2

but yeah he can come live with me any time and as long as he pays by sucking my tiddies i shall provide all food and utilities and everything

[merakidoll]

after a long day at work your favorite thing was coming home to your very handsome, very large husband. ghostie was always the best at his housely duties - cooking, cleaning, helping you unwind; he was really good at that. after a long day of being in the stuffy office, and the headache of hearing the constant complaining of your colleagues you we’re finally in your safe space. the marble counter top helped you bend just right, your flexible body awkwardly positioned but you were getting the best pleasure out of it.

as the soup boiled on low just a few feet away you were on your island, head uncomfortably positioned as you deep throated ghost’s fat length. his cock bulging in your throat and the repeated gags and spit bubbles. while your mouth was occupied so was simon’s. your cunt was in his face, slimy wetness decorating him like a face wash, his tounge licking at anything it reached. his objective though? was making your clit so puffy and fat!

you moaned around him, vibrations sending small shivers down his spine as his took a little nip at the fat of your lip and rose up spitting his cream filled mouth back onto your thumping cunt that made a big mess. ghostie moaned, while shaking his head disapprovingly and entered two of his chubby fingers into your hole watching as they stretched you. “nasty slut” he bucked his cock deeper into you groaning at your lewed sounds, and getting his fingers to match the pace of him fucking your face. “makin a mess on my counter tops. a greedy slut who couldn’t wait hmm?” you shut your eyes tight, pussy clenching around him and your breath getting shallow making you choke at the unexpected orgasm

“f-fuck doll take it” he held your head down at the base of his dick, stuffing your throat and shuddering in sensitivity as his cum stared to overflow from your mouth. he threw his head back fucking his fingers into your faster - an unimaginable pace that he knew he was making a mess with your messy insides. his kept his cock stuffed in your warm mouth but unmoving - he used his now unoccupied hand to slap your puffy clit chuckling darkly at your cries when squirt started making yet another mess on his marble.

ghostie was the absolute best at being a house husband. holding your naked body against his own, trying not to touch your sensitive clit as he held you like a baby mixing the warm soup that was now ready!

[foldingfittedsheets]

The mattress company I worked for the first time no longer exists. It was long ago eaten and assimilated by a bigger company. But when I started it was an incredibly intense five weeks of training. I was told I was extremely lucky to be selected, and I was. From a pool of a hundred applicants only fifteen of us made the cut to entering the training program.

The course covered how to talk to customers, how to ask open ended questions, how to close a sale, and product knowledge. I learned a lot, and truthfully my greatest takeaway was a lot of social scripts that I could use in other areas of my life.

We also had a midterm exam and a final. Both included a roleplay element with a trainer and a written portion. They told us when we started that the course was challenging but it was still a shock to come in after the midterm and realize half the class had failed.

I was named valedictorian of training- a dubious honor as it meant I’d done the best in the class, but popular lore had it that valedictorians struggled the most on the sales floor. Lo, I struggled.

Not because I wasn’t good. I was. But because my manager set out to systematically destroy my self esteem. Every sale, every interaction I had was scrutinized and criticized.

If I sold a bed with protectors, moveable base, and pillows he’d ask why I hadn’t managed to sell pillow protectors too. His first trainee had thrived on being challenged and he’d never bothered to learn a different way to coach.

It was wretched. My performance started strong but nosedived after a few weeks with him. My trainer, a man I loathed for stonewalling me in my interview, came in to inform me I was on new hire probation. If I couldn’t get my sales numbers up I’d be let go.

His actual phrasing was, “When you have a bandaid do you like to rip it off or pull it slowly?”

Since it was eminently obvious why he was visiting and because I thought it was condescending I sweetly informed him that I liked to soak my bandaids in hot water so they come off on their own.

He was briefly startled at this derailing but then got on with the bad news. I signed some forms stating that I understood my job was in peril.

I went home furious. I thought long and hard about why I wasn’t succeeding and how frustrated I was with my manager. I came in the next day and my anger had crystallized into a cold sharp edge.

My manager opened his mouth to address the probation and I snapped, “Just leave me alone. Go in the back if I have a sale. If you must address a serious issue then you will give me praise on two things I did right and present it as a compliment sandwich. Otherwise just say good job and shut up. Your constant nitpicking just makes me anxious and I do worse. Back off.” Belated and begrudging I added, “Please.”

He raised his eyebrows in dim surprise but I’d gauged him well. He backed off. Dutifully he’d meander into the back when I had a sale and praised me when I closed it. I resented knowing it was only because I’d demanded complimented but they still boosted me up. My numbers skyrocketed, I landed my first split king sale, and I exited probation with flying colors.

The trainer came back in to congratulate my manager for turning things around. To my gratification he gave me credit for setting him straight and said I’d taught him a different way to lead. My manager would often genuinely praise that moment when I’d stood up to him, impressed with my stubborn refusal to fail and my insight into what would help.

My biggest takeaway from the whole thing was just that people need positive reinforcement to succeed. Praise people for doing a good job. If you’re ever in a position where you need to criticize someone put it in a compliment sandwich instead of just saying the negative.

[mecachrome]

notes from nicole piastri's interview on red flags pod

oscar started playing monopoly and chess when he was 4-5 but he was too good at chess (relative to nicole) that she boycotted it

nicole opened her twitter account because oscar wasn't replying to her at boarding school and she needed a place to chastise him ("can you not answer... i KNOW you're on your phone") (it worked because he started replying to her there)

instead of unflappable she calls him "conservative"

even during christmas and birthdays he was never super excited, one time they went with a group of 5 mums and 5 kids to a hi-5 concert (popular australian kids' musical group) and while all the kids were "going nuts" oscar just sat there "focused the whole time" and didn't smile or move lmfao. they were like 3 years old

didn't know what she was doing with oscar as a baby because he was her first child and her mothers' group was her only reference and they went "isn't the best part of the day when you wake up and go to their crib and they smile at you?" and she was like ??? because oscar would wake up and just SCREAM every single day needing to be out of there immediately and she thought that was just normal... then she had the girls and went "ahhhh... so that's what they're talking about"

when he was younger than 2 he needed them to read car magazines to him and was already obsessed with all things automotive and while they were driving would just name off and point out car brands by their badges

for a long period of time he behaved like he was a car and would "spin" his wheels and pretend to accelerate and run like a car lol

did a big burnout the first time he was on a bike (it had training wheels but he still learned very early)

as a mum she wishes he'd chosen golf or tennis since it's much safer than f1 and sometimes people tell her that she technically had a say in that when he was a kid and she said "but i didn't! it was just in him!!!"

won an academic award when he was 13 and she was president of the parents' community so she presented it to him, normally these events are super formal and you simply shake hands but she gave him a big kiss and instead of acting embarrassed or spluttering he looked at the crowd, nodded silently, and walked off

came back for the summer a few years ago and they were biking on the beach together when she had to brake hard to avoid a kid and went over, when she recovered and got back on he went "are you all right?" very deadpan but after they got home they checked his heart rate monitor and saw that he was totally steady the whole time except for when she crashed and his heart rate went through the roof, told him "ah so you do have a heart... we just don't see it"

"there's no sibling that can piss him off?" "well he's a boy with three girls so he just doesn't go there because he's never going to win"

met lily in person for the first time when he came home for the melbourne grand prix (was still alpine reserve), at midnight oscar was like "hey mum you know the dts film crew are coming tomorrow morning right?" and she was like WHAT... and he was like yeah it'll be chill they just want to film us having breakfast like a normal family or whatever and she was like Mate you haven't lived here for 5 years now do you know what breakfast looks like. it looks like your sisters storming downstairs and grabbing an inappropriate breakfast and storming out the door giving me the finger!!! and then the next morning lily comes down and nicole is like "oh is oscar up?" and lily is like no... i think he's still in bed... (many such cases) and then mae refused to be in it so she got dressed and ran off to school 2 hours early to escape them. and then the mclaren fiasco happened and the whole thing got cut out of dts anyway

when she said "oh my god you met matt damon!" he was just like (shrugs) "yeah... yeah..."

they communicate by facetiming and he's Always lying in bed. one time in bahrain he was leaning back on an ornate tapestry and she asked what hotel he was staying at and he was like oh i'm at the royal palace i'm like a guest of the crown prince. she freaked out and was like "oh my god!!! get your head off the tapestry!!!" and he just looked back like ? no it's fine it looks pretty old lol

called her to tell her that he signed his f1 contract and when he said mclaren she Realized and was like oh no i love daniel!! and he straight up deadpanned "yeah everyone loves daniel. that's going to be a problem..." and said verbatim "of all the f1 drivers ever daniel is the worst one to be replacing"

one time in f4 chris couldn't go to a race and billy monger had just had his crash so she flew to the uk for the weekend to support him and when she was driving him back to boarding school she was happy because she had 2 hours to spend with him and she wasn't sure when she'd see him again but instead he slept the whole way through and the moment they got back to school he went "ahhhh... home sweet home" and she wanted to slap him lmfao

first day of primary school when he was 5 years old he said he didn't need her to walk him to school and she was like "well i actually do mate" so he forced her to walk behind him the whole way and the moment they got there he turned to her and went "all right i'm here you can go now" 😭

the chinese & italian & yugoslavian is on chris's side of the family while nicole's is scottish & irish ("that's where the pasty skin comes from")

red flags pod sent her a shirt with oscar's face composed of His Tweet and she showed it to him and he immediately said he wanted it

he gave her a small warning before he posted the tweet but it was just like "mum so this is going to happen just don't worry about it. it's all under control. it'll be fine" and was very calm the whole time

"we just had to trust that his personality would come through at some point, because the way he came across was not at all what he's like. people will work out who the real you is so just continue to do what you do" 🥺

all of the kids were obsessed with Cars (2006)

likes his mum's golden syrup dumplings and grandmother's rumballs

AT THE SINGAPORE GP IN 2023 HATTIE DISAPPEARED FOR HOURS TO GO SEE A K-POP CONCERT 😭😭😭😭 i think it was p1h lmfao (nicole was asked for her favorite group and went "i have no idea. five boys") ((it's txt)) meanwhile oscar is only into house music and she thinks everything he plays is the same song

did pilates when he went home but never with her and thinks it's a lot harder than it looks

takes him minimum 24 hours to respond to anything she sends

she had an exact conversation with oscar where she asked who he wanted to be teammates with and he said "well if i go up against lando i don't even have to get close the first year because everyone knows how good he is" 😭

oscar you are so you 🧡

[mostly-imagines]

Banished

jason todd x fem!reader

aka jason misses his girlfriend

warnings: extremely mild angst, he’s just mopey (he’s fine)

Jason sits slumped over the kitchen island, head lying in his crossed arms. His now soggy cereal disregarded after barely a few bites.

Dick’s been rummaging through the cabinets for the better part of twenty minutes and Tim sits atop of the nook table shoving donuts in his mouth for the better part of thirty.

Damian trudges past them to the nook bench, taking out a knife and beginning to whittle away at a block of wood.

He glances at Jason with a scowl. “If you’re going to be so miserable, can’t you do it in your own home?”

Jason just grunts.

He wishes. You and Bruce had conspired to trap him at the mansion for the week so he could heal from injuries sustained during the last mission without risk of him suiting up and sneaking away from you in the middle of the night.

It’s not even the fact that he’s basically being babysat that’s got him so disgruntled. He wouldn’t mind it at all if you were here too. But you were dead set that the manor was too far out of your way for work, so you’d stay behind. A lose-lose for Jason.

“He’s just mad his girlfriend kicked him out,” Dick teases, swiping through the fridge.

Tim snorts from the doorway, “Me too. He’s a lot more depressing on his own.”

Jason kept his head down as he blindly reached for the spoon in his cereal and chucked it at Tim’s head.

Tim catches it without thought, continuing, “A lot more irritable, at least. Why isn’t she here?”

“She’s gotta work,” Dick says, scanning through the pantry.

Damian peeps his head up from his project. “But Todd has a rather large supply of less than legally obtained money, does he not?”

“Yeah, but she said she wants to pay her own rent, I think,” Dicks hums, finally giving up on his quest for a snack.

Damian pauses.

“So she wants to live in a tiny apartment?” He asks, a mixture of confused and horrified.

“Watch your mouth,” Jason mumbles.

“It was a genuine question!” Damian protests, face screwed up.

Jason finally lifts his head up, turning to his little brother with a raised brows. “And I’m genuinely going to break your nose.”

It’s an empty threat, maybe. But it was enough to shut Damian up anyways. Jason turns back to his cereal and swishes the bowl around.

Dick rests his arms on the counter across from Jason and speaks lowly. “You know, it is just a few days. She’s coming back.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

Jason was never one for showing his feelings—let alone talking about them.

He misses you, plain and simple. Dick could see that much clearly, though the longing looked unfamiliar on Jason.

Bruce lingers in the hallway, just past the island, listening.

He’ll admit (to himself) that he’s worried about Jason. It’s been three days and Jason has yet to show a crack in this demeanor. And while it’s not uncommon for him to stow himself away, there is something quite wrong with the way he hasn’t countered his brother’s jabs at him or teased them.

And while he could do without the blatant threats, he’s proud to hear his son defending his girlfriend, even over trivial things. It’s one of the few moments where he feels like he did right by him as a father.

And now here’s his son, caring about someone else more than he cares about himself. Someone who’s a good person, no less. It had been your idea to trick Jason into staying at the manor, you were scared that he would push his body past its limit when you couldn’t do anything to help.

Bruce knew you didn’t feel great about basically banishing him for the week but he could see that you just wanted what was best for Jason. He could see it so clearly. Maybe Bruce could never have been a perfect father, could never have given his son everything he needed despite having more money than he could ever use. Maybe he couldn’t help him, even now.

But you could.

Bruce peers around the corner, leaning up against the doorframe.

He watches Damian give up on carving at his block and start into the leg of the table.

He watches the bickering that broke out after Tim grab the last glazed donut, which was apparently the only thing Dick could possibly fathom eating.

And he watches Jason.

As Jason’s phone lights up on the counter next to him. He glances down at it with a frown before his face absolutely lights up.

He scrambles to pick the phone up and starts typing away. A quiet action that catches the attention of all of his brothers.

He types and types, waits for ten seconds for a response and types and types again—smile on his face.

The Waynes didn’t need to be the greatest detectives in the world to know who he was texting.

✨ reblog fics or face the block button ✨

[slater-baby]

Price who was a teen father, single dad who worked hard his whole career to provide for his daughter.

Price, who's finally satisfied with all that he's achieved, retiring from the military in his late 40s.

Price, who has little more to do than sit at home and watch TV these days, is ECSTATIC when his daughter tells him she wants to introduce him to her long term boyfriend.

“He’s great, dad, you’ll see!” She promises him over the phone, “And he’s in the military, too! You’ll probably be fast friends.”

Price, who doesn’t doubt it for a second.

Price, who spends hours barbecuing a rack of ribs, looking forward to meeting the man who might one day kiss his daughter at the alter.

Price, who opens the front door…

…only to reveal Simon Riley’s grisly scarred face, his meaty hand cupped inside of his daughter’s manicured grasp.

“Dad!” She squeals, throwing her arms over his shoulder in a big hug.

Price, who glares at Simon with sheer viciousness while he hugs his little girl, mind flashing with all the horrible things he might have done to her.

Corrupting her. Touching her. Deflowering her.

Price, who nearly snarls just at the sight of his once-second-in-command merely standing next to his sweet princess.

Simon, however…

Well, he only musters a crooked, knowing smile before extending his hand.

“‘ello, dad,” he growls, slipping his arm right around her waist the minute she shuffles back.

-

Price, who slowly comes to terms with the fact that his best friend won't be his best friend for much longer.

No, when Simon has it his way, he'll be Price's son-in-law.

All's well that end's well, Simon figures, I'll make it up to the old man one day.

-

Price, who finds a box of luxury cigars at his hotel room the day of your wedding. There's a note attached to it.

Can't be mad at me now, can you? I am your son-in-law, after all, it reads.

Price crumples it up and throws it in the trash right after.

Who was he kidding? There was no one he'd trust more with his little girl than Simon. Though, he could've done without the fanfare when he handed you over to the bastard at the alter.

"She mine now, old man?" Simon sneers, pulling you out of your father's arms.

"Careful, Riley," he scoffs with a smile, "You're lucky I hung up the rifle before I knew you were dating my daughter...might've thought twice about it."

"You should've."

Even though Price cried with joy when you were finally pronounced husband and wife, he really doesn't want to know what Simon meant by that last comment.