#but i say this with love in my heart for this show that i usually don't take too many issues with

[seumyo]

husband!bakugou thinks you’re a hypocrite

Photo albums are a way to physically preserve memories. Memories that should’ve been buried with the past—forgotten as the years go by.

Thankfully, Mama Mitsuki lent you Bakugou’s old photo album when you mentioned it in passing. A thick photo album that had “Katsuki Memory” in its title and even a design of a cartoonish bomb, finished in this beautiful silver and gold. Fancy for a baby album, but they could afford it, so you didn’t have much say.

Your husband’s sprawled across the bed with his head in your lap, scrolling through his phone, absolutely oblivious to your scheming.

“Oh my god.”

“What?” Bakugou grunted, not looking up.

“You were… Katsuki, honey, the light of my life—you were such an ugly baby.”

That got his attention. He set his phone aside, sitting up immediately. “The hell?”

You turned the album toward him, pointing at a grainy, slightly overexposed photo of newborn Katsuki. His face was scrunched up, red and wrinkled, his head oddly shaped from the ordeal of birth.

“I mean, look at you!” you said, unable to keep your laughter contained any longer.

He snatched the album from your hands, staring at the photo in question. “Tch, all babies look like this.”

“No, they don’t!”

“Yes they do!”

“Kats, I love you, but I’ve seen plenty of newborns, and most of them are at least kinda cute. You, though? You look like a grumpy little potato that just got yanked out of the ground.”

“Shut up,” he muttered, his ears turning red as he tried to defend himself. “I just got born! Give me a break!”

You doubled over with laughter, clutching your stomach. “Certainly born with a face that only a mother could love.” A face that you also loved.

“Alright, that’s enough!” he barked, though his voice lacked its usual bite. He closed the album with a loud thud and tossed it onto the nightstand. “You’re lucky I don’t blow that damn thing to bits.”

“Your Mom would be devastated. I would be too.”

“Shut.”

You wiped a tear from your eye, your laughter dying down. “I’m sorry, hun. It’s just… I wasn’t expecting that. You’re so good-looking now, but baby Katsuki? He was… something else.”

Bakugou crossed his arms, glaring at you like a sulking child. “Bet you weren’t some perfect baby, either.”

“I was adorable; thank you very much,” you shot back, sticking out your tongue.

“Show a picture or you’re lyin’.”

You showed him a newborn picture of you, and that shut him up. Bakugou had lost the battle and the war—because the gods must have a favorite.

“Fucking unfair,” he muttered, but the corner of his mouth twitched, betraying his amusement. You looked so cute and small. Who knew this little spawn would be his wife someday?

You leaned in, kissing his cheek. “Hey, ugly or not, you’re my grumpy little potato, and I love you.”

He grumbled under his breath, but the way his hand found yours and squeezed it gently told you he wasn’t really mad. “Yeah, yeah. Just don’t tell anyone about this, got it?”

“No promises.”

Bakugou grunted. Fucking perfect.

-

“Awe, look at him, Katsuki,” you murmured, brushing a gentle finger across your son’s chubby cheek.

The little boy was fast asleep, his tiny fists curled in his adorably tiny mittens near his face. His resemblance to Bakugou was uncanny—he had the same spiky tufts of blonde hair and a natural pout that made your heart melt. The chubbiness of his cheeks was a bonus, seeing that a healthy son was all that you could ever wish for.

Bakugou sighed quietly, his attention drifting to his son. “Tch. ‘Course he is. He’s my kid.”

You chuckled, glancing at him. “I mean, yeah, but he looks just like you. I can’t believe it.”

“Why can’t you believe it?” He can’t help but ask.

“Because,” you began, your voice dropping into a joking tone.

“Remember when I saw what you looked like as a baby? And, well…”

He narrowed his eyes. That again.

“Don’t start.”

“I mean it, though. He’s adorable. He even has your pout.”

Bakugou leaned forward, resting his arms against the crib, although not putting his entire weight on it. “Yeah, and? You callin’ me cute now?”

“Maybe. But only because you look better now than you did when you were fresh out of the womb.”

“Hypocrite,” he muttered.

“Excuse me?”

“You’re sittin’ there, gushin’ about how cute he is,” he said, gesturing toward their son. “But when it was me, you couldn’t stop talkin’ about how ugly I was. And now you’re all, ‘Oh, he looks just like you!’ Make up your damn mind, woman.”

You bit back a laugh, careful not to wake your baby baby boy. “Okay, fine, maybe I was a little harsh about baby you. But come on, Katsuki. He’s the improved version of you.”

“Improved, my ass. He’s just like me, end of story.”

“He got my eyebrows, that’s for sure. See? Improved version.”

“You have a problem with my eyebrows?” He scoffs in mock offense, crossing his arms.

You leaned toward him, a playful glint in your eye. “Well, if he grows up with your temper and your attitude, I’ll definitely know where he got it from.”

“And if he grows up teasin’ people to death like you, I’ll know where that came from,” he replied, though there was no real heat in his words.

You both fell silent for a moment, your eyes drifting back to your son. The little boy shifted in his sleep, letting out a soft coo that made your heart swell—like it could burst any moment now.

“Hun,” you said softly, your teasing tone gone. “He really is perfect, isn’t he?”

Bakugou leaned closer, resting a hand on your shoulder as he gazed down at your son. His usual sharp expression softened into something almost unrecognizable—pure, unfiltered love.

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “He is.”

You looked at him, smiling. “You’re going to be such a great dad, you know that?”

“Tch. Of course,” he muttered, though the redness creeping up his neck betrayed him. “I’ll be the best dad the world has ever seen.”

...

“Just… don’t let him see my baby pictures in the future, got it?”

You laughed softly, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

For now, anyway.

SEUMYO © 2024, PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

[songbirdseung]

silly boy / park sunghoon

your "friends" keep telling you that your new boyfriend is too much of a shy nerd for you, but they don't know how much of a man the silly boy is.

the bar tonight was much quieter than usual, just a few people spread out in the tiny, cozy bar. quiet background music accompanied the murmurs of different conversations shared throughout the room. you were with your friends, laughing and chatting, having a good time, when all of a sudden, the smile on your face faded into a small frown. the conversation had shifted to your boyfriend, sunghoon.

sunghoon, park sunghoon. your boyfriend of two amazing years. he was currently at home, in his home office, working late. while you were out here with your friends, the same friends who never truly understood why you’d started a relationship with him in the first place.

don’t get them wrong—they thought he was gorgeous, practically model material, but sunghoon’s quiet, reserved nature wasn’t their idea of "boyfriend material." they’d often remind you that you deserved someone affectionate, someone who’d shower you with love openly and without hesitation, someone who wouldn’t be shy about showing the world how much they adored you.

but their words always went in one ear and out the other. because they didn’t see what you saw. they didn’t see how, behind closed doors, in the quiet moments away from the world, sunghoon clung to you like glue—superglue, even. he wasn’t loud about his love, but it was there, steady and unwavering, in every little thing he did. it never bothered you how he presented himself to others; his love for you was real, even if it wasn’t on display for everyone to see.

"i can’t believe you’ve made it this long with him," one of your friends said, breaking your thoughts.

you sighed, rolling your eyes. the urge to speak up, to defend him, bubbled in your chest. "you guys just don’t get it," you said, your tone calm but firm.

"we’re not trying to be mean," another friend chimed in, raising her hands defensively. "it’s just… don’t you want someone who’s a little more… present? someone who’ll shower you with affection all the time?"

you leaned back in your seat, crossing your arms. "he does show affection. just not in the way you expect him to. not everyone has to be loud about love to mean it."

"but, yn," another friend interjected, "you’re the kind of person who loves big gestures, who deserves to feel like the center of someone’s world."

"and i do," you countered, your voice a little sharper this time. "just because he doesn’t yell it from the rooftops doesn’t mean he doesn’t love me. it’s in the little things. like how he texts me to remind me to eat when he knows I’m busy. or how he’ll wake up early to make sure my coffee is ready before I leave. or how he never lets me go to bed upset, even if it means staying up all night to talk it out. you guys don’t see that side of him because he doesn’t show it to everyone. he shows it to me, and that’s enough."

your friends exchanged glances, clearly unsure of how to respond.

"look," you said, your tone softening, "i appreciate that you care about me. but sunghoon and i, we work. and that’s all that matters."

just then, your phone buzzed on the table. you glanced at the screen and felt your heart flutter at the sight of his name. the message was simple: "don’t stay out too late. i miss you."

a small smile crept onto your face as you typed back a quick reply. your friends noticed the change in your expression but didn’t say anything.

"he’s not perfect," you admitted, putting your phone down. "but he’s perfect for me."

the conversation shifted back to lighter topics after that, but as the night wore on, you found yourself glancing at your phone more often than usual.

later, as you walked into your apartment, you saw him waiting for you in the living room, still in his work clothes, his laptop closed on the coffee table. his eyes lit up when he saw you, and without a word, he pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly as if you’d been gone for weeks.

"missed you," he murmured against your hair.

"i missed you too," you whispered back, your heart swelling with warmth.

and in that moment, wrapped in his arms, you were reminded all over again why their opinions didn’t matter. because this? this was love. quiet, steady, and unshakable.

[morganaawriterr]

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ Too Bad;

Pairing; fem!reader and jealous husband!Sunghoon Synopsis; Sunghoon insisted that you go out with the girls to relax, but when something happens at the bar, he can't control his jealousy and possessiveness over you. Genre; Suggestive; Basead on the lyrics "well its too bad, you're married to me..." by Deft Tones!! Warning; Intense make out; wondering fingers.......; possessive!sunghoon;

A/N: I wrote this in one go. Literally. I like it a lot, I hope you guys do it too!!! These lyrics always make me feel some type of way, so I decided to write about it ;) Reblogs and likes are always appreciated. Thank you so much!!

You didn't even want to go, but Sunghoon insisted that a night out with friends would help you relax. Like him, you are introverted and prefer avoiding noisy, crowded spaces. Still, feeling an unusual surge of extroversion, you agreed to a girl's night out with your husband's partners. Jake's wife was overjoyed, and Ni-ki's girlfriend thought it was the perfect opportunity for everyone to unwind.

But the evening turned out to be far from enjoyable.

You picked a sleek black sleeveless dress that stopped just above your thighs, its elegant cut emphasizing your figure. Your cherry-red hair was styled into soft curls, cascading effortlessly over your shoulders. For makeup, you drew a sharp black eyeliner and choose a crimson color to paint your lips, adding a touch of drama to your natural glow.

As you leaned toward the mirror to fasten your silver necklace, you noticed Sunghoon standing in the doorway. His intense brown eyes roved over you, taking in every detail of your appearance. It had been some time since he'd seen you like this; your hectic schedules had left little room for moments like these. His gaze lingered on your waist and hips, and for a brief second, he debated stopping you from leaving altogether.

"Do I look alright?" you asked softly, forcing a small smile under his piercing stare. The iconic red bottoms added to your sexiness, making you feel even more alluring.

"Alright?" Sunghoon raised an eyebrow, stepping closer. "You look stunning, my love." His voice was deep and full of reverence as his strong arms wrapped around your waist. "And you're even wearing my favorite perfume," he murmured, his face dipping towards your exposed neck.

Tilting your head to the side, you allowed him access, feeling his nose graze your skin as he inhaled your scent. His hands tightened around your waist, and his lips brushed against your sensitive spots, sending chills through your body. The occasional press of his warm lips against your neck made your pulse race.

"Hoon..." You breathed, your voice shaky under his spell. "I don't need to go -" you started, your heart pounding as his lips traveled to your collarbones, teasing with gentle nibbles. "I could stay with you, and we could finish this.." You pleaded, barely able to resist the desire building between you.

But Sunghoon knew you too well. When overwhelmed, you often withdrew, which was precisely why he and Jake's wife had been so excited when you agreed to go out. Sensing your hesitation, he was determined not to let you back out now.

"No, princess," he whispered against your skin, his tone firm but affectionate. "You need this. Jake's wife will be disappointed if you don't show up. Don't mind me— I'm just enjoying the view."

With that, he pulled away, his lips leaving your neck as his hands released their hold on your hips. You were left breathless. He towers over you, even with your heels on. His messy black hair is pushed back, and his white sleeveless shirt highlights his defined arms, which are folded across his chest. You look up at him with pleading eyes, a tactic that usually melts him— but this time, he remains unyielding.

"Go have fun with your friends. I'll be here waiting for you to come back," Sunghoon says in a low, enticing tone as he steps out of the bedroom, turning his broad back to you. You inhale deeply, the warmth of his earlier teasing still clinging to you. Exhaling slowly, you grab your purse and head to the living room to say your goobyes.

You find him sprawled on the sofa, legs apart in his usual confident posture, his attention seemingly fixed on the TV. Though he hears your footsteps approaching, he pretends not to notice, knowing the act will frustrate you.

"I'm leaving now, hubby," you say softly, stepping in front of him and blocking his view of the screen. He smirks, arms still crossed, his playful demeanor unchanged.

You lean forward until your face is level with his. His eyes roam from your wavy hair to your crimson lips, then lower to your neckline. The way you're leaning offers an enticing glimpse of your collarbones and chest, and you catch the way he swallows hard at the sight before meeting your gaze.

Slowly, you brush a light kiss against his lips, leaving him momentarily stunned as you straighten up with a knowing smirk. Without another word, you walk toward the door, your heels clicking softly against the floor. His gaze lingers on your retreating figure, even as the door closes behind you, leaving him alone to stew in the longing you've planted.

Minutes later, you meet up with the girls. Ni-ki's girlfriend drives, with you in the passenger seat and Jake's wife in the back, casually touching up her lipstick after saying goodbye to Jake. The drive is quick, and soon, you're inside the bar. The atmosphere isn't overwhelming yet— not too many people have arrived— so you find a table near the dance floor. Before hitting the floor, you all share your first drink, the conversation and laughter flowing easily.

Everything seems to be going well. A few sips of alcohol loosen you up, and soon you're dancing with the girls under neon lights, losing yourself to the rhythm of the music. Closing your eyes, you let the moment carry you. After about an hour of dancing, though, you decide to return to the table for a quick breather.

Ni-ki's girlfriend, a little too tipsy now, happily sways on the dance floor with a group of strangers, while Jake's wife has stepped into the restroom to freshen up. For now, you're alone.

A familiar longing washes over you— the temptation to text Sunghoon and ask him to pick you up. Each time you close your eyes, you can still feel the ghost of his lips on your neck and the firm grip of his hands on your waist.

As you sip your sparkling water, a man slides into the seat beside you. He's roughly your height, dressed in all black, and reeks of alcohol. You keep your attention on Ni-ki's girlfriend, hoping he'll take the hint and leave. But luck isn't on your side tonight.

"Hey, pretty." he murmurs, his tone slurred. With a quick glance, you lift your right hand slightly, letting the neon lights catch the sparkle of your wedding ring. You hope it's enough to deter him, but he only moves closer, his hand reaching toward you.

You stand abruptly, stepping out of his reach. "Leave, or I'll call security," you warn, your voice steady despite the discomfort twisting in your stomach. To your relief, he backs off, muttering something under his breath as he walks away.

Even though he's no longer beside you, his presence lingers. Each time you try to dance or relax, you catch him watching you or attempting to position himself nearby. To make matters worse, one of his friends starts bothering Jake's wife, making the situation even more unbearable.

Feeling uneasy, you gently pull Jake's wife off the dance floor and lead her back to the table. Anxiety weighs heavily on you as the men continue hovering nearby, their persistent stares making it impossible to enjoy the night.

Despite her intoxicated state, Ni-ki's girlfriend notices your distress. From across the room, she watches you hug yourself and roll your eyes in frustration as the men refuse to leave you and Jake's wife alone. Pulling out her phone, she quickly texts Ni-ki, asking him to come and pick you all up.

You glance nervously at Jake's wife as the men continue murmuring things you can'— or won't— make out. You try to devise a plan to get rid of them, but your thoughts are interrupted by a strong, familiar grip on your waist. Confusion floods your mind until the scent of his cologne envelops you, instantly calming your racing heart.

Turning your head, you see Sunghoon. His jaw is tight, his brows furrowed, and his eyes alight with barely restrained fury. He gives you a brief glance, his expression oftening slightly when his gaze meets yours, before locking on the man in front of you. Sunghoon's frustration is palpable— did this guy not notice the ring on your finger?

The man, unfazed, smirks shamelessly. "Sorry, man, I thought she was bluffing." He says with a nervous laugh, raising his hands in mock surrender as he gets up. "I'm leaving." he adds. Sunghoon's glare doesn't bulge.

Across the room, Jake is holding his wife gently, his hands brushing over her cheek in a comforting gesture. Meanwhile, Sunghoon grips your wrist and pulls you toward the exit without uttering a word.

You already know you're in trouble. His jealousy has taken over, and though you know he isn't upset with you, his possessive meanor is impossible to ignore. Your sweet, calm husband has vanished, replaced by a side of him that both excites and frustrates you.

"Can you let go of my arm?" You complain, your irritation rising as his hold begins to sting.

Sunghoon stops outside the bar. The street is nearly silent, the night's chillwrapping round you. He turns, his intense gaze mocking on yours, his irises dark and unreadable.

"Did he touch you?" Sunghoon demands, his voice low but laced with urgency as he steps closer.

"No, I wouldn't let him," you reply firmly, stepping back to create space. But he follows, his presence overwhelming.

"I should've told you to stay home," he mutters under his breath, running a hand through his hair in frustration. His words, though not directed at you, ignite your temper.

"Yeah, maybe you should've!" You snap, abruptly facing him. Your voice is loud as you glare at him, anger bubbling to the surface. "Or maybe you could be more like Jake!"

"More like Jake?" Sunghoon echoes, raising an eyebrow, his arms crossing defensively.

"Yes! Look at how he handled this!" You exclaim, your voice shaking with pent-up motion. "The first thing he did was comfort his wife— hug her, ask if she was okay. He didn't act jealous or possessive!"

Your words falter as Sunghoon's expression changes. The hardness in his face gives way onto something unreadable, his eyes narrowing slightly as he steps closer. Instinctively, you back up until your shoulders press against a cold wall.

You stare up at him, searching for any signs of what he's feeling, but his expression remains enigmatic. His tall frame blocks the faint glow of the streetlamp, casting shadow over you.

One hand rests against the wall beside your head while the other wraps firmly around your waist, pulling you flush against him. His fingers trace the curve of your hip, making liberate pressure, causing your skin to tingle and your breath to hitch. The intensity in his dark eyes leaves you paralyzed. Slowly, he leans in, his lips brushing against your ear. You anticipate a sharp retort, but instead, he kisses you.

The kiss is fierce, full of urgency, and heat, his lips move against yours with such intensity that your mind spins. His hand rails up your thigh, slipping beneath the fabric of your dress. His tongue tangles with yours when you finally realize where his fingers are. Before you can react, he leans close again, his breath hot against your ear as he whispers:

"Well, it's too bad.." He pauses, his lips grazing your skin. "You're married... to me."

His lips capture yours hungrily, devouring you as his fingertips brush over your lacy underwear. You moan against his cheek, a proud smirk grows on his lips, knowing he has you exactly where he wants you.

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[ Check out my MASTERLIST; ]

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Blurred Lines 5

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, power imbalance, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your relationship with your boss takes an unpredictable turn.

Characters: Nick Fowler

Note: He is a baby, we know it.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You were married with a bouquet of sunflowers. Your mother hated them. You didn’t care. Nothing about your wedding was typical or traditional. Just in the backyard with a belly full of Josephine already growing. 

You have a similar bunch of yellow petals in hand that day. As you come to the headstone, you see a bottle cap on the corner. Joey must have come before she left town and had a soda with dad, like old times. You lay the flowers down and groan as you lower yourself to the grass. 

“Hey honey,” you rub your hips, “ugh, getting old sucks.” You sigh and stare at the letters of your husband’s name. “Wish you were around to realise that.” 

You laugh sardonically as a tingle of tears threatens behind your eyes. You sniff but don’t let them free. You still cry for him but now isn’t the time. It was easier to let it all out when he was around to make you laugh. 

“So, did Joey tell you everything? She always gave you more secrets than me. Did she tell you about the girl? Of course she did,” you tut and shake your head. “She won’t even tell me her name.” You look down and twist the blades of grass together. “You would be proud. I know you are. She’s going to be a lawyer.” 

You quiet and let the silence mull. You flick the tips of the green blades and let out another heave. You don’t want to ruin the visit by talking about work. 

“You remember when she decided to show up? I didn’t even know my water broke and you went and slipped in it...” you pause and touch your eyes. Stop. “And the grocery store thought you were going to sue.”

You cackle through the wall of tears, threatening to topple. I had to drive to the hospital because you couldn’t sit or stand straight.” You click your tongue as you remember, “but you were there. You say in that wheel chair and shared my pain. And my joy.” 

Your cheeks wet and you curse your heart. 

“She’s a great girl. No, a great woman. I love her so much,” you mop your face with your sleeves. “I love you.” 

A breeze stirs and ruffles the long petals of the sunflowers. You stare at the brown centres. You’re back standing in the backyard, his hand around yours... Then it’s gone and you’re back in the dirt. 

You sit a little longer. The first year after the funeral, you didn’t come back. You couldn’t. Then it got easier. It was a comfort, not a fear.  

“Well, you know, I'll be back. I always needed you around to keep me accountable, huh,” you get to your knees and your lower back buckles. “I wish you were here to tease me and call me old. My back.” 

You stand and stretch. You touch a kiss to your fingers and touch the headstone. “See ya round, stud.” 

You take your time leaving. The cemetery is beautiful, contrary to its purpose. The grass is green and well kempt, the stones are lined up perfectly, and the paved walkways wind through like a fairytale road. 

You come to the gates and feel the void return. Right there in your chest. You exhale and face the world. Alone. 

You dig in your purse, looking down as you fight to untangle your keys from the cheap wired earbuds you use for your walks. You lift your chin as you come up to your car and stop short. You barely keep a frown from creasing your face. 

Nick leans on your car, arms crossed, watching your approach. How did he find you? Maybe you should have checked your phone. 

“I called,” he says. 

“Sorry, sir, I was busy,” you shrug. He doesn’t seem impressed as his cheeks dimple. 

“Your contract is on-call,” he insists. 

You take another breath. Why is he here? You don’t get how he found you. Well, didn’t he say that’s part of his job? He can know everything if he wants. 

“You dismissed me, sir, so I thought--” 

“I didn’t fire you. I was out of town,” he pushes his shoulders wider. 

“Understood. I’ll go right over--” 

“Did I ask you to?” He unfolds one arm and shows his palm. 

You shake your head. He’s still in a mood. You’ll let him get it out. You do not good assuming his intentions. 

“So, who were we visiting?” He asks. You wince. 

“Sir,” you answer bluntly. 

He huffs, “fine. Doesn’t matter. I don’t got time to argue with a maid.” 

So why are you here? The retort is bitter as it stays on your tongue. You’re not easily flustered, you do your best not to get annoyed, but he’s managed to tweak your nerves. 

“I have a thing. Need a suit.” 

“I brought clean ones the other day, sir--” 

“New suit. It’s work. Big guys are gonna be there.” 

You don’t mention that his last ‘work event’ unfolded like a frat party. It’s not use arguing. You just need to do your job and then you can go home. Just be grateful you aren’t sprucing up your resume. 

“Right. Where would--” 

“There’s a place down the block. You have an eye for detail.” He interject. 

“Oh, okay, sir. I’ll go get you a suit--” 

“You’ll come with me,” he stands straight, dropping his arms. 

“Yes, sir,” you shove your keys back in your purse. 

He stares at you for a moment before he moves. He pivots on one sole and you follow after him. He keeps a lazy pace so you catch up. You walk in silence. 

You glimpse the tailor’s shop. The windows display a group of mannequins dressed in varying states of  work casual to formal. A particularly svelte female form wears a satiny silver gown with a slit to the thigh. 

He steps ahead of you and opens the door. He waits for you to go ahead of him. As he follows, you feel a brush against you and quickly move out of his way. A man with a groomed mustache greets you from behind the counter. 

“Sir, Madame,” he sweeps around in a three-piece suit, the vest cute in elaborate floral, “how can I help you today?” 

“A suit. Work dinner. Black tie.” Nick states. 

“Of course, short notice?” The man asks. 

“Tonight.” 

“Ah, we can meet that deadline, for a fee.” 

“I’m not worried about cost,” Nick turns and browses the mannequin nearest him. “And my date will need something to wear.” 

You stand as you are, glancing around in disinterest. As you turn back, you find the tailor staring at you. Nick continues to peruse the selection. 

“Who’s your date, sir?” You ask, thinking it might be the woman from the other morning. 

His brows arch as he looks at you, “she’ll need her measurements.” He flicks his fingers in a lazy point. You blink and shake your head. You? 

“Of course, madame, would you prefer the privacy of a fitting room?” 

“Oh, I don’t think I’ll need all that,” you insist. “I have dresses at home.” Buried somewhere in your closet. 

“You do,” Nick insists as he feels a brocade jacket between his thumb and index. 

“Um,” you peer around. You can’t afford any of this. “I could give you my size,” you offer the man. 

“Go with him.” Nick commands, “stop trying to control everything.” 

“Sir?” You look at him in desperate confusion, “I could call that woman--” 

“I don’t need some ditzy barbie, I need someone with maturity,” he sniffs. 

Ah. That’s it. No, that’s not it. It doesn’t make sense. Mature? Sure, but a bit over the hill. 

“Go,” he snips. 

You don’t chance another act of resistance. It’s not in your contract but you’re not worried about the terms and conditions in that moment. You’re worried about a paycheck and keeping your daughter in college. You can’t let her down. Or your husband. 

You follow the man around the counter as he takes you the women’s section. He walks you along a rack and stops to consider you. He smiles and curls the tip of his mustache. 

“You have beautiful colouring,” he praises. That’s sweet. You’re sure he can’t think of anything else to compliment. You’re not built like one of his dress forms. “A plum would look marvelous.” 

He turns and reaches to pull a swath of fabric forward, the hangers clacking together. He shows you the chiffon eagerly. You examine it with dread. It will show all your lumps and bumps. 

“Do you have anything... thicker? Stiffer?” You wonder. “I do like that colour.” 

Are you really going along with this? You glance over your shoulder as the tailor searches the rack. Nick’s eyes meet yours and he tilts his head. You stare back for just a moment before he turns to look at his reflection and tug on the lapels of the shiny blue jacket. 

You know what he’s doing. He’s making a point. You overstepped in some way and he’s putting you in your place. He’s showing you that he can make your job harder. He can make you work. Any way he wishes. And he knows, you need the job. 

You understand all the questions now. He was getting leverage. He was doing reconnaissance. 

This will be a lesson. A reminder for you. After tonight, you will know you are just the maid. You will know where you belong. A worn out old woman sweeping in the shadows. 

“Madame, it is velvet,” the tailor draws your attention back to him as he shows you the gown. You can’t see much of the detail but the fabric will bolster you better. 

“I’ll try it,” you agree. 

“Bonne,” he remarks in French. He is an eccentric character. 

He leads you around to the fitting rooms. He hangs the dress for you and steps out to let you shut yourself in. You can’t remember the last time you went dress shopping. There’s not need for it. 

You figure out how to step into the dress. It’s tea length, just above your ankles. You don’t mind the length but oh, the top. You’re about to spill right out. The deep vee shows quite a bit of cleavage, the small strap holding it together rather precarious as your tits swell out. And the back is almost entirely exposed. 

“Madame, are you well?” The tailor calls through. 

“Uh, I think a different neckline--” 

“Get out here,” Nick demands curtly. 

You cringe and look at your reflection. Jesus. This is the lesson here. The humiliation. You are beneath him. 

You face the door and steel yourself. You push back the latch and ease open the door. You step out, keeping your chin set and your gaze distant. 

“Oh, madame, that is wonderful on your figure,” the tailor steps forward, “and it fits you...” he gives a smooch to his fingers. “Look at the hips, sir.” 

Your cheeks burn and you dare to look at Nick. You’re mortified to find him staring back, exactly where the tailor emphasizes your curves. His brows draw up thoughtfully and he tilts his head. You want to cover the vee down your chest as his gaze creeps up. 

“Hm,” Nick hums. “put it on the bill.” 

[honeyshiddendesire]

Office Secrets

Chapter One: Wine Spills and Bright Ideas

Summary: You hated office parties but when your boss personally invites you then the fun and long list of secrets begin. 

Characters: CEO! Trafalgar Law x EMPLOYEE! Reader

Warnings: 18+ !! flirting! Law catches reader in undies! Mentions of masturbation and sex! Reader can’t stand her coworkers! FEMALE reader! 

Masterlist

You were the employee who kept to herself, you ate alone, kept the small talk, if any, to a minimum, hell you even skipped out on all the office parties. You tried to stay low on everybody’s radar because despite working in the same office for a number of years you didn’t want these people to be anything more than just coworkers. Friends? In the workplace? Yeah you’d rather smash your own head in then have these people know anything about you. You only needed this place for the big ass checks and you wanted to keep it that way. So for years you avoided every party that went on in your office, that was until your boss personally asked. 

You never spoke to him up close, his assistant Bepo, was always the one that handled things around the office most of the time so it shocked you when on your way out one day that he called your name. 

“Excuse me Y/N.” His deep voice made you freeze, the hair on your neck standing up as you slowly turned around. Your brain racing in different theories of why he would call your name, the fact that he even knew it made you nauseous. “Uh…yes sir. How can I help you?” You reply as you adjust your glasses to look up at him. 

“The party tonight.” He says simply not continuing and you just raise a brow. You watch his tattooed hands go to adjust his black tie and it makes your heart skip a beat, you never seen them so up close before. The word D E A T H  was on his fingers in black ink along with a weird symbol but you didn’t want him to catch you staring for too long or he might notice the drool coming out of your mouth. 

Ugh do men even understand how hot the tie thing is let alone adding some tattoos into the mix or maybe they do it on purpose as a trap. 

“Yes?” Your tone was an obvious question that made him give a small smirk. “I noticed they’re not your cup of tea but…” He pauses to look around, as if he was making sure the both of you were alone before he leaned down a bit toward you, his voice lower as he spoke again. “I would love to see you there.” You really didn’t want to go but with a man as handsome as him leaning down into your personal space with that charming smirk of his, the strong powerful scent of his cologne invading your nose, who were you to refuse. 

That’s how you found yourself currently standing in front of the mirror contemplating your choice in attire, almost regretting never going to one of these parties cause you had no idea what to wear. You wore a long loose blue sweater dress, blacked heeled boots with your hair slicked back into a ponytail. You could’ve cinched your waist with a belt but clothes showing off your curves wasn’t much of your speed, instead you left the sexy for underneath. You had quite the guilty pleasure when it comes to all things lingerie, you always took out some of each check just to splurge on a couple nice sets. No one ever got to see them but whenever you were feeling anxious about going to certain events you gave yourself a nice confidence boost with some pretty pieces underneath. 

So taking a deep breath you said fuck it and grabbed your purse, you were already running late so there was no point in changing now that you were already dressed. It wasn’t long to get to your job, that was always a plus in your eyes. Sighing as you parked into your usual spot, you rolled your eyes at the fact that your smoking hot boss was able to sway your decision so quickly. Why the hell did he even want you there so bad? 

“Fuck my life.” You mumble as you get out of your car and head into your office, glad that you at least were by yourself for a short moment on the elevator ride up. The sound of awful music playing loudly along with chatter among all your coworkers was heard the second the doors opened up making you mentally groan. You walked out with your eyes glancing around to spot a drink or something to wash down your growing nausea that this damn party was causing. You found the table that was full of soft drinks and food but none of it caught your eye like the bottle of moscato that was almost empty. Pouring the rest of the moscato it barely filled your glass which made you frown until you heard that same unmistakable voice speak to you.

“I’m sorry I should’ve brought more, I didn’t realize there was someone else who enjoyed moscato like I do.” Your boss observed with a tone of amusement from behind you that made you look in his direction. “Oh sir, it's not a problem at all.” You smile politely as you stare into those charming stormy grey eyes of his. 

“I’m glad to see you here.” Your boss smirked at your shocked expression and the way you fidgeted with your glass in your hands. “Thank you sir.”  You never had an issue with staring people in the eyes until your boss started speaking to you. One of his slender tattooed hands went up to run his fingers back in his hair, your eyes unable to look away from him, the glint of his gold earrings shining brightly making you wonder how they moved when he was railing someone in bed. Specifically you- but you were way too shy to ever make the first move when it came to that sort of thing. 

“You look beautiful.” He says as you take a sip of your wine nearly making you choke on the beverage. You miss how he licks his lips as you go to reach for a napkin to wipe your face, his mind racing with ravenous thoughts of you. “Sorry- thank you sir.” You mumble out awkwardly as you throw out the napkin in the can beside you. “So I have to ask…What usually happens at these office parties anyways?” 

You smile when you notice his grey eyes roll like beautiful storm clouds as he lets out a sigh, “Nothing besides me dying of boredom.” His voice whispered as he scanned the room and his admittance made your heart race with excitement. “Ah~ so I’m not the only one who hates these things.” You joke and he only nods. 

“The difference between you and me is that I have to attend. My father always said it was good for business if the owner shows a different side of himself to his employees.” Your boss tells you, his tone irritated but still holding amusement which made you laugh. Leaning over a bit to keep the conversation just between the two of you, “Okay so tell me why I had to come here if I’m not the CEO like you.” Your boss only chuckles as he once again gets closer. 

“Because if I had to suffer alone one more time at these stupid parties I’ll end up on the news.” His joke makes you laugh louder than you expect which catches the eyes of some of your female coworkers who instantly give you dirty looks when they notice the hot boss talking with you. “Oh my god seriously? I’m just your insurance policy so you don’t burn the place down huh?” You joke back and he nods his head, a smirk on his face as he looks down at you. “Keep that between us okay? Shh people are coming over.” He says making you frown as you turn your head to spot the office birds flying over. 

“Oh my goodness Y/N I never thought I’d live to see the day you actually attend something.” The woman known as Sharon says, ugh that woman’s god forsaken voice could make paint peel in a second. “So anyways what’s so funny. I love a good joke.” 

“Wasn’t anything worth repeating.” Your boss says making you inwardly cheer at your shared secret. “How are you enjoying yourself Sharon?” He asks and you can’t help but notice how his body tenses up, his voice losing the amusement that he showed you just moments ago. 

“I’m having a great time Mr. Law, I just love~ how you always attend.” She tells him and his mouth goes in a tight line, a vein in his forehead threatening to pop at her comment. “Well it is my office. Can’t leave you all to yourselves now can I.” Sharon must have thought he was trying to be funny because she laughs like a mad woman, her arm going out to slap yours and in the process knocking her glass of wine all over you. Red fucking wine might I add. 

“Fuck!” You say out of pure natural reaction feeling the cold wine soak your whole front. 

“Goodness I’m so sorry I’m such a clutz sometimes. You should really go take care of that, you don’t want to ruin that fun sweater you’re wearing.” Sharon says with a sassy tone, the use of the word fun clearly a jab at your attire. 

Fucking bitch, you found yourself thinking but unfortunately you just had to smile. “Yeah I’ll go do that no problem. You should probably take it easy though or everyone might get the impression that you’re a messy drunk.” You bite out with a fake smile as you head to the ladies room, missing the way your boss has to hold in his laugh at your remark. You instantly flooded Law’s thoughts the second you walked away, the woman yapping away in front of him but he couldn’t care less. From behind him he heard some other females talking about how annoying they thought you were, or how you thought you were too good to ever attend these sorts of things and that you deserved Sharon’s wine all over you.  It was Sharon making a joke about you that had his thoughts stop in their tracks. 

“Excuse me?” Law said, making Sharon halt her words with wide eyes. “Sir I was just joking, it’s just harmless hazing. It was only a little bit of wine.” Law’s breath came out sharp as his eyes lowered into a glare that made her blood run cold. “I didn’t realize I hired someone so disrespectful in my company.” He snaps as his fists ball up in his pockets, his eyes watching you go down the hallway towards the bathrooms in the back. 

Heading into the bathroom you peel off your dress angrily shoving it into the sink and under some cold water. That bitch must’ve just poured herself a full glass since there was so much on the front of your dress. You just bought the damn thing and you highly doubt that it would be fixed, “Dammit.” You used your nails to scrub against the fabric completely stopping when you heard the door, which you thought you locked, suddenly open. 

“Y/N I wanted to ask-oh uh.” Law, your boss immediately paused as he saw you bent over the sink with your dress off trying to get the wine stain out. He knew you would be trying to get it out; he just never expected you to take the whole dress off leaving you in that lacy embroidery you were currently wearing. His eyes were unable to look away at the different color flowers that did nothing to hide your nipples and your pussy, he could tell the lingerie was for sex appeal definitely not for coverage. The garter on your mid section connected to leg rings that squished your soft thighs and suddenly he was never more jealous of a piece of fabric in his life like he was now.  

“Sir!” You shouted his name like three times till your voice had to get louder, his beautiful grays finally looking back up at you in shock. “This is a lawsuit, you know.” You say to him putting a hand on your hip, no point covering up since he already got a good eyeful of all your special bits. “Shit! Shit - I’m sorry, you’re right.” He panics but for some reason his body won’t seem to turn away, his eyes dropping down to look at you over one more time. A curse coming out of his mouth in a raspy breath that made you smirk as you called out to him again. His body finally cooperates as he turns to face the door but doesn’t leave, his face heating as his brain recalls everything over at superspeed. “I had to ask you a question but- are the women here usually so catty with you?” 

Law’s question had your brows raise before your face dropped into a frown, your hands going to shut off the water with a sigh. “Yeah but I don’t give a fuck. They try to see who can get under my skin but all this place is to me is a fat ass check.”

“I see.” Law says making you mumble a ‘sorry’ but he only chuckles, “Why be sorry I should be the one to apologize? I can understand now why you hate these things.” You throw on your dress after you ring it out as best as you can but still some of the wine remains. You walk towards the man, the sound of your heels making Law stand up taller at the sound.

 “So Mr. Law you let me in on your little secret of hating office parties so maybe we can add this ordeal onto the growing list huh?” You joke as you go to step in front of him, leaning in close, his tanned cheeks heating up as you smile at him. “Sorry again. It seems like I owe you a raise.” 

“HA! If that’s your way of trying not to get me to sue for sexual harassment then it’s a deal but-I’m still heading home. I enjoyed our banter though  sir. I must say I’m shocked you noticed me despite my skills at trying to stay off the radar.” You say as he opens the bathroom door for you, both walking down the hallway back toward the office. “Actually it’s because you try so hard to remain unnoticed that I noticed you.” He smirks and it makes you fidget a bit as he stares down at you. “Oh I see nothing gets by you then. I’ll see you next week sir.” He just nods and you turn quickly to grab your purse off your desk and head out of this dreadful place, your boss’ eyes staring you down as you walk away. 

The image of you in that beautiful lace was making his body hot, and if he so happened to think about you in it while he fisted his cock between his hands later on then that was his business. It’s not like you needed to know that as he laid in bed that whole weekend that the thoughts of you only grew stronger, or that he pictured what would’ve happened if he bent you over the bathroom sink. The filthy thought of just coming up behind you to push those lacy panties to the side as he shoved his long cock into your dripping pussy made him groan into his elbow. Thinking of one of his tattooed hands having to cover your mouth that would hopefully spill out lustful moans, picturing himself having to look over your shoulder to stare at your fucked out expression in the bathroom mirror. The way you’d moan out for him as he shoves a few fingers into your drooling mouth as he runs kisses along your neck with his hips moving at a rushed pace so neither of you would get caught. 

“Fuck-” Law finally groaned deeply as he came all over his black silk sheets, rolling his eyes at having to change them now but the carnal desires were just to powerful. The whole weekend was tortuous for him and here he was at 5 in the morning on a Monday needing a shower before work. At this rate he’ll be running late to his own business because of you and that only made him want to see you more. Dressing in his nicest all black suit he headed to the office the thought of you still plagued his mind. Now as he drove his fancy sports car he started to picture you riding him in the backseat making the tinted windows all steamy.  

“Fuck my life.” Law grumbles as he heads up the elevator, shock washing over him as he noticed you were the first one there. That was rare, usually you showed right on time so you wouldn’t be spotted. “Y/N I see you’re here early.” 

The sound of your boss making you go still, your cheeks growing warm as your brain replayed all the dirty fantasies that you came up with over the weekend. Turning in your desk chair you looked at him walking over toward you, that same amused smirk on his face just like at the office party. “Sorry sir, I hope that’s alright. I realized after going home that I still had something to add to my pitch for the meeting later.” Your honesty made Law groan as he ran a hand over his face. “Shit I might have to make you my second assistant because I forgot all about that.” He groaned as he leaned against your desk and you couldn’t help but smile at him being so relaxed whenever he was around you. Law always made sure to look so polished and strict around everyone but here he was letting his walls down with you for some reason.

“It must be rough with Bepo on vacation. He seems good at his job.” You say as you cross your legs, sitting back in your chair. You weren’t the most flirtatious woman around but there was no way you could miss the way Law’s eyes immediately dropped to your legs. His stormy eyes following up from your sexy stilettos all the way to the hem of your skirt, swallowing the lump that he suddenly felt in his throat. He couldn’t help but wonder if you had on another lingerie set, hidden from view and man was it getting hard to breath all of a sudden.

 “Mr. Law if you keep staring at me like that then people will think I earned that raise in some unsavory ways.” You smiled as you noticed his eyes snap up to your face. 

“Yes…that would be quite -unfortunate wouldn’t it.” He comes to mess with his tie as he licks his lips before giving you that damn smirk of his. “I guess if those unsavory things were to happen we’ll just have to add it to our list of little secrets don’t you think.” His words had your whole bravado shattered just as you thought you had him where you wanted him, he proved that he was a man always with a plan. Hearing the elevator ding Law stood up from your desk just before the door opened, saving the both of you from prying eyes. 

“Good morning Mr. Law.” The birds squealed out happily making him wave a hand, “Morning ladies.” Giving them a small wave and nod he turned to you giving you a charming wink before heading to his office across from you. You watched the man stroll to his office with his earlier statement in the forefront of your brain. Did he want to fuck me? Your face warm with the thought of him bending you over his desk made you take a deep breath to settle yourself. 

Hours passed before it was time for the meeting where you would be making your first big pitch. The project was a banquet to raise money for children who don’t know what it is to celebrate their birthdays because they don’t have the money that would allow them to do so.  Since it was the company's 30th anniversary coming up you thought it was the perfect time to finally speak your mind and throw in some ideas of your own. Instead of the company getting the gifts you figured it would be nice to give back you just hoped your boss would think so as well. 

Gathering your stuff you head into the meeting room, your anxiety growing and bringing the nauseous you tend to feel with it. This would be the first time you ever stood up in front of these fuckers and you were not happy about it, you wish you could just come up with the idea and tell him privately but nope. Every month there would be this project meeting where everyone would lay out their ideas at that moment. Now knowing that he dislikes these people coming to him all the time though it made sense, one meeting every month was better instead of everyone popping into his office all hours of the day. 

“Okay everyone, who would like to go first.” Law said as he sat at the head of the table leaning back in his chair, his face stern as he scanned the room until his eyes got to you where the corner of his mouth lifted a bit. Before you could raise your hand though Cheryl beat you to the punch, standing quickly before Law could even tell her too. 

“I had this super interesting idea if I may Mr. Law!” She squeals and Law only sighs as he clasps his hands on the table, “Well seeing as you already stood up.” There was an underlying irritation to his voice that she clearly didn’t catch and you only smiled down at the table holding in your laugh that threatened to spill. 

“Animals.” She says and puts her arms out to her side like she just pitched a million dollar idea. You couldn’t hold it in seeing her face with a cheesy grin that quickly dropped hearing you laugh. You tried hiding it with a cough but she just put her hands on her hips and gave you an eye roll. “What’s so funny Y/N? I doubt you have a better idea.” 

“Sorry my bad.” You say not wanting to laugh at her pitch; it was just her mannerisms that had you lose it. Law leaned forward now, his eyes looking at you intensely. “Now Y/N I like to treat my company as a family so I won’t tolerate any rude behavior so please why not share your pitch for the rest of us.” He was trying to sound stern and strict but he couldn’t hide that glint in his concrete eyes. Your eyes widened as you looked at the man giving you a scolding, your body heating up under his intense gaze and as much as you wanted to stay focused you just couldn’t help your mind from wandering. 

“Okay, as great as animals are- we just held a banquet for them a month ago to save animals from deforestation. It was a big hit but I was thinking of the children this time around.” You say standing up and walking over to the projector to insert your usb, your presentation popping up on the screen. “I was thinking with the company’s 30th birthday coming up that we could celebrate by holding a banquet to gather donations to send all kinds of gifts to kids for their birthdays.” 

“How is that better than animals exactly?” Cheryl spat out and you sighed. “I never said either or is better I was just saying that we already did a fundraiser for the animals these past two banquets. The banquet held for saving Koalas and the one for deforestation were both super big hits so I just thought maybe we could try something different.” You further explain and she just rolls her eyes, Amber doing the same when they locked eyes. 

“I just think since you’ve never really done much here that you should just wait and let the rest of us come up with the ideas like we usually do. What do you even do here?” Amber says and you just give her a ‘are you for real’ look that makes her huff. 

“I’ve been working here longer than the both of you and I do the same job you all do. That means I’ve seen endless fundraisers for animals, all of which are great but there’s nothing wrong with some new ideas.” You state back before carrying on, “Anyways- I think we could set up a whole website where you list a child’s name, age and things that they like along with your address and someone anywhere in the world can choose what and how much they want to send. As a company you already have so many people who can donate thousands and that would jump start the whole program. Just think of schools and parents being able to give every child a birthday gift and bringing joy that's immeasurable just over one present to make them feel special. Each gift would be sent out before the child’s birthday to ensure they have at least something to open along with a card with a special note for them to hold onto years to come.”  

You flip through all the slides and mock ups of the website that you came up with along with possible ads that you could put on different platforms to make the whole thing possible. You had thought of everything, there was no loophole, or loose end that you left and it had everyone stunned. You may have kept quiet for years but there was a reason, when an idea was too good you never wanted to spoil it by sharing it too early. After you finished speaking you waited for them all to vote like they usually did but Law just stood up clapping his hands for you. 

“Outstanding! Absolutely incredible. This is life changing. Imagine how one gift could drastically change the hope for a child who never thought someone cared. Think about what they could achieve.” 

“It’s just a dumb birthday gift.” Amber mumbles, pissed since she’s usually the one that makes the winning pitch in these meetings. 

Law held out a hand to silence her, “Enough. It’s more than a gift, it’s a symbol that people care, that despite the circumstances you live in there’s still something for you in this world. I love it. We need to work on this as soon as possible. I’ll call my investors, we need vendors and caterers, I’ll leave those to you Y/N. Anything she needs, all of you help her, it’s her idea so she’s the lead on this. No more nonsense fights and childish behaviour. Break for lunch first everyone. Great work Y/N. I’d like to have a word alone with you in my office, please.” As everyone leaves you unplug your usb and put it in your pocket to fix your papers before following your boss to his office.

Once in his modern designed office, you gasp as you notice the view of the brightly lit city shining like something out of a movie. “I must say you’ve been holding out on me Y/N.” Your boss leans down to whisper in your ear making you shiver as he catches you off guard. “I’m glad to see that your brain matches that beautiful face of yours.” His voice drips with seduction that threatens you to partake upon but all you do is turn your face to his with a sly smile. 

“I’m glad you think so sir.” His eyes glanced down to your lips before he backed away to lean against the front of his desk. “Y/N I have a secret I’d like to add to our list if that’s alright with you.” Smiling you give a nod making him continue, his tattooed hand going to fidget with his tie, not missing how your eyes watched with lustful intensity. “Are you sure you want to hear it? I might have to give you another big raise so you don’t sue.” Taking a step forward you tell him it’s okay and he only smirks as his eyes scan your body. 

“I really can’t stop thinking of you. Have dinner with me tonight.” It wasn’t a question and you both knew it, he knew you’d say yes, hell- even you knew you’d say yes. But you both had a good banter between the two of you so it was only right for you to walk toward him. You let your hand grab onto his tie gently pulling until he leaned closer, “Hmm you’re right sir. I think I will need that raise but- if you can show me a good time after dinner then I think we can settle a good deal.” 

“Son of a bitch.” Law breaths out shakily and it makes you smile at him, winking as you release him before heading to the door. “If you’ll excuse me sir I’ll be heading out for lunch. You can pick me up at 7, I’m sure you can look up my address.” 

You never felt as sexy as you did in that moment walking away, even your secret stash of lingerie couldn’t rival the way that Law made you feel. Your body was buzzing, you thought your heart would beat out of your chest and the grin that was plastered on your face just looked like excitement for the pitch that he praised you on. If only they knew the chemistry between the boss and you they would have a fucking field day but you could give two shits about these fucking snakes. That man was yours and when you have your sights on something you’ll break as many necks as you have to in order to get it.

[abusivelittlebunny]

wonder if u’ve seen this…would love to hear ur thoughts 😇

Explicit fic below (warning for dubcon & bdsm & daddy kink)

"Get in the car, now." Carlos' harsh whisper against his neck punched all the sanity out of Charles' mind in an instant. The command left no room for argument, nor did the grip on his hair at the base of his skull, already guiding Charles manually towards the exit. Charles would've stumbled to the ground multiple times if not for Carlos' hands, firm and steady and unforgiving to any mistakes now.

It always made him go boneless how easy it was for Carlos to manhandle him around, how he used his superior strength to show just who was really in charge between them.

"I let him go first like I'm holding the door open for a lady," Carlos once joked to an interviewer who asked him how come he's such a supportive second driver when he has proven he drives just as good if not better than Charles. "I'm a gentleman."

But there was nothing gentlemanly about how Carlos ripped the car door open and tossed Charles into the passenger seat, with a force that almost made Charles hit the window on the opposite side. Carlos didn't take any pity on Charles' pained yelp, just slammed the door behind him with much more strength than needed, the entire frame of the car shaking with it.

Charles was in big trouble now, he knew. Usually Carlos plays it sweet and harmless when there were paparazzi around them, but after tonight he can't keep the gentleman's facade any longer, to hell with the cameras.

What excuse would he take into consideration now? Was there anything Charles could say that would keep Carlos at bay? No simple "I'm sorry" will solve this, he knew much better than that. He was absolutely furious.

Charles didn't realize he was shaking until the door on the driver's side was torn open, and his entire body froze. He didn't see Carlos take his belt off and out of the loops of his neatly pressed trousers, so seeing it gripped firmly in his hand as he got in the car made Charles' stomach drop.

His heart was pounding in his ears as Carlos started the car without a word, driving through the gate of the villa much faster than necessary, but he didn't seem to care, all too focused on getting Charles and himself alone.

Charles was feeling dizzy, not just from the toss, but also just from the raw emotional rollercoaster he went through, and with no doubt the punishment looming in the air, ready to drop at any minute. He stared at the belt; folded, gripped together with the steering wheel by Carlos' big hairy hand. The veins on the back of his hand seemed more prominent now.

"It wasn't-, Carlos, please, it wasn't what it looked like, I swear-," Charles stammered, wincing at the squeaky quality of his own voice, betraying how he felt like a mouse caught in a merciless trap. "I didn't even know the man,-"

"Clearly you don't need to." Carlos snorted coldly as he took a sharp turn, avoiding the main road, no patience for traffic right now. "You'd take any dick that poked at you without even a second thought. Anything to prove what a good boy you are, right?"

That hurt too much for Charles not to speak up. "You know I'm not like that. You know,- you know better than anybody."

"Do I?" Carlos' amused tilt to his voice mocked him to his very core. "I remember you being a touch too eager every time you got to hop on another dick. Particularly when it comes to the celebratory gangbangs, you just become a brainless little cumdump."

"Because you asked those of me!" Charles knew he shouldn't be raising his voice right now but Carlos was just plain unfair now. "I only did that because you told me to, and would have never let anybody fuck me if it wasn't for your amusement! I-, you know I gave you everything. My virginity, my future,-" Charles held tightly onto the engagement ring on his finger, always quick to put it back on after a race, wanting to feel Carlos close at all times.

"Are you complaining about it?" Carlos' grip audibly tightened on the belt and wheel.

"What? No, no, of course not. I love you, mon amour. You and only you. You own me entirely, no one else can have me except for you." Tears have been welling in Charles' eyes since he first felt Carlos' threatening grip on him, - yanking him out of the study he found Charles in, - but they now finally spilled over as he shakily asked. "But you can't say the same thing, can you?"

Carlos grinded his teeth together, sighing loudly. Denying it would be futile, they both knew.

"I know about Lando. How you still-, you still fuck him when I'm not around. And not just him. He told me what a joke I am; "the devoted little lovesick wannabe-wife to a man who can't keep his dick out of half the grid," that's what he said."

"He's just saying that to rile you up, you can't take that puta seriously-," Carlos started, even though from his quick dismissal it was obvious Lando was far from lying.

"What about Franco?" Charles actually snarled as he said his name; he had nothing but venom for that homewrecking tart. "He told me how Williams won you over with him. How you got to... take him on a test ride to make sure you got a good deal. The car might be shit but the boy that came with it was worth it, huh? He said you found him better than me. Younger, prettier, tighter, and fully in your service."

"And you believe him?" Carlos scoffed, eyes were fixed on the road since the beginning, not sparing a single glance to Charles since he dragged him away from the gala. Meanwhile Charles could only look at him, entire body turned in his seat so he could stare up at Carlos like a pitiful puppy.

"I didn't at first but then he-, he started sending me things. Pictures and videos of you with him. Some when you're asleep, with your hands around that- that boy. Both of you naked if he's not in your shirt." Charles bit his lip, watching Carlos' eyes darken further and his Adam's apple bob in rage. "And even some where you're fucking him. Heard you like it when he calls you Papi."

"That's not-, that fucking-" Carlos almost barked, absolutely livid as he got into a traffic jam despite his best efforts to cruise through the city at a breakneck pace. He hit the steering wheel and cursed a bountiful bouquet in Spanish, half of which Charles understood, thanks to how much he tried to adapt to his husband. He was cursing Franco, saying something about wringing that stupid little slut's neck.

"It's over, Carlos." Charles shook his head solemnly, finally turning to face the road ahead, red lights criss-crossing in his vision, blurred by the tears.

Funny how Carlos could only look at him now, once Charles was faced away, unable to meet his eyes.

Charles gave a chuckle that was more of a sob than anything. "I tried to tolerate it, turn a blind eye to how you treated me, treated us, our relationship, thinking if I keep being nice, do as you say, be a good boy, maybe you'll finally choose me." Charles wiped at his eyes, sniffling. Turning the ring on his finger over and over again.

Carlos proposed shortly after Lewis announced he was coming to Ferrari. It terrified them both, knowing what it meant. They could keep their secret romance as steady as they wanted but not sharing a team, not sharing a garage, put them in a difficult position. They wouldn't be able to see each other as easily in private as before once the new season starts. They'll officially have to be rivals unlike ever before.

There was no room for a Romeo and Juliette romance when it came to the grid.

But Carlos said fuck them, he doesn't want to end it, no matter what anyone says; he loved Charles as Charles loved him, or so he said when he got down on one knee and presented him with the ring. Pure gold with a gorgeous red ruby sitting in a bed of crystal clear diamonds.

They were to marry in December. End of the year. But start of a new chapter. A confirmation that Charles meant more to Carlos than all the boys he had before. That he saw their future together.

He was meant to end his little fooling around with those other boys on and off the grid long ago; he said he would be all his once the wedding is done. They'd become official.

"But if you wanted to choose me, you would have by now. I'm not going to waste any more of either of our time. I'm tired of being nice, letting you have whatever you want at any time. It keeps biting me in the ass. "

"Charles, don't start now. Listen to me-," Carlos dropped the belt in his lap and tried to touch Charles' face only for it to be slapped away. Carlos froze, caught off guard by the retaliation.

"I think we should break up."

The silence that followed echoed within the car and it felt like time stood still like a moment before a life changing tragedy struck. The deafening void of a horrid crash if their worlds. Worse than any accident either of them got into on the grid. Charles could only hear his own blood pumping in his veins, his thick swallow; not a single sound coming out of Carlos. It took all his power to turn around and meet his gaze.

People often joked about how when Carlos is hyper focused his big beautiful brown eyes get a sort of manic, madman quality to them, the facade peeling back a bit. If before that gaze seemed intimidating, now it was downright terrifying. Carlos looked insane, like he could rip Charles' heart out with his teeth within a second. Bathed in the red lights, his face chilled Charles to the bone.

And he knew.

That was the match that lit the dynamite.

Charles whipped around to reach for the car door but his yanking proved futile, Carlos pressing the lock the moment he made a move. Before he could even think about turning around, the belt was thrown over his neck, and Carlos pulled.

Carlos has choked him before, quite a few times actually, but never this hard, and Charles clawed at the leather strip around his throat, head thrown back to Carlos' shoulder and kept there by his other hand gripping his jaw.

"Cah-, Carlo-, Ch-," Charles coughed and whined and scratched and kicked, body trashing weakly as he struggled for breath. He scratched at his own throat and at Carlos' hands, choking on a sob when Carlos snarled against his temple.

"Easy there, easy, calm down Charles, calm down." As if he was trying to soothe a jittery horse, not choking his fiance to near blacking out; he only eased on the belt's tightness when Charles' movements started to subside, his vision plagued with black spots.

The minute his throat got the space needed to fill his lungs again, Charles violently started coughing, tears, sweat, and saliva freely flowing down his red hot face. He was a right fucking mess, croaking and whining, trying to rub at his sore neck as he collapsed against Carlos' solid frame.

That will definitely be leaving a mark he won't be able to hide, too above the line of his collar.

"That's it, good boy, good boy, easy there, I got you, I got you." Carlos breathed roughly into his hair, more of a threat than a comfort, while kissing the side of his face, wherever he could. He did not mind the wet mess, tilting Charles' head by the jaw to press their lips together even as Charles was still fighting for breath, panting into his mouth. "You didn't mean that, no, no you didn't. You're my good boy, and you will be my good little wife, mine, mine, all mine. I got you."

"Cah-,Carlo-," Charles was dizzy still, eyes unable to focus on his fiance's face or actions, only vaguely registering his kisses before he collapsed fully into Carlos' lap. His head would've hit the strong thighs beneath him hard if not for the belt tightening on his throat instantly, softening the impact but at the same time taking Charles' breath once more.

"I know you didn't mean what you said, cariño, but still, you have to watch your pretty mouth more or you'll make daddy angry." Carlos tutted at his open mouth gaping and his fingers weakly trying to pry some space between his neck and makeshift collar. "You need to learn some discipline, cariño. Always so bratty, you keep getting into trouble for it. You won't say something so silly again, will you? No, you're going to be my good little wife aren't you? You'd never leave me, right?"

Charles' feet kicked at the passenger window, and he could barely make out the older man's words over his own choking noises but he managed to nod weakly, eyes rolled back into his skull and completely blurred from tears. Carlos took a torturous second to ease up on the strangulation once more when he deemed his answer satisfactory.

Charles turned his face to the side to suck in some air and not choke even more on his own saliva as he coughed. He whimpered like a kicked puppy, felt like one too, not even noticing how he buried his face into Carlos' tummy to muffle his pitiful sobs until he felt a gentle hand pet through his hair, Carlos cooing above him adoringly.

"There we go, there, that's my good little wife, so good for me." Carlos smoothed the messy brown curls out of Charles' eyes, humming at the puddle of drool and tears Charles was making on his lap. He unbuttoned his trousers and pulled the zipper down like a threat. "Let's put that unruly mouth of yours to better use, baby."

"Carlo-," Charles started to whine but got caught off by the belt again. It never left his neck and Carlos made sure Charles remembered that.

"Show me you're my good boy, cariño. Or daddy will have to give you a tighter leash." As if to confirm, the light illuminating Carlos' face turned blue-green from the traffic light. Carlos loosened the belt around his throat again, but didn't let go of it; Charles was able to feel it move together with his steering as he began to drive.

Charles reached for his zipper with a trembling hand and pulled it aside to press apologetic wet kisses to the bulge lying beneath the dark cotton underwear. He was already half hard; seeing Charles in pain always turned him on but the aspect of a breakup probably kept him from fully enjoying the situation.

Charles sniffled as he pulled the gorgeous thick cock out of his confines and kissed along the length. His hot breath and gentle, worshipping touches had Carlos' member stiffen to its full size fast enough.

He remembered how much practice it took as a virgin to learn how to properly serve Carlos; he had his work cut out for him, Carlos was very polite at first about his clumsy, sloppy efforts, but he was used to Max's incredible deepthroating technique and Lando's eager efforts and wouldn't come as easily as Charles would have hoped for. And he had no chance of tapping out either, no matter how much his jaw would ache for the week that followed, Carlos wasn't the type to let him leave the job half finished.

But once he got the hang of it he kept on practicing, fueled by the urge to beat Max in this area at least; he wanted to be the best Carlos has ever had. Max might have had his gag reflex annihilated at an early age, but Charles was far more passionate when it came to blowjobs and knew worshipping a dick was far hotter than just getting it off as efficiently as possible; or at least that's what Carlos reassured him about.

Charles now breathed out a shaky moan as he took Carlos down deeper and deeper at every drag, slurping on it as he came up, not letting a single drop of precum go to waste and dove right down when he felt a hand on the back of his neck.

"Good job, so good for me, cariño, fuck-," Carlos let out a satisfied sigh, his short nails scratching Charles' scalp appreciatively. "Daddy loves your clever little mouth so much, sweetie."

Charles preened from the praise, doubling his efforts even with tears still dropping from his lashes at every bump the car drove over. His throat hurt with every move of his tongue, every swallow, but that didn't stop him from going down until it slipped past the gag reflex point and his lips kissed the base. Charles sighed out a trembling breath through his nose, face buried in the musky pubic hair. It felt so good down there. Carlos knew he liked it deep too, like the thick familiar length was hitting a hidden sweet spot in the back of his throat.

"You love it so much, don't you?" Carlos slapped his cheek softly, leather wrapped around his palm still. "Charlie baby, the golden-mouthed prince of Monaco. Fucking fantastic, sweetheart. How could I want anyone but you, honey?"

Charles whined, fingers curled around Carlos' suit and thigh in ecstasy and he gulped around his cock, saliva overflowing in his wanton mouth.

Whether it was intentional or not, Charles had to refrain from basking in victory shortly after as Carlos hit the brakes a bit too hard.

Usually he'd pride himself in being trained better, but because of the ache from the choking, the pain made him instinctively gag and he was pulled off by his makeshift collar before he could choke too hard or give more than a hint of teeth.

"Messy puppy." Carlos hissed as he watched Charles cough, and try to catch his breath. "And here you were doing such a masterclass in cock-sucking. Don't you want to show them how good you are for me?"

Charles could only whimper out a dumb sound in answer inbetween coughs, his fucked plump lips unable to form a coherent word, letting drool flow past them uselessly. He didn't understand exactly what Carlos meant until he tugged a bit on the belt around his throat again, making him look up and out the window on the driver's side.

They were being watched by a few men in the car standing still in line right next to them. Carlos had a very big cock, they must have seen his mop of brown curls go up and down in Carlos' lap as he took him down his throat and came back up to suck on the tip.

They were hooting and hollering in amusement, the guy on the passenger side had his phone out to take pictures or a video even, the ones at the back scrambling to do the same.

This was going to be all over social media in a matter of minutes. Charles Leclerc, with his fucked-flushed face drooling helplessly on full display, a belt around his throat giving roadhead to his soon to be ex-teammate like a two penny whore.

"C'mon, cariño, you don't want to disappoint your fans, do you?" Carlos chuckled into his ear and tugged lightly on the belt, making tears well in Charles' eyes again from the humiliation. Carlos kissed at his temple and pet his hair in a condescending manner. "Show them who's my little champion, hm?"

Charles was frozen for a second, all thoughts completely evaporating from his head before he turned to Carlos.

Was this revenge? Ruining his reputation for finding him with another man in a peculiar position? After all that Charles has swallowed for him over and over again?

Not today.

Charles swallowed thickly against his makeshift collar and made his move. He turned to kiss Carlos in a chaste manner, hand cupping his strong jaw tenderly so he couldn't pull away. He could see the camera flash even with his eyes closed, and he knew it bounced back on the engagement ring like the sun.

Carlos was first caught off guard but kissed back with more passion out of reflex, fingers tightening in Charles' hair, the simple golden ring Charles has put on him after the proposal as a promise on display for all to see.

"I am your little champion." Charles breathed with a weak voice but a triumphant smile as he pulled back, lashes fluttering in delight as he saw the realization dawn on Carlos' face.

Charles very quickly changed the headlines from deranged slut Leclerc blowing ex-teammate Sainz in his car to try to keep him loyal to secretly engaged and hopelessly in love Leclerc and Sainz seen sharing a tender moment in car after gala. Charles even made a show of holding his hand up with a big smile for the camera as if the engagement just happened.

Carlos couldn't have stepped on the gas pedal harder as the traffic light turned green and Charles giggled as they sped past the neighboring cars.

"Honey, you're going to get us pulled over-," Charles drawled before he got his face shoved back down into Carlos' lap by a merciless grip in his hair.

"You only worry your pretty head about making me come in your sweet little mouth, baby." Carlos snorted spitefully. "Maybe I'll go easier on you then once we're back home."

"Didn't I do as you asked me to, daddy?" Charles licked playfully at Carlos' erection and got choked again for it. But by now the burn of the belt diminished next to the satisfaction in the forefront of his mind.

"Oh, that you did, darling. That you fucking did."

Carlos did not go easier on Charles even when he made him come down his choked-tight throat three minutes before they arrived back to their home. He made sure to decorate not only Charles's throat but his back, his ass, and his thighs as well in quickly purpling bruises from the belt all through the night and into the morning.

Charles woke in the afternoon sorer than he has been in a very long time, pained winces leaving his chapped lips as he tried to heave himself up in a somewhat propped-up position to gulp down the still-warm cappuccino on the bedside table.

A plentiful bowl of creamy peanut butter porridge topped with uniformly cut bananas and a dusting of roasted nuts sat beside his mug, right next to a jar of honey and a jug of water. On the other side of the bed the healing balm, the Vaseline, the sore-throat drops already prepared.

One could call Carlos a particularly vicious dom, but he never skimmed out on the aftercare; he knew what his boy needed after what he put him through.

Charles smiled to himself and kissed his engagement ring.

He was doubtful about this plan at the start but reading the headlines of the news on his phone while he munched away on his oatmeal put his mind to ease.

CARLOS SAINZ PROPOSED TO CHARLES LECLERC AFTER POST-CHAMPIONSHIP CELEBRATIONS AT MONACO ROYAL ESTATE

WILL THE LOVELY COUPLE BE SPARED BY THEIR TEAMS DECISIONS? DID SAINZ GET BOOTED FOR HAVING SECRET RELATIONSHIP WITH LECLERC? FERRARI UNDER INVESTIGATION

DID LEWIS HAMILTON TRY TO BREAK UP THE COUPLE? WILL HE BE FORCED BACK TO MERCEDES?

SAINZ SEEN TRYING TO BE SEDUCED BY WILLIAMS' ROOKIE FRANCO COLAPINTO! WANNABE HOMEWRECKER ALERT!

"We couldn't be happier, honestly," SAINZ REPORTEDLY ANSWERED QUESTIONS THIS MORNING WHILE OUT ON ERRANDS. IS HE HURRYING TO WILLIAMS HEADQUARTERS OR TRYING TO FIND WEDDING VENUES?

SAINZ DENIES ALLEGATIONS OF AFFAIR WITH LANDO NORRIS, FRANCO COLAPINTO, OSCAR PIASTRI, AMONGST MANY OTHERS.

"I have loved Charles since the moment I met him, I just wasn't allowed to come clean about it in public because of our management. Now we're hoping this will change and give us the opportunity for a future we both hoped for." Carlos chuckled in a video taken only two hours before Charles woke up. He was surrounded by paparazzi like a bleeding man in a pool of sharks.

"Fans are incredibly supportive of your relationship, but will it last the test of time now that you're in separate teams? Or will you be breaking the heart of Ferrari's favorite prince?"

Carlos smiled nervously and nodded to himself before making the crowd around him shake with laughter by declaring: "Absolutely not. I know I wouldn't survive if I ever dared to. I will be a good husband for him regardless of our contracts, you will see."

"What about allegations that you were choking him with your belt?" Another reporter piped up. "Is it true Charles has suffered domestic abuse from you in the past?"

"Those are all made up, I can assure you, I'd never lay a finger on Charles," Carlos winked cheekily at the camera, "not in a way he didn't like, that's for sure."

Charles rolled his eyes with a snort as he kept on reading the news regarding their engagement. No one gave a fuck about who won the championship at that point, all eyes in motorsports and out of it turned towards the ring on Charles' finger.

He owed Max now for giving him this brilliant idea and snatching the limelight from him.

"What if he calls off the engagement?" Charles sobbed on Max's couch a couple weeks ago, hugging a pillow tight to his chest that Max eyed like he wanted to burn as soon as Charles let go of it. He probably wanted to burn the whole couch the way Charles littered it with dirty tissues since he began his dramatic breakdown that evening.

"Then you're better off, honestly." Max rolled his eyes and scooped another spoonful of ice cream in his mouth; the price Charles bribed him with to hear him out on his latest Carlos issue.

"No, he'll be better off with that stupid fucking whore!" Charles wiped at his eyes and threw his phone across the room onto the bed. He was in full tantrum mode at that point. "That fucking slut couldn't wait to get his hands on my Carlos, if he had his ring too I'd tear his fucking face off-"

"You can't even breathe an impolite word to that child, let alone do that. Besides, don't think a pretty pair of green eyes is all it takes for Carlos to pop the question." Max really was the best friend to have around in these dire times for Charles. He has always been a no-nonsense type of advice giver and now as he was heavily pregnant he cared even less for pointless melodrama.

Besides, he knew Carlos better than anyone, even better than Charles. Their history ran bone-deep. That's why he wasn't out to snatch Carlos away probably.

"I can't let him choose that bitch. I can't-, I-," Charles gasped for words, too far in crying to make a coherent sentence so Max waved his spoon like a conductor as if he tried to put a spell on Charles to make him calm down.

"Charles, we talked about this before, first with me, then Lando, then Piastri, then Liam, and so on it goes; you know this won't end by itself. It's not a question about who he will choose. He can't choose, that's his issue. He will keep sticking his dick wherever the wind blows." Max grimaced as he thought about something for a second before burying it in another caramel-fudge spoonful. "I even heard he took George to bed but I'm sincerely hoping his taste didn't stoop so low."

"Are you trying to make me feel better with this?" Charles glared above his tissue.

"I'm trying to make you realize that you gotta rethink your strategy here, because for a lack of better word, it's very Ferrari." Max raised his brows comically and shrugged. "Doesn't really work, does it?"

Charles wanted to object but Max was right; Charles has been bending over backwards to try to please Carlos for a while now, did everything the way he told him and Carlos still slipped out on occasion to "let out his pent up frustrations" on some other boy.

Most of them were more discreet about it, like Piastri, desperate to stay on Charles' good side even with his man's come not yet dry at the corner of his mouth. Or there was Liam, outright avoiding him with a flushed red face after stumbling out on unsteady feet after Carlos pulled him into the closest lockable room. Or there was Lando, taunting Charles with threats of Carlos seeing reason and coming back to him to resume the fairytale relationship he believed they had.

And there was fucking Franco sending him a picture of Carlos sleeping on his chest, arms wrapped around his scandalously tiny waist. The caption, placed right below where Franco had his cheek resting against Carlos' messed up hair read:

"Papi got a bit too excited for my blue panties tonight. He must be a bull that prefers blue over red. Don't wait up for him tonight."

Just the fucking cheek of it all made the hair on the back of Charles' neck stick up.

"He has done enough to drive you mad with jealousy, now it's your turn." Max pointed at him wisely with his spoon. "You just get him to catch you with some other guy and boom. His focus will be very much back on you."

"But what if that just makes him discard me completely?" Charles huffed. "Being one of his... his boys I can deal with, but him dropping me for cheating I could never-,"

"Oh, that is the polar opposite of what will happen, trust me." Max chuckled knowingly. "When he first caught me with another man I couldn't scrape him off of me for months. And that was after I already told him I couldn't do anything serious because my father wouldn't let me. He said he was cool with it, he had plenty of options lined up. But those options seemed far less exciting when something he thought belonged to him was getting fucked by another man."

"You... think that would work with me too?" Charles mumbled after a minute, seriously thinking it through.

Max shrugged, not keen on taking responsibility over Charles' fate and risking another hysteric yap session. "I think he's far more into you than anyone I've ever seen him with, truly. I was tempting to him for being Redbull's miraclebaby but you're different. You're Ferrari's golden boy, Charles, you're special or whatever. You're a gem any man would die to have as his crown jewel. You should live with that privilege. Remind him you are the hottest commodity out there."

So Charles did; finding a sponsor who was eager to try to get him alone in a study at the villa was easy enough, playing coy until he had the man grinding against his ass and hurrying to take his clothes off was simple.

He was thinking stretching it out perfectly so Carlos found him while the man was still hard inside of him would be the challenge because he seemed like a two minute wonder but he misjudged Carlos' attention on him. Charles could barely breathe the first moan as the man pulled his shirt open and kissed at his neck and Carlos was busting down the door, not waiting a second more to drag him out like an unruly puppy.

Max warned him of the painful consequences, but they would all be worth it in the end. Carlos couldn't possibly break up their engagement now, not with the media pressure, and this little stunt had Charles back in his sole focus for good. He couldn't visit his boys under such scrutiny or hurt him too much, or his reputation would go down the gutter.

Charles caressed at the painful bruise on his throat and giggled to himself.

Who had the leash on who now?

[oaksgrove]

Husband!König would be such a DAD but what if he and reader had problems conceiving and after a long time they had their first born?

This was getting dust on my drafts, sorry nonnie :((( (and it was supposed to be a drabble, but husband!konig is so~)

Waiting for a Miracle

pairing: König x female!reader

synopsis: After years of trying and countless heartbreaks, you and König were on the verge of giving up on starting a family. But when a long-awaited test shows two pink lines, the joy and love that follow are beyond anything you ever imagined.

warnings: pregnancy, bit angsty in the start but heart-melting fluff in the end!

word count: 1869

The small house at the edge of the forest felt like a sanctuary from the moment you saw it. The soft hum of nature, the golden light streaming through the windows, and the little garden brimming with possibility—it felt like it was waiting for you and König to fill it with your story.

When you first moved in, it was empty but hopeful. König insisted on carrying every box himself, his massive frame moving through the house like a gentle giant.

“Don’t lift that,” he called when you tried to help, his Austrian accent warming the syllables. “You’ll hurt yourself.”

“I’m fine,” you protested, but he shot you a look that brooked no argument.

He wanted to make this house into a home for you. You watched him hang curtains, build furniture, and haul soil for the garden. Every touch was infused with love.

That first night, the two of you sat on the floor surrounded by unpacked boxes, sharing a meal of pizza and wine. You leaned into his side, his arm wrapping around you.

“It’s almost perfect,” you whispered.

“But it will be.” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple. “One day, we’ll hear little feet running through these halls.”

The words were soft, a promise wrapped in hope.

You hadn’t realized how hard it would be. Each passing month brought another wave of disappointment, each test flashing a single line. The first year, König reassured you with kisses and sweet words.

“It will happen, Liebling. We just need time.”

By the second year, the optimism started to wane. The silence after each test became heavier. König’s arms would wrap around you, holding you close as tears fell onto his chest. He was strong for both of you, but you could see the cracks forming in his armor.

“It’s not your fault,” he told you again and again, as though saying it would erase your guilt.

You tried to find joy in the small things—gardening together, baking, quiet evenings with a book. But the ache never fully left. You both wanted more, needed more.

The cold January wind howled against the windows, rattling the glass as you stood in the kitchen. The clock ticked steadily on the wall, filling the silence between you and König. His large frame leaned against the counter, arms crossed tightly, his head bowed as though weighed down by invisible burdens.

"Maybe this is it," you murmured, your voice breaking. "Maybe we’re not meant to be parents."

König’s head snapped up, his usually calm blue eyes stormy with emotion. "Don’t say that," he said, his voice thick with frustration and something deeper. "We’ve come this far."

You closed your eyes, willing yourself not to cry again. You had shed enough tears over the years—months of negative tests, doctor visits, treatments, and the unbearable ache of hope crumbling into despair.

"I’m tired, König," you whispered. 

He stepped closer, his calloused hands finding yours. "I know," he said softly, pressing his forehead to yours. "But we keep trying, Schatz. For us. For what we’ve dreamed of."

For all his stoic strength, König’s voice cracked, and in that moment, you realized just how much he carried. His unshakable faith, his constant reassurances—they had been for you, to keep you afloat.

You nodded, wrapping your arms around his waist, allowing yourself to draw strength from him. "Okay," you whispered. "One more time."

The call came early in the morning. You had been sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting for another pregnancy test.

When your phone buzzed with the alarm you set, König rushed to the bathroom before you could. His expression changed as he listened, his body going completely still.

When he turned to you, his eyes widened.

"You’re pregnant." he whispered.

The room tilted, and for a moment, you couldn’t breathe. "What?"

König cupped your face, his own trembling. "You’re pregnant, Schatz. It’s real."

Tears blurred your vision as you flung yourself into his arms, sobbing into his chest. "It’s real," you echoed, over and over again, the words tasting like the sweetest miracle.

König held you tighter, his broad shoulders shaking as he let himself cry too. For the first time in years, the weight of waiting and wanting lifted, replaced by a joy so profound it left you both breathless.

The journey wasn’t without its challenges. There were sleepless nights of worry, unexpected scares, and countless doctor visits, but through it all, König remained your rock. He read every parenting book he could find, practiced swaddling teddy bears, and painted the nursery a soft shade of green.

“You’re going to be the best papa,” you told him one evening as you watched him carefully fold tiny clothes.

He glanced at you, a shy smile tugging at his lips. “Only because I have the best mama by my side.”

The first ultrasound appointment was marked on the calendar in König’s precise handwriting. You had seen him prepare for missions with less organization than he did for this moment. Every day, he reminded you of the date with growing excitement, his voice tinged with awe as he spoke about hearing your baby’s heartbeat for the first time.

The morning of the appointment, König woke you before the alarm, his large hands already resting gently on your belly as if he could somehow connect with the life inside.

“Are you ready, Liebling?” he asked, his eyes glowing with anticipation.

You smiled, placing your hand over his. “I think so. Are you?”

“I’ve been ready for this my whole life,” he murmured, leaning down to press a tender kiss to your forehead.

The waiting room was quiet, filled with other couples holding hands or nervously flipping through magazines. But König’s presence was anything but subtle—his height and sheer size made him a beacon in the small room. Yet his nervous energy was endearing; his leg bounced lightly, and his fingers toyed with the edge of his jacket sleeve.

When the nurse called your name, König practically jumped to his feet, gripping your hand like it was a lifeline.

In the dimly lit ultrasound room, the technician chatted with you about the procedure, but you barely registered her words. Your heartbeat was loud in your ears, your grip on König’s hand tightening as she prepped the machine.

And then, it happened.

The soft, rhythmic thump-thump filled the room, faint but steady, like a tiny drumbeat of life.

König’s breath hitched audibly, his free hand flying to cover his mouth as his eyes filled with tears. “That’s… our baby?”

The technician smiled warmly. “That’s your baby.”

You turned to look at König, finding his expression utterly unguarded—pure joy, disbelief, and love shining through. He bent down, pressing his forehead against yours, his tears mingling with your own.

“Liebling,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “That’s the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard.”

You laughed softly, your own emotions overwhelming as you placed your hand over his heart. “We did this, König. They’re real.”

-

That evening, König was a whirlwind of energy. He insisted on cooking dinner, humming softly to himself as he worked. You watched from the kitchen table, a hand resting on your stomach, marveling at how alive your home felt with this newfound joy.

The two of you stayed like that for hours, dreaming aloud about your future. König spoke about teaching your child his native language, about the places he wanted to show them, and the values he hoped to instill.

That night, as you lay in bed, König curled around you protectively, one large hand resting over your belly. He murmured soft words in German—promises, dreams, and love—as if your baby could already hear him.

And for the first time in years, the future felt bright, filled with the heartbeat of hope.

Months passed like a dream, each one filled with small milestones that brought you and König closer to meeting your baby, Hans. König became an expert in everything—prenatal classes, baby books, and even assembling the nursery furniture (though he grumbled when the instructions were unclear). Every evening, he talked to your belly, telling stories or humming lullabies in his rich, deep voice.

And then, the day finally came.

It was just after midnight when the contractions started. At first, you thought it might be a false alarm, but by the time the pain intensified, König was already wide awake, alert as if he were preparing for battle.

“Hospital bag,” he muttered, grabbing it with one hand while the other supported you. “Car keys. Phone. Let’s go, Liebling.”

You couldn’t help but laugh through the pain at his efficiency. “You’re more nervous than I am.”

“I’ve never done this before,” he said earnestly, his free hand brushing your hair back from your face. “But I’ll do it perfectly.”

The drive to the hospital felt like an eternity, but König stayed calm, his hand resting reassuringly on your knee the entire time.

Hours later, the delivery room was filled with a blur of voices and activity. König stayed at your side, his hand gripping yours tightly as you worked through the contractions.

“You’re doing so well,” he murmured, his voice steady despite the tears shining in his eyes. “You’re incredible, Liebling.”

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the cries of your baby filled the room.

“It’s a boy!” the doctor announced, holding up the tiny, squirming bundle.

König froze, his breath catching as he stared at your son. When the nurse placed Hans in his arms, his hands trembled slightly, but his expression was one of awe.

“Hallo, Hans,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I’m your Papa.”

You watched through tears as König bent down, carefully placing him in your arms.

That first night in the hospital, König refused to leave your side. He sat in the chair beside your bed, cradling Hans like he was the most precious thing in the world.

“He’s so small,” König whispered, his fingers gently tracing Hans’ tiny hand.

You smiled, leaning your head against his shoulder. “He’ll grow fast. Too fast.”

König shook his head, his eyes never leaving your son. “Not fast enough. I want to remember every moment.”

As Hans stirred in his arms, König began humming a lullaby in German, his deep voice soothing both you and the baby into a peaceful calm.

The first days at home were filled with joy and chaos. König insisted on doing everything—diaper changes, late-night feedings, and even the laundry. You often found him sitting in the nursery, holding Hans close as he talked to him softly.

One evening, as you stood in the doorway, watching König rock Hans to sleep, he looked up and smiled at you.

“He’s perfect,” he said softly, his voice filled with wonder.

You walked over, wrapping your arms around him and resting your head against his chest. “He is. And he has the best papa in the world.”

König kissed the top of your head, his voice tender. “This is everything I’ve ever wanted. You and Hans—my family.”

And as the three of you sat together, wrapped in the quiet warmth of your home, you felt a deep, unshakable sense of love that would carry you through every moment to come.

[controversially-young-girlfriend]

read me like a book 💌prof. spencer reid x reader

💋 office hours with your fav professor. oneshot smut with softdom spencer and praise 💋

you’re prone to skipping an occasional lecture - 9am is just too early to be up! you’re a week ahead on your developmental psych notes! but you’ve never missed a class with dr. spencer reid.

as much as you enjoy the course content (and actually do the required readings) your mind goes blank once professor reid enters the lecture hall and his words fade into the background as you admire his curly hair and soft eyes. you’re almost mad he’s so hot because your lack of focus just landed you a C+ on your recent essay. you’re embarrassed not at your own academic efforts but rather the effect he has on them.

as usual, you doll yourself up before heading to class and take a seat right in the middle where dr. reid tends to lay his eyes while lecturing.

after the heard of girls auditing the class finish talking to professor reid, you approach the front of the class to ask about your essay.

you’ve always loved talking to him after class, getting a few minutes of one-on-one time with him. he’s different when not lecturing, and has an endearing awkwardness that you’ve become infatuated with. you loved when a simple question turned into what felt like a personal lesson.

“hi dr. reid, i’m wondering if i could discuss my recent essay with you?”

“definitely, however i think the next class is starting in a few minutes. would you be okay to discuss it in my office?” he tells you and you feel yourself get hot. you’ve talked to him plenty of times but never in his office, your mind immediately fantasizing about all the things you’ve imagined him doing to you in there.

you try and remain composed on the walk there, making small talk to not let any signs of your schoolgirl crush on him show.

he opens the door for you, closing it before walking over to his desk. you hand him the essay and feel your heart flutter when your fingers grace each others briefly. you try your best to follow the feedback he’s adding in red pen but you’re transfixed on the way he’s moving his hands.

you snap out of it when he softly says your name, “i hope you’re not discouraged by the grade. you’re a smart girl.” you hope he doesn’t notice how hard you’re blushing at him calling you smart.

“i know you understand the concepts but your analysis needs to remain objective. i would have given you a B if you stayed closer to the assignment outline.”

the feedback is fair but you’re worried about your gpa. “is there anyway to do some extra credit or raise my grade?”

dr. reid tells you “come see me back here before the next assignment is due and we’ll go through it together.”

you’re grateful but dreading the end of this conversation and having to leave his office.

“thanks professor reid! i really enjoy these post-lecture conversations.” you know your words are implying something more, but you’re wondering if it shows.

dr. reid replies “me too.”

you guys make eye contact until he looks to the left and takes a deep breath. “by the way, most student-teacher relationships end horribly. not to mention they’re pretty explicitly banned in the contract i signed to guest lecture here.”

“oh my god oh um i’m sorry i didn’t mean to say anything that would make you uncomfortable.”

“don’t worry, you didn’t say anything. i think you just forgot that i make a career out of profiling people.” dr. reid tells you with a slight smile on his face

“so what gave it away then?”

“you’ve been blushing for the last 15 minutes and stumbling over your words despite being a normally eloquent student in class. you’re leaned into me talking right now and i’ve caught you staring at me multiple times.” he says while smiling. you’re relieved he’s not mad, but can’t quite identify his intentions of telling you this.

“well professor reid, you’re good at your job. but like you said i’m a smart girl, so it’s only fair i get to profile you back.”

you can tell you caught his attention with that, feeling him getting a bit nervous but leaning in to hear what you have to say. your legs are now touching as you list the little traits of his you’ve noticed all semester.

“you have a whole fan club of girls who come to your lectures and wait to talk to you. do you give all of them the student-teacher relationship talk? or am i just getting special treatment?”

he puts his hand on your thigh. “do you wear skirts this short when you talk to your other professors.” you’re shocked at how far he’s going but you don’t want him to stop.

“you’re easy to read, princess. i know when you’re sitting in my lectures and thinking about me. you subtly bite your lip and stare, and i can only imagine what you’re fantasizing about. i’d guess you get off on me being your older professor, me fucking you bent over my desk as i tell you how how you’re such a pretty little slut for me.”

is he a profiler or a mind reader? you don’t want to let him win but he looks at you self-satisfied and starts talking before you can think of a reply.

“and i’d place my job on the line that you’re wet just hearing that.”

“well professor reid, i’ll leave it to you to prove your theory.”

reid pushes up your skirt and feels your soaked panties. you watch him smile before pulling you into his lap and kissing you.

the makeout deepens as he grabs your waist, slowly guiding it to grind against him as his tongue is in your mouth. you hold him by the hair until he leans back to look at you. through heavy breaths he says “i’ve been thinking of you since i saw you in my first lecture.”

he takes your shirt and bra off, moving kissing your lips, down to your neck, and then down to your chest. you take off his cardigan and begin working on his button up shirt, leaving you both shirtless against eachother. “you’re so beautiful like this.” he tells you.

you feel him adjust your legs to take off your skirt and panties. slowly teasing his fingers at your entrance, he quickly dips a finger in just to tell you “you’re so wet, so desperate for me pretty girl.” as you try and rub against his hand for contact. he’s right, you need him badly right now.

dr. reid rubs circles on your clit and you let out a soft moan. he watches your face as he slips his fingers inside. “fuck you’re good, dr. reid.” you can tell being called by the honorific turns him on by the way he gripped you tighter and sighed. he takes his fingers out from inside you and pushes them into your mouth. you give him a show, looking him right in the eyes as you work your tongue around them. “you’re such a slut for me, baby.” you’re shocked that this sort of dirty talk is coming from your nerdy, cardigan wearing professor.

he pulls his fingers out and you unbuckle his belt. you palm him which earns a slight moan out of reid. “seems like you want me just as bad” you tell him. you pull down his boxers and he grabs your hair into a ponytail. with his other hand he lifts your chin slightly to ask, “well how bad do you want me?” you immediately begin going down on him, eager to impress.

you’re blissed out listening to the praises coming from him between the heavy breaths. “so pretty baby”, “taking me so well”

he lifts your head up, “wanna bend over the desk, sweetheart?” you gladly agree, anticipating him as he grips your hips and plants a kiss on your neck.

he’s big but you’re savouring every inch of professor reid inside of you. thrusting slowly as you adjust to the feeling. he speeds up as he talks you through it, “such a cute little slut sitting in my lectures imagining me fucking you like this. you feel so fucking good baby.” you begin to unravel with pleasure.

you can barely form a sentence but manage to ask “have a thing for fucking college girls, professor reid?” you say between moans.

he thrusts into you harder and positions his mouth right beside your ear, “just the ones who come into my office in short skirts to seduce me.”

you guys won’t last much longer, he feels your core tightening around him. “i want to watch you cum for me.” he tells you.

you unravel in his arms, with him finishing soon after. he holds you in his arms as you catch your breath. “maybe your profile was right about me, dr. reid” you say to him lightheartedly.

“you can call me spencer. although there is a definite appeal to being called dr. in this context” he says.

you help rearrange the papers on his desk that were pushed off earlier and get dressed again.

“um don’t worry about your essay grade. if you ever want to do this again perhaps i can count it as extra credit.” he smiles and tells you.

“i’d love that. i’ll be here after every lecture.” you say with a massive smile on your face.

he kisses you once more, “now go study. i’ll see you next week.”

[isadollie]

hi hi!! i saw your request for some drabbles!! so when you have the time i would like to request something sweet with gojo(or toji) and possibly what you think his love language would be and how he expresses it!

happy writing and have a good day/night! <3

love language w/ gojo & toji

a/n: hi hi hi!! tysm for this request, i know it's late lol, but i didnt really have a chance to get to it before! anyway, i hope you like it:)

gojo satoru — words of affirmation & gift giving.

★ my first thought was: this man is all of the love languages combined

★ but it's probably just bc i'm a gojo girl at heart 😔 anyway

★ as his top2 love languages i chose words of affirmation and gift giving

★ the gift giving part is a bit obvious i think

★ that man has money, a lot of money

★ and he would love to use it to spoil you for sure

★ all it takes is for you to look at something in the store, an hour later you already have it

★ he says it's nothing, he would buy you anything you'd ask

★ and he doesn't expect anything in return, he just likes to see you happy

★ as of words of affirmation, i think he's both about giving it and receiving it

★ he's the strongest, people love him, bla bla bla. but all he needs is for you to hold him and tell him he's doing his best and that you appreciate him for it

★ especially if he's had a rough day, just you saying that you want to help him, and that you're there for him, it already makes him feel better

"i got you something" was the first thing satoru said when he got back home. he smiled when he found you sitting on the couch. he grinned and walked closer to you.

you raised an eyebrow curiously when he gave you an envelope. "open it. but wait, hold me when you do" he chuckled as he said that, immediately making himself comfortable in your arms, as usual.

you carefully opened his gift, your eyes going wide. "no way..."

satoru giggled. "you wanted to go to that concert, no? so there you have it"

"front row too? 'toru, you're crazy-"

"nah ah." he pressed his face in the crook of your neck. "tell me again that i'm great, amazing, and how much you love me. c'mon, don't make me wait."

toji fushiguro - acts of service & physical touch

★ okay, hear me out

★ i think he's big on physical touch in general, both receiving and giving

★ when in public, he's not afraid to show affection at all

★ his arm is always around your shoulders or waist

★ he'd kiss you a lot too

★ and if anyone gets annoyed by seeing it? he'll only do it more often

★ he also likes when you hug him, stroke his hair, or especially when your hand touches his biceps

★ but about the acts of service

★ i think he's more about giving it

★ mostly because he's not good with his words

★ so instead, he just shows you with his actions that he cares (or that he's sorry after a fight)

you had to stay late at work that day, which, let's be honest, is never a pleasant thing. you texted toji beforehand, letting him know you'll get home later that night. you also made sure to text him all about how annoyed you are, and how your boss is stupid.

then, when you finally got home, your mood wasn't any better. the traffic was terrible, even though it was practically night by now. you opened the door to your shared house, and suddenly your annoyance left.

toji stood by the door and greeted you with a hug. he took your jacket and shoes off. the dinner was ready; your favourite dish was already on the table. the whole house was clean, your comfiest pajamas warm and ready for you to change in. toji even placed on the table everything needed for you to wash your makeup off and do your usual skincare routine. soft music played in the background, and your favourite movie on tv was waiting to be watched.

even though you were grateful for what he did, toji just shrugged it off, saying it's nothing.

[brucebocchi]

Ranking 2024 anime, Pt. 1: Movies, specials, and #43-41

hey, this post is also available on my ko-fi, so please check it out and consider tipping/donating as i do this for free and am currently between jobs. thanks!

Hey, y'all. Starting a little later than usual this year but I've been busy this time of year, not the least of which with The People's The Game Awards, which will be streaming here on Dec. 31!

But now it's time to promote the output that's entirely mine. I watched even more anime in 2024 than the prior year, somehow, and it's time to rank it. Because I was reviewing these series at the end of their respective seasons, I won't be going quite as in depth on the shows I'd already covered from January through September. There will be full reviews for the stuff I just watched in the Fall season, as well as this first section here, as part of the rankings.

As always, this is entirely a labor of love, so subscriptions and donations would be hugely appreciated, and I could really use them right now.

So first, let's start with:

Movies and Specials

Look Back

There weren’t many things I was looking forward to this year quite as much as this movie’s western release. Based on one of a trio of one-shots Tatsuki Fujimoto published during Chainsaw Man’s hiatus, Look Back is a short but potent story about art and manga, the highs and lows of the creative process, and the connection between two young artists putting their heads and hearts together.

The story follows Ayumu Fujino (definitely not an author self-insert), a fourth-grader who draws short comics for her school’s newspaper. She’s mortified when she’s asked to make space for another  strip by an absentee student who turns out to be a much better artist than herself (again, definitely not a self-insert for a mangaka who has publicly described his self-consciousness about his artistic talents), and even after years of further studying and practicing, Fujino feels so completely outpaced by the other, Kyomoto (also not a self-insert), that she quits. At the end of the school year, though, Fujino is talked into dropping something off at Kyomoto’s house, where she learns that the latter was a huge fan of her work and was disappointed to learn that she’d quit, and they decide to team up and make manga together. The successful one-shots they publish throughout middle and high school eventually prompt a Shueisha editor to approach them for serialization, but a rift starts to form.

Look Back and by extension plenty of Fujimoto’s works can be hard to talk about because they say so much for themselves with only so many words. The manga is a brief but potent masterpiece, and the film adaptation by Kiyotaka Oshiyama (director of Flip Flappers and key animator with credits in Devilman Crybaby, Mob Psycho 100, and recent Miyazaki films) is very much the same in its own right. This adaptation retains much of the feel of Fujimoto’s art and perfectly delivers the emotional beats of the story, while adding some flair of its own. The amateurish 4-koma that define our young artists’ early careers are given a low-fidelity animatic treatment to match, while the real-life action is animated fluidly and realistically. Haruka Nakamura’s gorgeous score punctuates and elevates Look Back’s emotional highs and lows with delicate piano and lush strings that only draw you deeper into this beautiful story. There are even references to the mangaka’s other works peppered throughout the film. 

The most distinctive trait of Tatsuki Fujimoto’s manga is his expressive and creative use of paneling, often used to wordlessly display changes in expression or the passage of time in the same way a storyboarder would. Conceptually, this would translate well to film, and although Look Back is a phenomenal film in its own right and captures much of the feel of its source material, it’s not exactly the same. And honestly, that’s a good thing. If it’s worth recommending both works in equal measure, then both were successful, and that’s the case here. 

In a featurette that was shown after theatrical screenings, Oshiyama was very outspoken about infusing realism into the production, despite the story’s climax veering into magical realism. What he wanted wasn’t a realistic look or feel to the film itself, but in the production thereof: The leads are voiced in Japanese by complete newcomers (who do an incredible job) and plenty of the film’s line art, especially in its tearjerking denouement, can look intentionally unrefined. Oshiyama has made it clear that he wanted Look Back to come across as much like a handmade product as possible, specifically because it released into an age where the existence of generative AI is posed to threaten the livelihoods of entire creative industries. 

Even if I hadn’t seen the film, I’d have known just from his comments that Oshiyama understood the assignment. Look Back is a story about creativity and creation, warts and all, and what is so innately human about it: The parts of ourselves we put on the page or screen, which of our shortcomings we can improve on our own and which ones we overcome with the contributions of others, and the connections we make throughout. Tatsuki Fujimoto is a master mangaka, and this film is a perfect companion piece to a true work of art.

Watch this movie.

Neon Genesis Evangelion: The End of Evangelion

I’m not usually the type who includes older media in “best of the year” discussions, and certainly not media that’s nearly 30 years old, but The End of Evangelion is one of my favorite movies ever. Full stop. Regardless of how many times I’ve watched and rewatched it in my adult life, I leapt instantly at the opportunity to see it in its first American theatrical run so many years after its release.

Decades’ worth of ink has been spilled over this film and its meaning, themes and intentions. It is a prism through which no two people may see the same thing: Many have interpreted The End of Evangelion as an angry, hateful work by a creator who wanted nothing more than to spite his fans, and others have venerated it as a message of hope, that a better world is possible as long as you put the work in. I have too many other things to write about to do a proper dive into what this movie means, or more specifically what it means to me. I’ve put it here because the experience of seeing it in a packed theater was immensely satisfying.

To be surrounded by so many people while taking in something so important to me was exhilarating. The increasing laughter as more and more production tags flew across the screen in the first minute and a half felt like a community being established. Fortunately, that was most of the noise I’d heard. Not that I was expecting a “Komm, süsser Tod” singalong or anything, but I’m thankful that the audience was mostly quiet otherwise, because the change of venue from my usual viewing environs of a desk or couch was transformative and I would not have been happy if anything had distracted from that. 

There are too many iconic moments in The End of Evangelion to name, several of which you’ve probably seen even if you don’t know Evangelion that well, and they looked absurdly good on the big screen. Asuka’s fight against the Eva series remains some of the best action animation I’ve ever seen in my life, and it held up. The inception of Third Impact and all of the iconic images that came from that sequence were visually arresting, and I don’t say so lightly: I legitimately felt overwhelmed at several of these moments. Someone a seat or two over from me was stifling tears towards the end, and I don’t blame them one bit, crybaby that I am. But by the final scene on the beach, a scene whose coda in 3.0+1.0 never failed to reduce me to a blubbering mess, I couldn’t even process emotion anymore. Seeing something this familiar, this meaningful to me, in such an all-encompassing environment, shorted my brain for a second. I was stunned, eyes bugged and mouth agape, like something had touched my soul directly. And just like my first viewing of this film, part of me was forever changed.

The first time I’d seen The End of Evangelion did not come at a great time in my life, and if I’m being honest, I wasn’t doing too hot when I saw it in the theater this year either. But, in ways I’m not sure I can elaborate, I think they came at times when I needed them. Evangelion remains a major marketing machine some three decades after its debut, but sometimes it’s still just something you need to take in when you’re going through it. I’m glad I did. If you have a favorite anime film that manages to make its way back into theaters, I cannot emphasize enough how wonderful it feels to actually go and see it. I wish I’d done the same with the Gurren Lagann films when they came back. 

I just wish Gkids hadn’t used the Netflix subtitles. The first scene just doesn’t hit the same without “I’m so fucked up.”

One Piece Fan Letter

For all of the anime I’m covering at year’s end, I think the most important thing about my 2024 in anime and manga, after hemming and hawing about it for so long, is that this is the year I finally got into One Piece (the manga, not the anime). And just as I’d expected, it required a massive investment of my time, but it paid dividends and continues to do so as the story creeps ever closer to its eventual end. 

The manga is phenomenal, but the anime would’ve been a much larger investment, so I haven’t really bothered (the live action series is great though). I’ve watched a small handful of episodes and clips of the more important moments, and took in a bit of the anime’s current arc before it went on hiatus. It’s come a long way from how it looked 25 years ago and I’m genuinely impressed that a weekly anime can exhibit such a high budget and wealth of animation talent, but I don’t really have it in me to trudge my way back to the start of the Wano arc and watch nearly 200 episodes of just that.

What I did have time for, and only 24 minutes of it at that, was One Piece Fan Letter, an episode-length special loosely based on the Straw Hat Stories novel. Fan Letter takes place around the end of the timeskip as the Straw Hat crew make their reunion in Sabaody, but it doesn’t focus on the crew themselves; we instead spend our time with a handful of regular people living their lives on the archipelago. In a way, they’re a lot like us: they’re all fans of the Straw Hats, and each one has a favorite. A Marine goes against code and secretly looks up to Luffy for giving him the courage to save his brother’s life. A shopkeeper bemoans missing Brook’s last show as Soul King. Some rowdy Marines have a drunken powerscaling argument not unlike one you’d see on Twitter any given day. 

Front and center, though, is a young girl who looks up to Nami. She dresses like East Blue-era Nami, avoids wearing glasses in order to look like her, and even has the red hair to match. She’s managed to decode Luffy’s reunion message (in a comically roundabout way) and sets out to hand-deliver her message to Nami before the Thousand Sunny sets sail again, but she finds herself hampered by several distractions and obstacles, largely thanks to the Straw Hats and those in their orbit.

Fan Letter is a short but sweet story that mirrors our own fandom of the series and its characters in the lives of everyday people along the Grand Line. A huge part of what makes One Piece work as an ongoing saga is seeing how Luffy and the Straw Hats’ escapades and freedom fights materially benefit the people of each island they visit and, if necessary, liberate. And not that the series isn’t long enough, but something we often miss is how the crew’s efforts affect the people they don’t interact with on some level (Usopp does briefly help direct our protagonist here, but she never finds out it’s him). Fan Letter focuses more on the emotional impact the Straw Hats’ heroism leaves on the regular folk and even the Marines that are meant to oppose them.

Though creator Eiichiro Oda had no hand in Fan Letter, I think it focuses on one of his major aims in writing One Piece: For all its silliness, spectacle, and hype, it’s ultimately a story of people helping and improving one another’s lives en route to attaining their dreams, and it’s meant to inspire us to want to do the same. Fan Letter puts these intentions in stark relief by showing us not only how the Straw Hats have inspired people on and around Sabaody, but also those same people trying to return the favor in whatever small way they can. Those in lesser positions might write a letter or turn out for their favorite artist, while those in positions of power can literally save lives. If someone has made your life better in any meaningful way, you are always in a position to thank them or pay it forward.

As with just about everything attached to One Piece nowadays, Fan Letter looks phenomenal. Everything has a loose, kinetic quality befitting Luffy’s rubbery nature, and the breakneck composition and sequencing of shots makes every second of the short runtime count. If you’ve been on the fence about One Piece, it’s at least a quick curiosity that might pique your interest. To longtime fans, though, Fan Letter is an essential piece of the puzzle.

Spy x Family Code: White

After a certain point, I’m having trouble writing about any new Spy x Family entries because, like, it’s more Spy x Family. If you’re already here, you know what you’re going to get. There’s gonna be silly misunderstandings, Anya’s gonna be cute, Yor’s gonna do some sick action moves, and you’re gonna have a great time. 

Code: White is a self-contained film with an original story by creator Tatsuya Endo, so continuity isn’t a factor here if you’re worried about canon. The Forgers take a vacation to the alps to help Anya with a school project, Yor misinterprets Loid’s secretive nature as a sign that he’s cheating on her, and Anya unknowingly eats a bonbon containing a microfilm that would help turn the cold war hot. We get our cozy moments, our silly moments, and our fun action setpieces towards the end. Again, it’s more Spy x Family and that’s what you’re here for.

I know this sounds dismissive, but you already know what you’re getting into here. And I want to be clear that it’s still really good! It’s cute, it’s funny, it’s exciting, and everything and everyone looks and sounds great. There’s a sequence where Anya has to poop so badly she starts hallucinating. It’s great stuff. Essential viewing if you’re a fan.

And now, let's get on with:

Ranking Every New Anime I Watched in 2024

43. The Unwanted Undead Adventurer

I didn’t want to talk about this show when I reluctantly finished it nine months ago and I don’t want to talk about it now. Maybe not the worst anime I watched this year but certainly the dullest. Ugly, slow, and boring is no way to entice me into watching a second season. Pass.

42. Tales of Wedding Rings

This somehow ended up being the only show that I picked back up this year, including the ones I initially liked. I was pretty blunt about what I didn’t like about Tales of Wedding Rings back in March, from its waifu-of-the-week format to its formulaic wheel-spinning on the main romantic pairing to its hideous aesthetic and poor animation. It had already been confirmed for a second season and I’d had no interest in finishing the first.

But against my better judgment, I decided to take some time reading the manga around the time it came to an end later on in the year and ended up liking it a decent amount. The manga looks way better, for one thing, and all of the more interesting plot elements manage to intensify and coalesce. Between the standard isekai slay-the-demon-king plot, the “will they/won’t they” tension between the romantic leads, and yes, the overt horniness of everything else, the first season really was just table setting for a story that does in fact get more interesting and worth spending time with. So, armed with knowledge of the next story beats and a more open mind, I went back and dusted off the three episodes I’d dropped back in March.

And I still can’t stand this show.

Tales of Wedding Rings is still one of the ugliest anime I’ve ever seen in my life. The color palette is weirdly muted and everything is overlit and gauzy. Line art looks brittle and cheap. You could try to make the excuse that a show with so much nudity wasn’t going to earn a high production value, but that excuse falls flat when you remember that it aired alongside well-produced (if maybe questionable) uncensored series like Chained Soldier and Gushing Over Magical Girls). Like I said earlier this year, if you present me with full-on elf tits and still can’t make me care, you’ve failed. I didn’t watch Plus-Sized Elf for the exact same reason. I learned my lesson.

I really try not to judge the entirety of a show by how it looks, but my eyes can only take so much. I can only hope the second season looks better, lest I have to Ludovico myself into continuing with the series.

41. The Witch and the Beast

I was really looking forward to this one. The quasi-gothic/steampunk aesthetic is absolutely not my shit on paper but it looked awesome in execution… at first. After just two episodes, though, The Witch and the Beast looked like too ambitious and detailed a project for its animators to handle and it started looking cheap in record time. Character models were inconsistent to the point of being unrecognizable, animation was often stilted, and lighting and color palettes were dull. Didn’t help that the action died down for a good chunk of the season as well, leaving us with a show that was both ugly AND boring.

Nine months later and there’s still no word on a second season, and I can’t say I’m surprised. It didn’t seem to accrue much popularity, and I struggle to think what would’ve helped aside from the issues I just bitched about. There was a tease of more to come at the end, right on the heels of a massive lore dump that seemed to open up the world to a much larger scale. That could be interesting, but I don’t think I’d want to watch any more of The Witch and the Beast. Maybe I’ll bite the bullet and finally read the manga.

[freyito]

How about Argenti with a GN reader that gets sick easily?

(ex: crying can cause them to get sick the next day, etc.)

✭ pairing(s): argenti x gn reader

✧ a/n: this one is really cute!! im a freak for writing my favorite goobers taking care of reader no matter the circumstances. if we couldnt tell. (GOD REACHED DOWN AND GRABBED ME BY THE THROAT AND MADE ME SICK WHICH SPURRED ME ON TO FINISH THIS FIC ((i am also fighting MAD burnout so. i apologize in advance just incase.))

✦ taglist: @fffrost, @shinysora

🗒 cw: gn reader, just fluff :3, not proofread

✎ wc: 1.7k

ꜰᴇᴀʀ ɴᴏᴛ

Argenti is used to this. Coming home to you, cuddled up in bed voice raspy and body too warm yet too cold at the same time. Even waking up to you simply feeling miserable, tugging at his arm to get you some water. He doesn’t mind it, not one bit. He has always enjoyed taking care of you, even when you didn’t need it. He doesn’t mean to coddle you, but sometimes the honor of taking care of you overwhelms him.

However, you’ve been getting sick easier lately, and it has him worried. Rather than the usual offenders (cold weather, idiots who didn’t understand what a mask was, and many such cases), all you had been doing was… working. So, why were you so miserable when Argenti came home?

You were practically trapped in bed, every time you stood up your head started spinning. Your throat felt like hell, all scratched up and painful, making your voice deeper and gravelly. It was a constant battle between you and your blankets, one minute you’re way too hot for them, the next, you couldn’t bear to be without the blanket. Ultimately, you chose to stay wrapped up in the blanket, seeing as the shivers never stopped.

When Argenti came home, he found you, quite obviously, stuck in bed, watching some cheesy romance movie you didn’t even put on. You were in and out of consciousness, letting the streaming service auto-play movies and shows. Somewhere along your little horror marathon, the algorithm lost track of the original memo and now you were stuck with some sparkly male protagonist pining after his love interest in the silliest of ways. He kinda reminded you of Argenti. Or perhaps that’s because Argenti was standing in front of the TV, in the perfect position where he was covering the MC entirely, yet the character’s aura of sparkles framed your knight perfectly. Or maybe it was Argenti himself. It was hard to tell with your fizzled out mind.

“My love! Oh, it’s happened again,” He sighs, yet his voice sounds almost ecstatic. “Have you eaten well? Drank water? Maybe some apple juice or orange juice will help?”

He prattles on about ways to make you feel better, or at least soothe the discomfort you're in, while immediately starting on chores. He doesn’t even take off his armor before he’s throwing clothes into a laundry basket. Even then, he doesn’t take long to come back to your side after throwing the clothes in the washer. He’s got a big, loveable smile on his face as he does so, resting the back of his hand on your forehead, then drifting to your cheek.

“Would you like me to draw a bath, dear? Would that help?” His voice is oh-so-gentle. You don’t have the heart to say no, even if you took one earlier. Regardless, you don’t even get to answer before he’s off once more. You cozy up in the bed for another minute as you listen to the sounds of water running in the other room, and Argenti’s muffled humming.

As much as you hated being sick, and how often you got sick, you can’t deny that Argenti’s enthusiasm helps you a little. At least mentally. The fact that he’s always been so ready to take care of you without a word of protest has been comforting. Even with all he’s been tasked with, he never seems more proud of his work than he does with you.

He comes back in all too happy, scooping you up in his arms without another word. It’s like clockwork for him, treating you like royalty in general. He does the same even if you aren’t sick, taking his time to take care of you and pamper you in any way possible, even in the domestic ways. He would do this even before dressing his wounds if he were to come back with any. Nothing stops him.

The bathroom smells of lavender, an opened bag of epsom salt on the counter. Argenti sets you on the counter with a humble smile. He leans over the bathtub, finally taking off one of his gauntlets and dipping his hand in the water to make sure it isn't too hot. He pulls his hand out and shakes off the water, before turning back to you, holding out his hand to help you off the counter.

He begins to take off your clothes, gently and reverently. There are no lingering touches, no traces of embarrassment as he does so. Once you are naked, he presses a kiss to your forehead and ushers you into the bath. You settle in nicely, the warm water a balm against your skin. Though you were sweaty and so damn hot, it felt infinitely better. You don't know what made this bath feel so much better than the one that you took, but you simply chalked it up to Argenti’s making.

You sink deeper into the bath, til the water is up to your chin. You close your eyes and take a deep breath, the steam helping to clear your nostrils. For once it feels like you can breathe, and lord, is it heavenly. Sure, the scratch in your throat is still there, but it doesn’t feel as significantly damning as it did before. You feel yourself relax, the fuzziness in your head lessening. You can’t help but let out a groan of satisfaction as you allow the water to wash away your woes, or what it could, at least.

It was so comfy that you could practically fall asleep in the bath, running your fingers over the texture of the bottom of the bath just to keep yourself awake as you fight your own consciousness.

“May I come in?” Argenti’s voice breaks you out of your drowsiness, and you catch a glimpse of his hair through a very small crack in the door. You give him a groggy ‘yes’, and he walks back in with a clean pair of clothes for you. He sets them on the counter, before kneeling down next to you in the tub. “I changed the sheets on the bed for you, and the blanket is in the dryer…”

“Mh, thank you,” You mutter, closing your eyes as he places his hand on the top of your head.

“Can I ask what you’ve been doing lately?” His voice holds concern, head tilting to the side.

“Not much,” You shake your head, opening your eyes and looking up at him. You notice now that he has finally shed his armor, wearing nothing but a simple black t-shirt (that fits his body too well), and some sweats. “Just working…”

“I’ve noticed you were working more hours than you’re usually scheduled recently,” He hums, leaning back and taking his hand away from your head. You can’t help but chase after it for a second, sitting back up in the tub. “Perhaps you are working too hard, my dear.”

It is a possibility. Not that you’d mention it. Yes, it’s been a stressful couple of weeks at work, and you swore you had gotten through with it. You did feel like you were working a lot more, but c’mon, you got sick from anything. It couldn’t have been stress, could it? Perhaps you just ran into someone who was sick while working one of your shifts…

Argenti chuckles at your reluctance to admit it, and shakes his head. “It’s alright. I assume it can stay a mystery,” He then stands up, leaning over you once more. “Come on. I don’t want you to prune up in there.”

You groan, yet reach out for his hands, standing up and out of the tub. You’ve never felt so much grief for leaving a bath, though the water was starting to cool down. And while your throat, head, and nose feel better, you can feel the sickness fighting back. You let out an ‘ugh’, unprompted, and Argenti gives you another concerned look, before grabbing a towel and drying you down. He’s a lot quicker this time, though doesn’t neglect to show you the same amount of love as he always has done. Once you are dry, he hastily dresses you, turns around to drain the tub, then picks you up once more.

You groan, yet reach out for his hands, standing up and out of the tub. You’ve never felt so much grief for leaving a bath, though the water was starting to cool down. And while your throat, head, and nose feel better, you can feel the sickness fighting back. You let out an ‘ugh’, unprompted, and Argenti gives you another concerned look, before grabbing a towel and drying you down. He’s a lot quicker this time, though doesn’t neglect to show you the same amount of love as he always has done. Once you are dry, he hastily dresses you, turns around to drain the tub, then picks you up once more.

The bed dips next to you as Argenti climbs in, shuffling closer to you. Then, even closer, throwing his arm around you and pressing a kiss to your forehead, then, after a pause, to your nose, your cheek, then your mouth.

“Stoopppp…” You grumble, pulling your head away weakly. “You’re gonna get siiick…”

“A sacrifice I’m willing to make,” Argenti jokes, placing his hand on the back of your head and tucking it into his chest.

You two stay like that for a while, his fingers fidgeting with your hair as you fall in and out of consciousness once more, languidly stretching an arm over him like he was your teddy bear. Then your leg, to get more comfortable. He stays trapped beneath you, simply watching as you finally end up falling asleep for the upteenth time today. He himself cannot find sleep, too enraptured by the sleeping beauty in his arms, though disheveled and snotty.

© freyito, 2024 | masterlist | queue | kofi | discord server | star header by roseschoices DO NOT REPOST AS YOUR OWN, REPOST ON ANY OTHER PLATFORM, OR USE FOR AI/AI CHATBOTS.

[bloodyarn]

 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐊 𝐘𝐎𝐔  &  𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐘 𝐍𝐄𝐖 𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐑 2025

 ▌It's my time to get a little sentimental ♥ No idea where to start, as usual. When I made this blog in February this year, I would have never expected to find so many absolutely fantastic  &  funny people to write with. Many I can boldly call my friends now (some even one of my besties, tehehe). I treasure every single one of my mootsies like a mommy duck her ducklings. You all are the very joy of my heart. Logging in  &  reading the dash like the morning newspaper has become a dear ritual of mine  &  y'all never disappoint me. So so so glad you guys enjoy the shenanigans  &  dumb silly jokes I drop onto this hell of a site. All the comments  &  dms I got from people who told me they felt inspired  &  motivated from my sketches was one of my 2024 highlights for sure. I never have many expectations when I post here. I do it for the fun of it. The rp community is full of crazily talented minds  &  being one of the people who don't have english as their first language, it always intimidated me much. Needless to say, you pulled that little fear out of my fungi brain. I feel so welcome  &  comfortable in this space here. Thank you countless times for that.

 ▌I also want to write some very special thanks to my council who have become so very important to me. @bloodtwin @estarion @ambitiousness @zalimbane @selunaris @bolyde ; I would show up in front of your doors with a huge bouquet  &  chocolate in hand if I could. I had the craziest of times with you, I never get tired talking with you, no matter how ridiculous our convos are. Thank you for making my year wonderful  &  fun  &  so full of love. If we ever happen to get more quiet, because life happens, change happens, keep in mind that I will always be there for you. I don't care if we talk daily or monthly. I don't care if you change fandoms. You made yourself a spot in my little heart  &  I will do my best to let you feel it, your fault >:)

 ▌Life has been a rollercoaster for me. I talk way too little about it, but I suppose that is something I could work on in the future. I might not share every dilemma of mine, but that does not mean I don't trust you. Just stubborn fungi being used to handle things on her own. ENOUGH EMOTIONAL SHIT. I wish every single one a happy new year of 2025 ! Be careful with the fireworks  &  the drinks, enjoy yourselves  &  stay as healthy as you can be. I love you all so much ♥   —  Fungi

[joezworld]

Christmas Story

The letters continued... 

Threats were issued:

“He’s dead if I ever see him.”

“-and if he ever shows his face around my shed, he’s a dead engine.”

“HIS COMPONENT PARTS WILL REGRET BEING ATTACHED TO HIM.”

“I’ll show him exactly what kind of a terror us diesels can be.”

“Personally, I’d have introduced his teeth to his superheater…”

-

And welcomes were given.

“I suppose this makes you one of ours now.”

“It’s nice to increase the ranks for once.”

“Can we keep you and trade Mallard to the Western?”

“I, for one, welcome you with smooth rails and green signals.”

“-and don’t worry! You’ll fit in just fine!”

-

Forgiveness was given, despite not being asked for. 

“We have heard about your recent change in “livery” and we understand.”

“Considering what’s happened I don’t blame you for tossing us into the bin.”

“-I’ve heard talk that some engines are quite taken with what you’ve done. Might be a trend!”

“Usually, old allegiances die hard. In your case, I’m surprised it lasted as long as it did.”

“Perhaps some day we can dispense with the old rivalries altogether…”

“YOU DESERVE BETTER THAN US.”

-

And declarations were made.

“ - you will always be one of us, and we love you.”

“I can’t wait to see you at the next gala!”

“YOU’LL LOOK GOOD IN BLUE, I GUARANTEE IT.”

“Keep us in your memories, but go wherever your heart takes you.”

“Don’t let engines like him keep you in a bad place, okay?”

-

Then there were the signatures. 

Your Brother

Your Sister

Your Friend

Your Compatriot

YOUR FELLOW WESTERNER

Your Eastern Acquaintance,

Caerphilly Castle

Evening Star

Deltic

Flying Scotsman

King George V

PENDENNIS CASTLE

№1306 Mayflower

D7017

D7018

D7026

D7076

Western Prince

Black Prince (92203)

Mallard [Who is writing this under duress]

Aerolite

26000 (Tommy)

№ 1420

D9500 & D9531

Lode Star

Green Arrow

№ 4498 Sir Nigel Gresley

The Engines of the Vale of Rheidol Railway

D821, D818, and D832

Blue Peter

55 022 (Royal Scots Grey)

Tuylar

Dominion of Canada

Dwight D. Eisenhower

Bittern

92212

Western Ranger

55 016

№4588

Alycidon (D9009)

№ 65462

Western Champion

Bradley Manor

7819 Hinton Manor

D9002

Royal Highland Fusilier (D9019)

№ 6412

Clun Castle

6990 Witherslack Hall

Sir Hadyn and Edward Thomas

№ 18000 (Kerosene Castle)

4488 (Union of South Africa)

Morayshire

Olton Hall

Hagley Hall

55 021

King Edward I

King Edward II

Western Courier

Western Lady

D9534

№ 7293

Western Campaigner

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

Then they opened the boxes. 

The small ones were addressed to Duck and Oliver. The first few were opened up, revealing, “Name plates? Why name plates?” 

“Well, hang on a minute, these don’t look like any name plates I’ve seen before.” 

“Ah, wait, that’s it. They’re usually curved, to go over the splashers.”

“And they’re not red.”

“Well, they are if… ooooh.”

“What?”

“They’re Eastern. With the red backing. These’re LNER plates.”

Oliver stared at Duck, ignoring how the men were opening up a separate box with a similar return address.

“It’s a builder’s plate?!”

“It’s an LNER builder’s plate, see the shape?”

“Forget the shape, it says London and North Eastern on it.”

“Oh gosh, this is serious, innit?”

“That’s borderline sacreligious is what it is. Lookit that! It says Swindon on it!”

“Gordon is going to be insufferable about this, I just don’t know how.”

-

There was an identical plate for Duck, and… glory be, it really was an LNER-styled builder’s plate, made out with his information. They even found out his original works number.

He breathed in deeply. In through the nose, out through the mouth. He mattered to them, in a way that felt just as, if not more personal than the pile of letters on the floor. Maybe it was the shock, the lingering feelings from hearing Truro’s unhinged rant in the cold December air. 

“I think,” he looked between the plate, and Oliver. “That we’re at a moment in our lives that we can’t go back from.”

-----------

The boxes addressed to Bear were much larger, and were in greater quantities. 

“Oh look, this one’s a headboard!” exclaimed his driver. 

Bear’s eyes nearly popped out of their sockets when he saw that it said THE FLYING SCOTSMAN on it. 

The note attached was short, but sweet. “‘Tis nice to have another Eastern Diesel. Mayhaps someday this shall be used again in anger.” It was signed “Royal Scots Grey”. 

-

The next one had the GWR crest burned into the surface of the crate. Opening it revealed a rather lengthy nameplate wrapped in cloth. A note was tied around it. 

“Dearest Bear,” it read. “He’s done, even if he doesn’t know it yet. This raises an issue - we do need a “City” in our ranks. We think you can take up that role.”

The wrapping was undone, and Bear could feel a shocked tear build up in his eye. 

The words CITY OF TIDMOUTH glinted in the lights of the shed, the letters done in shining brass, just like the steam engines of old. 

-

Another package, this one from an address that he vaguely remembered as being an old Eastern Region TMD, contained a host of plates both large and small. The largest of them was a bright red rectangle, with silver letters that read BEAR. After looking it over, his crew deemed it to be a dead ringer for the name boards on Eastern Region diesels. 

“Which means…” said his driver, rifling through the smaller plates, each the size of a medallion. “That these must be from all the different Depots. Yeah, yeah, look. This one’s Stratford, and here’s York. Blimey, I didn’t know that anyone had a Colchester one.”

This went on for several minutes, as plates from seemingly every Eastern Region TMD were removed from the box. Bear’s eyebrows rose until they could go no higher. 

-

The next morning, his crew busied themselves with attaching several of the plates to his sides. There was some argument as to where they should be placed, and how to avoid making Bear look like “he was covered in fridge magnets.” 

Said argument was still ongoing as Gordon rolled by. His suddenly-wide eyes went from the Eastern Region name plate to THE FLYING SCOTSMAN headboard in shock. 

Bear ignored his crew, who were intently measuring the “CITY OF TIDMOUTH” nameplate like it may suddenly change size, and fixed Gordon with an intent look. “This is unequivocally your fault,” he said, keeping his tone serious even as he started to smile. “Thank you.” 

----------

A few days later, as the mail started to peter off, a deeply overstuffed document mailer ended up at the shed in Arlesburgh, addressed to Oliver and Duck collectively. 

It was a long and dry letter, filled with passages about duty and honor, dictated by King George V, the “self-proclaimed pro tempore leader of our kind, now that Truro is out.” 

Naturally, Duck found it fascinating, while Oliver would rather gnaw off his own buffers. It grew so dull that eventually the stationmaster got bored of reading Duck’s copy of the pair of identical letters aloud, and fetched a sheet music stand from the station, placing the type-written pages across it for the two engines to read at their own pace before leaving for the station. 

Oliver’s pace was “no, thank you, but I’d really rather skip to the end,” but Duck was insistent on reading the entire letter aloud. 

“-I humbly ask you as a fellow Westerner, free of all but our Swindon metal, do you have any interest…” Duck abruptly trailed off. 

“Hm?” Oliver said, blinking himself to attention. “Interest in what? Don’t tell me you’ve gotten bored now?”

Duck ignored him. “They can’t really-”

“Really what? Out with it!”

“Look!” Duck yelped. “It’s right there, on the fifth page, towards the bottom.”

Oliver rolled his eyes, but eventually found the sentence. “-any interest in becoming the new figurehead of the Great Western? What?” He squeaked in surprise, eyes skimming the preceding paragraphs to see what in the world they were on about.

“-perhaps the most unfortunate part of Truro’s fall from grace is that he is - or perhaps was - the most recognizable member of our lineage by a wide margin. While it remains true that the enthusiast may recognize myself or Caerphilly, the general public likely knows Truro for the same reason that they know Flying Scotsman. The name Great Western, and what it stands for, is vestigial at best. 

That being said, a new opportunity has presented itself. As I am sure you are aware, the books by the Reverend Awdry featuring you and Oliver have spawned a television show, which has in turn re-ignited popularity in the books. Already I have had to field queries about your Island from children clutching copies of “Duck and the Diesel Engine.” Many who have no other knowledge of our ways have nonetheless made the connection that we Westerners all know each other, and have asked me about you and Oliver. Strangely, none have asked about Truro; in fact, one child, who I have been assured does not yet know how to read, mistook me for Truro, and asked me what visiting Sodor was like. (I did not dissuade him of this view. I hope that I was correct in my assumption that Sodor is very pleasant in the summer.)

I’m sure that you can see the common thread here. You and Oliver will have an uncommon familiarity with the next generation, and possibly many more beyond. While I, Caerphilly, and the rest sit quietly behind ropes, you will continue as a working engine, adding to our common lore, and preaching our gospel. You are the highest ranking Paddie Shunter to survive the purges of Modernization, and you know more of Our Ways than even I do. 

With this in mind - and please do not take this as an obligation, a chore, a weight against your buffers - I humbly ask you as a fellow Westerner, free of all but our Swindon metal, do you have any interest in becoming the new figurehead of the Great Western Railway?”

--

Neither engine got any sleep that night, and it was a very bleary Duck that took the first train into Tidmouth the next day. 

“You look terrible,” Gordon sniffed unthinkingly. “Do you not sleep at night? Too much rearranging of your goods yard, perhaps?”

“Gordon, please-”

On the road opposite Duck, Bear raised an eyebrow. “It’s too early in the morning for either of you to start.”

“Oh fine,” Gordon huffed as the last of the passengers flooded into the express. “But it’s rather undignified for an Easterner to be so disheveled. Just look at us for an example, Duck!” 

Point made, he set off with a whoosh of steam, and within a minute the train’s rear lamp was fading into the distance. 

Bear didn’t say anything for a long while. Duck wondered if the diesel wasn’t saying anything because Gordon was right - compared to Bear’s mirror-shine paint and Gordon’s polished brass, he looked awful.

Or, the vicious little voice in the back of his mind piped up. He still doesn’t want to talk to you. Considering how you sided with Truro over-

“So, I got a letter yesterday.” Bear said, apropos of nothing. “From King George V herself.”

“Oh?” Duck seized the chance to get out of his own mind. “What about?”

“Seems like the Great Western needs a new figurehead, considering that somebody has lost all his prestige.”

“O-oh…” Duck warbled. “You got that too?”

“Mmhmm.” Bear wasn’t looking at anything in particular. “Apparently the television show is driving people to the books; people seem to like conflict in their children’s books. Something about being able to show right from wrong.” 

“Do they now?” Oh, if only the rails could swallow him whole at this moment. 

“Oh yes.” Bear looked contemplative. “It also helps that nobody really likes diesels. Smelly, underhanded things. It’s quite nice to be able to have one cause trouble and then get sent away for doing that in one single book.”

“Yes, I-I’m quite aware of what happened…” Maybe his boiler could explode. That might fix things. 

“And everybody loves a runaway train.” 

“Well, I -uh, I wouldn’t- um…” 

Bear smirked. “Obviously I don’t include you in that.” 

“W-w-well of course, I-”

Bear didn’t say anything for a second, and Duck continued to trip over his own tongue, until: 

“She’s right, you know.”

“Wh-what?” 

“King George. She’s right about you. Every child in the country is going to know your name someday, especially if they put you on the telly. And there’s not another engine alive who knows all of the history that you do.”

“Bear,” Duck finally managed to find his voice. “I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Why not?” Duck was floored. “Bear, you were there! I just followed along behind him, doing whatever he said to-”

“Duck,” Bear cut him off and looked him straight in the eyes. “He was City of Truro. Who would have expected that out of any engine, let alone one of his stature?” 

“But - but - but I-” 

“Acted childish, perhaps,” Bear continued, gently. “But he revealed himself to you at the same time he did everyone. Even I didn’t think he’d hurt me on purpose!”  

“But I should have noticed!” Duck cried. “And I didn’t! What sort of leader would I be?”

Bear was unmoved. “It’s true that you didn’t notice then, but look at what you’re doing right now.” 

“What?” 

Bear smiled gently, his new nameplates gleaming in the station lights. “You’re giving yourself the third degree over this. It’s been six months, Duck! Even I’ve moved on from that, or I would, if you’d let me. Truro’s got his just desserts, I’ve found that more engines care about me than I previously thought possible, and Oliver… is Oliver-ing along like nothing ever happened. It’s just you who hasn’t moved on from this yet, and that is the true mark of a leader.”

“No, Bear,” Duck started to stammer. “But-I can’t. Surely-”

“The only sure thing is that you’d do a good job.” Bear said as the last of his passengers boarded. “Besides, if you do badly enough…” The guard blew the whistle, and waved the green flag. “You’ll look really good in garter blue!” 

And then he was off, engine roaring. The train sparkled against the early summer sun as it left, and Duck was suddenly alone at the platform. 

“He does make a good point,” Well, he was almost alone. He was still coupled to Alice and Mirabel. “What do you want to do?”

Duck didn’t say anything for a long while. 

He had a lot to think about.

[castingspellsanddaisies]

How Jude Bellingham deals with jeaulousy and possessiveness? | Tarot Reading

DISCLAIMER: Take everything with a grain of salt and enjoy!

How Jude acts when he gets jealous?

5 of wands reversed +5 of cups reversed + 10 of wands | back of the deck: 6 of wands

Passive aggressiveeeeeeee

Jude's such a cancer man it's insane, So, when he gets jealous he will pretend that's he's not jealous even though it will be pretty obvious that he is in fact jealous. He will not confront his partner directly, instead, he may go silent (kind of give the silent treatment which is very problematic), he will go cold on her out of sudden but will not say why he's acting cold like that to her. Jude's the type of person who holds his pain until he can't hold on anymore and then he explodes. I also see him being all sarcastic and say things like ''why are you asking my help? go ask for his help'' and things like that.

And the cherry on top: When Jude gest jealous he will show off in front of whomever made him jealous, and he will expect his partner to give him validation - ''I'm better then him, say I'm better than him'' kind of thing.

So we said he's possessive in his relationships (when he really loves the person, obviously), wtf does that mean?

king of wands reversed + the star reversed + 3 of wands reversed | back of the deck: the devil

Interesting. Jude really wants his partner there with him feeding his ego 24/7, oh boy... And he can be pushy so his partner can do what he wants her to do (usually includes her not being away from him much longer). But he acts like this when he's feeling insecure, otherwise he's chill.

Yes, folks, he will play the victim. On that matter he's not possessive like we mostly see with others, he's ''not like the other guys'' lol

The man has codependence and attachment issues, so he plays the victim when his partner doesn't do what he wants or is not spending as much time with him as he wants. He just really, really likes to have his partner physically there with him all the time.

How he deals when his partner gets jealous of him?

5 of pentacles + the tower + 10 of cups | back of the deck: 5 of sword reversed

So he doesn't like it a bit if/when his partner gets jealous. When Jude's in love with someone he doesn't like any ''threats'' that could destroy his perfect relationship. His partner being jealous of him makes him feel like he failed as a partner, so he rushes right away to reconcile. He doesn't like to fight with his partner at all.

Does he want his partner to be possessive of him?

5 of pentacles + 3 of hearts reversed + justice | back of the deck: the lovers

Jude wants harmony in his relationship, so no. But that's quite ironic, considering that when he feels jealous or insecure he's a lot of things but not fair.

But that's a good sign. He already has this idea in his head of how a healthy and loving relationship must be, but it doesn't take out the fact that sometimes Jude wishes for a little bit of drama in it.

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I only have one thing to say: Cancer men are a blessing and a nightmare at the same time. Good luck with them.

Bye bye and take care <33

[cvnntagious]

new years appreciation !!

as the year comes to an end, there are a few specific people on here that i'd like to thank ! in my little time on here, i've made some amazing friends, and i want to really show them some love <3. i highly encourage others to hop on the new years appreciation train, no pressure whatsoever, using the '☆ sturntumblr '24 closing .ᐟ ‧₊' tag—highlighting a few of the friends you've made this year and/or kept from previous years :)

@mattscoquette — we don't talk often, but when we do, i throughly enjoy our conversations. you were one of the first people outwardly express your liking for my writing, and i'm convinced it has lead to a lot of the successes i've had on here thus far. not only did it mean a lot to me at the time, but i also still hold what you probably thought was such a simple compliment so dear to my heart. you're one of the sweetest and most genuine people i've met... all in all, i just love you

—☆

@eph3merall — you're so fucking creative, always coming up with ideas for aus i couldn't have even thought up in a dream.. i actually strive to have your imagination dude. also, i'm in love with you?? like, you're so actually so funny and easy to talk to. i usually feel soo awkward talking to people on here but i literally never felt that way talking to you... and omg thank you soso much for constantly uplifting me, i take every kind word you've said to me to heart. you're so cute it makes me wanna sob

—☆

@sturnioz — after our first real convo, i felt like i'd known you for much longer than couple minutes. you’re honestly one of my closest tumblr friends, despite not knowing each other for long, and i’m sooo lucky to have met you. you were the first and only person i followed for a while when i was new to tumblr, so when you followed me back a few months later, i genuinely jumped for joy. you're so insanely talented, in every sense of the word, and i genuinely hope you consider pursuing some sort of writing career cs your shit is so.. like, i'm dripping every time (still kicking my feet at you genuinely enjoying my content cs that was so not expected). you're actually hilarious lmfao, even if you don't mean to be. also, why are we literally the same person? we have the same thoughts, sometimes at the same time, and the same/similar takes one literally almost everything we’ve talked about so far. i was genuinely sitting there in disbelief when i was talking to you... anyways, cory forever !

—☆

@submattenthusiast — you're probably the best thing that's happened to me on here, if i'm being honest. i'm soo lucky to have you in my life. you're so sexy and silly, like, ughh i just wanna eat you all the time. i enjoy literally every conversation we have with each other and look forward to talking to you every day. i'm honored to be able to call you my girlfriend, even though you piss me off most of the time... i know you're insecure about your writing but omf, whenever you say you don't like something you've written, it makes me wanna grab your shoulders and shake you until you're dizzy. you're so fucking talented. i love everything you write, and will read anything you put out (maybe not a piss kink fic but um.. ykwim). you're literally always there for me when i need you, and i hope you know i'll always be here for you as well. if i could, i'd talk to you every second of every day, but i can't, and that really eats at me ☹️ still, i wish to spend so much more time with you for as long as i possibly can

this will be my last real post of 2024 before i begin my au special in a few days ! i love all of you guys so very much, especially my mutuals, even if i don’t talk to you often/we’ve never talked at all. see y’all next year :)

no pressure tags : @sturnsrecord @ariestrxsh @55sturn @chrissturnsfav @hoes4matthew @sweetshuga @cupiidk1lls @secretlocket @ifwdominicfike (much love to all these wonderful tagged moots) + anyone who wants to participate

-love, your grandma cvnty ☆!

[turtleblogatlast]

[ cw: death mention / strangulation mention / stabbing mention / blood mention / self-sacrifice / codependency mention in tags / ]

I think a lot about how common it is for Raph to be the one to have direct focus put on him when Leo gets into all his near death experiences.

Like, when Leo is thrown off a building, it’s Raph who’s right there jumping after him, not even thinking about the consequences to himself when he does. When Leo almost gets skewered by the Krang, Raph’s right there to take the blow and send Leo to safety without a second thought. When Leo’s being strangled to near death, it’s a Krangified Raph doing the job, doing exactly what Raph would never, ever want to do. When Leo is telling Casey Jr to close the portal, it’s Raph who tries desperately to convince Leo otherwise.

Likewise, Leo is consistently very single minded when Raph gets forcibly separated from them. Both when in the sewers and by the Krang, Leo is dead set on finding Raph first and foremost.

I also think it’s interesting that during each of Leo’s near death experiences, the lightheartedness of his words during them goes directly hand in hand with both how close Raph is to him physically and how much danger Raph is also in in that moment. From a literal “I told you so” as Leo’s falling away from Raph to a soft joke about how “hero moves” are Raph’s style - both of these are on the more morbidly carefree side and both of these notably take Leo farther away from Raph and, in turn, have Raph not in immediate danger.

On the other side of things is the apology from Leo, heedless of the danger he himself is in as he seriously and genuinely speaks to a Krangified Raph face to face. Then there’s Leo’s freezing and desperation as Raph takes a hit meant for him and sends just Leo to safety, leaving Raph himself behind. Both of these involve much closer proximity and Raph being directly harmed - these together make Leo much more vulnerable in his words and actions, something not even the threat of death can make him.

These two care about each other so much, and they’re way too much alike for their own good.