#but he doesn't get all the way with either of them at least on page and it makes me sad forever

[armandposting]

I can't think about armand's age/gender dysphoria without wanting to scream for a thousand years. how he's constantly seen as a young boy because he was turned at 17 but by that point even before he's lived a minute as a vampire he already hasn't felt like a boy for years. and all the men who see him this way want to use him like a man without treating him as one. he's constantly saying to their faces that he is a man with wants and desires and feelings and they're like hmm that's nice. not to me though. but not in a way that protects any of the child in him. they're not like, you're a boy and that means you should be kept safe. they're like, you're a boy and that means whatever I do to you is not real. because you're not real and now you're so frozen that no matter what you do you never will be. literally no wonder he has every problem.

[imafirefly]

Such a dismissive reaction to the offer of leading them didn't come as any surprise to Abby. Sure whatever was right. The idea still didn't thrill her but it was either try to navigate blind or leave it to someone who knew the area better than the two of them. The choice seemed simple enough, even if neither of them were a fan of the idea. She manages to contain an eye roll which is impressive. Lev could at least be proud that she was trying to somewhat come off as reasonable at that moment in time. A quick look in his direction and a nod in return is the reassurance she needs that everything is going to be okay. With such a fucked up history, his was the only judgment she could trust at this point and as long as he continued to trust Ellie, Abby would be forced to do the same. Even if it went against every single instinct in her body. She would be ready at a moments notice though to spring into action if needed. The remnants of the violence Ellie was capable of were scattered about her skin, visible on sleeveless, suntanned arms. No reason had been given on this trip to keep her guard up but she certainly wouldn't be letting it down around her.

The two of them watch as she hops up onto the roof of the car and their gaze falls into the direction she's looking at. Mention of a horde makes her tense up, her jaw locking into place. It's less than ideal, even with the alleged distance between them and infected. Abby had encountered her fair share of infected groups but in terms of numbers, nothing had quite outdone those that had chased her through the snowy Jackson mountains. A horde that nearly killed her if it hadn't been for... No. She shakes the memory out of her head and forces herself to lock in on the task at hand. "I've seen shit you wouldn't believe," she states calmly and looks in the direction of the other woman. There's no sarcasm in her statement. No smugness. Maybe the slightest hint of fear in the way it comes out. No matter how hard she tried, that fucking abomination in the basement of the hospital had not been forgotten. The fact that something like that could exist was one of the things that brought her genuine terror. Making it out of Seattle was an accomplishment but making it out of that place was a miracle unlike any other.

Her focused is back on the land and she takes the binoculars as they're offered to her with no hesitation. Ellie is right. Definitely a horde and thankfully a solid distance away from them. Not enough for her liking. She scans the surrounding area more before taking one final look at the horde. The faster they can depart, the better. At least they seem to be on the same page with that sentiment. "C'mon," Abby mumbles to Lev who also takes a look through the binoculars. "I don't want to stay to find out what kind of shit might be out there." He'd heard the story of the hospital before and knew better than to question it.

She doesn't even notice the slower pace and finds herself walking ahead until Lev calls out her name and she glances over her shoulder at the both of them. Too many recollections from her past have her in a momentary fog and the snapback to reality is all it takes for her to lock back in and nod. "We can boil some water for reserve, cool off. I'll get things going for the night if the two of you want to have a look around."

It’s the look (or more like a glare) from Lev that’s thrown in her direction that tells Abby to chill the fuck out. There’s no visual or verbal acknowledgement but instead, she allows her posture to relax a bit, shoulders lowering to let the physical tension in them flow away. Or that’s the at least the hope. Though she’s hinted to him before that Ellie isn’t to be trusted, she hasn’t gone into explicit detail into why. He’s smart. More than likely he has an inkling of why Abby feels the way that she does but she also finds him to be far more trusting of the other woman than she would like. Their travels forcing constant close quarters had done wonders for the two of them socializing while Abby had maintained a distance, sometimes to her own detriment. Despite another human being on this trip, it was more isolating than she had anticipated.

As hesitant as she was to take Ellie’s direction, this place was mostly new territory for Abby. She’d largely avoided entering Nevada on the way to Jackson even if it meant adding a day to their trip. To swing around the tip and then travel through Utah which was more familiar had felt like the safest route but now she was putting their well being in the hands of the woman she considered a great enemy. She wouldn’t label it as trust, no. Ellie would be utterly mistaken to think Abby was trusting her. It was nothing more than examining the situation at hand and making a decision based on logic. Ellie somewhat knew the area, Abby didn’t. Simple as that.

The mention of the basement is enough to give her pause on if they really want to continue forward or try to divert around. Any longer in the heat and they risk issues. There’s a few glances between Lev and Ellie before Abby finally nods her head. “Alright. Lev and I didn’t come this way. If you’ve been through here before and think it’s the best route, lead the way.” It’s the most she’s willing to offer in terms of a compromise and if Ellie is waiting for a please, it’s not going to come. She doesn’t like not knowing what’s ahead but she doesn’t have much of a choice. Doesn’t mean she has to like it though. Lev gives her a look, a look that says offer something to show that this compromise is legitimate and that if Ellie does her part, you’ll do yours. Pursing her lips, Abby can’t help but shrug as if to say like what? There’s not much to offer right now in the middle of god damn nowhere. “Get us to the forest aaaand I’ll set up camp..?” Good enough, it earns another nod of approval from Lev and she steps to the side as if offering Ellie the wide open landscape in front of them to navigate.

[prlssprfctn]

Somewhere in the year after Jason becomes a part of Bruce's family, a strange book appears on the desk of Bruce's personal study room. A book about parenting traumatised kids. He opens it, leafs though a little, noticing certain phrases underlined, and closes it back. Alfred probably left it. Just a few days ago, they had a short argument regarding his parenting methods, and he seemingly tried to prove his point by additional literature. Bruce is going to read it later.

...He doesn't have time, actually, and eventually, the book stays forgotten, tucked between many others.

Years pass. Jason dies. And then comes back, complicated and different, frustrating and hard to crack. Thinking about Jason — a habit, always a habit — becomes some kind of roulette: he either remembers something nice, comes up with some courage to talk with his son, at least through comms, at least not directly, or the exact opposite thing happens, sending them both out of balance.

It is the middle of cleaning day, when Alfred suddenly picks up the exact same book about children victims and how to take care of them, and to Bruce's surprise asks where does this book come from.

'What do you mean?' Bruce frowns. 'You gave it to me when I just adopted Jason. Well, not gave, I would say tactically sneaked in, but...'

'I would remember that,' Alfred frowns. He goes through a few pages, and his face softens. 'It wasn't me, master Bruce.'

And suddenly, it clicks.

*Jason* left it. He underlined lines that probably felt relatable to him, that maybe could help them both in their new, hard journey. A shy kid he was, though, very smart, he would never actually speak with Bruce directly — he would try to leave him hints. To open up more in a subtle way.

To—

Oh.

Bruce suddenly can imagine his little son overhearing his late argument with Alfred that day, all these years ago. Mulling over, "this kid is deeply traumatised, master Bruce" and "well, I can't get inside his head, Al" lines. Figuring out how to easen his burden. How to be understood and yet accepted.

And Bruce... unknowingly discarded that.

As usual.

Unknowingly, cluelessly, and yet so simply — he discarded everything that was dear to Jason, everything that meant something for him.

As he grips the book in his hands, caressing the soft cover, he can't help but wonder if any of the information inside, little highlights Jason did, are still working for him. If he still can fix it.

[hyckstarz]

can i plzzz request bimbo yn and nerd! mark 🥺🥺🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻

of course!! this was a fun request to write ♡

my little nerd | l.mk

pairing. nerd!mark lee x bimbo!reader

word count. 2k

genre. smut

warnings. 18+ minors do not interact, use of pet name (baby), choking, oral (m. receiving), degrading language (slut, whore), unprotected sex, bimbo reader, shy/dom Mark, breast play/fucking

Mark didn't know how he got here. Maybe it was her honey, dewy voice that spoke pretty little words, or her manicured nails that drummed along the desk as she peered sexily up at him through her lashes. Either way, he found himself agreeing to tutor her, at her home, in the evenings of every weekend. He groaned out in frustration and disbelief, clutching the healthy locks of his hair.

Y/N giggles at his weird antics, placing a hand on his leg as she rubs circles on his inner thigh, which immediately has his eyes snapping to her, his glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose, "What's got you so worked up? Is it because I don't get what meiosis is? It's just sex, is it not? I'll ace it after you give me a demonstration."

Mark really doesn't know how he got here. But he finds himself leaning in, blaming it on her intoxicatingly cheap, soapy perfume and her words that get increasingly quiet, drawing him in like a siren's call. He snaps out of it, however. His leg bounces under the table in an attempt to get her hand off of his thigh before he loses it again, "It's not sex exactly... not in the way you're thinking of, at least," he grumbles, trying desperately to distract himself from her plush, glossy lips that puckered cluelessly. Pushing his glasses back up his nose, he turns to his study notes, "Besides, I'm only here to tutor you, you said you needed to pass science."

She pouts obnoxiously at him. Yet, when his gaze catches a glimpse of those perfect, god-crafted tits, he really feels like he should be paying a thousand thank yous to the man above, expressing his immense gratitude for having them press against his arm as she continues to whine with that sugary voice, "But I learn through hands-on experience! And sex is sex... how is it any different?"

Maybe Mark should take back his gratitude. There was no way his tutoring alone could save her from failing science in only two months and, he was starting to believe even miracles weren't strong enough, "No, it's different with cells. You'd know this if you paid attention yesterday. We went over this during class."

She scoffs, pulling back and fixing her top whilst looking at the mirror on her desk, pushing her breasts together which has Mark reeling, "Who cares about class when I have such a cute tutor?" She grins at him, leaning in enough for him to feel her warm breath brush against his lips, "What about you?"

"W-what about me?" Mark squeaks, his voice cracking at the close proximity.

She giggles, "Do you think I'm cute?" Her hand comes up to cup his jaw, thumb grazing his bottom lip as she watches it jutter out, entranced.

Mark squirms in his seat, cheeks a bright red under her intense gaze, "Yeah... you're cute."

He doesn't know what came over him, but fuck was she perfection. Sure, all of God's works were perfection, but when she pulls back to unzip her top, exposing the fact that she wasn't wearing a bra this whole time, he'd come to the conclusion that she needed a word that went beyond perfection itself.

"Fuck," he kept his eyes locked on the soft mounds and perky nipples. He wondered how they'd fit in his hand and whether they were as soft and plush as they looked.

"Surprised I wasn't wearing a bra? Well, it's one less garment to fiddle with," she giggles dumbly, leaning in to whisper in his ear, "that includes underwear. Wanna find out if I'm wearing any?"

But Mark, being the barely experienced, book nerd he was, forces his eyes to bore into the textbook in front of him. He tries to make sense of the words on the page, but it's hard when he can see her pretty, perky tits in the corner of his eyes. He desperately shifts in the chair, trying to calm his raging hard on. He hated how easily he was turned on by her. She was an air head. A gorgeous, sexy, air head that drove him insane despite being used by hundreds of men for being a cumslut.

She pouts, "You're gonna ignore me?"

Mark swallows thickly, eyes fluttering shut as if to drown out the pretty voice from the pretty woman next to him, "We-," he clears his throat, "We need to study... I need you to pass-"

Suddenly, she swivles his chair to the side, planting her knees to the carpeted floor as she lodges herself between his legs, "We can study after, Mark. I need your cum... need you to paint my mouth white, I can't focus otherwise. Not when you're so cute," she bites her lip, doe eyes pleading as she looks up at him.

It felt like Mark had experienced whiplash with the way she fit so perfectly between his legs. He was starting to believe her middle name was indeed... perfect. He moaned, clutching onto the armrests as she licked over his clothed crotch, yanking him back towards reality. Another lick, and he swore he could see stars, "Fuuuck, Y/N... w-we can't."

Mark clutched desperately onto the armrests, knuckles turning white out of fear that, if he were to let go, he wouldn't be able to stop himself from going all the way with her.

"We can't or you won't?" She slowly starts to unzip his jeans, giving him the option to pull away. But, when he doesn't, she feels the anticipation start to throb between her legs, and she has to rub her thighs together when his cock springs free from the confines of his boxers, "Gonna make you feel so good, my little nerd. Wanna taste you so bad."

In a heartbeat, she leaves kitten licks along the raging red head of his cock. Each lick causes him to shiver, "S-stop teasing..," Mark groans, peering down at her through hooded eyes.

She swipes her flat tongue up his length before swallowing him whole. He bucks into her mouth, desperately grasping at her long hair, bunching it up and shoving her down on his cock, "Fuck... your mouth... so pretty wrapped around my dick..."

She hums, sending shivers through his body. Her tongue swirls around his length, sucking and bobbing her head with a vigour that leaves him breathless and, the erotic sight of her drool dribbling down his length, has him panting. When she pulls away with a pop, a string of saliva connecting between her lips and his dick, Mark can see the whore beneath the pretty exterior, and his dick twitches at the sight. He stops her before she goes back in, "Tits... wanna fuck your tits."

That alone has her clenching around nothing. She sits up, wrapping her breasts around his dick, "Go ahead, make a mess of them, baby."

Mark groans at how pliant she is. Slowly, he ruts into them, loving how soft they feel, and he can't hold back anymore. He picks up the pace, rocking his hips between her breasts and he swears this is better than any fantasy he could cook up about her. At the same time of his thrusts, she rubs her breasts around his length, spreading the wetness from having sucked him off, watching his dick twitch and the skin tug with every drag.

But Mark forces himself to pull away before he reaches his orgasm, and Y/N starts to complain "Mark, why did you stop?"

He sends her a lazy chuckle, one that has her swooning. Sure, she could get with any man without a care, but Mark was attractive in a subtle, cute and sexy way, as she now realises with the look he sends her. She swallows hard, his heavy gaze raking over her smaller frame. She swears if he continues to look at her like this, she'd come on the spot and stain her favourite rug.

Mark grabs at her waist impatiently, yanking her out of her thoughts and manhandling her as he hoists her up onto the desk without much gentleness, "Look at you, you'd sooner bend over for any dick than pass your exams," his hand cups her cheeks, squishing them roughly, "If you're gonna act like a whore, maybe I'll treat you like one."

Without warning, he reaches under her skirt, feeling the cloth of her panties, "So, you were wearing one." His lip twitches into a smirk, tugging her underwear to the side as he thrusts into her, and it's a feeling she found herself addicted to — getting filled up, used and fucked until she couldn't form coherent thoughts. Sharp moans pushed out of her throat, echoing in the room as she rocked her hips against his, spreading her legs wider for him.

Mark's hand moves down to her throat, applying enough pressure to have her gasping, "You're just a slut. Say it."

"I-I'm a slut," she moaned, her eyes rolling back and jaw going slack. She could feel every ridge and vein of his cock as it stretched her out, pulling back just enough before slamming back in. He was the perfect size, and she swears she lucked out after perfecting her dick radar. That little nerd tucked away in the corner of the library, unsuspecting and easily flustered... who would have thought he'd be so... commanding and intense. It made her clench around his dick, earning a groan from him as his glasses slipped further down the bridge of his nose, already fogged up from their coupling.

Mark leant in, his hot breath tickling her neck, "That's right... my filthy slut," he nips at her skin, trailing open-mouthed, sloppy kisses along the column of her neck, biting into her skin as he ruts into her, "So... so sexy..."

Her fingers tangle in his hair, tugging with each thrust. She loved the feel of his soft lips against her skin and the cool metal of his glasses bumping into her jaw, "Your f-filth... filthy slut..."

But it wasn't enough. It never was enough. Mark pulls out of her, flipping her over so that her ass presented itself to him tantalisingly under her mini skirt. He groaned at the sight, spreading her apart as his dick rubbed along her folds, teasing her entrance, before pushing back in. This new angle had her knees buckling, gasping as her clit brushed over the desk with every hard thrust. Her manicured nails dug into the desk, gripping as spit dribbled down her chin. She hadn't been this fucked out in so long, and it was none other than a nerd who had the slut seeing stars.

She cries out, and Mark leans over, tilting her face to meet his lips, kissing her lazily, swallowing her wanton moans and smearing her spit along her cheeks, "So dirty."

Y/N rocks her hips back against his and Mark grabs a fistful of her hair, pressing her face to the desk, free hand splayed out on her lower back to hold her firmly down as he picked up the pace, feeling his climax approaching, "Fuck, I'm close... wanna cum on your tits though, like I was supposed to."

She concluded he was a tit-obsessed nerd, but she loved every second of it. She nods her head eagerly, "I don't care where you cum as long as it's on or in me," she begged, desperation eating away at her as she came, shuddering under him, "please... please..."

Mark smirked, yanking her head back enough so that she lay on her side as he pulled out, cum spurting on the side of her face and along her breasts. He leans in, suckling on her cum-coated nipple before moving up her body to kiss her. She tasted sweet, mixed with the saltiness of his release, and he swore again that she was perfect. Perfect just like this; fucked out and smeared with his cum as she babbled pretty, incoherent words.

© hyckstarz

[inseobts]

Stolen Sketches

zoro x gn!reader

he's the muse for your drawings and he doesn't know, or at least you think so.

words count: 1k

tags: sfw, romance, soft

masterlist || ko-fi

The ocean breeze brushes against your skin as you sit near the railing, sketchbook resting on your lap. Your charcoal-stained fingers move with ease, tracing out sharp lines and soft shadows. Once again, your subject is Zoro.

You don’t know why you always end up drawing him. Maybe it’s the way he leans against the mast, arms crossed, looking like he owns the whole ship. Or the way he naps in the afternoon sun, his face free of tension, his swords always within reach. There’s something about him—something strong, something steady—that makes him impossible to ignore.

But as always, once you’re done, you hesitate. You stare at the sketch, lips pressed together, and then sigh.

It’s no good.

Before you can overthink it, you rip the page out, crumple it into a ball, and toss it into the trash bin near the stairs.

What you don’t know is that the moment you step away, Zoro moves. He’s been doing this for weeks now—waiting for you to finish, pretending not to care, then silently retrieving the discarded sketches when no one’s looking.

At first, he told himself it was just curiosity. He happened to see the first one in the trash and thought it was too well-drawn to be thrown away. But then he found another. And another.

And before he knew it, he was taking them all.

He doesn’t even know why. He just knows that seeing his own face drawn with such detail—his expressions captured so carefully by your hand—does something weird to his chest.

So, he keeps them.

Tucked away in his locker, folded neatly, hidden from sight.

At least, that’s what he thinks.

Until today.

The scent of grilled fish and warm bread fills the air as the crew gathers in the dining hall. It’s a lively dinner—Luffy is stuffing his face, Usopp is telling some over-exaggerated story, and Nami is already threatening to hit him. You sit across from Zoro, quietly eating, when suddenly—

“Oi, Zoro.”

Sanji’s voice rings out, carrying a sharp edge of amusement.

Zoro doesn’t even look up “What?”

Sanji smirks and holds up something between his fingers. A crumpled piece of paper—unfolded, smoothed out, and very, very familiar.

Your breath catches in your throat.

“Care to explain why you have this?”

Zoro’s entire body goes rigid. His grip tightens around his cup, jaw clenching “Where the hell did you get that?”

Sanji waves the paper tauntingly “Found it while grabbing some spices. Your locker was barely closed, mosshead. You seriously suck at hiding things.”

Luffy, still chewing on a drumstick, tilts his head “Oh! That’s y/n’s drawing!”

Your stomach twists.

Nami leans in to get a better look “Wait… y/n drew this?”

Robin, ever the observer, chuckles softly “Interesting.”

Everyone turns to look at you. Then at Zoro. Then back at you.

You can’t breathe.

Zoro, meanwhile, is glaring daggers at Sanji “Tch. None of your damn business.”

“Oh, but it is our business now,” Usopp grins “Because, uh… why do you have a secret stash of y/n’s sketches, exactly?”

“Secret stash?!” Your voice comes out higher than intended.

Nami raises an eyebrow “So there’s more?”

Zoro exhales sharply through his nose “Damn cook—”

“Oh, don’t blame me for your bad hiding skills” Sanji says, folding his arms “What I wanna know is why you’ve been hoarding drawings of your own damn face.”

Zoro looks like he’s about to either strangle Sanji or jump overboard.

Luffy grins, still clueless “Zoro, do you like y/n?”

Silence.

Your entire body freezes.

Zoro groans, rubbing his temple “Shut up, Luffy.”

Sanji smirks “Not a no.”

Robin rests her chin on her palm, looking amused “Well, Zoro, you might as well explain. Keeping someone’s discarded artwork isn’t exactly normal behavior.”

Your heartbeat is erratic “You… you kept all of them?”

Zoro finally looks at you. His gaze is firm, unreadable, but there’s something there—something tense, something real. He exhales, then grumbles “Yeah.”

Your breath catches.

He shifts uncomfortably, crossing his arms “Didn’t see the point in letting them go to waste.”

Nami squints “That’s it?”

Robin chuckles “I doubt that’s all there is to it.”

Sanji smirks “Come on, mosshead. Just admit it—you like being y/n’s muse.”

Zoro scowls “I don’t even know what the hell that means.”

You finally find your voice “…Why didn’t you tell me?”

His fingers tighten around his cup again “Didn’t think it mattered.”

Your chest feels tight. It mattered to you.

Luffy, ever the instigator, grins again “Zoro, do you like Y/N?”

“Luffy—”

“Do you?”

Zoro groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. Then, after a long pause, he mutters under his breath “…Yeah. So what?”

Your entire brain short-circuits.

The table erupts.

Sanji nearly chokes. Usopp gasps dramatically. Nami blinks, then grins. Luffy laughs like this is the best dinner he’s ever had. Robin just chuckles.

And you? You can’t think. Can’t speak.

Zoro, meanwhile, looks like he wants to die.

You open your mouth, but nothing comes out. Then, after what feels like forever, you manage “You like me?”

Zoro sighs “You really need me to spell it out?”

Usopp claps a hand over his mouth “Hoooooooly crap.”

Your face is burning “I— I didn’t know.”

Sanji huffs “Probably because he’s about as emotionally expressive as a rock.”

Zoro glares “Shut up.”

Luffy laughs “y/n, do you like Zoro?”

Now everyone is looking at you.

You swallow hard, heart hammering. The answer is obvious—but saying it out loud feels like stepping off a cliff.

You glance at Zoro, who’s still watching you, waiting, tense.

Then, slowly, you smile “…Yeah. I do.”

The table erupts again.

Zoro exhales, shoulders finally relaxing. He looks away, rubbing the back of his neck, and mutters “Tch. ‘Bout time.”

Sanji groans “Ugh, disgusting. I’m gonna be sick.”

Luffy cheers “Yay! Now you guys can kiss!”

Zoro chokes “LUFFY!”

You laugh, heart feeling lighter than it has in weeks.

Maybe you won’t be throwing your sketches away anymore.

And maybe—just maybe—you’ll be drawing a lot more of him.

[slasherslittlesimp]

Cursed (Avengers X Reader)

Part One

PART TWO

Natasha's hands skillfully fly across the keyboard at one of the computers as she types in code after code, likely bypassing any security and downloading the files to her drive. Her eyes flicker around the screen, taking in whatever information she sees. Cap remains by the door, keeping watch for anyone who might try to sneak up on all of you.

"I believe I've found her file but it's quite large Cap." She doesn't take her gaze from the screen as she reads through the first page. "We'll have to wait until we get back to the compound to read through it more thoroughly but I can at least figure out the basics now."

"The basics are all we really need right now." He responds, glancing at you before returning most of his attention to the doorway.

Your nerves grow slightly knowing that they'll be reading through everything that you've been through at some point. Your life up to this point hasn't been the prettiest and it's not exactly something you want anyone else knowing. You know you don't have much of a choice though.

"Let's see..." Natasha squints slightly as she reads over the small writing on the screen. "Says here that her name is (Y/N) (L/N) and that she's roughly twenty-five years old." She pauses, clicking a few times as she likely searches for the more important information. "Ah, here we go. Her ability is called 'Cursed Speech'. Apparently whatever she says pretty much happens. That explains the muzzle."

The man seems intrigued with this as he finally moves away from the door to come read over her shoulder. They both remain silent, not giving you any clue as to what they're reading. Your eyes flicker between them and the door, nervous that someone can come through now that they're not keeping watch.

Thankfully, once the files are completely downloaded they both step away, Natasha grabbing the drive before turning towards you. "Let's go." She jerks her head in a motion to signal that you need to follow them once again.

The three of you exit the server room- Cap leading followed by you and then Natasha taking up the rear. You're pretty certain the formation is both to keep you from bolting and to also keep you protected should anyone show up. You're not complaining either way since you're not being left behind this way.

They lead you down many different hallways without ever once second guessing if they're going the right way. The man must have one hell of a memory if he's able to remember his exact route that he had taken. It's even more impressive knowing that everything's backwards since he's going the opposite way. If it was you, you would've already gotten lost. If the two abandoned you, you'd never find your way to an exit or even back to your room.

Cap goes around one last corner before finally reaching a large metal door at the end of a corridor. It must be the door they entered through since the locking mechanism appears broken allowing him to swing the door open effortlessly. Your eyes squeeze shut at the sudden brightness before slowly opening into a squint. You've forgotten how bright and intense the sun can be after spending so long in barely lit rooms. While the light is a bit much, the warmth from it spreads pleasantly over what little skin you have showing.

You don't get much of a chance to bask in it as Natasha grabs your upper arm, tugging you along until you're boarding a jet that has a few others on it. You have no idea who any of them are but they all seem wary and confused at your presence. You probably look insane with how you're dressed but there's not much you can do about it.

Natasha pushes you down into a seat before clasping a buckle over your lap and moving towards the cockpit. You watch her go before turning to take a better look at the other people around you. The first one to draw your attention is a rather nervous looking gentleman with dark hair that has speckles of gray in it and glasses. His hands rub together as he likely tries to push his nerves away but you can tell from the way he keeps glancing at you that your presence isn't helping.

The next person you examine is a man with sandy colored hair who seems to be looking over his quiver of arrows. Every now and then his gaze will move from what he's doing to you yet his face remains neutral, not letting you know how he feels or what he's thinking at all. Next to him is a young female with long dark hair and a pretty red jacket. Her gaze hasn't left you a single time since you've gotten in the jet though it looks more like she's looking through you rather than at you.

Cap is the next person you look towards, finding him standing tall with his muscular arms crossed over his chest as he has a hushed conversation with the last person in the group- a man sporting red and gold armor. Caps brows are furrowed as he talks, showing that he's thinking quite hard about something. The man in armor seems a bit more nonchalant as he nods along to whatever is being said while at the same time scrolling through a tablet. Their voices are too quiet for you to hear what they're saying so you turn your attention away.

The man with the arrows sends one last glance your way before putting his things away and moving towards the cockpit. Shortly after he disappears from sight the jet whirs to life as it lifts from the ground. Your stomach flips as you close your eyes, trying to ignore the fact that you're no longer on solid ground. The idea of traveling extremely fast while hovering thousands of miles away from the ground is unnerving, especially when the last time you experienced it was long ago. Nobody else seems to be bothered by it except maybe the guy with glasses but he just seems anxious in general.

"Why's the chick dressed like Hannibal Lecter?" Someone finally speaks up, breaking the tense silence. You keep your eyes closed as you listen but you're able to tell who asked based off of the direction the voice came from. Only two people were standing off to your right and you already know what the one sounds like which narrows it down to the man in armor.

"That's what I'd like to know." Cap sighs as he glances over to you. "Nat and I managed to get her files so we can go over them all together once we return to the compound."

"Let's just hope she's not a cannibal." Armor man mumbles which earns him a slight scolding from Cap. The rest of the ride is silent after that which you're somewhat thankful for. You hate listening to people talk about you. You'd much rather sit in complete silence regardless of how tense or awkward it is.

After an unknown amount of time, the jet finally lands at what you're assuming is the compound. You're led off of the flying death trap as soon as the back of it is open by Cap who has a firm grip on your shoulder. Despite your curiosity, you keep your gaze locked to the ground, not wanting to show interest in your new prison. The entire walk is quiet as Cap takes you into a building and down many hallways before finally stopping at a room.

Entering, you're met with a single metal table and chair sitting right in the middle of the room. The two way mirror on the wall confirms that it's an interrogation room. Cap releases his grip from your shoulder as he orders you to sit down. Doing as you're told, you watch him exit without another word. He's probably going to check your files before bothering with questioning you. It's the smart thing to do, after all.

Taglist: @desiree-lee @seventeen-x

[s-awturn]

Day Off || F1 Grid

cw: nothing but superficiality, cuteness, intimate but not obscene moments, sharing moments, mention of gossip. Just pilots resting

starring: LH44, CS55, CL16, LN4, OP81, MV1

a/n: I had this written a couple of days ago, but Tumblr just "ate" the only file I had and I lost everything. I was so mad I didn't even want to write anymore, but damn, This is too good a HC to waste, so okay, let's try again (remembering to save periodically this time 🫡

LEWIS HAMILTON:

You and Lewis had created a reading list to complete throughout the year, you bet there were about a hundred books on the list, titles ranging from classic literature, biographies, poems, and contemporary literature. Books that you and Lewis wanted to read together or the books you thought the other should read.

So it was common for the two of you to spend the pilot's day off reading in bed while listening to blues or jazz on the speakers. You read together, wrote reviews of the books you read and discussed them.

He was reading Percy Jackson and the Mark of Athena and you were reading Metamorphosis by Franz Kafka.

"So? What did you think?" He asked, marking the page he was on, Lewis had just started the last chapter and you had already finished reading.

"He does go through a metamorphosis and it's extremely unpleasant to imagine, but I've read more unpleasant books," you confessed, putting the book on the bedside table. "Four stars, and you?"

He snorted "Piper is so boring, damn she only knows how to think about Jason and how she doesn't like being the daughter of Aphrodite, so boring"

"God, yes! I don't like her either... Anyway, I'll wait for you to finish, and then we can choose the next one."

"Sure, honey," he kissed her temple and returned to reading just as Etta James began to sing "At Last." You settled into it, petting Roscoe as he lay beside you. This is the best way to enjoy your day off.

CARLOS SAINZ:

Carlos was at a stage where he wanted you to learn golf to play with him, after all the sport was a tradition for him and the Spaniard wanted you to be part of it, but you were terrible. You were really bad at golf, but that didn't make he want to teach you any less.

And well, you didn't like golf either, you didn't understand the sport, the scoring was weird, there were at least half a dozen different clubs and you couldn't even cheer.

But at least the clothes were cute and the cars were cool.

"Let's go, amor, I'll teach you," he said, going to pick you up in the golf cart. Lando, who was accompanying them this time, leaned his body on the golf club, waiting.

"Carlos, I'm terrible at this, you know," you grumbled, taking the bat he offered you. Carlos was a persevering man, you had to admit. He stood behind you, teaching you again how to perform the shot, instructing you to separate your legs and take a deep breath.

"I bet you five bucks she'll throw the ball in the lake"

"Shut up, Lando," you both said.

You followed his instructions and hit the ball...

...that fell into the lake.

"I knew"

"Shut up, Lando"

CHARLES LECLERC:

A day off for Charles meant you would get to visit his favorite spots, from a famous restaurant to a little coffee shop tucked away in a city alley. Sometimes he would take you to the south of France to see some chateau, other times he would just rent a chalet for you to be together in privacy, and you had lost count of how many times they had gone to Italy to see the vineyards and villas on the border with Monaco.

This time, you were preparing for a slightly longer itinerary, you had suggested visiting the Grace Kelly exhibit before heading to the cottage he had rented for the weekend.

"Got everything you need, mon cher?" He asked, wrapping his arms around her waist in a sweet hug.

"It depends, I know we're going to see the Grace Kelly exhibit, but I have no idea where we're going after, you say a cottage and I don't know whether to bring a bikini or coats" you mumbled, looking at her handbag.

"Take both just in case, you know spring can have unpredictable weather"

"Are you saying that so you don't give me a hint about where we're going?" You turned in his arms, facing the pilot. "That's not fair."

"You'll like it, mon ange, I promise"

"At least tell me if it's still in Monaco..." You tried to persuade him, sliding your nails lovingly along his chin, making the Monegasque shiver and let out a heavy breath.

"You're not taking me to the siren song, pretty girl." He gave you a quick kiss and a light slap on your ass before leaving. "We'll leave in fifteen minutes."

LANDO NORRIS:

Lando's downtime with you was spent playing games, you thought it was counterproductive to fuel his competitiveness when he should have been resting, but this routine of games with you made him much calmer and more relaxed when he returned to work. Ironic? Yes, but it worked.

You two played anything, Monopoly, Naval Battle, Game of Life, Detective, W.A.R, Uno, even checkers or cards. Any game was fair game.

The problem is that you got really competitive, your friends even gave up trying to play with you because the game turned into a battlefield.

"You lowlife cheater, did you really throw a +4 at your fiancée?!" You yelled at him, Lando laughed and blew you a kiss before dodging the pillow you threw at him.

"You know how things work, honey. Just because I love you doesn't mean I'm going to let you beat me."

"This will come back!" You bought the four cards he forced you to. "I really hate you."

"And you are the love of my life"

"Die, you jerk," you snapped and he laughed.

Lando could feel all the tension leaving his shoulders, playing with you always made him relax, no matter how aggressive and passionate you became in the game.

OSCAR PIASTRI:

Considering that Oscar was always traveling and there were few really usable pages in his schedule, any time the two of you could have together should be taken full advantage of, and For both of them, there's nothing better than an afternoon of movies.

You two had created a list of movies on Letterboxd and the chosen one of the day would be Interstellar.

Oscar was making popcorn while you were arranging the blankets and pillows on the couch, so what if it was the height of summer in Australia? There in the apartment, the air conditioning was hovering below fifteen degrees, keeping the room at a favorable climate for you and your boyfriend to cuddle while watching astronauts lost in space.

"I thought you were going to choose Anatomy of a Fall," he muttered, placing the food on the coffee table, popcorn with cheese, assorted snacks, chocolates and ice cream and of course, lemon soda.

"I was dubious, but you know I love any movie that has Matthew McConaughey in it," you said, getting under the covers, accompanied by Oscar, "and of course, The movie's soundtrack is perfect, I use it to study..."

"Have you watched it?"

"No, I was waiting for you, but I discovered the playlist... I'll send you the link, you'll love it"

He hummed in agreement and you pressed play on the movie, Many times you paused the film to comment on something or express your theories. It made the movie session better, Oscar didn't mind listening to you talk about it and you loved his theories.

It was, without a doubt, the best way to enjoy the break.

MAX VERSTAPPEN:

He would rather be playing, sleeping or, I don't know, watering the plants, but you always dragged him to a skin care session. You spread different creams on his face, plucked some extra hairs from his eyebrows, trimmed his beard.

As much as he denied it, Max learned to enjoy it, being taken care of by you was one of his guilty pleasures. And it all got better when you started gossiping without any trace of shame. He talked about what went on behind the scenes in F1 and you shared news about work and your condominium.

"I'm still sad that Logan was let go, he had a lot of future," you said, sliding the massage stone across his face, spreading the serum into his skin.

"He's a good kid, unfortunately he wasn't ready for Formula One yet, he came in too early and couldn't adapt well... I hope he can find his place" he grumbled, sighing at the gentle massage on his cheekbones.

"Yes... Williams was very ungrateful to him and I won't elaborate on that" you said a little bitterly and Max laughed, you always positioned yourself as a defender of the poor and oppressed.

"Yes... I won't elaborate on that either... It's better"

You both were silent until you clicked your tongue.

"Uh, I almost forgot to tell you, last week there was a horrible fight at the condominium meeting.

He opened his curious eyes "You can tell me everything, dear"

"The neighbor at 1165 caught her husband with the building manager and the building manager's husband in her bed"

"What the fuck?! Are you kidding?!"

You laughed, putting away the massage stone and sliding your fingers firmly over Max's face "you had to see it, she put together a PowerPoint with photos and screenshots of the conversations"

Max laughed out loud "damn, I wish I had seen..."

"It was a real fight, they argued and everything, it was really fun to watch"

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"I will definitely go to the next condo meeting"

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED TO S-AWTURN™ 🪐. I do not allow copying or republication. Any unauthorized publication will be reported.

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[4ttack-ur-heart]

The Boss’s Heart

Chapter I: When Opportunity knocks

Summary: You’ve had enough of working for your slimy boss, but the bills need to be paid. Just before you give up all hope, a stranger comes in one night and paves a new way of opportunities for you.

Warnings: guns, horrible bosses, sexist behavior.

This is more of a prologue to get the ball rolling :) leave back any feedback you have

The streets lay desolate and cold, a biting chill hanging in the air, occasionally broken by the shadowy figures of drug addicts lurking in the corners. As you walk, your foot nudges a discarded soda can, sending it skittering across the slick pavement. The can clatters and rolls, glinting in the dim light, before finally bouncing off the jagged surface of a weathered brick wall.

Walking home from your job was never fun.

The seedy bar you worked at preferred keeping you during the closing shift. According to them, having a woman working would draw in people, which was true, but the place was still a dump. No amount of skin showing would have people lining up at the door for warm alcohol and unsalted peanuts.

The owner wasn’t a peach either. Mr. Norris was an older man in his sixties, with a bald head and a nasty attitude. When he wasn’t drinking the gross liquor, he was holed away in his office, finding out ways to cut corners with expenses, with a dry cigar hanging from his lips.

The bar, The Purgatory Lounge, used to be a pretty lively and popular place before Mr. Norris took it over. Norris bought out the previous owner after seeing the success and money it brought in, but his cheap tendencies eventually caught up to him. The place was falling apart, multiple staff members were let go, and the patrons went from everyday people to the lowest scum wandering the N109 Zone.

Fishing out the keys from your purse, you pushed open the creaky wooden door and shut it behind you.

Home sweet home.

Your home wasn’t terrible-ish? Eh, it was still a roof over your head. The space was a small one-bedroom apartment with the paint on the walls fading, cracked, and tinted yellow from the previous tenants who were smokers. The only pieces of furniture you had were a small armchair that had torn fabric and a table where you would eat your microwaveable meals. You wanted some little house plants, but unfortunately, natural lighting doesn't exist in the N109 zone. The bright white light flickers as you flip the switch and toe off your shoes.

After peeling yourself out of your work attire, you changed into some comfy pajamas and scrolled through job websites on your computer. The little inbox icon on the website’s toolbar remained empty no matter how many times you’ve refreshed the stupid page.

You have had dozens of interviews for different places, but there was always a reason they couldn’t hire you. The more popular bars in the city thought you didn’t have the look they were going for, which was just a nice way of saying you looked too poor.

Other places were looking for men to do the jobs, as a lot of them were too shady or labor-intensive for a ‘little thing like you.’

You were one paycheck away from being homeless at this point. Norris had cut your pay again, making you just a few cents above minimum wage, which was never enough to keep anyone financially stable. At least before his old ass bought the place, you could save a little bit of money before. Now, you’re counting pennies and being forced to decide if you want your heater on or the water.

Shutting your laptop in frustration, you made some instant noodles before heading to bed. As you lie underneath the covers, you toss and turn.

Maybe you’ll dream about being a princess again, living in your huge castle with a handsome prince beside you, your bellies full with a warm fire crackling across the large king-sized canopy bed.

Maybe tomorrow would be different.

But it never is. It’s always the same routine day in and day out. That's all it would ever be.

——

“Mr. Norris, you left before handing me my check yesterday.” You say calmly, but deep down you are fuming.

You were in the middle of making the customer in front of you a cocktail when Norris walked in. You could tell he tried to duck past you and head straight for his office, but you had bills to pay. The guy sitting on the stool in front of you looks between the two of you curiously.

Mr. Norris sighs heavily, tucking the folded-up newspaper under his sweaty sleeve. “Sorry, sweetheart. I lost track of time, we’re getting audited again and-”

“That’s okay.” You smile and pass the customer his drink after garnishing it with a mint leaf. “I’ll just come pick it up when my shift is over.”

“I don’t have your check, Y/n,” Norris says, narrowing his eyes at you.

“Then I should expect it cash then, right?” You look back at him with your head tilted. “Payday was yesterday, sir. Unless you’re going to pay my light bill, I need the money.”

Norris stays silent for a few moments before he rolls his eyes and waves his hand at you, not wanting to cause a scene in front of the only customer you’ve had in hours. “Come by my office before you leave.”

The office door closes behind him, and you roll your eyes at your cheap boss before turning to the gentleman in front of you. “Sorry about him, is there anything else I can get you?”

“No worries, Miss. I’d hate to work for a sleaze ball like him.” He sips his drink before making a sour face.

This guy isn’t dressed in stained sweats either, instead, he wears dark slacks and a grey dress shirt. He almost looks too normal to be in such a place. Maybe he just isn’t familiar with the area, perhaps?

“You want something that doesn’t taste like shit?” You place down the glass you were polishing and don’t even wait for the guy to answer before you duck under the counter and unlock the mini-fridge where Norris keeps his pricier alcohol. He forbids you and the other bartenders from selling it- it’s a special privilege for him only.

“Here.” The chilled amber liquid fills the glass halfway before you slide it over to him. “Sorry about that first one, I can only work with what I have.”

The guy takes a long sip of his whiskey and nods appreciatively. “Don’t worry about it…”

“Y/n,” you smile politely and hold your hand out to him.

“Apollo.”

“Cool name.” You comment and go back to polishing the glasses. Apollo seemed like a nice guy, and he looked to be in his thirties- and the best part is that you didn’t get the vibe that he was a pervert at all.

“Why you workin’ in this shithole, Y/n?” Apollo crosses his arms over the counter.

“Uh,” you drag out before shrugging your shoulders. “I can’t find another job. Trust me, I’d leave if I could. What about you, though? You look like you’re smart. What made you stop in here?”

The man lets out a chuckle. "My wife’s sister a few streets away, and I just finished up at work meeting. Thought I’d catch a drink before stepping into the chaos.”

“Yikes, that bad?”

“I love my wife… hate her sister. That chick is crazy.” Apollo throws the rest of his drink back and holds his glass out to you. “One more for the road?”

You nod and pour him another glass.

“Why are you hiding this stuff? This is some high-end shit.” Apollo asks.

“That’s the boss’s personal stash. I told him we’d make money off of it, but no, he knows the clientele that normally drop in. They deserve what we have, his words not mine.” You give him an awkward smile and raise your hands in defense.

“So why give it to me?”

Once again you shrug and dump out the bowls of untouched peanuts that were strewn across the bar. “You were nice to me. Actually wanted to have a conversation instead of asking if you could hit it.”

Your face turns bright red at your words. “Sorry, you’re like the first person I’ve had a conversation with all night.”

Apollo laughs again and waves it off. “Don’t worry about it, you’re fine.”

For the next twenty minutes, you two engage in small talk. Not a single customer walks in, so you begin to tidy up for the night.

As you wipe down the counters and straighten the liquor shelves, you find out Apollo manages a warehouse on the outskirts of town, he’s got a beautiful wife, and two small kids whom he’d do anything for. All in all, a pretty down-to-earth fella.

He asks why you haven’t found another job yet and you indulged him in your rotten luck with the shitty job market in this city.

Apollo throws back the rest of his whiskey before slapping a few bills on the counter.

Your eyes widen as you quickly count the amount in your head. “Oh no, that’s too much, I was just gonna charge you for the first drink, don’t worry-”

“Nah, take it. I have a feeling you won’t be getting your check after your shift.” Apollo frowns as he glances towards the closed door where Norris disappeared. “He better not see a cent of this, alright? Take the amount that you need for the shitty drink and pocket the rest. It’s a tip.”

You smile at him appreciatively. Normally, you wouldn’t be one for handouts- but money is money, and you have very little of it.

“Thanks, Apollo.”

“Anytime, and here.” He pulls out a business card from his wallet and places it on top of the cash.

“That’s my work address and phone number, call me or stop by when you’re ready to leave this place.”

You stood speechless as he offered one last wave, a smile on his lips. With a tug at his coat, he exits through the door. ——— By the end of your shift, you grab your jacket once the closing tasks are done. Hesitantly, you knock on Norris’s door.

“Come in, Y/n,” Norris says lowly.

Opening the door, the room reeks of his cigar smoke. Your eyes fall to the scattered papers surrounding his desk.

“Do you have my check, sir?”

Mr. Norris chuckles slightly before he wheezes and shifts into a coughing fit. He picks up the small waste bin that was overflowing with crumpled balls of paper and spits in it. Your mouth curls up in disgust at the sight.”

Do you know how much money that bottle costs?”

You stiffen at his words. “W-what bottle, sir?”

“Don’t play stupid with me, did you forget I have cameras in this shithole?” Mr. Norris stands up, and you clutch your jacket tighter as your anxiety builds up.

His hands are in his pockets as he casually walks over to you, but you keep your head up high.

“If I remember correctly… it costs much more than you can afford, right?”

You can feel your heart rate quicken and the blood rushing to your ears. “I don’t know, sir. It was only two glasses, and I told you if we sold that kind of liquor here, we’d have more customers.”

“Doesn’t matter what you think.” His tone is bitter.

“I’m the owner here, not you. Got that?” Norris turns around and takes a deep breath.

“Don’t worry, I’ll just hold your check as compensation.”

Your eyes widen, and you step forward in desperation. “No, you can’t do that!”

“Yes, I can. You stole from me. I can do whatever the hell I want and you’re lucky I don’t fire your little ass. Besides, I saw that stack of cash he gave you, that should cover your light bill, right?” Norris gives you a smile before gesturing you to the door.

“Mr. Norris-”

“The job market is pretty bad right now, isn’t it?” His words cut you off. “I would just hate to see you wind up on the streets selling yourself for a couple of bucks. No one wants to hire a little brat like you, so if you think about it, I’m technically saving you right now.”

You look at your boss in shock at his words. The whole situation makes you want to almost throw up.

He sits back down in his chair and waves a dismissive hand, “I’ll see you tomorrow, kid.” — The harsh breeze stings your face as tears mercilessly roll down your face. At least you dared to wait until you left the building before you started crying. You were so done. With Norris, with that stupid bar, with having no money to survive. Everything.

You kept your head down as you walked home.

You just dared any mugger or criminal to try and mess with you right now. You had no real way of dealing with your frustration or anger besides a few tears here and there.

When you made it home, you didn’t even want to eat. Stripping to your underwear, you collapsed on top of your squeaky bed and cried.

———

You pulled the sleeves of your thin coat over your hands as if they would cover the nerves. The work address Apollo had given you took you to a warehouse hidden within the desolate city. It was rather shielded, much to your surprise. The walk was relatively creepy, too, passing by barren trees and chipped pavement that you only stumbled on once. Something screamed at you to forget about the job and head back home to your small apartment before being humiliated and taken advantage of by Norris at the bar. Your brain mulls over the possibility of you being kidnapped, trafficked, and killed, all before 7 a.m..

“Maybe I should've called him first," you wondered aloud as you finally made your way up to the rickety chain link fence surrounding the property. Various 'KEEP OUT' signs were strewn along the links.

The fence rattles, aggravating the creepy silence of the night. You can't help wince as the metal chains holding the gate clink loudly together.

"Damn it."

Locked.

You pulled the two gates apart with as much slack as the chains would allow and squeeze underneath the metal. The warehouse rests about half a mile from the fence with prickly shrubs and dirt patches littering the yard.

The large doors at the entrance are locked shut, much like the perimeter fence. Luckily, you were able to find a door cracked open by a small slat of wood around the corner.

The door creaks loudly as you open it, and you cringe at the noise and push it back against the peg gently.

Turning around, you're met face-to-face with the barrel of a gun. The silver metal gleams under the dim white lighting. Your body tenses, and a gasp escapes your lips as you freeze in shock. Instinctively, you raise your hands in a defensive gesture, your heart racing as you brace for what's to come.

"You have twenty seconds to explain who you are and why the fuck you're here." The man holding the gun demands. He stands taller than you with a bulkier build.

"S-Shit, I'm sorry! Don't shoot, don't shoot. Apollo gave me this address! Here, I have his card…" With trembling hands, you reach into your purse and pull out the crumpled business card Apollo had given you not twenty-four hours ago.

The man snatches it from you quickly, and his eyes skim over the small lettering before tossing the card to the ground. He grumbles something under his breath and grabs your bicep, making sure to keep the gun pointed at you. You don't dare utter another word; you can practically hear your gut telling you, 'I told you so.'

This is it. This is how you die.

Your feet move with his subconsciously, your shoes tapping against the metal floors with every step. The gun still taunts you as it's pressed rather snugly against your shoulder. Sweat beads down your neck, and suddenly your thin coat feels extremely hot.

The man drags you to a closed door and knocks rather aggressively.

A loud sigh is heard on the other side, and then you hear it- that familiar voice. "Come in, Will."

Will opens the door, and you're met with Apollo sitting casually on his desk and sipping on a cup of coffee. Instead of the slacks and the dress shirt he wore when you first met, Apollo was in a navy jumpsuit.

"Oh, hey!" He jumps off the desk with a grin that heavily conflicted with your traumatized expression. "I was hoping you'd finally leave that shitty bar. Good to see you again, kid."

"You know her?" Will asks.

Apollo nods and grabs the nose of the gun, pushing it away from your body. "Yes, I do. No need to scare her."

Will nods and holsters his gun, he looks at Apollo, who only gives him a nod before he leaves the room and closes the door behind him.

"You alright there, Y/n?" His voice breaks you out of your stupor. It takes a second for his question to register in your head.

"Y-yeah. Just ya know, never had a gun pointed at me before."

Apollo nods and gestures for you to sit in the empty chair across from his desk. “Better here than by yourself on the street.”

You sit down and try to stop your hands from shaking so violently- instead, you clasp them together tightly in your lap.

"Can I get you some water or coffee?" He offers, and you shake your head. The silence is a bit awkward for a few moments as Apollo grabs some papers from a desk drawer.

Finally, you break the silence. "What exactly do you guys do here?"

"We distribute weapons." Apollo answers, keeping his gaze on the paperwork in his hands. That's it? No other details…?

"For who?"

Apollo's soft brown eyes meet yours, but they don't hold the same warmth as before—it's as if he was tentative to tell you.

"Onychinus."

Onychinus? That criminal gang you've only heard horrible rumors of from the streets? The same Onychinus that can make people disappear from multiple records in just a few seconds? That Onychinus?

"Oh."

"Is that a problem, Y/n?" He asks, setting down the papers in front of him.

"I just…" Don't know if I want to work for a gang.

“Onychinus isn't a gang," Apollo tells you as if he was trying to be reassuring. Shit, had you said that outloud? "We're the faction that controls the entirety of the N109 Zone."

You miraculously break out of your petrified trance and had to stifle a scoff. "Is that not what a gang is, though? I mean, you guys 'control' the city, and word on the street is that the N109 Zone is run by criminals."

"Look, Y/n, you didn't receive your check from that shitty boss of yours, am I right?" Apollo places down the papers and leans his head on his hand. His words reel you into check and you’re quick to shut your mouth and remember where you’re sitting.

Your only response is to nod.

"I know it seems scary here, but we look out for each other believe it or not. Especially the boss. He takes care of us so long as we follow through on our part. I mean, yeah, sometimes we need to put people in their place if they mess with us, but a lot of the guys here have families. I told you about my wife and my kids, too. Here," turning around breifly in his swivel chair, Apollo grabs a picture frame from atop the metal filing cabinets.

The photo captures a woman with short, tousled blonde hair that accentuates her dazzling blue eyes that sparkle with warmth and joy. Beside her are two children, the perfect blend of their parents' genetics. The smaller child, a girl with chubby cheeks and a playful smile, is nestled in her mother's embrace, radiating innocence and happiness. Meanwhile, the older child, a boy with tousled brown hair, wraps his arms around his mother from behind, flashing a carefree grin.

Your fingers trace around the edge of the frame as you contemplate your choices.

"So I'm gonna ask you, do you want the job or not?"

"…yes."

Apollo nods thoughtfully and turns the stack of papers around to face you. He leans in, the gentle clinking of his pen from his shirt pocket momentarily breaking the silence as he retrieves it. Your gaze glides over the printed words, scanning the dense paragraphs, until it lands on a substantial figure.

There, in bold contrast, the metal ballpoint of his pen hovers, tapping against the dollar sign as if emphasizing its significance. "That's what you can make your first year here, kid. If there are no problems, of course."

With wide eyes, you swallow hard and suddenly regret not taking him up on his offer for a drink earlier. Your dry lips part as if to say something, but before you can utter a word, Apollo interrupts.

"Full-time benefits, too. Paid vacation, uh, what else…" He clasps his hands behind his head and leans back into his chair.

There was no way this could be real, right? I mean, what job pays this well, offers benefits, and vacation, without you having to sell someone's organs on the black market? But, with this salary, you can move out of your small apartment, actually eat healthy meals, maybe even afford a nice car so you wouldn't have to walk everywhere.

"Apollo?"

"Hm?”

“I don't have to like- kill anyone, do I?"

"Do you know how to shoot a gun?"

"No."

"Then no." A grin spreads across his face. "We'll just have you start processing the orders and deliveries. No violence necessary, kid."

Well,

Oh, what the hell…

"When can I start?"

———

If you’d like to be added to the taglist, leave a comment or send me an ask <3

[katkit14]

What's its like being a female in all the Dorms

So I was making characters from my last idea and then it came to me. Headcanons for being the only female in each dorm!

Prompt : So rundown, you are the only female student in the whole school. You were an a talented young woman who was reached out to, as a great opportunity for NRC to open their doors to both females and males alike. (in reality Crowley just thinks girls on campus would be less rowdy then all boys. Means less work for him. Or maybe it's cause RSA started to, and Crowley is offended. Either way you are here now!)

Warnings : Reader isn't yuu/Mc. Reader is born female. mentions of sexism and harrsement. A little cussing to. Mentions of Periods and Bras.

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Heartslabyul

Riddle would be just as hard on you as the other freshmen. He sees you no differently. Male, female? Doesn't matter, you are still a student. You must obey all the rules to a Tea (get it?). If you don't then it's off with your head just like everyone else. Which if your sorted into this dorm there is good chance you are okay with that. I could see you being more a stickler for rules but even if your not at least riddle is fair.

If you're more chaotic and less strict then Riddle would treat you like Ace. Don't think you are getting away with things just because you act all innocent. He will make you write a 100-page essay on what you did wrong and why you won't do it again. That's if it's after his overblot. If not then it's "OFF WITH YOUR HEADU".

Though if you were forced into a bedroom with boys, Riddle might raise a fuss saying it's improper and get you your own bedroom. He will make the mistake of going through Crowley though.

Trey wouldn't act any different either. He'd also just see you as another freshmen. Carter though, he would avoid you. Like oh no, he has sisters. He "knows" what girls are like. He will warm up to you though.

Ace will flirt so much with you it's unreal. Cheesy pick up lines, smooth one liners, etc. He'll become annoying with it. Like get a spray bottle kind of annoying. Deuce is the opposite. He is super respectful and always a gentleman to you. He may become less stern if you befriend him but he'll always be a bit soft around you. If you ask, he'll beat ace up.

Now the rest or heartslabyul really doesn't react to you, you're kinda just another student. No one looks out for you but no one in the dorm harrases you. Now when it comes to female stuff, everyone in this dorm gets real awkward about it. On your period and are Bleeding through your WHITE dorm uniform? Everyone swet drops but only a few people speak up. If you do end up having to share a dorm room (even with riddle throwing a fit) the other boys in the room would be respectful and change in a bathroom instead of the room. They also would allow you access to the bathroom first ( unless it's ace. Then he pushes you out the way saying "Ladies first my ass" ).

Anyone who harrases you will face Riddles wrath though. Oh and the one brain cell duo. Riddle will be more proper by lecturing them but if the One brain cell duo gets ahold of them, then lights out.

Savanaclaw

Leona let's you off easier then the other students. Mostly cause he is mildly intimidated by you. He knows you aren't a beastman, but it's still ingrained into him to respect females. So if you just stand up to him and be like "yeah no" he won't really fight you. If you are on the softer side, he'd slowly but surely start to have a soft spot for you. He'd still respect you, even if you weren't a fighter. He'd just be more of an asshole if you didn't scare him as much.

If you were forced to share a room, it wouldn't be long before you had your own room since there are a lot of drop outs. Leona would put in the hardwork of making ruggie clear you out a room to yourself.

Ruggie's mostly the same way, he mostly respects you and your stuff. He won't take your stuff either just because of that slight fear. If you befriend him, he'll be more likely to share his food with you then with a guy.

Jack mostly treats you as an equal. No more, no less. Though he can be kinda awkward at first, once you befriend him he's a lot more chill.

Now the rest of Savanaclaw is spilt into two. Seeing you are the mom of Savanaclaw or being sexiest against you. If you are a fighter then you can easily put the sexiest ones in their place. If not, Jack can do it for you. Mostly the ones who see you as mom, would go to war for you. Like you are highly respected. Now if you accept the title then it's a whole lot of caring for dumbass's after fights, and making sure everyone hydrates after work outs. If you don't accept it, it doesn't matter cause they aren't dropping it. But you can kick their ass if they get to annoying.

During sports you have a whole line of bestmen and humans alike cheering for you! Like personal cheerleaders. And during school hours you have a bunch of guys coming through checking up on you, seeing if you are okay. They gotta take care of their dorm mom.

If you get your period, the whole dorm knows. Fun fact, period blood doesn't smell like fresh blood so they know it's your period to. Expect to find a basket of chocolate at your door, with a note saying " please accept this, in return don't kill us."

Octavinelle

Azul has a different opinion depending on what you are like.

I imagine if you got sorted into this dorm then you are more like a shady capitalist. If that's the case then he constantly feels threatened by you and has the Twins keep an eye on you.

If you are more Naive or more sweet then he is a lot less afraid and he puts you to work at the Lounge. Like as a hostess or a waitress, in order to lure more costumers.

If you were forced to share a room with boys he'd arrange another room for you...for a price. Man has no chill.

Jade doesn't really treat you any differently. More or less isn't fazed. He will still beat you up if he has to, and it won't make him go softer on you.

Floyd also doesn't care. He treats you the same as well. Honesty I could see him forgetting you are a girl. If you are a bit curvier he will squish you more. If you are the skinny side he likes to shake you. He swears you raddle. He will base his nickname off your personality, rather then your gender.

As far as the other students? Well everyone tries to budy up with you just purely based on business. It's an opportunity to get you to do stuff for them. If you're at negotiation then you'd be sitting pretty on favors, thaumbucks, and stuff.

Now if you choose not take Azul up on his deal and you are forced to share a room, they will be respectful and not change in front of you but other then that? You are on your own unless they owe you. Need pads/ tampons? Sams shop isn't to far away and you have working legs. It can be kinda hard to make friends in this dorm, with everyone being so shady and always wanting something from you. There really isn't anyone to help if you get harrassed either (unless you befriend the twins, then big scary dog previlige), though if you complain to Azul enough he will step in. You have to be pretty independent to be in this dorm.

Scarabia

Kalim and you are besties. It doesn't matter if agreed to it, he just thinks you are so cool! He treats you like his little sister...so basically like all the other students. He is always inviting to parties and he will take you out on magic carpet rides! He may come off strong but he just wants you to feel comfortable. He does put a lot of stress on jamil though with this...well even more stress.

I feel like if you had to share a room with boys and said you weren't comfortable with that then he would build a whole new just for you! Oh come on, it's the least you he could do to make you comfortable.

Jamil takes a lot longer to be cozy with you. He treats you with respect but doesn't really interact with you more then he has to which he has to a lot thanks to Kalim. Unless you befriend him somehow, then he slowly becomes more protective over you.

Kalim tries his best but doesn't understand female problems. Jamil on the other hand is the one to call if you have really bad cramps that wont go away or need help getting pads/tampons. Just take it easy on him, he's already got a lot to deal with.

The rest of the dorm is pretty nice to you. Most of them try to be helpful where they can, and it's really easy to befriend guys your age. Not a lot of harassment happens here but when it does Jamil will handle it unless you take care of it yourself. Even if he doesn't like you that much, he still doesn't believe in acting that way to girls just cause his little sister.

if you refused to let Kalim build you a room then some of the boys would move in with each other to let you have a room to yourself.

Pomefoire

Vil is even harder on you then he is on other students. He doesn't want you to get away with stuff and not put your best in just because you are female. He will push and push to do your best. From skin care regimens and diets, to work outs and class's on etiquette (depends on what you need according to him.) you would be his secret favorite but he would never tell anyone. Best believe though you will have your own room, and bathroom. He'll get you to chat with him. Tell him who you like, who bothers you. I can just see him judging whoever you like so hard. especially if it was another Dormleader like " Really? Couldn't you do a little better?"

Rook is a little more flirty to you, but not to much that anyone notices. I think flirty is just his personality. Anyways he is a real gentleman, still does as Vil says but gently. He also seems to get a bit protective over you, often getting people when they make you uncomfortable, even if you can handle it yourself.

He thought you were just a girly guy like him at first. Once he finds out your a girl, Epel thinks he has to look out for you. But makes a bunch of off hand comments that make Vil smack him. He is one of those "you can't hit a girl" kind of dudes.

As for the rest Pomefiore, they don't even notice you are a girl. Even if you very curvy. They just think it's drag or something. If your Skinner they just think your a normal student. Unless you tell anyone you are a girl they won't know. If you do tell them they don't care. I can't really see anyone in the dorm messing with you. If not from pure "I don't care enough" then it's the fear of Vil and Rook.

Vil refuses to let you share a dorm room, even if you are fine with it. Unlike Riddle he won't try to go through Crowley. He'll just do it. If there aren't any other rooms then you can stay with him. He if that does happen, he will be very respectful but you won't be able to escape his nagging.

I can see Vil kind of catering to your needs. Like he keeps tampons and pads in the dorms bathroom and giving you ways to get blood out of your clothes. He wants you to feel comfortable.

Ignihyde

Idia, talking to someone? Let alone a girl? Yeah no. He maybe talked to you once or twice because Ortho made him. He stays as far away from you as possible.

Ortho and you are friends. He is just so adorable how could you not? Even if you are shy, it's fine cause he's not. Once you are friends he constantly trying to get his brother and you to interact, but that works as well as trying to introduce water and oil.

Don't worry about sharing a room either cause if you have to, your dorm mates are never there. They refuse to interact with anyone. Hell, I can imagine a student making a wall divider just so no one doesn't have to talk.

It's safe to say no one is gonna harass you. They would feel scared being around you. I guarantee you that they have never talked to a real girl, and they don't plan to. That does mean you are on your own, about everything. It can also be hard to make friends but not impossible. Just hard. But hey you have the best wifi in the whole school! I imagine if you are in this dorm you are probably more antisocial yourself so you are probably fine with no one talking to you. But if you aren't, probably look for friends outside of your dorm.

I'm sorry this one is shorter, there isn't a lot to say on this dorm.

Diasomnia

Malleus is more then welcoming. Though he will keep his distance if you are scared of him. If you aren't then you will quickly become friends with him. He doesn't really see you differently then other students, but he does understand you may find some challenges that other students won't and he tries his best to accommodate to that.

If you share a dorm room, and you aren't comfortable he will get you another room to yourself. Very easily to. If you are fine with it or don't say anything then he won't know to so speak up. Feel free to complain to him. I don't know why but I see him being a softer dorm leader.

Lilia has to adopted you, sorry. Sebek and Silver both betray you, and point to you whenever Lilia asks who wants to try his cooking....if you survived feel free to punch them.

Speaking of Sebek and Silver, Sebek dislikes you. Or at least at first. He thinks your far to close to Malleus, but also you should worship him? Can't have your cake and eat it to. But after awhile he accepts you but barely.

Silver likes you just fine. I can see really anyone getting along with him. The only thing really wrong about him is sleepyness but he can't help that. So you two will probably become friends no matter your personality.

As far as the rest of dorm goes (is there other students? But nah really) most people leave you be. Not really talking to you or paying attention to you. I don't really see anyone fucking with you here, but if they do lilia will see to it if you don't handle it yourself. If Malleus finds out though, boy do they get the hell out of NRC. Malleus doesn't believe in sexism. Really none of the Diasomnia boys do but Malleus and Lilia have the power to do something about it.

Lilia and Silver is a lot more understanding of Female problems then Malleus and Sebek. Silver is a very understanding kind of guy, and Lilia's old has experience. I imagine fae also have periods but they are different. So lilia might not understand entirely but knows the basics. Malleus is clueless though he tries to understand. He will ask questions on everything if you allow him to, if not Lilia will explain. He just wants to know, so he can help. Sebek though just refuses to learn or care. He doesn't see you any different from anyone else really. So he treats you like he does all the other first year's (your poor eardrums). None other then Malleus ( if you've befriended him) are that protective of you. With most viewing you can take care of yourself just fine.

If you do end up sharing a room though, I feel like it'd probably be with Sebek. Who doesn't care whether you are Female or not. He won't change in front of you or try to peep at you. He will leave your stuff alone to. But sharing a room with him comes with it's own challenges.

He will still keep up his shrine to Malleus. He will hog the bathroom half the morning. He will be very loud in the morning and at night. Great seven forbid you stay up past 9pm.

I don't really see you sharing a room with other dorm members but if you do, then they mostly leave you alone. They won't change in front of you but that's it. Not really much to say there.

Bonus

If you leave Bras around your room in ignihyde, One of the boys will faint.

If you're in Pomefiore, you will be one Crewels favorite students.

In Heartslabyul, if you leave a little pad station in the bathroom, some of the first year boys will start using them as badaides.

The Savanaclaw boys use Hair ties and Srunchies as a weapon so if you have long hair, good luck.

If you are in Diasomonia, and rooming with Sebek. If you leave blood on the toilet seat, he will freak out asking in a very tsundere way if you are okay, once it's explained...Lilia will not let him live it down like ever.

If you are in Octavinille, don't ever leave a bra or undergarment in the open. Floyd will use it as a sling shot. (ace would to)

In Scarabia, Kalim forgets you are girl sometimes. Like" hey you want to go swimming with me? I had a pool put in yesterday! Everyone was getting way to hot!" "sorry I can't im on my period" "What?". Jamil faceplamed, cause Kalim knows what a period is, he just forgot you get them.

[d-emeter]

You're König's favourite porn star, but neither of you are aware. — plus-size!fem!reader x König

CW: plus-sized reader but can be read as body neutral, mentions of porn (obviously), reader is compared to other people but no description of reader's own body, mentions of male and female private parts, masturbation (male and female)

König usually doesn't watch porn. He knows some of his men do, he's heard them complain about not having access to it while out on missions, heard their locker room talk about their favourite videos, even going so far as to exchange the links to them from time to time. But König doesn't really understand porn. It usually makes him feel more awkward than aroused — the fake moans, the exaggerated wet noises, the fact that it's so produced. Besides, his fantasies about you are more than enough to keep himself satisfied when he's alone in the privacy of his room (perks of being a colonel). Well, not satisfied, not fully at least. He'd much rather actually have you between his sheets, but he knows that's a dream that won't come true. Not with the way he freezes up around you, the way his hands get clammy when you smile at him, the way his usually already blunt demeanor gets ten times worse — only ever responding to you in sentences no longer than three words. So he fantasizes. About a reality in which he isn't... well, him. In which he actually had the balls to talk to you properly, in which he'd be suave enough to charm you into his bed, into his arms, under him. It's enough, usually, to get him to soil his boxers, pretending the hand around his leaky cock is yours.

But then his leave comes around, and he hadn't anticipated that, as torturous as admiring you from afar was, not being able to admire you at all was so much worse. With the gift of hindsight, he realizes he should have snuck a photo of you, at least, while he lays in his bed, alone in his dark apartment with a yearning in his chest and an ache in his groin. And with that ache, he opens his creaky old laptop and pulls up some sketchy-looking porn site. It's not even a conscious decision, the way he only clicks on videos with girls that somewhat resemble you. But this one is too skinny, and this one's voice is too high-pitched, and how is he supposed to imagine you and him in that position when the man in the video does not nearly compare to König's stature and... size? He ends up in the amateur section (the moans sound a little more realistic, he finds), now only clicking on titles that feature the word 'solo'. He's just about to settle for some random video when a thumbnail in the recommended section catches his eye. It's clicked before he can even think about it, and — mein Gott, the girl looks exactly like how he imagines you do under your clothes. She cut the frame off right above her shoulders, so he can't see her face, but he doesn't mind — only makes it easier to imagine it's you pumping your fingers in and out of your weeping cunt. He cums in record time, clicking the subscribe button before passing out cold, not even caring about the mess covering his stomach that he's gonna have to clean in the morning.

He spends his leave obsessing over this girl: watching every single one of her videos, bookmarking the ones he particularly likes, leaving gross comments as an anonymous user, refreshing the page to check if she posted anything new. He can't even get off anymore without pulling up his favourite lookalike, your name leaving his lips as he empties himself into his hand.

—

He doesn't remember ever being this pent up. He's back on deployment, which means he doesn't have access to his library of jerk-off material, and it's getting to him. He doesn't even have you to admire either, still on your own leave. It's making him grumpy, more brutal on the rookies during training, nearly growling when someone accidentally bumps into him. But then you return.

It's a hot day when you do, and you're still in your civvies when König sees you for the first time. He's thankful for his hood covering his reddening cheeks as he takes in the sight of you in your little tanktop, the cleavage it leaves on display making him weak in the knees. He tries to subdue the butterflies in his stomach as he sees the way your eyes light up when you spot him, giving him one of your gorgeous smiles and a sweet little wave. Gott, you really are the prettiest-

Wait. He recognizes that scar on your arm-

Scheiße, he had noticed rather large gaps between uploads.

[stellaspectral]

okay i have a request: bayverse!leonardo x fem!reader. the reader has been friends with the turtles for months and during this time she and leonardo have developed a close relationship thanks to their love of reading and the fact that both of them are calm introverts (the reader is much more sweet and in tune with her emotions tough, bay!leo really needs someone like this imo). now leonardo is realizing that what he thought was just friendship is becoming something more, at least on his part, and he doesn't know what to do about it. obviously his brothers notice this change and their way of helping him is to tease him in front of the reader to force either of them to confess (they secretly been shipping them since the beginning and finally their ship is sailing!).

A/N: Hello, anon! I loved writing the dynamic between Leo and the reader, how they’re a lot alike but she has that emotional intelligence that he often lacks. And the brothers’ teasing “encouragement” to get them together was also a fun element to incorporate, even if it’s rough-going at first 🫢

I hope you enjoy! ☺️

Between the Lines (angst/fluff)

💙 Bayverse Leonardo/Female Reader 💙

CWs: Mutual pining, sibling teasing and meddling, brief anger/snapping, emotional vulnerability, confessions, first kiss, happy ending. All characters are aged-up.

The familiar, cool air of the lair wraps around you like a well-loved blanket.

You’re curled up on the worn but comfortable cushions of the couch, a thick hardback open in your lap. Across from you, Leo occupies his usual spot in a patched-up armchair. He’s immersed in an old, slightly battered-looking copy of Miyamoto Musashi’s The Book of Five Rings. He furrows his brow in concentration as he tracks the lines of text.

This is your usual routine, which began not long after you—months ago—literally stumbled into Leo and his brothers’ hidden world. And this comfortable silence you now share has become one of your favorite parts of it. You both found kinship in your introversion. A quiet understanding that doesn’t require constant chatter.

And of course, you’ve bonded over books and love to discuss the stories, the characters, the ideas within them. Sometimes the discussions are deep dives into themes and motivation. Other times they’re just comfortable exchanges about a particularly well-turned phrase or a plot twist neither of you saw coming.

While you’ve grown fond of his brothers’ more eccentric dispositions, Leo’s calm presence is something you enjoy. You appreciate the depth you sense beneath his disciplined exterior, the careful way he observes the world. You, in turn, offer a gentler perspective, a willingness to voice the emotions he usually keeps tightly locked down.

You sometimes catch him watching you when he thinks you’re not looking—like right now. For a moment, his brow smooths out, and there’s a flicker of something unreadable in his blue eyes.

Before his gaze snaps back to his book, brow furrowing once again.

A faint warmth spreads through your chest at the intensity you glimpsed, even if it vanished as quickly as it appeared. You keep your eyes dutifully on your page, though the words blur together. You pretend you didn’t notice, respecting the boundary he clearly erected by whipping his gaze back so sharply. And that’s part of the understanding too: knowing when not to push.

You shift slightly on the cushions, the worn fabric sighing softly beneath you. The sound seems amplified in the quiet. You reread the last paragraph on the page, forcing your focus back to the intricate plot unfolding. And for another minute or two, the silence stretches. You find yourself wanting to bridge it. But again, you relent, convincing yourself not to press.

Your cheeks are warm. This isn’t just the comfortable quiet anymore; your skin tingles, and the air feels like it does before a storm. Again, you attempt to focus on the words in front of you, but you can no longer comprehend them. All you can think about is the definite shift you’ve sensed in Leo—and the precarious question mark hanging in the space between you.

Because lately, the way he looks at you—it feels … different.

The words on the page have become meaningless squiggles, drowned out by the roaring silence and the frantic beat of your own heart against your ribs. Just now, you feel that look again. That focused stare. You try to take a slow, steadying breath, but it hitches halfway. Then you risk another look at Leo—

—and this time, he doesn’t look away immediately.

Instead, his eyes meet yours. And for a beat, you swear you feel the air crackle. There’s a tension in his jaw you’ve learned to recognize as him grappling with something internally. He continues to hold your gaze, not looking away. You swallow, rooted to the spot.

Inevitably, something shatters the moment.

“Ooooh, lookie here! Study buddies getting intense?” Mikey’s voice booms as he skateboards into the main room, executing a wobbly turn.

Leo’s posture goes ramrod straight. Every muscle seems to tense. “It’s called reading, Michelangelo.” He speaks in a clipped, overly formal tone—a sure sign of his discomfort.

Donnie wanders in, tapping away at a tablet. Though his eyes flick between you and Leo with keen interest. “Technically, Mikey’s right. Leo’s bio-feedback readings have shown a slight elevation in heart rate and galvanic skin response when you’re in close proximity.”

You press your lips together, trying not to laugh as you bookmark the page and close your book. Oh boy, you think as Raph enters the room. Here we go. The peace is officially over.

Raph glances from a now distinctly uncomfortable Leo to you, a knowing smirk spreading across his face. “Yeah, ‘reading’. Looks more like our fearless leader is trying to figure out how to use his words for something other than barking orders.” He gives Leo a pointed look.

Leo’s shoulders bunch up even further, and he shoots Raph a glare that could curdle milk. “I was contemplating strategy, Raphael. Something you might benefit from trying occasionally, instead of just charging in.” The deflection is immediate, sharp.

You tuck your feet beneath you on the couch, feeling the tension in the room climbing. “He’s right, guys,” you say softly, trying to inject a note of casualness. “We were just enjoying the quiet.”

“Quiet? Dude, the air was buzzing!” Mikey insists, ditching his board and planting his feet firmly on the floor. “Like, zzzzt! Electric eel quiet!” He makes buzzing noises and wiggles his fingers for emphasis.

“My sensors registered a distinct increase in localized atmospheric ions,” Donnie says, “that are consistent with elevated emotional states. Fascinating, really.” He taps his screen again. “Further analysis pending.”

Leo makes a strangled noise in the back of his throat. “Donnie,” he grits out.

Raph folds his arms over his plastron, that knowing smirk still firmly in place. “Aw, relax, Leo. Nobody’s judging.” He pauses, letting the implication hang heavy. “Much.” He winks at you, making you blush. “Just sayin’, Leo. Maybe Musashi ain’t the only thing holdin’ your attention these days.”

“Shut up, Raph,” Leo snaps, his gaze darting towards you, checking your reaction.

“Aw, is Leo getting flustered?” Mikey teases, grinning as he looks at you. “You finally break through that super-serious shell of his?”

Heat floods your face, matching the flush you see creeping up Leo’s neck.

You manage a small, slightly shaky laugh. “You guys are relentless,” you say, aiming for amused rather than mortified. You gesture vaguely towards the books resting nearby. “There’s no ‘shell breaking’ going on. We were just reading.”

Leo pushes himself abruptly out of the chair, his movements stiff and jerky. He places The Book of Five Rings down on the armrest with more force than necessary. “Enough, Mikey,” he bites out, his voice low and tight with warning. He refuses to look directly at you, his gaze fixed somewhere over Mikey’s shoulder, his jaw clenched tight.

“Actually,” Donnie begins, adjusting his glasses, “the ‘shell’ metaphor is interesting. Because psychologically, prolonged exposure to a non-threatening, emotionally open individual can foster increased vulnerability and trust in subjects typically exhibiting guarded behavior. My preliminary data correlates with a significant decrease in Leo’s baseline stress markers when in your presence, contrasted with—”

Raph snorts, cutting Donnie off. “See? Even Donnie agrees you’re gettin’ soft, Leo.” He grins wider, thoroughly enjoying the leader’s discomfort. “Must be all that … quiet reading.”

“Is Leo gonna start writing poetry now?” Mikey says, bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet, completely oblivious to Leo’s darkening expression—or perhaps relishing it far too much. “Ooh! Or maybe singing love songs?” He strikes a dramatic pose, hand over his heart.

“That’s enough!” Leo finally snaps. His voice cracks through the room like a whip, sharp enough to make even Mikey flinch back a step.

The playful teasing evaporates instantly. For a fraction of a second, Leo’s furious gaze lands on you. You see a flash of something raw and conflicted—Panic? Frustration? Regret?—before he wrenches his eyes away and pivots on his heel. “I’m going to train.”

Before he can go far, Raph grabs his arm. “Leo, wait. We didn’t mean—”

“Let me go.” Leo shakes off Raph’s hand, his voice low, strained. His gaze flits momentarily back to you, and the raw emotion you glimpsed earlier—that maelstrom of panic and frustration—is starkly visible before he clamps down on it again, hardening his expression.

Raph lets out a heavy sigh, rubbing the back of his neck. The smirk is long gone, replaced by a frown of genuine concern mixed with self-reproach. “Leo, we’re sorry. Didn’t mean to push ya like that. We got kinda … carried away.” He casts an apologetic glance at you as well.

Mikey looks up, nodding quickly. “Yeah, dude. Sorry. We were just messing around. Because you know, the two of you …” He gestures vaguely between Leo and you, opens his mouth to say something—before wincing slightly, thinking better of finishing that train of thought.

Leo’s about to throw some barbs at his youngest brother when you stand abruptly and go over to him. “It’s okay,” you say, trying to calm him. “They’re just being—”

“Annoying?” Leo bites out. “Intrusive?”

“Accurate,” Donnie supplies, leveling a look directly at Leo.

“Seriously,” Raph says. “We see how you get all quiet and weird—well, quieter and weirder—when she’s around. So just spit it out already.”

He glares at Raph. “There’s nothing to ‘spit out.’ Unlike some people, I don’t feel the need to broadcast every fleeting thought or impulse that crashes through my head.” The insult is sharp, aimed squarely at his hot-headed brother.

Mikey winces again, glancing between his two oldest brothers nervously.

Raph raises his hands in a placating gesture. “Whoa, easy, Leo. Just sayin’—”

“Saying what, exactly?” Leo cuts him off, his control fraying. “That I enjoy quiet companionship? That I value having someone around who … who understands me?” His eyes flicker briefly, almost involuntarily, towards you again.

Your cheeks grow warm once more. But before Leo can say anything else, you quickly move forward, laying a hand gently on his arm. “Please, Leo,” you murmur, your voice soft but clear. “It’s okay. Really.”

He freezes at your touch. His muscles remain rigid beneath your hand, taut as bowstrings. But the furious energy seems to stall, caught short by your intervention. He looks down at your hand resting on his arm, his plastron rising and falling with agitated breaths. Then, slowly, he lifts his gaze to your face.

The anger in his eyes vanishes, momentarily overwhelmed by that conflicted look again. His vulnerability warring fiercely with his ingrained need for composure. And for a fleeting second, he looks utterly lost.

Exposed.

Raph watches the silent exchange between you and Leo, his own expression softening considerably. He nudges Mikey. “C’mon, guys,” Raph says quietly. “Let’s, uh … Let’s give ‘em some space.”

Mikey nods, looking immensely relieved to escape the line of fire. “Yeah! Space! Totally! Good idea, Raph!” He backs away towards the tunnels.

Donnie again looks between the two of you, before following Mikey out of the lair. Raph joins them soon after, leaving the room to fall quiet again.

It’s heavy, thick with everything that was just said.

And everything that wasn’t.

Leo hasn’t moved. He’s still looking at you, your hand still resting on his arm. The tension hasn’t fully left him, but the volatile anger has receded. Slowly, deliberately, he covers your hand with his own for a second—before pulling away. It’s not a rejection so much as a gathering of courage.

He turns away slightly, running a hand over his face, his gaze fixed on the floor. “I … apologize,” he says, the word strained. “For their behavior. And … for my reaction. It was inappropriate.”

“It’s okay,” you say softly. “Brothers tease. It happens.”

He shakes his head. He still won’t look directly at you, focusing instead on the worn pattern of the rug. “No. It’s not just teasing.” He pauses, his shoulders tensing as if bracing for impact. “They weren’t entirely … wrong.”

Your breath catches in your throat. You wait, hardly daring to breathe, as he visibly struggles with himself. His fists clench and unclench at his sides. He takes a deep, unsteady breath, the kind you’ve seen him take before facing a daunting opponent.

Finally, he turns back to face you. His eyes meet yours, and the turbulent emotions beneath shatter his usual discipline. The raw vulnerability you glimpsed earlier is fully present now, unguarded and intense.

“Donnie’s observations,” he begins, his voice rough, stumbling slightly over the words. “And Raph’s … accusations.” He swallows hard, his gaze unwavering now, locked onto yours. “While crudely delivered, they hold a measure of truth.”

He takes another breath, forcing the next words out. “My focus—it has been compromised lately. When you are here.” He gestures vaguely towards the couch, towards the shared space, towards you. “This quiet companionship, as I called it. It’s become … significant. To me.”

He pauses again, the silence stretching, amplifying the frantic beat of your own heart. You can see the effort it’s costing him, the sheer force of will required to push past years of ingrained stoicism and emotional suppression.

“I find your presence centering,” he continues, the formality of his words contrasting with the emotion in his eyes. “And distracting. Simultaneously.” A faint, self-deprecating grimace touches his lips before vanishing. “My thoughts deviate from strategy. My focus … shifts.”

He looks down briefly, then meets your gaze again, his own filled with a hesitant, almost uncertain intensity. “What I mean to say,” he finally manages, the words quiet but clear in the heavy silence, “is that my feelings for you extend beyond friendship.”

He doesn’t say more. He simply stands there, stiff as a board, his jaw clenched. As if preparing for a blow after having laid his carefully guarded heart bare. His eyes, usually so calm and assessing, are wide, searching yours, filled with a potent mixture of apprehension and hope.

You can only stare, the echo of Leo’s words reverberating in the space between you. It’s the confirmation of the subtle shift you’d sensed, the answer to the unspoken question that had been tightening your own chest for weeks. But hearing it spoken aloud by him causes a warmth to bloom inside you, chasing away the anxiety that has plagued you for so long.

You see the tight set of his shoulders, the way his hands are still loosely fisted at his sides as if he’s bracing for rejection. For the possibility that he’d misread everything, that he’d shattered the comfortable dynamic you share for nothing. You take a hesitant step closer, closing the small distance between you.

Shoving down your own introverted caution. Because he deserves the same honesty he just offered you.

“Leo,” you breathe, your voice barely a whisper.

You lift a hand, not quite touching him yet, letting it hover in the charged air between you. “That quiet companionship …” you begin, echoing his earlier words, your voice gaining a little strength. “It’s … significant for me, too.”

Relief flashes across his face, but he remains still. Waiting.

“I thought … I thought maybe I was imagining things,” you admit, a wobbly laugh escaping you. “The way you looked at me sometimes. The way it felt just sitting here. Reading.” You finally meet his gaze fully, letting him see the emotion swimming in your own eyes. “It wasn’t just comfortable silence anymore, was it?”

He shakes his head mutely, his throat working as he swallows.

“My focus hasn’t exactly been stellar either,” you confess, a small smile touching your lips. “These last few weeks, maybe longer. Trying to read when all I can really think about is …” You trail off, suddenly finding it hard to say the words, your own vulnerability rising to the surface.

You take another step, finally closing the gap. Your hand finds his arm again, resting gently on firm muscle. This time, he doesn’t pull away. Instead, his own hand covers yours almost instantly, his grip surprisingly gentle but firm, anchoring you.

“Leo,” you say again, your voice steadier now. “My feelings for you … they extend beyond friendship, too.” You take a deep breath, the words tumbling out in a rush of relieved honesty. “A lot further. I …” You swallow. “I love you.”

The admission hangs in the air, raw and true.

For a heartbeat, Leo just stares at you, his eyes searching yours as if trying to absorb the reality of your words. Then, the tension visibly drains out of him. His shoulders slump in relief, his posture relaxing. His grip on your hand tightens possessively. A slow, tentative smile—one that reaches his eyes—transforms his face, erasing the lines of worry.

It makes your heart do a ridiculous flip.

“You …” he starts, his voice thick with emotion, almost rough. He clears his throat. “You do?”

You nod, unable to speak past the lump in your throat, your smile mirroring his. Tears prickle at the corners of your eyes. Not from sadness, but from overwhelming relief and happiness.

He raises his other hand, his fingers brushing gently against your cheek. The contact sends shivers down your spine. He seems momentarily lost for words, the disciplined leader grappling with an emotion far more complex than any battle strategy.

“I …” He shakes his head slightly, that small smile lingering. “I hoped. But I wasn’t sure.” He leans closer, gently cupping your face. “I love you too,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your skin.

The world seems to narrow down to just the two of you. Leo’s thumb strokes gently over the back of your hand. His other hand remains cupped against your face, his touch feather-light but possessive. His gaze flickers down to your lips, then back up to meet your eyes. You give the slightest nod, a silent permission that sends another wave of warmth flooding through you.

He leans in slowly, deliberately, giving you every chance to pull away, true to his nature. But you don’t move. You meet him halfway, rising on your toes. The space between you disappears. His lips meet yours, tentative at first. His lips are surprisingly soft against yours, moving with a hesitant tenderness that makes your heart ache in the best possible way.

You sigh softly into the kiss, your free hand coming up to rest against his plastron, feeling the steady, strong beat of his heart beneath your palm. It’s racing almost as fast as your own. He deepens the kiss slightly, his hand tightening its hold on yours. It feels like coming home, like finding a piece of yourself you hadn’t realized was missing.

When he finally pulls back, it’s only by a fraction, his forehead resting against yours. His eyes remain closed for a moment, as if savoring the connection. You keep yours shut for a few moments, too.

“Wow,” you murmur, your eyes fluttering open.

An unguarded smile touches his lips again. “Yeah,” he agrees. “Wow.” He gently brushes a stray strand of hair from your face.

He takes your other hand, holding both securely in his grasp. He looks down at your joined hands, then back up at you, his expression serene, resolute. The vulnerability is still there, but tempered now with confidence, with the quiet joy of reciprocated feeling.

“So,” he says after a few moments, a hint of his usual pragmatic nature returning, though softened around the edges. “Reading might be … slightly more challenging from now on.”

A laugh bubbles up from your chest, light and happy. “Might be,” you agree. “But I think … I think I’m okay with that.”

He smiles—a proper, heart-stopping smile that lights up his face. He leans down and presses a brief, sweet kiss to your forehead.

Your respective stories have taken a turn neither of you fully anticipated. But it is a chapter you were both eager to finally write.

Together.

[bonus-links]

dog days part 1 or 2!

por qué no los dos. I kinda consider it one big update anyway lol. this one might get long, I'll stick a readmore somewhere

i was insane for this. the comic will probably never be this decorated again but I had to do it at least once 😂 I try to give each era it's own subtle stylistic flair, though this is definitely the most overt one. I'm still really proud of this update!! sometimes I think I burnt myself out with this so bad tho that the first half of ch2 is pretty low on ornamentation bc of it. it takes like. a lot of extra mental energy ngl

it's slight but this whole interlude has a paper texture the rest of the updates don't :-)

there's lots of patterns to talk about here. twili patterns for the panel where wolf is zoning out.

the pattern on the sides is kind of an abstract depiction of Ordona, although her light orb is in her hands instead of the horns. I was also riffing off the patterns on a lot of the Ordonian's clothes. The green parts are pumpkin vines! those generally represent wolf himself

this is the dinner I reference at grandma's party in pt. 8

the pumpkin vines change into these kind of gold-leafed vines I often use to refer to zelda. They do this a few times throughout the update.

small detail I should include more often- wolf fidgets with his earring when he's bothered by something or thinking hard.

Lots of people have translated this in the reblogs so I won't do it here, but it's essentially a summons from Zelda to the castle. It's intentionally a little difficult to parse- Wolf is not from Hyrule. I like to imagine a difference between written Ordonian and Formal Hylian. Wolf can read it, but it doesn't come naturally. Also, Wolf is referred to as "Sir Link Goatherd of Ordon" where "Goatherd" could be both an occupation and a surname (that's actually the origins of surnames like Gothard, which I considered using)

Zelda's full name in the letter is Queen Zelda Celestia Nohansen Hyrule (though I think I write it as "Of Hyrule"). Idk if this makes sense actually, but it was meant to be a nod to the fact that TP is a parallel timeline to WW. WW had King Nohansen, so I imagine that as part of TP Zelda's lineage.

Wolf agreed to be a Royal Knight on the basis that it was only a formality, but then Zelda started actually summoning him to things anyway. He basically ignores them all, but they've been coming with increasing frequency. In Zelda's defense, the political situation she's dealing with trying to rebuild the kingdom is pretty tense. She could really use his help.

my favorite part of this update!! I feel like there should be no easy way to use the shadow crystal. if you want that power, you've gotta shove it in your forehead yourself! and yes, it does hurt. His ears flatten a little in anticipation. also sidenote I think this is the best I've ever drawn him lol

I like to think Yeto and Wolf are still buds.

I think whenever Wolf wanders like this, he frequently finds himself in the desert. He's given up on looking for shards of the mirror of twilight, though.

The vines get yellow as they reach the bottom of the page- Wolf's time to hide in wolfmode is running out.

little baby spirits of light hidden in this page, except ordona

who's hiding on this page instead! while Link the Cat reminds Wolf it's probably time to go back to his family in Ordon.

Wolf can't turn back into a human on his own, so he has to return to the sacred grove to reach the master sword. And yes, Skull Kid makes him play hide and seek every time 😂

those are midna's hands on either side.

this pattern has the organic shapes of the world of light, rather than the geometric twili patterns, showing that Wolf has immediately clocked that it's not a portal to the twilight realm. but alas, it's too late to turn back.

In terms of the timeline, while Loft and Slate trek across Hyrule to Hateno, Wolf is lost in the Lost Woods.

I wanted to put Ilia in this update more but this ended up being the only time she showed up lol

and that's all I've got! if you read all of this i love u

[genderlessghoul]

I've been wanting to do this post for a while now so here is EVERYTHING I CAN TELL YOU ABOUT THE GHOULS' IMPERA COSTUMES.

Buckle up because I have a LOT to say about those, this is gonna be a very long one.

The costumes were designed by B Åkerlund, a Swedish costume designer who's worked with Ghost since at least Meliora (that's as far back as I was willing to scroll on her Instagram page lol). B Åkerlund has also worked for many other musical artists such as Lady Gaga, Beyoncé, Madonna, the Rolling Stones, Ozzy Osborne, Blink 182 and Hollywood Undead (information from her own website)

The masks were made by Bob Basset, a visual artists who works a lot with leather. I find his work fascinating, you can look him up on Instagram (nsfw warning, there's a few naked ladies).

Fun fact! The horns are real cow horns. That's the reason some of them have gold tips, to hide the imperfections that come with working with actual horns.

He does have a shop where he sells his items, there's a mask there very similar to the Impera ones. You can also buy Papa's batwings if you happen to have 2500$ lying around!

The jackets are made on the same model as one of Papa's. The back is decorated with a spine-like design made from leather and cording. It's adorned with a few of our classic Impera buttons. Some of the hems were left raw and some deliberate weathering was done to make it look old and worn.

Fun fact! The shoulder pieces are not sewn into the garment, I would assume for easier cleaning. I don't know if they're held by strong magnets or snap buttons.

The vest (my beloved 😩) is made from flocked velvet in a paisley pattern, the front hems embellished with satin piping. It closes in the front with custom metal clasps that are riveted into the garment. The D parts are attached with what seems to me like wide elastic, which would lessen the pression on the clasps when moving around a lot. The back is made from two different types of fabric, I'd have to touch it to be able to tell you what they are. I assume the panels closer to the sides have some mild stretch to them. The top of the shoulders are decorated with Impera grucifix patches.

The shirts were not custom made for the ghouls, altho they were altered. The original shirt in the vintage painter linen shirt from Punk Rave and it is still being sold. Some of the cuffs were altered, removing the ruffles for some of the ghouls, but not all. They were removed for Dew, Mountain and Phantom, Aether's didn't have them either. As far as I can tell, all the ghoulettes still have them.

An unfinished piece of linen serves as an ascot, that piece is decorated with a metal devil skull. The colour of the skull doesn't appear to be consistent between each ghoul, Dew's looks gold almost bronze while Phantom's is a silver-like colour.

Another modification is the buttons, a small portion of them were removed in favor of our Impera buttons. Some of the ghouls have more buttons replaced than others, which is still a mystery to me.

The pants are called Jodhpurs, they were invented in the 1800s as horse riding pants. The wide part at the hips and thighs allowing for better movement. The ones the ghouls wear don't reach all the way to their ankles, they stop a bit past the calf muscle, hidden by the boots. (Yes, the ghouls are effectively wearing capri pants)

The boots are motorcycle riding boots, decorated by a grucifix. Like the shirt, they can still be bought online through the All American Boots website, altho the price tag is... Headache inducing to say the least.

The cape is a piece of costume that was only briefly worn on stage by the ghouls, Aurora being the only one who still wears one. I would assume it gets in the way of playing very easily. The cape itself is made of two fabrics, a light blue satin and a dark grey suede. The two pieces are not sewn together at the bottom, they move freely from each other. The cape is attached on the left shoulder with a harness piece that has one strap across the chest, decorated with a metal buckle, and one under the armpit.

Aight that's it for me, have a nice day byyyyye!!

[prettyinpwn]

Stan Pines: A Masterclass in Character Writing and Symbolism AKA Stan is Godly, Literally (GF Writing Analysis Pt. 5)

If you're interested in reading a similar writing analysis on Ford Pines, please visit this page.

I've wanted to write a post on Stan for a long time, because I'm going to make a bold claim: he is THE best written character in Gravity Falls. I literally have never been able to find a flaw with his writing, and the reason? Not only does he have the markers of quality I mentioned in my post about Ford's writing (a want, need, character arc, realistic flaws), but...

I would also argue he is THE main protagonist and hero of Gravity Falls if I had to pin it down to just one, and his character arc matches the external conflict, that being Bill Cipher and the theme of growing up vs. staying in childhood and ego vs. selflessness, in ways that are just - and I'm not exaggerating - poetic. And the best part is, he had a lot more time and attention in the spotlight in the show than Ford, so everything I mentioned in the other post that was good about Ford's writing, ramp that up x100 for Stan.

His character also touches on multiple other fantastic themes: breaking generational trauma, healing broken familial relationships that seem unfixable, redemption, the misunderstanding of the family "fuckup" (although Stan is not that in the least, but that's part of his character arc), positive masculinity, true brotherhood, self-love, self-identity, and probably a million others I'm missing and will find out even just as I write this.

As for the godly part, well... you'll just have to read to the end. And no, I'm not kidding or exaggerating, either.

Okay, okay, gushing aside, let's get to the analysis. I'm not sure this will be as neatly structured as Ford's was, but there are just so many damn good things about Stan's writing that it's hard to stick to just one point. Let us begin.

Stan's Backstory: I Am Not Ford and That's Bad + Protecting/Providing for Family > Everything Else

So as I discussed in my post about Ford linked above, much of Stan's childhood revolved around Ford. His entire existence as a child was summed up by one question: how do I compare to Ford? This is especially emphasized in how their father, Filbrick, treated them. One of the end credits ciphers in the show reads as follows:

"A STUBBORN TOUGH NEW JERSEY NATIVE, FILBRICK WASN’T TOO CREATIVE, HAVING TWINS WAS NOT HIS PLAN, SO HE JUST SHRUGGED AND NAMED BOTH STAN."

Haha, very funny. But OUCH. Imagine knowing that your whole name is your name, was because your father only expected one son and was too lazy to come up with anything else. So literally, Stan doesn't even have his own name - his own identity - technically. Stan also was apparently the second twin born, so came in "second" even from birth, and being Ford's (either identical or very similar fraternal) twin, well... it's hard for someone to untie their identity from their brother's with those factors surrounding them as a kid.

There are many other factors that illustrate my point (Ford got Filbrick's name as his middle name, the way Filbrick literally put Stan on the lawn for sale as a kid for failing a test, etc). All in all, Ford receives their father's love, Stan does not, although we could argue that this isn't that great for Ford, not really, as I did in my post on his writing. Because it's a love that comes with a, "I'd also like to use you." attached (just like Bill, gee).

All in all, it's very obvious from all these context clues that Ford was the beloved one, and Stan was the unexpected one, from birth to the end of Gravity Falls, where he uses that to his advantage - albeit in a different context - to defeat Bill Cipher.

Worse yet, Stan happened to have a twin that was extremely smart and talented in a way that was easily noticed. Ford is a Golden Child, as I described in his own writing analysis post, and siblings of the golden child like Stan? Well... the other sibling(s) are often the Scapegoat. As the source in the last sentence states, the Scapegoat is "often blamed for family mistakes, discarded, neglected, and has been gaslighted into believing it was their fault. The scapegoated child is usually assigned at a young age and often carries this role through to adulthood and never loses the unfortunate title.". This can highly affect the Scapegoat's self-esteem, even into adulthood.

This page also covers the Golden Child vs. Scapegoat dynamic. Pay attention to these quotes from this source:

"You are the one the parent will come after when things are going wrong."

"You are subjected to their emotional and verbal abuse the most."

"You may even feel like you need to fix your broken family."

Also, take into account these panels from the comic, Lost Legends, released after Gravity Falls ended:

Yikes. A child doesn't say these things unless a parent has taught them that everything they do is wrong and they are lesser than their sibling. This kid's noticed how Filbrick looks with pride at Ford, but not him. And here's the thing: the item Stan stole in this comic that made Filbrick mad? Stan did it to clean it to make his father proud. Sound familiar? In the events of Gravity Falls, Stan works on the portal for thirty years and gets Ford back, and he gets... yelled at for it. Stan always has good intentions. Although, Ford has a point in the above comic panel: Stan does take shortcuts that get him into trouble. He did almost get jailed by the US government and end the universe to save Ford.

But this is a consistent theme with Stan's character throughout the show. Even WE as the audience first see Stan the way his family did - a conniving scoundrel and money-grubbing criminal - but through the events of the show, just as Stan's family starts to realize it, even when Stan does things that seem bad, like stealing radioactive waste, working on a portal described as a potential cause of the end of the world, has a ton of different identities, etc... we find out Stan had good intentions all along.

Even Stan's greediness? That need for money? That also stemmed from the same good intentions, because how ELSE was he going to afford Ford's mortgage to keep the Shack in order to keep working on bringing him home? It was also likely something ingrained into him from when he was kicked out. Because Filbrick told him, basically, until you make us the money that Ford losing his chance at West Coast Tech cost us, GTFO. Literally. :'(

So Stan... really IS not what he seems. He seems like a fuckup, a criminal, a liar, and a greedy conman. But really... he's a family defender, protector, and supporter. Want to have your mind blown? Intentional or not, let's look at the very first scene we see Stan in in the series:

"Oh look, I'm a monster!"

"Just kidding, I'm not. I'm someone else under what looks like a monster."

Yes. Stan's whole character arc is foreshadowed in like... three seconds in the first episode. The very first time we see him. Not just his arc, but also his role as someone that seems deceptively evil but is actually good. And not just the arc that Ford and Dipper take from distrusting Stan to finally understanding his good intentions, but also the realization WE as viewers have about Stan as we follow the story. Additionally - which we'll get into later - it's symbolic of Stan's internal character arc he takes across the series of realizing he himself isn't the monster that his father planted in his mind as a child, but a good person worthy of love.

All of that... in a few seconds of animation. If that wasn't intentional, then DAMN did the writing gods smile on the Gravity Falls team the day they planned this scene. Back to the point about who Stan really is: the family "fuckup" (not really, but we'll get to that later), and a family defender and protector. This is the true core of Stan's character throughout the whole series. Not only was he Ford's defender as a child, protecting him from bullies, but you know those scenes the fandom universally agrees on were Stan at his most badass? Ahem...

"Everything I've worked for, everything I care about, it's all for this family!"

"Turn around and look at me, you one-eyed demon! You're a real wise-guy, but you made one fatal mistake: you messed with my family."

Yeah. Look at what Stan is doing in EVERY single one of these scenes: protecting his family. And as bad as Filbrick was, just like I explained in the post I made about Ford's writing... Filbrick also passed down some things to Stan that make him the hero he is. And it's also stuff that Stan passes down to Dipper:

Yeah, it kinda sucked for Dipper at the time. Was it a perfect way of teaching a child to be tough? Er, no, although another mark of a well-written character is that they can make mistakes and have flaws; Stan's not perfect. And the fandom has criticized the way Stan passed down this lesson to Dipper, because it can be considered very similar to the way Filbrick passed it down to Stan. But look what it did: when the world fights and threatens his family, just like Stan, Dipper fights back. With punches, too:

So... to summarize this first part: Stan was taught from childhood "I'm not Ford, and that's bad. I am a monster unworthy of love that always messes up.", and his role is a family protector, which started with how he protected Ford from bullies as a child. This is the core of his self-identity. So let's get into the writing techniques that make a well-written character that I discussed in Ford's writing analysis post...

Stan's Core Want vs. Need

I'll quote my explanation of want vs. need from my own post on Ford I made about a year ago:

"When I took writing classes in college (and over years of writing in general and drooling over writing advice podcasts and blogs), I found that the best method for me, personally, when it comes to crafting characters is to focus on two major things:

1. Their want.

2. Their need.

On the surface, these look like the same things, but in character writing, they can be vastly different. For example, say that you have a character that greatly desires fame and recognition. They want these things.

But what’s the real reason behind it? Is it because they had a parent that was famous and want to live up to their example? Is it because they want to be adored by people? Is it because they were told they’d never amount to anything by someone and want to prove them wrong?

This real reason behind it all is the core need. Yes, they want fame and recognition, but they need it because, say, they have low self-esteem and need copious amounts of outside validation to boost it.

Tied to this need is usually a backstory reason (sometimes called their wound). Say your hypothetical character was bullied a lot as a child. Or abused by a parent. Etc. Whatever the wound was, it caused a big, painful hole in their heart that they try to fill and fix with their want.

So they go on a journey. The want is often the external journey. The need is often the core journey / character arc. Our example character seeks fame and recognition on an external journey, but deep inside, they realize they need something else, which is to understand that their past trauma/wound doesn’t define them, and fame and recognition will not be the balm they expect it will be. Often, they realize they had what they needed all along. They grow past their flaws associated with their seeking this want through understanding and instead pursuing the need."

I'll summarize Stan's character writing using these concepts right here, like I did for Ford in his analysis post:

“I want to be Ford because I want to be loved like he is, and I want to protect those I care about and do the right thing. But what I need is to realize is that who I am - not Ford, but Stan - was good enough all along, proven by how I've always protected those I care about, and I never NEEDED to be Ford in the first place. This stems from a wound from my childhood where I was a scapegoat child treated like a fuckup who never did anything right and could never measure up to Ford, and was conditioned to think that being like Ford was a ticket to earn familial love. I had what I needed all along: myself, because I am good enough and worthy of love, despite what my father taught me."

Stan's Arc: I Am Not Ford... and That's Okay

AKA Stan's arc is basically: learning to love yourself and be yourself, even when you were conditioned to think you have no value. Don't believe me? Guess what Stan does for thirty years: pretends to be Ford. And he literally does it by pretending to have died. He "kills" Stanley Pines AKA himself in a staged car crash to become Stanford Pines.

And guess how he defeats Bill? By pretending to be Ford. His greatest weakness is actually his strength, and then he flips it: he reveals to Bill that he's not Ford, he's actually Stan. And THAT'S when the antagonist of Gravity Falls is truly defeated - an antagonist that represents stasis, lack of change, and with The Book of Bill's context, an antagonist that never freed himself from his own past - is when Stan learns to accept himself and admit who he really is and learns to let the past go. And it's telling that this is what he says when he does it:

"Heh. Guess I was good for something after all." AKA: "Yeah, fuck what Pa said about me."

There it is. The moment of Stan realizing his father was wrong, and he was wrong for thinking himself a fuckup all those years. And this is the expression he pulls at this moment of realization; at the peak of his character arc, all while burning in flames like a phoenix reborn. It sounds corny when I put it that way, but LITERALLY, all the fire symbolism feels like it wasn't foreshadowing Stan's death, but his rebirth as himself after pretending to be Ford all those years. He's not burning who he is, he's burning away who he thought - who he was told - he was. Funny that it takes place in the mind, huh?

This is the face of a man who is at peace and finally loves himself for the first time in his life. That ain't just his mind burning. That's him punching his demon that's haunted him and his brother their whole lives, protecting his family as always, and, symbolically, punching a demon that represents the show's overall antagonist of the shackles of staying stuck in the past, forgiveness, and the value of moving on. He literally punches the antagonist - staying stuck in the past - to pieces and THAT'S when he wins.

Also, can we talk about how Bill and Filbrick share color schemes, and Filbrick even has a brick-like pattern in his suit (also, I mean... come on, he's got 'brick' in his name)? I'll let you make your own conclusion about what that means for Stan's character arc:

It's also telling that Bill Cipher's backstory is that he burned his home dimension and loved ones - including his family - to ashes. The Axolotl - Gravity Falls' equivalent of basically God, from what I can tell - says himself about Bill in one of the books released outside of the show:

"Saw his own dimension burn. Misses home and can't return. Says he's happy. He's a liar. Blame the arson for the fire."

Bill misses home. He wants the past and to hold onto his family, just like Stan and Mabel do. Isn't it funny how whenever Bill shows up... time stops?

And look what Bill says in Weirdmageddon: "This party never stops! Time is dead and meaning has no meaning!"

Time stopped. He just wants fun. He's almost like a child that never grew up. And... look at what it was that Stan wrecked in A Tale of Two Stans as a teenager:

A perpetual motion machine. That thing that's not supposed to stop, just like time. Stan 'breaking' time by wanting to hold Ford in the past, with him, instead of leaving him to go to college while Stan was stuck in the past/Glass Shard Beach? That's what broke their brotherhood.

But what makes Stan a hero, and Bill a villain, is that he lets go of the past and his childhood. Bill never does. And he's defeated when Stan lets go of the past, something Bill never did. Why? Because he has family to make facing the future easier. He has familial and self love. Bill doesn't, because he killed his own. (Sorry, got off track again, but Stan's arc and story ties so deeply to the other characters' and the main themes that it's hard not to take some detours, because it illustrates just how well-written Stan is. Gravity Falls' story IS his story.).

Wanna know something cute? Wanna know how Stan realized he had worth during that scene after he defeats Bill? Why I'm betting the show runners showed Stan clutching to a picture of Dipper and Mabel as this happens? I'll give you one guess why Dipper and Mabel are so important to Stan, and why he clutches to their photo even as his mind is burning apart in the finale:

They're the first family members since Ford (whose love he'd lost) who loved Stan for who he was, not for who they thought he should have been. Mabel trusting Stan in Not What He Seems is basically the first damn time Stan's heard in thirty plus years from a family member that, "Hey, I trust you have good intentions and aren't just a lying fuckup. You're not a monster. You're not what you seem.".

Also, he's protecting his family. That always makes him happy, too, of course.

Ego Death and the "Stan is Godly" Part

Yep, we're taking this analysis post train all the way to "damn this is deep and PrettyinPwn is likely crazy for noticing it" station. The only reason I'm tacking this part on is that I saw a Q&A with Hirsch recently that sparked my attention. He was on his The Book of Bill tour, and someone asked if there was anyone more powerful than Bill in Gravity Falls lore. Of course, Hirsch said the Axolotl, but what he said about what Bill vs. the Axolotl stands for caught my eye:

The video in question. The question and answer starts around 21:22. The quote I want to point out is, though, is what we learn about these two beings:

Hirsch: "Bill's weaknesses in terms of his overconfidence, his ego, and his lack of ability to focus on one thing at a time are things that a being that has no ego, thinks on a long scale, and does have empathy is actually stronger than him because of those things."

So when we boil the conflict of Bill vs. the Axolotl down to simple terms - what makes evil vs. good in the Gravity Falls universe - is this: ego and selfishness vs. no ego and empathy.

Guess which characters wrestle with these themes? The correct answer is: ALL of them. But especially Stan and Ford. This is really what their conflict is about at the core. They both struggled with ego and selfishness, and that's when - in the story - they lose most. But they win when they choose selflessness and empathy. When they... drum roll, please... partake in ego death.

Well, let's describe an ego death. First, we must define what an ego is (source for all of the following quotes):

Ego: "The ego is a sense of self that you develop at a young age." and, "-relates to your feelings about your own importance and abilities.".

*cough "I'm the family fuckup and poor man's version of Ford because that's what people taught me to believe in my youth." cough*

And an ego death "-is the (often instantaneous) realization that you are not truly the things you've identified with, and the "ego" or sense of self you've created in your mind is a fabrication. In some instances, it can offer a profound feeling of peace and connectedness with all that is, as the walls of separation the ego creates come crumbling down."

*cough "I'm not Ford's poor copy, I'm not a fuckup, I have worth, and I realize this in my literal mind as I pull this expression-

-of total peace as the walls of my mind literally BURN around me" cough*

And, "When one comes through on the other side having released all the things they've identified with, with only their true spirit left, Kaiser says, they begin to live from a place of pure love."

*cough "I'll hold a picture of the ones I love and realize self-love as my mind burns around me because this is who I really am: a man who protects and loves my family and my family loves me" cough*

Cheeky asides, well... aside, are you seeing what I'm getting at, folks? Look, I can't prove that Hirsch and crew intended all this, but in my opinion: you wanna know why there are so many gags of Stan or versions of him melting or burning in the show? Why fire is such an important symbol surrounding him? Why there are so many times he's killed his own identity and became a "new" man again and again and again, be it as a young grifter, or as a drifter who became his brother to bring him back again, or as an old man who "killed" his own mind to save the world and his memories returned?

Because it's ego death. The rebirth of true self from a lie you were living. That's literally what Stan's arc is a metaphor for. Even better, he reaches his character arc's zenith when he does this:

That's not an old man punching a stupid little bastard. That's an old man punching what threatens his family, punching his own past, punching his own demons, punching his brother's demon, punching his prior identity, and - given that we know that Bill is a symbol of ego now - punching the personification of literal ego and letting it burn. There are, let's count, seven symbolic meanings in that punch at the very least. Maybe eight if you count that the rightside-up triangle is the alchemical symbol for fire, and by Stan beating it, it's symbolism of his defeating the fire that's eating his memories AKA why he gets his memories back. I could find more, probably.

And yes, the chubby old conman we love so much - and is the opposite of spiritual both in action and in Hirsch's words (he's said Stan is an atheist as an adult) literally has a character arc where he attains spiritual enlightenment that aligns with the god of the Gravity Falls universe - the Axolotl, who has no ego as Hirsch said - hidden under many layers of symbolism. I don't know if Hirsch and the writing crew planned this with Stan, but holy damn... this is what I meant when I said that Stan is the best written character in Gravity Falls, even if this part was unintentional. There are just so many layers of meaning here.

And the best part? Stan was this hero all along. Everything we cheer him on for - be it punching zombies to protect his niblings or spending three decades of his life trying to get his brother back - is when he's being selfless and empathetic. We love Stan as a character because he has a big heart. He's a good person because, as we described above, he is - through beating ego in a universe where its god represents a lack of ego - godly.

No, fangirls, put the sexy Hunkle art down. I mean literally spiritually godly in the Gravity Falls universe, at least in the way good and evil is portrayed in the themes and worldbuilding. No, I'm not exaggerating, either. Let's return to that quote about the Axolotl's powers and why he's stronger than Bill:

"-that a being that has no ego, thinks on a long scale, and does have empathy is actually stronger than him (Bill) because of those things."

Well... guess what Stan does? He loses his ego so hard he regularly kills his own identity multiple times in his life and goes through a symbolic ego death, he thinks on a long scale (thirty years long), and is empathetic and selfless to the point of sacrifice. And the Axolotl in real life lore? Xolotl, the god of Aztec myth? Guess what he's a god of (source):

Why I highlighted "vulture"? Honestly, this is just a neat little thing I wanted to point out, and was a part of a massive theory I was writing about Stan and Bill that sadly never came to fruition (although I may return to it someday), but here's a hint: what was Stan and Ford's school mascot in New Jersey?

I'll let you take away from all the above what you will. Let's just say: there are a LOT of similarities between Stan and the Axolotl and its real life god counterpart, Xolotl. Does that that mean he's literally the Axolotl when I say he's godly in the Gravity Falls setting? Maybe not.

Here's one last odd something that caught my eye. This is also a leftover from that theory I mentioned above, but I'll just... leave this here, because I don't think anyone else has ever pointed it out before and it expands on what I've been talking about:

Stan in the opening. The first time we see this guy, technically. He's sitting in his favorite chair. And as we all know, he turns to look at something. But just where the hell does he turn to look?

Half of you are like, "Well, what? What's he looking at?". There's a blue glow to his right, and you know what that blue glow is? The tank, which happens to have...

Could be a coincidence, maybe unintentional, but it's... kind of odd, not gonna lie. To have a character that embodies the traits of the setting's god look over at the setting's god the first time viewers see him. Just... a bit strange... and Xolotl was also a shapeshifter god, and given that Stan goes through so many identities in his life... and axolotls are able to regenerate limbs and so are a symbol of healing and rebirth like Stan - whose whole story is about healing and having multiple "rebirths" - is...

Anyways, I've gotten far off track mentioning things from that theory just for fun that I never posted. I may still post it, so I won't spoil all of it or list any more of the very odd coincidences between Stan and the Axolotl, but all you need to know from this post is that Stan shares a lot of similarities with his setting's god in symbolism, and embodies the power of the Axolotl AKA godliness in the Gravity Falls universe: no ego, selflessness, and knowing how to play a long game, because those are exactly the traits he uses to defeat Bill, as well as the traits that help him resolve his character arc wound.

So... now what?

I'm not really sure what to put here, to be honest. This post was a lot more meandering than Ford's was, but that's because there are so many different aspects of Stan's writing that are amazing, especially in symbolism. I hope it was coherent and made sense. A part of me was considering leaving out the ego death and Axolotl parts, but I thought it interesting enough to keep in. Let me know your thoughts!

[didishawn]

Can you write about Ruben having a daughter with his girlfriend, but when kid is 2 they separate. But their little girl is totally daddy’s girl so they have to be real close with each other (like going to his games, going on vacation together). Recently the rumors started coming that Ruben is in a new relationship and it put a lot of pressure on their relationship, little one not really getting what’s going on.

Always yours (Rúben Días x reader)

warnings: none, a bit angsty

Masterlist

Masterlist 2

You damm Ruben's genes for going so hard and making his daughter an exact replica of him.

Each time you look into your precious baby girl's eyes, you see your ex boyfriend in them.

Ruben and you broke up back when Isadora was just two years old. It wasn't a messy break up really, just a series of miscommunication and busy schedules that made it inevitable.

Meaning: there was still love (at least from your side) and it's torturous knowing you can't be together.

Another fact that doesn't help, is that Isadora from the moment she was born, has always been a daddy's girl.

Meaning, the three of you still act as a family while technically not being a complete one.

Games both at home and away are basically a must-you are not prepared for the tantrums Isadora will do once she can't follow daddy all around the world because of school (knowing Ruben, he might as well suggest home school so he can always bring his little girl wherever he goes). Vacations are another thing you can't escape, having to either sleep in twin beds in a same room with Ruben, or a suite in which you either lock yourself in the room or plainly disappear so father and daughter can have some alone time.

You are not sure what Ruben thinks -from the moment you two broke it off, communication has been strictly only about your daughter (a limit you established, as while you could never hate him, you can't be his friend). You wonder if he too, finds the situation way too uncomfortable, or if he doesn't really care as what you two had, is in the past.

But you are on your limit, that's why when Ruben proposes a weekend away to switch things up after City's latest bad run, you refuse.

You make up some work related excuse, but tell him to take Isadora as some time together will do them some good.

You miss Ruben's disappointed look, way too into your own mind to realise what is really going on.

You can't even look him in the eye when you take a sleeping Isadora from his arms to put her into bed, and you are just about to slam the door in his face as he silently begs you with his eyes to let him explain himself.

You had been so happy, just a couple hours ago seeing him post stories with your little girls eating croissants in Paris, and enjoying the videos of her excitedly going up the Eiffel Tower.

It was a mistake, to answer your friend's call, her asking you why you hadn't told her about Isadora's possible step-mother, and the call ended with your own mother calling you to know whether it was true.

Completely lost, you entered one of those wag's gossip pages to be met up with an horrendous headline:

MAN CITY STAR, RUBEN DIAS, CAUGHT IN PARIS ALONGSIDE HIS DAUGHTER AND NEW FLAME, NEW FAMILY MEMBER ALERT?!

You didn't even know what to say nor think. Ruben had never mentioned seeing anyone, not given signs of it. Much less, has he said anything about introducing anyone to Isadora.

You didn't even have to call him or text him, before Ruben told you they were flying back to Manchester that very same evening.

You only responded with a thumbs up and went on to stalk this "new flame" of his.

A model, of course. Definitely his type, she had a nice smile too.

You can already imagine future vacations: them two in a room and you and Isa sharing in the one next to them. Having to explain to her that Ruben and whatever her name is need alone time and having to handle a fuzzy toddler wanting to be with her dad.

Great, just great.

There goes your heart, any thought you might have had in your child free, drunken nights about you and Ruben ever getting back together now that you are more mature, impossible now.

Also, there goes your trust in your baby daddy, because what the fuck is that about bringing strangers around your daughter without telling you???

Fuck him and his puppy eyes as he looks at you while you quietly come out from Isa's room, crossed arms and glaring his way, waiting for him to explain.

"I swear to God, there is nothing between me and her" he finally says, and you can only grunt.

"I don't give a fuck if you are not with her Ruben. I care about you sneakily bringing some girl around our daughter without telling me in advance. Worse so, having to find out from someone other than you"

"It's not like it was on purpose, I swear! It was pure coincidence y/n, you have to believe me"

He looks sincere, but there is still something fishy going on in your opinion.

"Right, you on pure coincidence crossed paths with some of your situationships on Paris and-"

"She is no one, y/n-"

"Let me finish, because not only did you do that. You were sending me pictures of Isa while carefully making sure I could see her, you were hiding her from me Ruben." you sigh again, already dreading how this is going down. "Look, Ruben, I don't care if you are seeing other girls, I am glad that this is a sign we have both moved on."

You lie, and hope he can tell so. "I am not seeing anyone, I promise."

"...We both know how you are, Ruben, you can't seriously expect me to believe that."

When you met Ruben, he wasn't someone to settle down, it was a miracle he once did with you, but you know it's not in his nature.

"Look, I just ask of you to not go around introducing just about anyone to Isa, I don't want her to ask questions. This whole thing is already hard on her"

You don't remember how the rest of the conversation with Ruben went down, just him giving out excuses that you don't believe.

Of course he is seeing other girls, you are sure of it.

You haven't seen much of him since, asking your best friend to please help you handle pick ups with him with another work related excuse.

Communication is now the bare minimum, every time he tries to speak with you about the whole mess, you just straight on ghost him.

Another child free night, means a nice bottle of wine to drown your sorrows and some romantic com playing in the background to try and convince yourself love might actually exist.

It's almost midnight when someone loudly knocks on your door. You quietly take a sneaky look outside, and open the door confusedly when you see him.

"Where is Isadora? Is she alright?" you worriedly ask and he nods his head.

"Yes, yes, all is alright, she is with my brother, don't worry about it."

There is silence for a moment as you stare at him as he fidgets in his place.

"Then, what are you doing here?" you ask, arms crossed and back to your cold persona now that you now all is ok.

"...You were ignoring me, and I need to speak with you"

You sigh, tiredly. "I was not ignoring you Ruben, it's just that there is no reason for is to keep discussing this topic"

You know that's a lie, everyone knows something bad is going on, it's even affecting Isa, as while she might already be used to mom and dad not living together, she has only really known a life of family dinners, weekly meet ups and movie nights. All gone now.

"That's bullshit and you know it"

He stares at you for a moment, in his eyes the same look he had when you two found out you were pregnant: scared, terrified about what the future holds for you.

You let him in, even offer him a glass of wine which he ignores. You can't really remember the last time it was only him and you in a room.

"...I would never take anyone other than you or Isa to Paris, I wish you accepted that"

Back when you had just started Ruben, he had asked you what was your dream trip, and it might be cliché, but to you it had always been Paris: the city of love.

A week later you had been enjoying a fresh croissant as you walked hand in hand with him near the Louvre.

The last trip you ever made as a couple, was just after finding out Isa's gender, you two in a boat ride along the Sena as you wondered what the future help in hand for your little family.

And it hit you hard, really, rhat he could just go and be with another girl in the city, in the meantime, the mere thought of the city had your heart acting for him.

"But it seems you did, Ruben"

"Y/n, please. You have to believe me. That girl and I just have some friends in common and I couldn't just tell her to get away from me, doesn't matter how much I wish I could"

"That still doesn't explain why would you hide her from me'

"I didn't hide her! She was literally there for about,five minutes, and that was enough for those stupid wag pages to make up stupid stories!"

"...Ok"

"...Ok? Just like that?"

"You prefer me not believing You?'

"Just...not used to you not fighting me"

"We can fight if you want to"

"I would prefer not to, afterall, it was a stupid fight that hot us here"

It's quiet for a second, the two of you watching the movie playing in the background but not truly paying any attention to it.

"Are you seeing someone?"

The question has you choking on your wine and stare at him, wide eyed.

"I mean...the other day you said that thing about moving on and..."

"Ruben, you caught me alone at home drinking a Friday night with the lames rom com playing on the background. You really think I am hiding someone from you?"

"...Good point, I guess" he clears his throat, then waits a second. "You might not believe me, but I am really not seeing anyone"

"Is the Ruben Días having trouble getting laid?"

"The only girl I want to get laid with- said no to a trip to Paris I had planned to ask her whether she would ever take me back"

"...That's not funny, Ruben"

"Only jokes are supposed to be funny, darling, and this is not a joke"

[heich0e]

Itachi 🚬🚬🚬🚬

Can we get some crumbs on the jounin itachi au you were working on??? 👉🏼👈🏼

i don't think i'll ever finish the fic, so (if ur interested) here's the WIP in its entirety <3 sorry it doesn't really have much of an ending!! i'll leave what happens after the fact up to u <3 tw: pregnancy and uchiha brother nonsense

“Sasuke.”

At the gentle call of his older brother’s voice, the youngest Uchiha’s head pops up from where he’d been craning over a book at his desk and swivels towards his bedroom doorway. Through the crack between the frame and the door itself, left ever so slightly ajar, he can see Itachi peering in—he hadn’t heard him come home, and he’s surprised to see him there.

“Nii-san,” the youngest greets him, placing his palms on his desk in preparation to push himself up from his seat. Before he can, Itachi wordlessly lets himself into the room, shouldering the door open and slipping inside. He glances around his little brother’s space—tidy, as it always it—and even though nothing is different from usual, he still takes in everything with a look of curiosity. Sasuke watches his brother cross the room, coming to stand beside where he’s seated at his desk.

“What are you reading?” 

Sasuke peers up at his brother in confusion. The jounin shouldn’t even be home, as far as he was aware—Itachi was supposed to leave on a mission that morning that would have taken him out of the village for at least a few days. At least that’s what he’d said to him over breakfast only that morning.

“Why are you here?” Sasuke counters his brother’s question with one of his own—a more pressing one at that.

Itachi’s eyes shift from the pages of the book laying open on the desk, to the face of his younger brother. He eyes him for a moment, and then sighs a bit, his lips curling up ever so slightly at the corner.

“Wanna take a walk?”

The autumn evening is brisk as the wind dances through Konoha. The sun is setting, and as the two brothers walk through the familiar streets, children race past them towards the sound of their mothers’ calls. Up ahead, Sasuke spots a couple with a young child between them, one little hand clasped in each of theirs, laughing amongst themselves as they make their way home. Sasuke shoves his hands into his pockets, peering at his brother from the corner of his eye. Itachi seems to be watching the family up ahead too, a peculiar expression on his face.

“Why didn’t you leave on your mission today?” 

It’s the first time either of the two brothers have said anything at all since leaving their home some time prior, though the question has been hanging between them since Sasuke first posed it in his bedroom, waiting to be answered. Itachi sighs again, that same mirthful sound as the first time his little bother presented him with the quandary.

“Hey, Sasuke,” Itachi begins, looking up at the pink evening sky overhead, “you know where babies come from, right?”

Sasuke nearly trips over his own two feet.

“What’s this about?” he spits, stammering over the words as ungracefully as he’d taken his last steps, his head whipping around to face his brother as a furious heat races into his cheeks. 

Itachi peers back at him, his expression neutral—but Sasuke knows his brother better than anyone, and he knows when Itachi is holding back a laugh.

“You didn’t answer my question,” the eldest points out.

“Well you never answered mine!” the youngest bites back.

Itachi finally breathes out a laugh at that, placing a hand on his little brother’s shoulder. The familiar gesture takes Sasuke by surprise, but he doesn’t pull away. “Let’s go get something to eat and we can both get answers.”

At a small food stall down the road, the Uchiha brothers sit with plates of sweet rice dumplings and steaming cups of green tea in front of them. Sasuke watches his brother lift one of his two skewers to his mouth and slide one spherical sweet from the wooden stick using the edge of his teeth, chewing on the confection slowly with a contented smile on his face.

“I don’t like these,” Sasuke reminds his brother, staring down at the sweet food in front of him with a crinkle on his nose. 

Itachi laughs, taking a sip of his tea.

“I know that,” the older of the two says. “Forgive me, Sasuke. This was more for my sake than yours.”

“You’re being weird today,” the teen grumbles, slumping back in his seat with his arms crossed over his chest. He eyes his brother warily.

“I suppose you’re right,” Itachi agrees, much to Sasuke’s surprise. He sets his cup of tea down beside his plate of dango, meeting his brothers gaze. “I got some news today.”

Sasuke’s mouth suddenly feels dry for reasons he can’t quite place.

“Sasuke, I’m having a baby.”

The youngest Uchiha’s eyes go wide, his entire body stiffening in his seat. Nothing about Itachi changes—not his gaze, nor his posture, nor his gentle, conversational tone.

“W-What?”

“Well, I’m not having the baby—you never answered my question earlier, but I trust you understand at least that much.” Itachi reaches for his cup of tea again, but pauses as Sasuke’s hands hit the table with a loud thump!—nearly knocking both of their drinks over in the process.

“What do you mean a baby?”

Itachi pauses, considering his brother for a moment. His lips thin into a line.

“When a man and a woman love each other, the Hokage gives them—“

“I know babies don’t come from the Hokage, I’m not a child!” Sasuke snaps, and Itachi gets that look on his face again, the one where nothing looks all that different but somehow his little brother recognizes he’s only thinly holding back his laughter.

“But when? Where? How?” Sasuke rattles off one incredulous, vaguely angry, question after the other. Itachi watches placidly as his brother works through them one by one.

“I don’t think you need to concern yourself so much with the whens and wheres,” Itachi clears his throat a little, the closest to sheepish Sasuke thinks he’s ever seen him. “As for the how: I’m happy to invite Iruka-san over for a house call and have him go through that academy unit again if you didn’t quite grasp—“

Sasuke shoots his brother a look that would make a lesser man cower.

“Sorry,” Itachi says, cutting himself off and wiping at his mouth and failing to hide the smile underneath his napkin. He watches his brother carefully, as though he can see the gears spinning inside his head while he tries to process this new, wholly startling information. 

Sasuke’s frowning, which isn’t unusual, but there’s something else in his expression that the elder doesn’t like—something insecure. 

Something frightened. 

“This is good news, Sasuke,” Itachi insists gently, but his little brother’s frown only deepens.

“It’s that girl, isn’t it?” 

Itachi draws up a brow in the wake of his brother’s pointed question. Sasuke’s never had an issue mentioning you by name before, but suddenly he can’t bring himself to say it—and there’s bitter resentment in his tone that Itachi’s never heard the teen direct towards you.

“She’s the one having the baby, yes,” Itachi says with a nod. 

Sasuke’s nose twitches a little, his eyes still refusing to meet his brother’s.

“Sasuke,” Itachi says soberly, calling for his attention—his own tone a little cooler now than it had been. 

After a moment, his little brother finally meets his eyes.

“Are you upset?” Itachi asks, his hands clasped together on the table in front of him. Both of their plates are forgotten now in the midst of their conversation.

Sasuke blinks. Once and then again.

“No,” he mutters, but even he knows it’s not a particularly convincing refutal. 

“It’s okay to be upset,” Itachi insists, and it’s irritating to Sasuke that his brother can be so calm at a time like this. That he can remain so even-tempered when he feels like there’s a sea sloshing in his empty stomach, battering against his ribs like waves against a rocky coast.

“I’m not upset,” Sasuke snaps again, and it’s even more damning than his earlier reply. He crosses his arms over his chest and leans back in his seat once more, fixing his eyes on the curtain that hangs around the food stall to distract himself from his brother’s concerned gaze.

A few more moments of silence pass between the two brothers, and Itachi takes this opportunity to pluck another rice dumpling off this skewer and into his mouth, and then swallows another sip of tea to wash it down. Sasuke keeps his eyes focused anywhere but the man in front of him.

“Mom always said you can’t have babies until you’re thirty,” Sasuke finally mutters quietly, and Itachi perks up at the sound of his brother’s voice.

The eldest clears his throat a little, wiping at his mouth with his napkin again. “Well, it’s not so much that you can’t have children until you’re thirty but more so—“

“You aren’t even married,” Sasuke goes on to add, before his brother has even finished his own thought, his eyes meeting Itachi’s across the table that stretches between them.

Itachi pauses, his lips closing as he considers his response.

“I hope to marry her before the baby comes.”

Sasuke’s eyes widen again, that same nauseated feeling rolling through him with renewed vigour.

Marriage?

“Sasuke, you’re only sixteen, I don’t expect you to fully understand this yet,” Itachi says softly. “But this really is good news. Happy news. You’re going to be an uncle.”

“What if I don’t want to be an uncle?” the youngest snaps before he can really think the words through.

For just a moment, there’s a flash of hurt on Itachi’s face—so brief and fleeting that anyone else would have missed the subtle shift in his eyes. But Sasuke doesn’t. He knows his brother too well. He feels a swell of regret immediately rise in the pit of his stomach as soon as he realizes it.

“I’m sorry, Sasuke,” Itachi says, his hands resting on the table in front of him. “I should have waited to tell you until I was better prepared. I know this must be a shock.” He watches his little brother carefully, his expression unreadable. “But you don’t get to decide whether you want to be an uncle or not, any more than you got to choose whether you wanted to be my brother. You just are.”

Sasuke peeks up at Itachi, a faintest ghost of a pout on his lips. The elder can’t help but find it funny that for all the ways his little brother has changed over the past sixteen years, he’s the same in all the ways that matter. 

The younger of the two seems to mull these words over for a moment, weighing their undeniable truth. Eventually he sighs, his shoulders slumping a little, and he reaches idly for one of the skewers of dumplings in front of him.

“So… when is the baby gonna be here?” 

Itachi laughs lightly, and Sasuke glances at him when he hears it. The elder reaches for his tea again, taking a sip.

“They'll be born in the spring.”

It feels too soon, Sasuke can’t help but think. Too near and too far away all at once, like both only a day and an eternity to wait.

Sasuke chews on the sweet, sticky dango for want of anything else to do—he doesn’t like the taste, or the way it clings to his teeth each time he presses them down into it. He gives up on trying to find the confection palatable, taking a long drink of his own cup of tea—now closer to room temperature than he likes it—to wash it down.

“Where will it sleep?” Sasuke asks next, and Itachi can tell that he’s trying to keep his voice light and nonchalant—but it still comes across as brittle.

“I thought I’d give them your room.”

Sasuke’s eyes flash angrily to his older brother, but the look of quiet amusement that meets him tells him the remark was made only in jest. It makes him pout again.

“Though, our apartment is quite small to accommodate two more,” Itachi notes aloud, almost more to himself than anything.

“Two more?” Sasuke asks, perplexed. “It’s twins?”

Itachi poorly conceals a laugh behind his closed fist, wincing when he sees the way this seems to irritate his brother more. 

“No, no,” the elder replies, “but you see…”

“There you two are!”

The curtain of the food stall lifts, and Sasuke’s head turns instinctively towards the sound of your voice as you slip beneath the slip of fabric you’ve gently ushered back. There’s a wide, warm smile on your face, and a glow in your cheeks that neither young man is certain has always been there—but which undeniably suits you. You approach their table, gently ruffling Sasuke’s hair in that way you always do and that no one else could possibly get away with—the teen is so shocked that even if he wanted to bat your hand away he doesn’t have the chance before you’ve already slipped away to stand behind his brother.

Your smile dips a little as you survey the scene before you.

“Itachi,” you say softly, the corners of your mouth well and truly turning down. The eldest Uchiha tilts his head back to peer up towards where you stand above him, the crown of his head resting resting against you. Your eyes are fixed to the table and the plates in front of the brothers, but they quickly flicker to meet the ones staring up at you curiously. “Did you two even eat dinner?”

Itachi glances quickly at Sasuke, who returns the look with an equally panicked one of his own.

You groan, your hands coming to rest on Itachi’s shoulders and shaking him gently. “You two are impossible.”

“It was my idea,” Itachi says, apologetic but resolute. “I’m sure Sasuke would have preferred a proper meal.”

You shoot a pointed look at the man below you, and then turn your gaze to the teen across the table once more. 

“Are you hungry?” you ask him, your head tilting to the side as any trace of condemnation evaporates from your tone. Itachi likes the way you talk to Sasuke—neither like a child, nor necessarily with the frankness of a peer. You speak to him with care, but due respect, in a balance that Itachi seems to struggle to accomplish himself, most days.  

“I’m fine,” Sasuke replies coolly, but his stomach has a knack for honesty where he does not, as the remark is immediately punctuated with a very noticeable grumble. His cheeks stain pink as he averts his gaze dourly in the wake of the betrayal.

You chuckle a little to yourself, squeezing Itachi’s shoulders. “How about I go on ahead and see what I can scrape together in your kitchen?"

"Have you already eaten?" Itachi asks. "Why don't you join us here?"

"I’m starving, but the thought of dango…” Both brothers watch a flash of discomfort race behind your eyes.

Itachi reaches up and places one of his hands over yours upon his shoulder, a gentle, knowing touch, and Sasuke watches the unconscious gesture curiously. You and Itachi share a look that seems to speak without words, to communicate something even in its silence. You nod, smiling a bit, and then step away.

“We’ll be home soon,” Itachi assures you as you head towards the curtain and the street that waits for you on the other side.

“Hurry, or I can’t promise what food will be left,” you call back over your shoulder with a grin, lifting one hand in a lazy wave. Sasuke notices only as you turn to leave the way the other is tucked gently against your stomach, cradling and protective.

He looks down at the plate of dumplings in front of him—at the way the kinako powder clings to the sticky surface of each round treat, darkening in the places where it’s melted into the moisture of the rice dough but still a pale brown in the places it’s dusted on thickest. He finds it all wholly unappetizing—and not just because he doesn’t have a sweet tooth.

"Sasuke."

The youngest Uchiha—though not for much longer now, he realizes—refuses to lift his gaze, even though his brother's tone is insistent.

Itachi sighs.

"Let's head home."

The walk back to Itachi and Sasuke's home lacks the tranquility of their earlier journey. There's something heavy now in the autumn air—something more stifling than summer heat, more bitter than winter's biting cold. Sasuke's feet drag with every step, a weight building in his stomach that threatens to cement him into place.

"She cares for you very much, you know."

Itachi's words only weigh him down further. Sasuke keeps his eyes on the street as he walks, and doesn't offer any response to the statement his brother has made. Itachi's lips purse a little as he considers what to say next.

"You were the first thing she brought up, after she told me. She said that you needed to know right away. That it couldn't wait. That you needed to know, no matter what."

Sasuke stops walking.

His hands are balled into fists at his side.

"Needed as much notice as possible to kick me out, huh?"

Itachi stops walking too.

"What are you talking about?"

"That's what this is, right? You're telling me that I need to get out to make room for that girl and that... thing."

"Sasuke—"

"I get it," Sasuke brushes off his brother's attempt to interject. "I get it. I'll be out before the spring when it gets here. You and your new fam—"

A sharp pain blooms in the centre of Sasuke's forehead, so unexpected it makes his head snap up in shock. Itachi stands before him, the hand he'd just used to flick him still outstretched. There's an expression Sasuke's not used to seeing on his brother's face. Hurt, maybe. Anger, even.

"First of all," Itachi says, his voice stern. "There's no thing. That's my baby. Your niece or nephew. Stop calling them 'it'."

Sasuke's jaw clenches.

"And secondly: you're not going anywhere."

There's a tense beat of silence that passes between the brothers. Suddenly, Sasuke notices that it's like all the wind in Konoha has vanished. The dusky streets around them are so still. So silent. It's like they're the only two people left in all the village.

"But you said—"

"Sasuke," Itachi steps forward slightly. "You're my brother. My blood. My home will always be your home. Always."

Sasuke's fists tremble as they hang at his sides. The tide in his stomach swells, overtaking his chest.

"And my wife and my child are your family, too. They'll care for you the same way I do. Any home we share will be equally yours, without question."

"You don't know that," Sasuke says, and he hates the way his voice sounds. Hates how childish and small he feels.

"I do," Itachi insists. "Of course I do."

"How?"

There's a soft breeze that brushes past the Uchiha brothers, then. A gentle wind that threatens to carry Sasuke's meekly rasped question away with it. It's quiet for a moment as the word hangs in between them, and then Itachi places a hand on Sasuke's shoulder—warm, reassuring, familiar.

"Because I wouldn't want it any other way."