#can you believe when I first started working on this I thought it would take me 3 weeks? haha

[jude-duarte-wannabe]

childhood sweetheart material

oh my god!!! it's finally here, i made sure to change the posting settings this time!! i know it's not a bakery request but i've been writing them and i have a bunch in my drafts, i've got my sister editing them for me and hopefully one will be out soon... but for now enjoy my lovely's <3

pairing; carlos sainz jr x childhood best friend viviana martinez [original character]

blurb; this is a list of cute things childhood friend turned husband carlos sainz jr and his childhood friend turned wife viviana martinez do in my smau series that i'm working on called since we were eighteen, this story features a original character but for your reading pleasure, i've used 'you' and 'y/n' in this little snippet <3

currently playing; everything has changed by taylor swift ft ed sheeran "cause all i know is we said, "hello" and your eyes look like comin' home, all i know is a simple name and everything has changed, all i know is you held the door, you'll be mine and i'll be yours, all i know since yesterday is everything has changed"

from day one, you were the one;

your families have been friends for the longest time and while carlos was born a few years before you, you've been friends since you could babble at eachother

carlos can in fact still remember meeting you for the very first time, how tiny you were and his mother still has the photo of three year old carlos kissing your forehead but her personal favorite was one of you two falling asleep on eachother in the backseat of a car when she was dropping you off after a play-date

and so the years kept passing;

as years go by, you and carlos slowly begin to drift apart pursuing different careers and life goals, you knew from a young a age that you loved carlos but didn't realize it was in the romantic way until far later in life

during your teenage years, your parents thought you two were dating and no matter how much your denied it, they never believed you but that was probably due to the platonic to you both kisses you would place on eachothers cheeks or foreheads

when you were nineteen and about to move away and not see carlos for the next four to five years, not that you knew that at the time, you'd begged him to be your first time, it was one of those cliche moments of not wanting to go to college a virgin but he turned you down, saying he didn't want to ruin what you had, what a joke that seemed like now

when you two were young, around the ages of fourteen and eleven, you joked about marrying eachother one day, you even made a contract about how if you were still single after you'd turned twenty two that you'd tie the knot with eachother but as you grew apart, that contract was long forgotten about

coming back to eachother;

you found eachother again at a family reunion, you'd arrived early and got talking with his mother, catching up about life when she brought out old photo albums and low and behold at the back of the album was a paper or contract that you'd long forgotten had existed

you'd been sipping a drink in the garden when you heard the familiar voice, you'd gotten to talking when the topic of relationships came up and you discovered the both of you were single

you joked about tying the knot but he joked back about taking him to dinner first, which you did for giggles but you just fell in love with talking to eachother and began to meet up more often which eventually led to confessed feelings that had been hidden for too long, this left the rest as history

telling your families;

you were both nervous to say the least, your parents had been friends since they themselves were children, little did either of you know both of your sisters had already started to notice the change between you, the little stares and stolen glances but they had noticed it too late.. about three years too late in fact

the two of you had been planning to tell them sooner but you didn't want to give them false hope in case you broke up but you began to like the privacy and how it was just the two of you and before you knew, the two of you were approaching your three year anniversary

it was actually at your anniversary dinner that carlos proposed, you had both just stepped off a twelve hour flight and decided that instead of going out you'd get pizza

carlos thought there would be no better time than when you both sat on the couch eating pizza in comfy clothes to propose, you however almost lost it, you knew your answer was yes but instead of saying the first words out of your mouth were "you let me do this sweatpants" [if you've seen this video, i love you]

it was a week later at the traditional joint family dinner when everyone found out, your younger sister basically screaming her head off when she saw the ring on your finger as you reached for your wine glass

"what is that!" she squealed to which you winced in return and carlos chuckled, your mother looked betrayed as she too just now noticed the ring adorning your finger "when did that happen, i didn't even know you were seeing someone" she asked flabbergasted.

"does this mean you and carlos aren't together" your youngest sister had asked, she was only ten but loved carlos so much, you and carlos shared a knowing look before he shrugged his shoulders and leaned over to kiss you... that set off a frenzy among your family members

when it comes to work;

you work as an actress in horror / thriller films but you absolutely hate being scared, your the biggest wuss carlos knows but his favorite thing about your job is that he has a video on his phone of when one of your cast-mates scared the shit out of you and you screamed like the scream queen that you are

you often come home from set covered in fake blood to which carlos can't help but panic every time thinking your injured before he catches his breath and then helps you wipe it all off but not without you covering him in fake blood first

carlos quite often comes to your photo-shoots and one time the photographer wasn't happy with how the photos were working out, said that their was no real chemistry between you and the male model you had been working with and so he called a break during which you hung out with carlos, sitting in his lap and just enjoying eachothers company when the photographer caught sight of you both and it was like a light bulb went off in his head, that was the birth of the photo you had forever pinned to your instagram account

carlos always insisted on watching your movies, no matter how often you told him he didn't need to you would still come home to find him curled up on the couch with pinon as he pointed and mumbled "there's our girl" in his rough tired voice

your not afraid to show your support to carlos at his races either, attending as a long lost but now returned childhood friend at first but then eventually as his girlfriend and then wife but nobody knew that

while lando was basically carlos's best friend, to you he was your paddock child and you never let him forget it either

one of carlos's favorite things about your job was getting to see you in the gorgeous red carpet dresses, you would always show him and if he happened to be off racing, you'd facetime him instead, he loved being able to zip them up and feel your warm skin as he did it, his favorite dress was this one:

you were honestly carlos's biggest fan and without both his and his fans knowledge, you'd started an account on instagram where you posted the most outrageous things about him like this: which is one of your more tame posts btw

whenever carlos wins a race, gets on the podium or just no matter what place he gets, your wrapping your arms around him as soon as you can and whispering in his ear "i'm so proud of you mi sol"

kisses + cuddles;

there's different kinds of cuddles when it comes to yours and carlos's relationship, these include;

straddled cuddles were your sitting in his lap and wrapped around him, there is nothing sexual about it, just the two of you enjoying eachothers company

hugs from behind no matter where you are, in the motor-home or even the supermarket, carlos just likes to be holding you

and your personal favorite is when he's so exhausted and turns into the little spoon

and finally there's just this;

and then there's all the different kinds of kisses you two share

there's shoulder kisses most of which occur when carlos is hugging you from behind but they also happen in the early morning when carlos is awake and your still asleep but he just feels the need to kiss you in some way

thigh kisses, he loves to kiss your thighs and not just in the sexual way which he does indeed enjoy giving you but it also happens when he's laying in your hold with his head half in your lap and half resting on your legs

then there's the tippy toe kisses, the height difference between you and carlos was adorable but you often have to either stand on your tip toes or wear heels in order just to kiss him

then there's the kisses that you place all over his face after race cause no matter what place he comes, your always so happy for him and just need him to know how much you love him

then there's the kisses you have to tug at his shirt in order to give to him

there's the one where your kissing in bed, not in a sexual way but the 'i've missed you' loving way that has you rolling around and giggling, never wanting the kisses to end

and finally there's the kisses that both of you moaning in-between, it's these ones that normally led to your sexual encounters with eachother

touches and intimate moments;

you two have a habit of one of you two laying in bed, watching the other change in the morning or after a shower, you once said you trusted no one like how you trusted carlos and that's why you let him watch you change

then there's the times when either of you come home either from work or a race, so you sit behind eachother and gently massage the others shoulders

if your ever in the way which carlos says that you never are, he'll hook his fingers into your belt loops and gently scoot you out the way

carlos is the kind of boyfriend where if your too tired to move at the end of the day or after an event, he'll sit and gently wash your makeup from your face while your falling asleep

during the races that happen in colder countries, your often caught on camera pulling carlos close to hug him in order to warm up

your also often caught on camera walking through the paddock together with carlos's hand tucked into the back pocket of your jeans if you happen to be wearing them

and then one of your favorite things about your relationship was taking baths with carlos after a long day, feeling his body pressing against your own just brought you a sense of comfort and peace

dates [of sorts];

one of your favorite dates or even just times that you spend together is having pancake wars; where you two always try to one up eachother with your pancake recipes

whenever you guys go out for dinner, carlos always makes sure to give you the first bite of his food just in case you want to switch meals like you sometimes did

you would also often bring him lunch and end half the time end up staying so that you could eat together

he'll also sit and read you poetry late at night from your favorite poetry books

whenever you guys stay home and have date night in, carlos will often hover over your shoulder and wait to taste test the meal your cooking

then there are the museum dates you guys go on, art museums in particular have always been a part of your love for italian and spanish culture, a fan once took a photo of you and carlos in a museum where he was holding you up so that you could take photos of some of your favorite works of art

and finally and personally carlos's favorite was whenever you two went out for gelato, carlos loved the stuff and you loved taking photos of him

the little things;

just a list of all the little things that you and carlos do slash remember about eachother

your carlos's lock screen and he's yours

he wears your hair ties on his wrist and carries period products in his travel bag just in case you need them in an emergency

he always messages you when your filming to make sure that you've been eating and drinking

the two of you know eachothers routines off by heart, like when he comes home from a morning run, you'll have the shower running and waiting for him

you have a love of classic literature and you often come home to find that he's deep cleaned your bookshelves

you take care of him when he's sick

he'd been whimpering and complaining of a sore throat all day, after a while you'd had enough so you decided to call his mother and ask what she once did when he was sick as a child, when you brought carlos a mug of manzanilla or homemade chamomile tea explaining you'd gotten the recipe from his mother, carlos knew right then and there that he was going to marry you

he once gifted you a stuffed bear and a bottle of his cologne for your birthday so that you had something to cuddle when he was gone and the cologne was for when you missed his smell.. he had to comfort you when you started crying

he loves knowing that you wear his shirts to bed, reminds him that your his

and finally with all the button ups that carlos wears, you often find yourself sewing buttons back onto them, carlos once found you on the couch furiously sewing buttons back onto around ten or so shirts that you'd discovered while doing the washing

no one touches the hair except for you;

when your bored, you often end up begging carlos to let you braid his hair... it's always a yes because ever since childhood, he could never say no to you

you also love to laugh at how messy and fluffed up his hair gets in the morning, the first time you'd seen it you burst out laughing which caused him to blush

down and dirty;

while not going to into detail, here's a list of some of the things you and carlos do in bed

carlos loves eating you out, as mentioned beforehand when discussing his love for giving you thigh kisses

another obvious one was the fact that carlos loved having his pulled during sex

then there's the guided grinding, where his hands gripped at your hips while grinding you down against him

carlos's favorite position to take you in is doggy and no, i personally think there's no explanation needed

carlos has a thing for choking too, you in fact introduced him to it

and finally while it not's something you explore very regularly, you also share a spitting kink

the wedding;

it's been described by friends and family as the most beautiful wedding they'd ever attended, there are photos in the wedding album of you and carlos shoving cake in eachothers faces and instead of a three course meal, you both served pizza at your wedding instead

nicknames;

your nicknames for carlos include; mi sol [my sun] mi vida [my life] papi and mi amor [my love]

carlos called you his wife all the time, including long before you two were married

his nicknames for you include; my wife, mi vida, mi amor and corazón [heart]

aesthetic playlist;

a list of songs that describe you, carlos and your relationship

young and beautiful by lana del ray

boyfriend by ariana grande ft social house

just friends by why don't we

we can't be friends [wait for your love] by ariana grande

never be the same by camila cabello

lay all your love on me by abba

senorita by shawn mendes ft camila cabello

older by isabel larosa

money money money by abba

too sweet by hozier

everything has changed by taylor swift ft ed sheeran [taylor's version]

teenager in love by madison beer

me gustas tu by manu chao

more songs like this can be found on their official playlist

and finally;

this is just how i picture you'd reveal your relationship to the public

movies.with.y/n

movies.with.y/n; my heart always knew it'd be you @ carlossainz55

[retroaria]

★ unlikely trio

⟡ ݁₊ what it was like working with osamu dazai and chuuya nakahara as port mafia operatives ₊ .⟡

platonic!dazai + chuuya x gn!reader | this is definitely based on 15-18 y/o dazai and chuuya! they are both executives and you’re under them but still high ranking. use of y/n btw. this is short i just wanted to do some silly hc's for my favorite boys :)

• | BSD M.LIST | reblogs are apprectiated! | •

⋆˙⟡ chuuya hates to make you the mediator, but dazai insists. when these two are locked in on one upping each others level of arrogant asshole, dazai seeks you out to be the final voice of reason just so he can see which of them will be scolded the most - he knows they’re both being stupid. because of his vulgarity, chuuya usually gets the shorter end of the stick in these competitions (competitions that exist only in dazai’s head btw)

D: “Did you see that!? Chuuya just bit me!”

C: “I did not bite you, i’m not some kind of wild animal.”

D: “No, I think you’re a creature far more sinister actually…”

C: “If you don’t shut the hell up I’ll actually bite your head off.”

D: “You see! Y/n! Someone has to reprimand this feral beast.”

Y/N: “Chuu~ you can’t just say you’re gonna bite his head off…”

C: “HE STARTED IT AND HE LIED!”

D: “My accusation doesn’t seem too far off for someone who just threatened to orally behead me, read the room Nakahara.”

⋆˙⟡ pushing and shoving each other to get through the doorway first. you or chuuya usually assume the role of line leader but when it comes to making an entrance dazai can’t help but weasel his way in there with an annoying amount of force. this doesn’t necessarily pertain to you, as dazai does this when it’s just him and chuuya as well…or anyone really - he’s gotta make a grand entrance.

⋆˙⟡ letting you win at arcade games just so chuuya feels like the only one who couldn’t beat him.

⋆˙⟡ you being the only thing that could get those two to sit down and have a normal meal together. they know you mean business when you invite them out to eat so they put their big boy pants on.

⋆˙⟡ you and dazai coming up with dangerous but efficient plans that chuuya spends the entirety of the mission refuting. alternatively: you and chuuya coming up with safe and well thought out plans that dazai spends the entirety of the mission ruining.

⋆˙⟡ they both go to you to talk about their troubles id think, although dazai does it in a much more sly manner; not really telling you anything but just wanting to have someone to talk to. chuuya really lets it all out on you, he’s a a bit of a trauma dumper when he feels he can be. sometimes one of them will walk in on you when you’re with the other and they both look at you feeling so betrayed.

D: “I can’t believe you double booked…today is MY DAY.”

C: “Shut it freak, I had plans with them first you’re such a little brat.”

D: “So cold…I’ll have you know I was invited.”

⋆˙⟡ dazai spends a lot of time trying to get you to understand the way he thinks. he’s totally emotionally and mentally stunted though, so he ends up speaking in riddles and not getting his point across as smooth as he’d like to sometimes. chuuya doesn’t explain his thought process to you at all and then gets mad when both dazai and you aren’t getting what he’s putting down.

⋆˙⟡ they both feel the need to get your opinion on big decisions they might be making concerning operations. dazai will dance around his proposals and take in your reactions based on the little info he gives you. chuuya tells you the situation straight up and asks what you would do if you were him.

⋆˙⟡ dazai feels that you need very little protection and can handle things on your own, his logic is that you couldn’t have gotten as far as you did if you weren’t capable. chuuya sees you as one of his valued subordinates and will go out of his way to ensure your safety (though he doesn’t do that for anyone else but if you died who else would protect him from dazai’s emotional abuse?)

[nadvs]

　　　⊹　❀　︵　∘　 destined ⟢

pairing singledad! zach maclaren x nanny! female reader

summary after you find out you’re pregnant, you tell zach and prepare to share the news together.

this is a continuation blurb of this two-shot! requested by anon.

You impatiently check the time on your phone again. It’s been fourteen minutes since you sat down in the private room at the doctor’s office.

Your eyes travel over the lockscreen photo from your wedding half a year ago. In the captured moment, Zach is holding Ella. Her left arm is around her father’s shoulders and her right is around yours.

Her poofy dress is sparkling under the warm banquet hall lights, her smile just as big as yours and Zach’s.

You’d done a lot of happy crying that day, but a moment after the photo was taken, you’d never had tears of joy quite like this.

Ella had run off after the shutter of the photographer’s camera and Zach pulled you in by the waist, his lips soft against your cheek, murmuring just loud enough to be heard over the music and people dancing around you, “You know what she asked me this morning?”

“What?”

“Since I get to call you my wife, if she can call you her mommy.”

You nuzzled into the crook of his neck, tearing up as he held you tighter. She had just turned seven years old and still didn’t talk about her biological mother all that much. She also hadn’t called you anything other than your name.

Zach had told you he’d be comfortable with it if Ella grew to want to call you her mom. You’d told him you’d be, too, but that you hoped she didn’t think you were ever trying to replace anyone.

“Really?” you said, your hand over your heart. “What’d you say?”

“I said she can,” he replied. You pulled back to meet his eyes, beaming up at him, almost in disbelief that three years ago, you’d knocked on his door for the first time. You could have never known the turn your life would take.

“You love her like she’s yours,” he said, his eyes glossy, “and she loves you the same way. I’m so happy she has you.”

You squeezed his hand. He’d already reassured you many times that you weren’t taking the place of Ella’s mother or being a substitution for what she lost. Instead, you’re an addition to their lives.

“I can’t believe how lucky I am,” he said. The tears he was trying to hold back fell from his eyes and he chuckled defeatedly. “Who’s cried more today, do you think?”

“I’d say it’s even,” you said with a laugh.

The door opening pulls you out of the memory. You meet the doctor’s eyes, your heart thrumming.

You and Zach had been trying for a baby for four months now. You didn’t even have to ask Ella what she thought about gaining a sibling. She’d been asking for one for a long time now.

After a string of failed attempts, you prefer not to tell Zach every time you take a test. You can see the disappointment in his eyes, no matter how hard he tries to hide it behind a gentle, “The baby just wants to make us wait.”

A couple of nights ago, when the home test you secretly took showed two lines, you booked a blood test to be sure. The doctor starts her sentence with Congratulations and you exhale a shaky breath of relief.

────୨ৎ────

Later that day, you’re folding laundry in the living room while Ella’s at school. Zach gets home from an early practice and beams when he sees you, dropping his bag on the floor.

“Hi, baby,” he says. “How are you?”

“Good. How was training?”

“I’m getting old,” he chuckles, stretching his arms over his head. You laugh.

Zach had already decided that after eight years, this is his last season professionally playing. He was offered a position on the coaching team after he told his managers he’d be resigning. He’s ready to slow down, to work a job that doesn’t have such a high risk of injury, to have more time for his family.

He sits next to you, takes the t-shirt out of your hands, folds it and then puts it on the stack on the table so that you’re free to hug him. You giggle as he leans forward and pushes you back against the couch. He’s hovering over you, his cheek pressed on yours as he hugs you, smelling like his body wash.

Zach lives for these simple moments. Getting home to you, holding you, grounding himself and reminding himself that this is what life is about.

“Hey, how’s your day look six Mondays from now?” you ask.

“That’s specific,” he laughs. “I’ll have to check. Why?”

“I’d prefer it if you came to the ultrasound with me.”

He pulls back, searching your face in awe.

“What?” he whispers. “Are you… What?”

“I am,” you laugh, tears building in your eyes, stroking his soft hair.

“When did you…?”

“This morning,” you say. “I didn’t want to tell you in case it came back negative.”

“I’m…” Zach doesn’t have words. He leans forward, gently pressing his lips against yours, shuffling quickly so he doesn’t put any weight on you.

“It’s okay,” you laugh. “You won’t break us.”

“Us,” he repeats happily, his voice cracking. He looks down at your stomach, gently putting his hand on you. “It’s okay that you made us wait,” he whispers to the baby. “I already know you were worth it. Are you being gentle with your mom?”

He looks up at you, a flash of concern washing over his awestruck face.

“I’m a little more tired than usual,” you say. “But nothing crazy yet.”

“I can’t believe it,” Zach sighs. He sniffles, his heart racing with happiness as his eyes fill with tears. “I can’t believe it.”

“I know,” you breathe. “Me, neither. We can give her the book soon.”

Zach smiles. He’d bought a children’s book a few months back about becoming a big sister for when it was time to tell Ella a baby was on the way.

Having known you for nearly four years now, he was already well aware of how pure your heart is. But the fact that your first thought is to tell Ella is yet another reminder of how you’ve always seen yourself as not only sharing your life with him, but with her, too.

“Gonna be hard not to do it right away,” he says.

“Do you have any idea how hard these last three hours have been?” you laugh. “I couldn’t wait to tell you. But we’ll share the news with her after the first trimester. To be safe.”

“Of course,” he agrees, cupping your face and pulling you in for another tender kiss.

────୨ৎ────

By the three month mark, your appetite has grown and fatigue has hit you hard. When the day comes to tell Ella, you’re bursting with excitement to tell her the news.

After dinner, you sit on the couch, already used to Zach quietly telling you to sit down and not do any housework.

Ella’s doing homework at the coffee table as you help. You gaze at her as she concentrates on her writing and remember the four-year-old she was when you first walked into this house.

She’s nearly eight now and still has so many of the qualities you’d first noticed about her. She’s energetic and loves conversation and never hesitates to show affection.

Zach comes in from cleaning up after dinner and raises his eyebrows at you, discreetly holding the book. You nod to confirm you’re ready, nervous.

He sits next to you, taking one last moment to look at you and at his daughter, accepting that this is the last moment the three of you will have like this. His family is growing now, and it feels like his heart is, too.

“Is it two R’s? Or one?” Ella mumbles, the pencil in her hand. She looks up when you don’t answer, too busy trying not to cry as you watch her. “Are you okay, mommy?”

“Yeah,” you say. “I’m okay. Can you sit with us for a moment?”

Ella nods, running towards you. Zach stops her in his arms before she lands too close to you. You laugh, having already told him privately that she’s never rough enough to hurt the baby, but he can’t be too careful.

“I have a book for you,” Zach says, kissing Ella on the temple as she sits between you. “Can you tell me what you think?”

He hands her the purple hardcover.

“What’s it called?” you ask.

“Big Sisters Are The Best,” she reads. She curiously opens the page, gazing over the illustrations of a little girl with a baby.

“Thank you,” she says politely. “I’ll tell my friend Kaley about this book. Maybe she can borrow it. She’s a big sister.”

You chuckle, meeting Zach’s eyes. He rubs Ella’s back and tells her, “You’re going to be a big sister, too, honey.”

Ella’s gaze darts up to him, then to you, then back again.

“Really?” she says. Zach’s face brightens with endearment, eyes growing shiny with tears.

“Really?” she repeats, looking at you.

“Really,” you say, putting a hand over your stomach. “That’s why I keep going back for seconds at dinner lately. There’s a baby in here making me extra hungry.”

Ella stands up, unable to contain her happiness, jumping up and down in her spot a few times before wrapping you into a hug. You laugh as she wiggles in your arms.

Zach wipes his eyes, still unsure of what he did to deserve this sort of happiness. It’s like he’s in another world, experiencing a type of joy reserved specifically for him.

“This is the best day ever,” she says. “And you’re the best mommy ever and daddy’s the best daddy ever.”

“He is,” you agree, looking at him with pure love.

────୨ৎ────

“You’re such a girl dad,” you say amusedly when you go into Ella’s bedroom.

Zach’s sitting on the floor as Ella adds what looks like the twentieth clip in his hair, while he holds Olivia, who’s happily ripping up a piece of paper.

He smiles at you gratefully. Your one-year-old is exactly how Ella was at that age. Curious, smiley, and eager to make messes wherever she can. He knows you’re technically a blended family, but it has never felt like that.

“Ella, can you do mine next?” you ask.

“After Olivia,” she says happily. “I told her she’s next and I have to keep my promise.”

“Of course,” you say. “She’s lucky to have such a nice big sister.”

“Ebba,” Olivia babbles.

“Ella,” Ella corrects. You laugh. It feels like yesterday, you’d just met her and Zach, and he was correcting her on how she’d called him the bestest. Now, she’s growing before your eyes, already so mature and well-mannered.

“But Ebba’s okay,” Ella says with a smile. She leans to give her little sister a kiss on the forehead, earning a giggle from her, clapping for more.

You sit on the floor next to Zach, squeezing his knee lovingly as your daughters laugh together. He takes your hand and brings it up to kiss the back of it.

“And to think,” you joke, “we wouldn’t be here if I bombed my interview.”

Zach laughs, shaking his head as he kisses your hand again.

“No,” he says. “This is how life was meant to be. You would have found us, no matter what. I know it.”

You grin at him, nodding in agreement.

Sitting here with his wife and daughters is the definition of destiny. Zach knows deep in his soul that he was always fated to be right here, with his heart split between three beautiful girls.

(the end)

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[lush-lavenders]

❀Late Bloomer❀

Benedict Bridgerton x Reader

Summary: You are late to enter society, but that doesn't mean you don't catch anyone's eye...

Request: Nope

Author’s Note: Sooo I'm really bad about disappearing. But recently I've been binging Bridgerton and been in the mood to write, so here we are!

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: None, just fluff here

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!I don’t own this gif!

Dearest Reader,

It has come to my attention that a Miss (Y/N) (Y/L/N), youngest daughter to Baron Arthur (Y/L/N), is making her debut, mid-season. Not only that, but she is almost one and twenty!

While this author cannot see the future, she can certainly predict it (and I do predict it well) - this season will be nothing if not eventful for Baron (Y/L/N) children.

—

As you stepped into the ballroom, the flutter in your stomach threatened to escape from your mouth. 

Lady Whistledown had come out this morning, and your mother was enthralled by the mere mention of your name. This made her fuss over you all day, needing to make your debut even more ‘perfect.’ 

You tried on three different dresses before the right one was picked out. You had five hairstyles tried out before your mother decided on the very first one. You had spent two hours out in search of the perfect matching earrings and necklace.

You were exhausted by the time you had to get ready, and severely tense as you arrived at Lady Danbury’s ball.

Cassandra, your sister-in-law, squeezed your arm softly. “Take a deep breath. This is just a party.”

You quickly took a breath, sighing it out. “That is easy for you to say. You married my brother in your first season after courting for a week.”

Cassie opened her mouth probably to give you more words of encouragement when your brother butted in. “We cannot stand here and talk all night. You need to present yourself to suitors.”

Before you could even think about protesting, Matthew walked ahead of you with Cassie on his arm, leaving you to trail behind.

—

“That there is Miss Buchan, she’s the only child of Earl Buchan.” The dowager Viscountess Bridgerton was discreetly pointing out young ladies to her two eldest sons, whose attentions would rather be anywhere else.

Benedict was scanning the room for someone he could use to politely excuse himself from his mother’s matchmaking. 

It would be an understatement to say he wasn’t interested in marrying yet. He had just recently started at Art School and wanted nothing more than to enjoy his work as a bachelor.

That’s when he spotted Lady Danbury. Normally he avoided the woman, as she could be as scheming as his mother, but she seemed like his only refuge.

“Excuse me, Mother, but I believe I should give my regards to Lady Danbury for the invite.” Benedict bowed to Violet before quickly heading off in the direction of the hostess. 

He thought about turning away last minute, evading all the prying eyes of those who might want to set him up, but something caught his attention - the once-alone lady of the house was now talking with a young lady. One he had yet to see in the sea of lovely debutantes. 

“Mr. Bridgerton!” Lady Danbury’s distinct voice cleared his mind as he approached. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” She knew better than anyone that the Bridgerton boys tried to avoid her at these balls.

Benedict bowed, offering a smile. “Lady Danbury, I just wanted to compliment your wonderful party.”

Lady Danbury raised her, knowing that there was an ulterior motive. She glanced at where Violet Bridgerton was standing with her eldest, noticing her eyes were following her second child.

She flashed a scheming smile and turned her attention back to the young lady she was with. “Where are my manners? Miss (Y/N), this is Mr. Benedict Bridgerton. Mr. Bridgerton, may I present to you Miss (Y/N) (Y/L/N). This is her first ball, so I expect you to be on your best behavior. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I should go talk to your mother.” 

She gave him a little pat on the shoulder, pushing him towards you as she went to Violet.

You lightly curtseyed as Benedict bowed his head to you. As you stood up straight, you froze, staring into the most beautiful blue eyes. Your heart skipped a beat as you took in the man’s features, stunned that someone such as him could be before you.

“Miss (Y/L/N).” He took your gloved hand and lifted it to his lips, pressing the gentlest kiss one could muster.

“Mr. Bridgerton,” you returned, not knowing what else to say. He had captured any words that might formulate within you.

His grasp lingered on your hand, longer than one might consider proper. It was good that the two of you were sequestered to the back of the ball.

At least you had thought you were hidden away.

A hand and sudden voice from behind told you how wrong you were.

“(Y/N), we have been looking for you. We turned around and you had disappeared.” Cassie let go of her husband to take your arm. “Who might you be talking to?” She asked, hiding the joy she felt for her best friend talking to a very eligible bachelor.

Benedict bowed to her and introduced himself before you could do it. “Benedict Bridgerton, at your service.” He joked lightly, and you bit your lip softly as you smiled.

“Bridgerton,” Matthew said as he bowed his head. “I’ve done quite a bit of business with your brother.”

If it wasn’t for Cassie being between you, you would have elbowed your brother right in the ribs for creating such a boring conversation.

Luckily, Cassie was thinking similarly enough to you. “Now now, my love. I’m sure Mr. Bridgerton does not need to hear about his own brother.”

Benedict chuckled, agreeing with her. “Yes, well, as well not needing to hear from him.” He joked, just as a hand landed on his shoulder.

“Well, Brother, maybe I shall take a look at your allowance?” Viscount Bridgerton came up out of the blue.

It seems as though each of your siblings was trying to prevent the two of you from speaking.

And they just kept coming.

Eloise Bridgerton arrived next, in an effort to escape from her mother. “Anthony, Benedict, you really must not leave me alone with Mama.” She sounded sort of breathless as if she had rushed here.

You cleared your throat, suddenly feeling parched. “Pardon me…” You muttered to no one in particular. Matthew and the Viscount seemed to be conversing about business, while Eloise tried to convince Benedict to return to their mother for her.

Cassie silently went along with you, still holding your arm.

You were silent as you made your way to the refreshments table, grabbing the first glass in front of you. You tried to appear as ladylike as possible while you practically gulped down the lemonade.

“I am so sorry for our interruption, (Y/N),” Cassie said after you had finished. “I did not realize you were speaking with a Bridgerton.” 

You shook your head, setting the glass down. “It’s alright. We didn’t really start to converse yet.” Not that you had the chance.

She picked up a glass herself and took a sip, her thoughts lingering. “You seemed… quite enamored with him.”

You scoffed, but not in a way to be rude. “Did you even look at him, Cassie? He’s…” You were at a loss for words as your gaze landed back on the Bridgerton in question. His eyes were wandering, ignoring both of your brothers. They wandered and wandered… until they eventually landed.

On you.

Your eyes met for the second time that night, but this time you quickly looked away, cheeks growing hot. 

That wasn’t before you noticed his perk up and began heading in your direction.

“Cassie, he’s coming over here. What do I do?” You ask in a panic. The only men you’ve ever really talked to were your father and brother, and neither counted towards this.

She put both hands on your shoulders, making you look at her. “Just be yourself.”

That’s the best advice you have, you thought to yourself.

You barely had the time to think up a response when Benedict made it to you, bowing his head again in greeting. “Mrs. and Miss (Y/L/N).”

You both courtesy, Cassie standing up before you. “I believe my husband needs me.” She says before snicking off, leaving you two alone.

“Mr. Bridgerton,” you say after a moment, lifting your eyes to take a look at his features. Features that seem to be drilled into your mind from the beginning of the night. “Has my brother bored you so much you seek me out?” You joke in a self-deprecating manner, knowing you aren’t exactly worthy of his attention.

He smiled at your humor but shook his head. “Our brothers together are an apparent force to be reckoned with, but it is not them that brings me here. It’s you.”

Your breath caught in your chest at those last two words.

He actually wanted to be around you. There is nothing you could’ve hoped for more.

He looked around your surroundings before having you take his arm. “It gets so stuffy in here, does it not? Let us get some fresh air.”

“Just the two of us?” You asked with raised eyebrows. You had never been left, unchaperoned; yet the thought of it, with Benedict… it excited you.

He smiled a crooked but sweet smile. “Only if we leave now, while no one’s watching.”

You smile back, looking around as you follow him quickly into the hall before going out a backdoor into the gardens.

In the first few moments you observed him under the moonlight, your whole future played out. Everything centered around him.

[kookiewithluv]

TEASER

• TITLE: Under The Blue Sky (Tangled In Love And Destiny Series)

• PAIRING: CEO!Yoongi x Accountant!Reader

• GENRE: Romance, Grumpy X sunshine, CEO au, fluff (?), love at first sight

• WORD COUNT: 5k+

• TRIGGER WARNING: This story explores themes of love at first sight, identity concealment, and the clash of personalities between two contrasting characters. It delves into the complexities of their budding relationship as they navigate misunderstandings and attraction. The narrative includes mature content, including explicit scenes and sexual themes. Reader discretion is advised.

• SUMMARY: Yoongi, the grumpy CEO, never believed in love at first sight—until he saw you on a rainy street. He kept his identity hidden, but when you moves in next door, things start to get complicated. Your sunshine personality clashes beneath the surface, sparks fly. Can your sunshine essence melt his cold heart, or will both of your differences will drive you apart?

• a/n: This story is entirely a work of fiction and is the sole property of @kookiewithluv . The characters, events, and scenarios depicted are products of the imagination and are not intended to represent or reflect real-life situations, nor do I wish for anything portrayed here to occur in reality. I kindly ask that my work not be copied, translated, or reposted as your own on this or any other platform, including YouTube. Please respect the effort and originality behind this piece. Thank you for your understanding and support.

a/n: I'm not tagging anyone here since it’s just a little teaser, but don’t worry if you’re on the taglist—I’ll definitely tag you when UBS1 is ready to go (which shouldn’t take too long… hopefully 🙈). Thanks for being patient with me, you’re the best!

MASTERLIST

You slouched back on your couch, the exhaustion from yesterday’s move still weighing on your bones, but there was a sense of satisfaction that kept you from fully collapsing. Your eyes swept over the apartment—every box was finally unpacked, every corner now arranged to your liking. As tiring as it had been, the sight of your new home made it all feel worth it. You let out a long, relieved breath and let your head fall back against the couch, closing your eyes. A small, almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corners of your lips. The scent of room freshener—lilies and jasmine—clung to the air, soothing your senses as the cool breeze from the balcony slipped through the open door, brushing against your bare arms. A shiver danced down your spine, leaving a trail of goosebumps, but it only made you smile more, the chill somehow comforting.

It was strange, though, sitting here in this quiet space, feeling the weight of everything that had brought you back to Seoul after so many years. The city had a familiar coldness to it, something that you had once known and yet felt so distant now. Eight years in Busan, away from the hustle and memories of this place, and now you were back. It all felt like a dream, an impossible twist in the story of your life. But life was nothing if not unexpected. You had learned that lesson early—how everything could change in an instant, how things could shift and crumble, and how the paths you thought you were meant to take often led you somewhere completely different.

A bitter chuckle escaped your lips, but it was hollow. The memories you carried with you felt heavy, like weights tied to your chest, and the loneliness that had crept into your life felt more pronounced now that you were here, in this new chapter. It was funny, you thought—how at one point, your life had been full. Full of people, of laughter, of noise. And then, somewhere along the way, you lost that. You lost them. You lost pieces of yourself too, chasing after things you thought you wanted, only to find that when you caught them, they weren’t what you needed. And those things you lost, those connections, those moments... you would never get them back. Only regrets remained, settling into the quiet corners of your mind.

But that was life, right? You had so many regrets, so many things you wished you had done differently, but you were still here, still smiling, still breathing. Because it was life. And life didn’t care if you understood it or not. You had learned that much over the years.

A soft, rueful sigh left your lips, your eyes fluttering open as you stared at the ceiling. A memory crossed your mind, one that had stayed with you: "It's all in your head. Control it before it controls you." A piece of advice from someone who meant well, but who could never understand what it felt like to be stuck in the chaos of your own thoughts. Young you had thought it was profound. Wise. But now, now you understood it in a way that had nothing to do with wisdom. It was a struggle. The battle between your mind and your emotions, between wanting to control it all and knowing that you couldn’t.

The clock on the wall ticked steadily, its hands creeping closer to eight. Then, a sudden ding-dong of the doorbell sliced through the silence, jolting you from your thoughts. You blinked, disoriented, a frown pulling at your brows. “Who could it be...?” The words escaped your lips in a whisper, the confusion lingering as you glanced at your phone, only to toss it back onto the couch, your focus now entirely on the door.

You got to your feet, the motion slow, almost hesitant, as if your body hadn’t fully caught up to the change in pace. With deliberate steps, you made your way toward the door. Standing before the door, you paused for just a second, your hand hovering over the handle before you unlocked it. Just enough to peek your head out.

And there, standing on the other side, was a sight that left your heart skipping a beat. A man, impeccably dressed in a tuxedo, his hair styled with effortless precision. A stray lock fell across his forehead.

He looked... familiar. But not in the way you could place him, more in a way that tugged at the edges of your memory, like a faint echo of something. You frowned slightly, brows furrowing as you tried to remember where you’d seen him before. But you couldn’t quite grasp it. How could you forget a face like that?

He was stunning—his features sharp yet gentle, his lips full and soft. There was a youthful roundness to his face that made him look so effortlessly cute, and something about his presence made your chest tighten. His smile—oh, that smile—was a slow, knowing curve of his lips, and suddenly, you felt the urge to reach out, to pinch his cheeks, as ridiculous as that thought was. It was as if his smile held the power to disarm you completely, leaving your heart fluttering like it was caught in a soft breeze.

You stood frozen for a moment, unsure of what to say or do, just staring up at him as your stomach twisted into knots.

"Hi!" he whispered, his voice soft. He gave a small, playful bow, his movements smooth. His eyes sparkled with a mix of curiosity and amusement, and his lips curled into a smile that was warm, disarming.

You blinked, still taken aback, and pulled the door open fully, your own response a little stiff as you bowed your head in return. Your hands hung by your sides, awkward, unsure of what to do next. You gave a small nod, the movement barely noticeable. It was more instinct than anything else.

"You live here?" he asked, his words filled with a strange mixture of confidence and confusion. It wasn’t the kind of confusion that showed doubt, but more like he was piecing something together in his mind. It was almost like a game to him, the way his brows furrowed playfully.

You nodded again, not trusting your voice just yet. His gaze was intense, but in a way that made you want to stay just a moment longer. His smile widened, slow and deliberate, like he was letting it spread across his face just for you to see.

"You need something?" You finally managed, your words polite, but your posture tense. It was hard not to be wary. Men, you thought. You knew better. They were nothing but trouble, a lesson you had learned the hardest way. The memories of it still lingered in your chest like an old bruise.

He tilted his head slightly, the smile never faltering. "Oh! Actually, you must have ordered food, right?" His voice was light, almost playful, yet his words felt oddly innocent. He didn’t seem like a creep, nor did he look like a delivery guy. He looked... out of place in a way that didn’t sit right with you.

You nodded, still unsure of how this was going to play out. You gave him another once-over, a little more deliberate this time. From head to toe, he was wrapped in luxury—designer clothes that probably cost more than your rent. You couldn’t even name half the brands, but you could tell from the sharp cut of his suit and the way he carried himself that he wasn’t some lowly delivery guy.

There was no way. No way in hell. Not a chance. He couldn’t be. Not in a billion years.

"And?" You prompted, still trying to piece together what was happening.

"Oh! Yeah. Yeah," he started, his words tumbling out quickly, almost like he couldn’t catch his breath. "Actually, the delivery guy dropped your order at my friend’s place. I was about to open it, but fortunately, I checked the bill attach to it and saw the address." He handed you the paper bag with a slight flick of his wrist.

You were so distracted by his presence, by the way his smile tugged at his lips and the gleam in his eyes, that you didn’t even notice the bag in his hand at first. You stood there, your fingers instinctively clutching the handle of the bag. A sudden rush of awareness hit you, and you looked back up at him, a sense of confusion swirling in your chest.

"Thank you...," you muttered, still trying to gather your thoughts, but your words trailed off when he interrupted, a touch of offense in his tone.

"Jimin," he corrected quickly, his brow furrowing slightly, a blush creeping up his neck. His lips curled into a playful, almost teasing smile, as though he found the whole situation amusing. "Jimin Park.”

The name hit you like a cold splash of water. Your eyes widened in shock as recognition struck you hard. Jimin Park. Of course. How could you not have known? He was everywhere—the notorious, high-profile director of Jeon Enterprises, always plastered across the media. Whether it was for business deals, lavish parties, or rumors about his playboy lifestyle, he was a constant figure in the spotlight.

You straightened up, an automatic sign of respect. "Thank you, Mr. Park." The words felt strange coming from your lips, like they didn’t quite belong to you. It was hard to act casual in front of someone so... big—someone you had only ever seen in the headlines.

Jimin's gaze softened, but there was still a glint of amusement in his eyes. He seemed to enjoy the moment.

"No. Please, call me Jimin," he said, his voice shifting to a softer, almost shy tone.

You raised an eyebrow, unsure how to respond, but you nodded slowly. "Okay, Jimin," you said, testing the name on your tongue. It felt casual, and for some reason, that made it all the more strange.

"Your the new tenant, right?" His voice practically bubbled with excitement, but you couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. The way he was looking at you—too keen, too interested—made your skin prickle with unease. You felt your heart beat a little faster. His attention was...too much, too sudden.

"Yes...?" you replied, the uncertainty in your voice betraying the suspicion building in your chest.

"Wow! That's... something," he laughed, his grin widening, but there was a hint of something in his eyes. You weren’t sure if it was curiosity or mischief, but it made the hairs on your neck stand up.

"What you mean?" you asked, tilting your head slightly, trying to make sense of his words.

"Nothing, really! It’s just that this flat has been vacant for years now." Jimin's tone was light, but there was an undercurrent of something deeper. He seemed to be enjoying the effect his words had on you.

Your brow furrowed. "Why? It’s a good one. It even has a pretty view from the balcony," you said, trying to defend your decision. The apartment was beautiful, a perfect little corner in the city. You couldn't understand why someone would leave it empty for so long.

Jimin’s smile faltered, and his eyes dropped for a moment as if he was weighing his next words carefully. Then, his gaze flicked back up to meet yours, a hint of something dark flickering behind his grin. "No, you got it all wrong," he said, voice lowering just a bit. "Actually, it was instructed not to let anyone stay here. So...”

The words hit you like a cold shock, a wave of disbelief crashing over you. You blinked, mouth dry, unable to fully process what he was saying. "What?" The word came out too sharp, too confused. "Why would they do that?”

He shrugged casually, but the tension in his shoulders gave away that this was something more serious. "How would I know? I just do." The casualness didn’t match the weight of his words, and it made your stomach churn. Was he just trying to mess with you? Or was there something more? His easy smile didn’t help ease the growing knot in your chest.

You narrowed your eyes at him, your lips pressing into a tight line. "How do you know?" you asked, your voice low. Your gaze locked onto his, silently daring him to give you some ridiculous explanation.

He leaned in slightly, his smile not faltering, but there was something else now—a slight glint of pride, maybe? "What do you mean? I’m friends with the person who instructed it.”

You scoffed, disbelief dancing in your eyes as you raised an eyebrow. "Who is he?”

"Who else, woman. Min Yoongi, the CEO of Min Corporation.The owner of this freaking building.”

Your breath hitched. Now this conversation was spiraling into territory you hadn’t expected. A nervous laugh bubbled up in your throat, but you swallowed it down quickly. The name Min Yoongi struck you like a bolt. The CEO of one of the most powerful corporations in the country? This was getting ridiculous.

You knew about Min Yoongi. Everyone did. He wasn’t just a person; he was a name, a reputation. No one ever really saw him, though. He stayed out of the spotlight, almost like a ghost. Starting your new job at Min Corporations, it only made sense to know a little about the CEO. Not that you’d gone digging or anything—there wasn’t much to find. He was private, almost obsessively so.

Despite your gut telling you to shut the door and walk away, you stayed rooted to the spot. Your mind screamed for you to let go, but your curiosity was louder. Tomorrow would be your first day at Min Corporation, and you were curious, even though you shouldn't. You could almost taste curiosity in the back of your tongue.

"Why?" you asked before you could stop yourself, the words slipping out before you could think. Shit, you cursed internally. You never knew when to keep quiet.

Jimin’s eyes sparkled with... Something, you couldn't quite place, his lips curving into a grin. "I don’t know," he said, tilting his head slightly, his voice suddenly softer, more gentle. "But I asked him to shift here once, and he told me he loathes noise... and I’m noisy." He chuckled at the last part, his fingers twitching at his side, almost like he was waiting for your response. "Am I?"

You bit back a smile, the words "Yeah, you do seem noisy" on the tip of your tongue, but you swallowed them. He was fun to talk to, and you couldn’t deny it. It had been a while since someone had made you laugh, and it was oddly comforting.

"Jimin-ah" Before you could respond, a deep, calm voice cut through the air, and you froze mid-thought. Jimin’s smile faltered slightly as he turned to face the source of the voice. You followed his gaze, and when your eyes met the man standing at the end of the hall, your breath hitched.

"I swear," Jimin continued, shaking his head as if he was reminiscing about something. "That guy has serious issues. You need to be careful around him."

It’s him.

"Suga, hyung," Jimin greeted, his voice soft, almost in reverence. Suga. The name rolled through your mind, oddly familiar yet strangely comforting, like something you’d always liked without realizing it, and you recognized him instantly. The man standing there was none other than the person who had helped you two days ago—when you were a mess, crying in the rain at that bus stop.

You swallowed hard, your heartbeat picking up speed. It felt like fate had thrown this moment at you, but it wasn’t without its sting. You remembered every second of that breakdown. The humiliation of crying on a street corner, in front of a stranger, no less. And yet, there he was again, but this time, he seemed... Different.

Why wasn’t he looking at you?

Your stomach twisted in discomfort. It wasn’t like you expected him to remember you, but he—of all people—had been there when you were falling apart, and yet, his gaze didn’t meet yours.

It had only been two days.

His attention was fully on Jimin, and you couldn’t help but feel a pang of disappointment. His eyes narrowed slightly, lips pressing into a firm line. “I told you to wait for me, Jimin-ah,” he said, his voice low and controlled, but there was a trace of irritation under the surface.

Jimin simply waved it off with a dismissive gesture, clearly unbothered. “I was. You’re late,” he said with an air of nonchalance, but his expression shifted to something as he added, “And why are you scolding me?”

Yoongi’s jaw tightened, his fingers tapping against the side of his leg, as though trying to hold his patience. "I told you to wait." His eyes flicked briefly toward you, but quickly away, as if it was an afterthought. The tension in his shoulders, however, told you something more. Anxiety? Was he anxious about something? Was he… waiting for something?

Jimin, still unfazed, pointed to the paper bag with a lazy grin. “I was just handing her this,” he said casually, nodding toward you. “Somebody delivered it at your place, hyung.”

Yoongi didn’t say a word after that. He simply nodded, a sharp, cold motion, before he turned on his heel, starting to drag Jimin toward the apartment next to yours. The air around you felt tense, heavy, almost suffocating. You were still standing there, unable to process the coldness that had overtaken him.

But before they could get too far, Jimin stopped, yanking his arm away from Yoongi with an exaggerated grunt. He turned back to you, flashing that same teasingly sweet smile. “It’s him," Jimin said, a playful glint in his eyes. "Your neighbour and the C—”

“I know him,” you interrupted quickly, your words tumbling out almost desperately.

But Jimin’s eyes widened, surprise crossing his face for just a fraction of a second before he turned to look at Yoongi with a slow, subtle smirk that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Yoongi, however, was already shaking his head, his jaw clenched tight, his eyes not meeting yours. His voice, when it came, was sharp and final, the words cutting through the air like ice. “No,” he said, the simple word leaving no room for any further discussion.

Your heart skipped a beat at his tone. You hadn’t expected it—this abrupt, dismissive coldness. What happened to the guy who helped me? The memory of him offering you his coat, in that rainy street, his voice so soft and understanding, felt like a distant dream now. This Yoongi was nothing like the one you had met two days ago.

You took a step forward, wanting to hold on to the memory of that moment, desperate to remind him. “What?” you asked, the words slipping out before you could stop them. You were shocked, and you couldn’t mask it. “We met. Don’t you remember? Saturday evening—”

“I said I. Do. Not,” Yoongi interrupted, his voice colder than before, each word heavy with finality. His eyes still didn’t meet yours, and his posture was stiff, rigid. The tension between you was unbearable, like an invisible wall had been built between you two in the span of seconds.

Your face burned. The pink on your cheeks deepened with humiliation, your heart sinking. Why was he lying? Why was he denying it so harshly? You tried to hold it together, but your hands trembled at your sides, your breath catching in your throat. Why was he being like this?

How could he be the same person?

The disappointment hit you like a physical blow, and you felt your shoulders sag slightly, the weight of the situation pressing down on you. Your gaze shifted to the ground as your fingers clenched tightly around the paper bag in your hand.

Jimin, who had been standing there quietly, watching the exchange unfold, must have noticed how your face fell. He took a step toward you. He could see it, too—the change in Yoongi. And maybe, just maybe, he could sense your discomfort, but he didn’t know how to fix it.

“It’s okay if he don’t remember,” Jimin said, trying to break the tension, but his words barely landed. His voice, though soft, couldn’t lift the heaviness settling in your chest. “I’ll introduce you both. He’s your neighbor and the C—”

“Building manager,” Yoongi interrupted sharply, his words slicing through the air like a cold wind. His tone left no room for argument. He didn’t even look at you as he spoke, his eyes fixed on Jimin, his hand already gripping his arm with surprising force.

Jimin’s mouth hung open for a moment, clearly caught off guard by Yoongi’s sudden shift. He blinked rapidly, as though trying to process what he’d just heard. “Building manager?” His voice came out more as a question than a statement. His eyebrows shot up, and his mouth snapped shut with a soft click, as if he was trying to hold back the flood of disbelief.

Yoongi didn’t answer him. Instead, he pulled Jimin by the arm, his grip tightening as he dragged him toward the apartment beside yours. The muscles in Yoongi’s jaw flexed as he moved with a strange urgency, his face set in a hard line.

The door slammed shut behind them with a loud thud, the sound echoing in your ears like a final punctuation mark to the whole exchange. The force of it seemed to shake the air around you, the finality of it stinging more than you expected.

You were left standing there, frozen, staring at the now-closed door. Your heart still pounded in your chest, the hurt and confusion twisting inside you like a knot you couldn’t untangle. Building manager?

a/n: Hey, hey, hey, people! Did you survive it? Did you actually like it? Because if you did, please let me know—boost my fragile ego. And if you didn’t, that’s fine too; just rip me apart gently. Feedback makes me feel like a real writer or at least someone pretending to be one. Honestly, I don’t think it was that interesting, but hey, the goal was to post something, right? So yeah, hit me with your thoughts. I'm all ears (and slightly terrified)!

a/n: I know, I know, a lot of you are probably like, ‘Jae, what the hell? Why didn’t he just tell her he’s the CEO? What’s with the secret identity? And why is he so rude?’ Look, I get it. All I can say is: UBS1 is coming soon, so read it and find out. Also, he’s not rude, okay? He’s just... scared Jimin might spill the beans about him being the CEO. That’s it.

[jesteriajunovix]

(Spoilers) Just a Reminder to Curly Sympathizers

Jimmy and Curly are not "Problematic Favs". They're literally thematic vessels for THE problem.

CW: Mentions of SA, and Abuse

Curly (And Pony Express as a Company) Never Cared to give Anya Pysche Evals. Curly only started to care for that when it doubled as an occupational hazard to him and his image.

Curly actively vouches for Jimmy as a crew member despite his "struggle" on earth. I don't see how it'd be far-fetched to assume that involves some form of Misconduct with the fact Curly literally says

"You've gotten through difficult situations before" RIGHT AFTER talking to Anya the actual Victim.

Curly doesn't understand why Anya was talking about the locks on the sleeping quarters and moves past it to reinforce the company's logic. [The Company and Curly can not be bothered to consider or provide actual safety for women. It is an afterthought that resembles a cruel apathy towards women's perspectives in a corporate work environment.]

Would Curly have given the gun to Anya if she asked? Probably not. While that is somewhat debatable It rings to the shitty isolated environment where Anya would have to take up such a mindset. Not to mention Curly is clearly super pals with Jimmy, so if that was a concern he'd probably take Jimmy's (and the rest of the guys) side considering he later took jimmy's side under the fact he sexually assaulted a woman.

The first thing Curly says to Jimmy after trying to consolidate Anya is "I Can Fix This". Curly enables Jimmy to find ways to get out of taking responsibility for the harm he did to Anya.

Curly buckles to the fact his mind is more focused on his position and reputation as a Captain rather than the personal impact Jimmy's harm has caused Anya. This issue is an occupational obstacle to him first and foremost.

Jimmy: "This can be remembered as a tragedy".

Jimmy: "The Tuplar crew was never found."

Jimmy: "You're standing at the top. Feet in cement. Right?"

Curly: "...Right."

And his complacency and dissonance of that truth leads him to do absolutely nothing.

I have seen so much art, and discourse treating him like he wasn't an active enabler. You know what. Fuck it. Half of this is going to double as an Anya Post. thinking about how people disgustingly twist her character to redeem two shitty men who are completely at fault irks me so much.

Anya

The fact that Anya doesn't really get to build herself as a character outside of the scenes that reinforce her tragedy, and antagonist environment feels super sucky.

The purpose of such a narrative direction is of course meant to feed into Jimmy's resentful apathetic attitude towards her, and emphasize the cold unfeeling corporate entity that hired her to be on the tulpar, but as a narrative choice, it still feels rather cruel to take in. Jimmy literally erases her personhood from his mind and only internalizes her presence as a threatening womb while taking the rest of the games runtime to focus on himself and the other men on board.

I see many renditions of Anya in fanart. Adding to her character in ways people weren't really given the time to appreciate or take in during the actual game due to how little she's left with.

I find her canon resolution both annoying and interesting due to this type of interaction where the fans are being pushed towards an interpretive play pen where they are motivated to give Anya more characteristics, quirks, and perspectives than she was allowed to have or emphasize within the game.

Using such field of creative deliberation to redeem the men that actively harmed her is such a gross way to use that play pen.

To get into some interpretations

A pretty important moment occurs after Anya runs out of the medical room during the painkiller scene with the thought:

"I have to believe that our worst moments don't make us monsters"

I think there are quite a few different ways to take this line in this moment, but to share my own perspective I believe it most likely stems from these potential factors:

Anya is trying to maintain a metric of empathy and trust to continue to control herself in the current conditions and stresses she's under at this moment. The needs of the crew can not be upheld without this kind of thinking while under the orders of her abuser.

Anya still cares for Curly and is disconnecting the harm he caused from the rest of his humanity as a person who is also suffering.

Anya is reflecting on her own legitimacy while the internalized trauma she went through makes her feel alienated from herself. Accepting the actual piece of shit that is Curly allows her to hold faith in herself as a person through the shared correlation of pain and "mistakes" as she percieves it bonding her with Curly.

While somewhat ambigous I think its important to generally understand these types of potential layers when interacting with the themes and subjects presented by Anya as a character. Ideas which are critical and dissective of Anya as an actual Subject above a simple generalized understanding of her peripherally as a victim.

also Idea 2 doesn't make Curly vindicated. Curly was the only member that Gave Anya some sense of care (As ingenuine as that care was). That dependency is toxic and was unfortuately potentially of mental necessity to Her. To reframe it as a point for Curly to show he was better than what he presented himself to be so deeply annoys me with how uncritical that reframing is when addressing the actual faults and mentality that led him to his bedridden state. With how little Anya is already focused on, it feels like that interpretation and dynamic hands Curly the position of "Subject" while Anya still remains an "Event" to some people.

That kind of thinking not only significantly reeks of a lack of indulgence in actually trying to further interpret the facets presented in Anya's character, position, and mental state, but also dilutes the meaning to be had in analyzing Curly as an enabler. The framing of Curly as an "Enabler in Rehab" or "Tragic Casualty" feels so utterly ignorant, redundant, and enigmatic to my senses when he is so utterly undeserving compared to Anya who barely gets any other elaboration or analysis from the community outside of "awww wasn't that sad" or sensationalization around "The Event".

I WOULD go into Anya's logic leading up to her death, but thats a post and analysis for a different tumblr user to take care of. I honestly just gradually have developed new ways to hate the Mouthwashing fandom, so I really needed this to make mental space for the next few horrible bizarre takes i'll inevitably see about this game.

[creatingblackcharacters]

Some of my thoughts for your conversation about inaction towards antiBlack/racist behavior in shared online spaces (particularly fandom).

1. "I dont see it / I dont go here" - this was my first thought/defensive reaction and in reading others responses I think its a shared one.

Tumblr is perhaps unique in how purposely you can shape your experience and limit what you interact with. Blocking someone just cause is fully acceptable and expected here.

So, when Ive seen depictions of 'Black' characters that made me go, "Mmm idk man" its been my policy to just block and move on. Less chance of seeing a racist in the tags I like in the future *shrug*

Now on other sites perhaps there is some consideration that could be given to not wanting to boost something racist via interaction...but that's not how Tumblr works. Furthermore your reminder that seeing things go unopposed is the problem hit me like a frying pan to the face. Because...yeah duh.

We know the 'social rules' of this platform, you report/block the porn bots, you dont spam tags for engagement (or report if you see it), add image descriptions, reblog things you like etc. Would it be so hard to leave a simple comment on the things you want to see be changed?

2. "What if I do it wrong/I dont know this fandom/Not my place to speak?" - I firmly believe the main reasons people dont meaningfully engage with posts here or on other platforms is two fold: Responses and Outting.

If you were to post a mild comment saying for example, "Hey, feels kinda weird how you're only talking about this Black character being violent in this show. Why dont you check out this blog post by CBC, a Black artist who really digs into this topic more?"

Now you are expected to 1. 'deal' with whatever that persons response is and 2. Anyone an see and respond to what you said.

I think we generally expect random stranger interactions on the Internet to be unpleasant but, like if we are putting the focus on caring about Black people in out spaces...shits already 'unpleasant' for them.

Its time to start firing fireworks off in our neighborhoods to keep the rents low so to speak. You, non-Black folk (i.e me), dont have to wage endless comment battles with someone who wont listen. Just stating what you are seeing is enough, its marking that post for other people coming along. Forcing the question, "Y'all are we cool with this?"

As for messing up/having a record of things you said someone else might take issue with later on. Yeah but thats already happening whenever you reblog anything.

If you actually spoke out of turn just say, "Im sorry thanks for letting me know" and move on with your life. Otherwise folks on here will actually harass you over your shipping preferences so your rolling those dice already. Why not do it for something better worth it?

3. A Note - Genuinely thank you for posing these thoughtful question and just honestly expressing your frustration/hurt. It helped me think more deeply about some old habits.

Thank you!

Hm. And you're welcome

[robinsegghead]

Danny's Daycare Part 17

Masterlist

Incoming video call from The-Next-Bruce-Wayne…

Incoming video call from The-Next-Bruce-Wayne…

“Hello?”

“Tucker! Just the man I needed to talk to!”

Tucker sighed. He could tell just by the way Danny said his name- they way he said ‘just the man I needed to talk to’ that he was up to something. “What’s up man?”

Danny smiled sheepishly. “Well, uh, first of all did you get the job?” He squinted and looked behind Tucker, probably noting the stacks of moving boxes lined up against the wall. 

Scoffing, Tucker gave him a Look. “Dude, it’s me- of course I got the job. Sam and I have been packing as fast as possible so we can get out there within the month, sooner if she has her way.” He loved his girlfriend but when she wanted something done she was on a warpath until it got done and Tucker… he just wasn’t built like that.

Smiling, Danny glanced off screen for a moment before returning his attention to the screen.

“How are the boys?” Tucker asked, raising an eyebrow knowingly. Danny could argue that he wasn’t their dad all he wanted, and he’d respect that and not call them his kids, but it didn’t make it true.

The sheepish smile returned. “Uh well, that’s one part of what I was calling to talk to you about. I don’t want to overload you while you’re moving, but uh- well… how long would it take for you to make them like, legally mine?”

Tucker’s eyes blew wide. Holy shit- “For real?”

“Miguel and Santi said I was dad-shaped.” He confirmed like it explained anything. 

“You cried didn’t you?”

His best friend crossed his arms. “Maybe I did, maybe I didn’t. We talked about it last night and they’d like to-” Danny choked, looking away from the camera but he couldn’t fool Tucker. He was clearly getting emotional. “They’d like to get their name changed to Nightingale as soon as possible.”

“Holy shit man- that’s amazing!” He hadn’t believed Dani when she’d called the group to inform them that Danny’s recent deistractions had been because he’d taken two boys in and was acting as their guardian. They were twenty-two! No way Danny had decided to just take in a couple of teens and be their dad. But then he’d met them at the birthday party and he could tell they were everything to Danny.

From the way he talked about them to the way he looked at them when he thought they wouldn’t notice, Danny loved those kids with his whole heart. It had been interesting to witness in person and despite Danny’s argument that he wasn’t their dad, Tucker knew he’d be getting this call in the near future. Which is why he already had the paperwork drawn up and faked with everything in place, he essentially just had to click a button to make it happen.

Danny was grinning from ear to ear. “Yeah it’s… I’m… happy they trust me.”

“All right, two more Nightingales coming right up. Now, you wanna tell me why you said we were taking down the GIW then turned off your phone?” 

Yesterday had been a normal day for Tucker and Sam, each working on packing one room while blaring music through the partially empty apartment. The night before they’d all been panicking about Danny’s daycare getting attacked and all the news that came with it, but knowing Danny, he’d gotten into more trouble after the fact and forgot to check his phone before passing out for the night. So they didn’t worry too much.

Just when Sam was saying them should try calling him again they’d gotten the text.

Crime-Fighting, Night-Stalking Vigilantes

The-Next-Bruce-Wayne: Get in losers we’re going to take down the GIW

The-Next-Bruce-Wayne changed the group chat name from ‘Crime-Fighting, Night-stalking Vigilantes’ to ‘Operation Take Down the Plastics’

“What the fuck.” Sam breathed.

Tucker started typing immediately. “You’re seeing this, right?”

Cassandra is typing…

The-Next-Gotham-Rogue is typing…

The Midwest Princess is typing…

Chaos: Fucking finally

TooFine: What brought this on?

Cassandra: Hell yeah, I’ve been waiting to be a part of a GIW mess around for years!

The-Next-Gotham-Rogue: Danny answer your phone

The-Next-Gotham-Rogue: Daniel J Nightingale answer. Your. phone.

The Midwest Princess: Oooh someone’s in trouble~

After two more calls went to voicemail, Sam and Tucker had given up on both reaching Danny and packing and had opted for cuddling on the couch with wine and theorizing about what could have caused Danny’s 180.

“After the scarecrow attack… everyone reached out.” Danny twisted his fingers. “I mean- everyone. People from Amity, numbers I didn’t recognize… one from Wisconsin…” Danny didn’t elaborate on that, Tucker knew that was Vlad and that Danny hadn’t read the messages. “Everyone knows where I am. That puts the boys in danger. So. We’re taking down the GIW. I’ve already asked Red Hood to get Batman and the Justice League to look into them and the Anti-Ecto-Acts and he seemed pretty sure that they had no idea any of this was going on.”

“Wait wait wait- go back- the Red Hood? Danny? How did you manage to get into contact with a crime lord and why haven’t I been informed?” Tucker couldn’t believe this- Danny had been so insistent that he wanted nothing to do with the Gotham vigilantes and here he was name dropping one of them like they were casual besties.

Shrugging, Danny glanced off camera again and frowned. “Uh- I met him a while back and now he drops by once in a while to check in.”

“Danny.”

“I accidentally killed the Joker and Red Hood caught me but he wanted the fucker dead too so he’s been dropping off food and shit at my place as a thank you and he also knows I’ve died and he’s met Phantom.”

“Danny- wha- what the fuck man! Holy fucking Christ!” Tucker keeled over, laughing. “You- you’re telling me that you… KILLED someone, and Red Hood is now feeding you as compensation? And you told him you’re dead?” 

The man on the other end of the line sighed heavily, his eye bags speaking volumes through his silence. “I was trying to help- sometimes I just say things and then I can’t take them back, I don’t know.”

“How- HOW does telling the Red Fucking Hood that you’re dead, help?”

Danny looked off camera again, clearly distracted. “I accidentally mentioned being a teenage vigilante and he had questions. I was all ‘if you take off your helmet’ AKA ‘reveal your identity’ I’ll tell you what happened. But the fucker wheres a domino mask UNDER the helmet! So he took it off and I’m not a liar so I had to tell him. I didn’t tell him everything though. He doesn’t know I’m Phantom. Or that I’m the ghost king. Or anything about the Fentons.”

Tucker could feel his usual laid back demeanor cracking under the weight of Danny’s big mouth. “Oh my fucking god. Okay, putting that aside. You need me to make the boys legally yours and what else?”

“If it’s cool, I’ll portal over later today to get a copy of your files on the GIW. Whenever Hood gets the chance to speak with Batman and hopefully the JL, he’s gonna summon Phantom again and I’d like to have all the information ready for them. Now I’ve actually gotta get going- I think the boys friend wants to hang out? I’m not sure. I’ll talk to you soon, Tuck. Love ya.”

Right, of course, why not. Tucker collapsed back onto the couch and groaned loudly. 

“What’re you grumbling about?” Sam asked, walking through the front door with groceries on either arm.

“Danny.”

She gave him a knowing look. “Help me put this stuff away and you can tell me all about what the fuck Danny did this time.”

~~~~~

“Wait wait wait hold on! I can’t understand you when you’re both talking at the same time.” Danny waved his hands around to silence the boys. “Miguel,” He turned to the older boy. “What’s going on?” 

Miguel shrugged. “Damian asked us over for dinner but he said you should come to ‘cause ‘is dad wanted ta meet you or somethin’.”

“And he said he has a dog and a cat and a cow! I want to see their cow, Danny can we go! Please?” Santi begged, reminding Danny that he was just a thirteen year old kid. “An’ he said he had a buncha brothers and sisters and we could all hang out- can we go?”

Danny thought about the paperwork Tucker would be emailing soon confirming the boys adoption, the drive he needed to pick up to give to the bats, the council meeting he needed to schedule to discuss the GIW, the work he needed to make sure was getting done on the daycare, and he sighed.

“What time?”

“YES!” Santi shot up and started running around in victory.

Miguel checked his phone. “Damian said dinner’s ‘round six-thirty but we could come over at six to meet everyone.”

That was only two hours to prepare. Danny rubbed his eyes. “Okay. I have some work to do before we leave, send me their address so I can figure out when we should leave.” He stood up and ran a hand through his hair. “Make sure Curiosity’s fed and let me know if you need anything, I’ll be in my study at my place.”

It was a few moments later when Miguel sent him the address and, after looking it up, Danny dropped his head to his desk. 

“Only you, Danny.” He groaned into the desk and processed the information that seemed obvious but hadn’t been for him apparently. Damian fucking Wayne. He’d been casually conversing with Damian Wayne, asking favors of him, not knowing who he was, and now he’d agreed to go to dinner at his house. House. Danny scoffed. His fucking manor. 

On the bright side, Duke would probably be there. It wasn’t like Danny was worried about them all being rich assholes or something, nice people like Duke and Damian didn’t come from rich assholes, but he wasn’t mentally prepared to have dinner at Wayne Manor with Bruce fucking Wayne.

Putting aside the work he’d planned on doing, Danny decided to take the rest of the time given to him, to prepare. Starting with a nap. 

Thank Ancients his sleep had been coming easier recently.

~~~~~~~

“Who did you say was coming to dinner again, Dami?” Dick asked, lounging on a couch in the main sitting room. 

Damian looked up from his sketchbook. “You remember the people we ran into at the store a few weeks ago?” Dick nodded. “Them. Nightingale is an acquaintance of mine and he is now a person of interest as well.”

“What do you mean?” Dick sat up.

“I forgot you were not here last night.” Damian tsked, setting down his charcoal and cleaning his hands off with a dirty rag. “Todd brought father a case. A very serious case that father isn’t too pleased about. He’s meeting with the Justice League tomorrow to discuss it, but seeing as Nightingale was specifically mentioned by Phantom, he is now a person of interest.”

Dick blinked. “Phantom?”

Sighing loudly, Damian picked up his sketchbooks and charcoal and stood up. “Read the report, Grayson.”

“Wait! We’re back to Grayson?” His older brother groaned as Damian exited the room with a hidden smirk on his face.

~~~~~~

Distantly, you could hear a young man screaming. “Who the FUCK ARE MIGUEL AND SANTIAGO NIGHTINGALE!?”

~~~~~~

Driving to Wayne manor was wild. And Danny said that as a half dead half alive ghost king who’d been cut open by his own parents and ended up opening a daycare without any plans. So you know he meant it. 

The driveway was long and winding, they had to introduce themselves at the gate so the butler could let them in, and when the pulled up the building towered over them. Now, technically, Danny did own a keep. It was certainly bigger than the manor, but that was a ghost thing. He’d never seen a place so big in the living world.

(And despite his abundant wealth, Danny didn’t care much for his large keep or deep pockets except for what they could do for others.)

Parking in front of the stairs- yes there were actual stairs leading up to this double door front entrance- Danny turned off the car and turned to the boys. “Okay, be on your best behavior- I don’t know this fruitloop so if you want to leave at any time, let me know. But also, have fun.”

Miguel rolled his eyes but Santi was the one who spoke up. “Fruitloop?”

“Crazy rich person.” Danny interpreted

Miguel frowned. “Aren’t you technically-”

“OH KAY!” Danny shouted, not wanting to be reminded that he technically fell under the same category as Vlad Masters and Bruce Wayne. “Let’s go!”

He hadn’t told the boys to dress up, he certainly hadn’t dressed up himself, and they’d all ended up wearing what was most comfortable. Danny at least put on jeans instead of sweatpants and threw on a cardigan instead of his usual ratty sweatshirt. He’d panicked after his nap took longer than it was meant to and barely had the time to shower and throw on some clothes before they needed to leave so he hadn’t had the chance to really think about his clothes.

Miguel fiddled with his bracelets as they approached the door and Danny noted that the boy was already anxious about the evening. “Hey, just try to have a good time. Seriously, we can leave whenever one of us gets tired, yeah?” The boy nodded silently, shifting a tiny bit closer as Danny rang the doorbell.

Opening the front door was exactly the kind of guy he expected. Dressed up, bald, with perfect posture, definitely a rich butler. He heard the footsteps of a couple more people approaching but- wait, wasn’t that the guy from-

“Alfred?” Danny said before he could stop himself. 

The butler offered a small smile. “Mister Danny, it’s a pleasure to see you again. I was unaware that you were the Mister Nightingale that Master Damian informed us would be visiting tonight. Please, do come in.” He opened the door wider, gesturing for them all to step into the foyer.

“Nightingale.” Damian greeted as he stepped into the foyer. “I was unaware you were acquainted with Pennyworth.” It was a statement, but the way he said it made Danny feel like he was being interrogated. 

Before he could respond, Dick stepped in right behind Damian. “Danny! A pleasure to see you again! I didn’t know Damian had befriended your kids.”

“They’re-” Danny started to refute Dick’s claim, out of habit, before stopping himself suddenly. All eyes were on him as he paused and glanced at Miguel who nodded subtly not quite meeting Danny’s eyes. “Yes, Damian’s been helping the boys learn how to take care of their cat. I will say I didn’t realize who either of you were.” He chuckled awkwardly.

Damian tipped his head to one side. “You… did not know?”

Shrugging, Danny took note of the shoe rack behind him and the boys and the lack of shoes on Dick and Damian, and gestured for the boys to take them off. “I’m not from Gotham, I mean, sure I’ve heard of you guys, but I didn’t really make the connection that you were Waynes.” He did his best to keep it casual, knowing well how annoying it could become when people talked to you like you were famous. He was a king after all, some people respected his status.

“Perhaps you should show our guests a more suitable spot to have this conversation?” Alfred offered with a quirk of his eyebrow.

Dick smiled sheepishly. “Sorry Alf, come on, most of the others are chilling in the living room.” 

Following Dick and Damian, Danny wondered how many others there would be. Growing up he thought he was really good with names and faces but after moving away from the small town he’d lived in his entire life and eventually taking up residence in Gotham, he realized he wasn’t any good at them at all. It had taken a long time to memorize his regular kids and parents’ names and who went with who-

“Well how was I supposed to know that? No one ever tells me anything!” A distinctly female voice shouted from the room they were entering. “Besides, who woulda thought Dami would have friends-” She cut off the moment Dick walked into the room and cleared his throat. “Oh come on- you know it’s true!”

Danny frowned to himself. Damian seemed like a pretty nice kid to him. 

“Tt. Brown. I’ll have you know I have plenty of friends. Nightingale, Miguel, Santiago, this is-”

“Wait a minute! They get first names but I’m still brown!” The girl shouted. Her hand movements and tone of voice felt familiar and Danny couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d seen her somewhere before.

“Everybody calm down!” Dick sighed loudly. “Danny, Miguel, Santiago, this is Steph, next to her is Cass,” the girl waved with a small smile. “And- where’s Tim? I thought he’d be here.”

“Yeah yeah, I’m here, Dick.” A young man grumbled, face buried in his phone. “Was working on something, are our guests- Danny?” 

Okay, once was a coincidence, twice? “Tim?” What were the chances that he already knew half of this family from previous chance encounters around the city? Because he knew Duke, Tim, Dick, Damian, and Alfred, and there couldn’t be that many more after Steph and Cass. 

“Oh my god why does no one tell me anything.” Tim breathed.

Steph shouted and pointed. “HA! Tim agrees with me! Maybe if the demon brat had told us who he was having over this wouldn’t have happened!”

“Uh… I’m not  sure how that would have helped but it’s good to see you again Tim. And nice to meet you, Stepp, Cass. I’m Danny, these are-” He hesitated, still getting used to things. “Miguel and Santiago, my boys. Thanks for having us over.”

The room grew silent and all of the Waynes seemed to be exchanging looks until finally Tim let out a sentence that was genuinely worrying. “Oh my god you’re as bad as Bruce.”

Oh goddamnit. He was a fruitloop.

The room burst into laughter, even Santi and Miguel seemed to understand the joke, Danny just rubbed a hand across his brow and shook his head. Hoping to change the subject, he brought up the only topic he could think of. “Where’s Duke? He’s the only one I knew would actually be here.”

“He was working on some stuff last I checked, he’ll be here soon for dinner though- huh.” Dick paused. “Dami, did you happen to mention to Duke who our company was for dinner?”

Damian tsked. “I did not think it imperative to alert every member of this household who would be coming over for dinner. They are my guests.”

“Yes well, have yourself and your guests wash up, dinner is almost ready.” Alfred said, making Danny and the boys jump. How the hell was he so quiet? The man moved more like a ninja than a butler.

Once Damian had showed them to the nearest bathroom and they’d all washed their hands, they were shown to the dining room. It was… crazy. A crystal chandelier hung above the center of the room, the table was long enough to hold ten people on each side, the chairs were ornate, the floor was immaculate, and Danny was reminded once again that he was inside a multi-billionaire’s manor.

Damian, possibly sensing the boys’ anxiety, offered them seats beside himself and Danny found himself somehow sitting to the left and one down from the head of the table. Tim sat beside him (thank Ancients there would be a buffer between him and Bruce Wayne), Dick sat across from Tim, and Steph and Cass sat across from the boys (leaving one chair between them and Dick for some reason).

“Sorry I’m late!” A familiar voice called, footsteps rushing into the room. “Still not as late as Ja- oh! Uh, hi, Danny!” Duke smiled, confused, and looked around at his family.

Danny offered a smile in return. “Ah, and Damian’s lack of communication strikes again.” He jokes.

“It was not a lack of communication, Nightingale.” Damian corrects. “I simply didn’t see a point in alerting Thomas to your dinner invitation.”

“Riiiight… not like ‘Thomas’ and I are acquainted or anything.” Danny jokes as Duke takes the spot directly across from Damian beside Cass. “Sorry to surprise you at home, I didn’t realize I’d be dropping in on my employee until after I’d already agreed to come over.”

Duke shook his head. “No, don't worry about it! I just didn’t expect it!”

“Ah, Mr. Nightingale.” A deep and buttery smooth voice greeted from the other side of the room. Danny looked up to see Bruce Wayne approaching the table. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Damian’s told me quite a bit about you.”

“Sounds fake.” Danny blurted out before realizing he probably shouldn’t treat every fruitloop he met the way he treated Vlad. “Uh,” Bruce’s kids burst out in laughter. “Sorry, I didn’t.” He cleared his throat. “It’s nice to meet you too, mr. Wayne.”

Taking his seat, Bruce smiled. “Please, just Bruce is fine.”

“Then you can call me Danny. And this is Miguel and Santiago.” He pointed to the boys who were in a surprisingly deep conversation with Damian about what quantified a hero vs. vigilante vs. anti-hero. He prayed to the ancients the boys wouldn’t bring up any of the ghost stuff he’d told them about.

“Well we’re happy to have you over. It’s not often Damian brings friends home.” Bruce flashed another smile and Danny couldn’t help but feel they weren’t as genuine as they seemed. Don’t get him wrong, Bruce seemed nice enough for a fruitloop, but he definitely didn’t feel like the kind of person who was really this smiley.

On top of that, ever since they’d arrived Danny had been sensing more and more ectoplasm, both throughout the house and on the people living in it. He’d never noticed before (whether that was because everything seemed less ectoplasm-y outside of the realms he’d been living in for the last five years, or because he wasn’t observant, he didn’t know) but Damian had a strong ectoplasm signature. Tim and Dick had a bit of one too, but Bruce? Bruce had been around death no question.

Bruce looked around the table and frowned. “I thought Jay was coming by tonight?” He looked between his kids and the obviously open spot across from Danny and beside Dick. “Has anyone heard from-”

“All right all right- I’m here, don't get your panties in a twist!”  Just as a man Danny recognized waltzed into the room, Miguel let out a groan. Jason looked at the kid for a moment before taking his seat. “Yeah yeah kid, good to see you too.”

Miguel crossed his arms. “Din’t say it was good ta seeya.” 

Danny was still trying to process what was happening. So- there were nine ‘Waynes’ including Alfred, and he’d known six of them before even walking into the manor tonight. Holy shit- how did he not know all of these people were Waynes and how did he always get into these situations?

“Jason, you know our guests?” Bruce asked, surprise lacing his words.

Jason shrugged, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. “A guy’s gotta have friends.” 

He was pretty sure Jason said it more to evade Bruce’s questions than anything else, but it was still nice to hear that Jason counted Danny as a friend even if they’d barely had the chance to get to know each other.

“Jason!” Santi gasped. “I finished that book you gave me- did you know it’s a series?” He asked excitedly.

Grinning, the man nodded. “Got the rest of the books if you’d like to borrow them too. But you’ve gotta write an essay about the book first and then we’ll talk about it in depth and then you can pick a different book.”

Santi nodded excitedly before turning back to Miguel and elbowing him. “Be nice.” He hissed.

Miguel eyed Jason warily, neither seemed to know what to say to the other.

Nobody in the Wayne family seemed to know what to say either- was it really so surprising that Jason was friends with them? While it had been a surprise every time someone Danny knew walked in the room, it hadn’t been quite as shocking as it seemed it was for Jason to know them. Maybe he was a bit of a loner?

“Babs can’t make it tonight.” Dick finally interjected. 

Bruce nodded, taking a sip of water. “She had that dinner with her dad, right?”

Dick nodded. “And Wally sends his love but he’s got a work thing.”

Alfred walked into the room and began dishing the first course and oh holy shit Danny didn’t know which fucking fork and spoon to use for everything. Ancients he hated fruitloops and their fruitloopy ways.

“So Danny,” Bruce started. Danny caught Jason rolling his eyes subtly. “Terrible what happened to your daycare, I hope none of the children were hurt?”

Danny nodded, thanking whoever was watching over him from having to pick a spoon for the soup. “Yeah Scarecrow and his goons did some damage but nobody was hurt thankfully. Duke was a great help keeping the kids safe.” He nodded to the boy who smiled sheepishly. “We usually have really good security but I’m going to have my guy look it over since, obviously, Scarecrow shouldn’t have been able to get in.”

“Yes, I’m sure that was quite the surprise-”

“A surprise? Come one B! The man tackled the scarecrow no hesitation! I don’t think he was that surprised!” Steph joked.

Danny blinked. He hadn’t realized the video those teens recorded had started so early. He could have sworn the teens didn’t start recording until after Phantom had appeared. “Ah, well, just had to make sure I held him off until someone showed up. Luckily Phantom was there so-”

“Phantom?” Bruce cut in.

“Just some vigilante who helped out. Not really one of Gotham’s I don’t think. But he took care of the fear gas and the goons and whatnot so Duke and I could watch over the kids.”

“Yeah, and then Red Hood showed up and kicked their asses!” Miguel added enthusiastically.

“Language.” Alfred and Danny scolded at the same time, everyone freezing to look between the two before laughing.

Miguel pouted and muttered something about how cool Red Hood had been while glaring at Jason.

Holding up his hands defensively, Jason smirked. “Hey you don’t gotta convince me kid, Red Hood’s my favorite too.”

Of course he’s your favorite, he’s your boyfriend. Danny thought forlornly.

Miguel untensed slightly. “Just because you got good taste in heroes don’t mean I like ya all the sudden.”

Jason glanced at Danny, smirk intensifying, before looking back. “Whatever you say kid.”

Ancients why was Jason looking at him like that? Danny rolled up the sleeves of his cardigan- why was it so hot in here? Were rich people just always running the heat or something? 

The conversation turned away from the daycare and onto other things. Steph and Cass seemed to be in a debate with Duke about the best flavor waffle- obviously it was chocolate chip- while the boys and Damian continued their previous discussion.

“How did you two meet?” Bruce asked, pointing his knife between Danny and Jason.

Jason sscowled. “The way that normal people meet, old man.” 

“Well we met at a clothing store with Damian.” Dick offered. “I’ve gotta say Danny, I haven’t seen Damian make a friend so easily before, how’d you do it?”

Danny shrugged. “I dunno, he’s a good kid.” Tim eyed him in shock. “He helped me set up my apartment for some cats I found and then I started sending him cat pics. He did the same, the boys wanted a cat, Dami was willing to teach them, now they’re friends.”

Dick choked. 

“Did you just call him Dami?” Tim asked cautiously, looking at the end of the table to see if the boy had heard.

Nodding, Danny leaned to see Damian. “Hey Dami?”

The boy pinched his eyes closed. “Yes? Nightingale?” He sighed.

Turning back to Dick, Bruce, and Tim who all gave him completely shocked looks, he smirked. “Nothing, never mind.”

“Tt.” 

“He’s a sweet kid.” Danny shrugged, finally just taking a wild guess and using one of the spoons to start eating the soup. While three of the Waynes stared at him like he was crazy and one stared at him like he was crazy but in a good way, Danny enjoyed every bite of the best bowl of soup he’d ever had.

Tim stared in awe. “You’re a madman.”

Danny snickered. “I have been told that on occasion. I don’t think this is all that crazy though.” He glanced down the table, making sure Damian wasn’t listening before continuing. “We hit it off right away, he’s a good kid, with a lot of knowledge, and was kind enough to help me.” Starting to grow uncomfortable with the stares he was getting, Danny changed the subject. “Enough about me, Tim, how're your boyfriends?”

Clearly knowing what Danny was doing but not caring, Tim rolled his eyes and started on some rant about how his boyfriend Kon who’d apparently made some bet about who could plan the better date for their other boyfriend Bernard. Tim pretended to be annoyed but it was obvious he loved them and their antics and Danny couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to date multiple people.

For no specific reason.

Just.

Science.

Before he knew it they’d been served the main dish which was amazing if not a bit familiar for some reason. Something about the sauce- taking a good look at what he was eating, Danny made the connection. Vindaloo. Hood brought them vindaloo once and after mentioning how much they’d liked it, he brought it again. Hood had never repeated a dish except the vindaloo. But why would they taste identical? Hood must have his own recipe for the food.

“Alf, you gotta help me out here-” Jason cut into his thoughts. “I can never get the meat as tender as you do! I’ve tried tenderizing it, marinating it, cooking it longer- what’s your secret!” 

Alfred gave Jason a knowing smile and, without a word, turned and left. While Jason pouted Danny finally connected the dots. It was either one of two answers.

One, Hood wasn’t actually cooking the food, Jason was, and Hood was just the delivery boy. Or two, Jason and Hood cooked together so Hood’s recipe came from him. Either way, it more than confirmed his theory that Hood and Jason were dating- Jason literally just said that Red Hood was his favorite vigilante!

Danny wished he could say the food stopped tasting good once he realized, but it didn’t. It tasted even better than Hood’s (Jason’s?), something Danny didn’t think possible.

“So Danny, where are you from?” Dick asked, finally sensing the lull in the conversation.

Swallowing the bite he’d been chewing for way too long, Danny wiped his mouth with the napkin. “A small town in Illinois you probably haven’t heard of. But I haven’t been there in years, traveled a bit, ended up here. Honestly, Gotham’s more like home than the town I grew up in ever was.” 

Dick frowned but Bruce is the one who responded. “Why is that?”

Danny shrugged. “My parents were the town crazies so making friends was difficult.”

Please stop asking about Jack and Maddie.

Of course luck wouldn’t be in his favor. 

“Why were they the village crazies?” Tim asked analytically.

“Father,” Damian cut in. “If we may be excused, I’d like to show Miguel and Santiago the barn.”

Bruce nodded. “Of course, you boys be careful out there.” After the boys had excused themselves, Bruce turned back to Danny. “I’m sorry, you were saying?” 

Something told Danny that Bruce really wanted to know about his parents. He wasn’t sure why, but he felt like he was being watched. He obviously was, there were many pairs of eyes on him, but it was more than that. He felt like the people watching him were analyzing him, peering into his soul, pulling back his layers and layers of defenses and digging around for what they could find inside.

It felt like back in his parents basement when he first woke up and there were cuffs around his wrists and ankles and a gag in his mouth and his parents screamed at him about killing their son. It felt like when they cut into him for the first time and rooted around in his chest, pushing and pulling with no care for what they moved or damaged, searching, searching, searching, for his core. It felt like when they turned him over to the GIW for further ‘study’ and experimentation and he learned what it felt like to lose a limb and an organ and an eye and-

“Danny?”

Seven pairs of eyes stared at him in concern. “Uh, sorry.” Danny unclenched his hand from the tablecloth and forced an uncomfortable chuckle. “Jack and Maddie were ectobiologists- they studied ghosts, the paranormal, that kind of thing. Makes people think you’re crazy and- to be fair- they were so.” Danny ended with a pathetic shrug and took a sip of water to avoid speaking anymore.

“They studied ghosts?” Steph asked, leaning over Cass to get closer to the conversation. “What was that like?”

Clearing his throat, Danny tried not to feel like he was being interrogated. “It made for an interesting childhood.” He didn’t like the way Cass was looking at him- he thought she could definitely read his body language better than he wanted. “Anyways, I certainly didn’t want to do what they did and eventually decided to move here and open a daycare.” Please let them latch onto the daycare, please-

“How’d they feel about that?” Bruce asked. Oh course the parent in the room would ask how his parents felt about his decision. Jason looked like he was about to say something but Danny was getting annoyed with this line of questioning.

A bit tired of the interrogation, Danny shrugged defiantly. “They didn’t know. I don’t exactly speak to them anymore and haven’t spoken to them since I turned eighteen.”

“Why not?” Dick asked, promptly shutting up when Jason shoved an elbow in his ribs.

“All right, well I think that’s enough interrogating our guest. What would Alfred say?” He asked, looking each Wayne in the eye. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. Eat your vindaloo and shut the hell up.” Turning back to Danny, he smiled. “So Danny, what’s been your favorite part of Gotham so far?”

Oh thank Ancients for Jason Todd.

Prev. Next

[catras-breakup-song]

how do you feel about the whole "you always wanted more" line that got cut? at first i was wondering why they did that because adora didn't want more until it made me think "huh, what if prime was just running on catra's memories and didn't actually know adora?" but i'm curious as to what you think

OH MY GOD I AM SO GLAD YOU ASKED THIS. i am such a sucker for the cut STC script. back in late 2020 & early 2021 i had a twitter layout based on “that little spot on the roof that only they knew about” because S3 is my favorite:

even better, i have another old twitter fancam saved from around that time too that used that screenshot of the script in the beginning. it was by the username yoosene but is now long gone, so i reuploaded it to imgur here (the hands part, i’m going insane…)!

anyway, as for interpretations, it was absolutely to manipulate & guilt-trip adora. i recently saw someone say (i don’t remember where though, sorry) that he was torturing both of them by setting up that nasty fight against both of their wills and had planned to kill catra all along — despite saying he wouldn’t right after she rescued glimmer and was imprisoned for it, in my opinion there was an unspoken “yet” even though he did technically say that word but you know what i mean; “you will be of use to me, and then everyone from your blighted planet, including yourself, will be destroyed.”

that’s the thing about what the show was trying to convey through her stay on prime’s ship via glimmer’s desperate pleas, isn’t it? her illusion of power was only ever temporary. once she no longer had anything of value to serve, what would she be worth? how could she have genuinely believed that he wanted to save her, of all living beings, from the curse of humanity & will of consciousness? what makes one individual different to an omnipotent god compared to countless others across the universe throughout space and time? i truly believe that he was subtly mocking her when he talked of her being “exalted, raised up above the other wretched creatures of [her] home world.”

i was actually trying to find another five by five takes quote about this, because mentioning them is always an obligation for me, but surprisingly i didn't really find anything about how catra had worked her way up to prime's recognized single subordinate (only that moment of reflection afterward, which is just this entire short video), and was under the false impression with a cocky & confident attitude that her position meant something for her safety & survival; i'm mostly referring to this moment:

the horde's the horde...even in space. as long as i'm of value to horde prime, i've got a place in this world. i can work my way up here, just like i did before.

actually y’know what… i’m going to tag @horde-princess because this is starting to dive into religious meta which is like… her whole gimmick thingy. we would be blessed (pun intended) to see your take on this writing that never made it to the show, if you haven’t given it already!

now this is veering too far off from the original point after getting sidetracked. the tone of those quotes in the alternate script is (fake) pity, and horde prime was entertained by the struggles of mere mortals. to make adora a failure of what she represented would surely force her to give up she-ra to him, because what would even be the point anymore of living up to expectations if she couldn’t save catra first & foremost (that’s something that she struggled with since initially leaving the horde over three years ago due to how catra made her feel about supposedly breaking their childhood promise… but it’s a story for another post)?

i don’t doubt that your thought process is at least partially right too though, anon. prime didn’t read adora’s mind thoroughly at any point, so it’s entirely possible that he just read off catra’s intense feelings of abandonment & betrayal. that being said, if he really did see all as he claimed, maybe he was able to recreate an objectively accurate collection of events and knows what really happened and what the intentions behind certain actions were. i also wonder if catra secretly knew deep down that adora’s defection wasn’t directly about her but just couldn’t admit it until she had time to deeply reflect on it during “corridors.”

i’ll leave this messy, unorganized post with an amazingly relevant gif set made by an editor whose work on here i really enjoy:

as i said a long time ago, you just had to be there on november 19th 2020 when that excerpt was released because the hype was crazy!

[ktyekmrf30]

5 years ago I was a little too naive and convinced that you can go to a therapist for 2-3 months and solve most of your life problems that were by your side for the 20 or so years. 2 years and 3 months ago I came to a session with a therapist for the first time after I almost broke down. Next wednesday I'll still go to the next session.

At first I thought that I went to a therapist primarily for myself, to live my best and more peaceful life - and this is mostly true. But then, after some time, I finally realized that there are also motives that I didn't want to admit at first even to myself. I went to a therapist to work through old traumas so that it would help me maintain relationships with my family and mother. I came to this thought for the first time and now I'm ready to admit that I went to heal my traumas for the sake of another person and not just for myself. As if there was something shameful or weird about changing and be better version of yourself for someone. And Q thought about it too.

But excluding this, Q, on the other hand, feels diametrically opposite to me. I believe that earlier, when he first went to therapy, it wasn't his idea, it was his father or the doctors who were seeing him with his sleepwalking and panic attacks, because at that time Q was a minor, teenager with no support system and with a strict father, and it's hard to decide for yourself that you need a therapist, especially when you 15-16yo. So it was definitely his doctor or his father because the doctor told him to. But then Q stopped going and it's been a few years now.

All this time Q didn't see any reason to continue working on himself, his fears, nightmares and sleepwalking for his own sake. But he wanted to do it for Min and he went to therapy with the primary thought that he was doing it for another person. And I actually think he's going to have the opposite situation just like me where after some time he finally acknowledges that, yes, maybe he initially sought help for the sake of another person, but he realized that he really needed help for his own sake in the first place, because several times on the show he had expressed the idea that he was lonely and desperate and was destined to die alone by himself. And that means he actually wanted to fix something in his life for himself, he just didn't dare to think about it or admit it.

Also I think it is so important to represent that no love will magically heal the traumas of the soul, that it is a long process during which you should be supported and not being judged by your loved ones and even after starting therapy nothing will disappear immediately, it is still a healing process, which is built differently for everyone. For someone it can take 4 months, 2 years or 6 years.

And at the end of the episode, Q is not fully cured and he has years ahead of him to get rid of all his demons, which can be awaken even in the most trivial everyday situations but it's still a happy ending. A realistic happy ending where you accept and learn to love the process of life and recovery. It's not about achieve the goal before we'll see ending credits because in real life there is just one chance for ending credits. And we were only shown the middle of Q's path, his happy ending journey during which Min fully supported him and will continue to support him. And there's something special about how Q looks happier and healthier in that last scene compared to what we saw from him before.

[ordinaryschmuck]

Full Family AU Part 38

Manny awoke slowly and groggily, the lack of sleep already hitting him. But his body decided it was time to be awake, and he couldn't refuse no matter how much he wanted to. At the very least, he could reach over and hold his wonderful wife tightly so they can suffer through this together.

Sadly, for him, Camila was nowhere to be found on this bed, no matter where Manny reached or how far. He peeked his eye open to confirm said suspicions. With a groan, Manny slowly got out of bed and went to search for Camila, already having a suspicion of where to find her.

Groggily, he left their room to make his way to the computer room, where Camila was already sat at the desk, typing away search after search in a mad rush for answers.

"Please tell me you got some sleep," Manny begged.

"Of course I did," Camila said numbly. "I passed out in the woods, remember? You helped carry me in."

"I meant after." Manny made his way over and put his hands on Camila's shoulders.

"Don't think you can use your magic fingers on me right now," Camila told him, slapping his hands away. "I'm too focused on my work."

"And what's your work?"

"Figuring out there's a way we can fake Vee's birth records legally."

"...You're trying to figure out a way to legally break the law?"

"Yes."

"And how's that going?"

"TERRIBLY!" Camila yanked out the keyboard and chucked it at the wall. "I hate this!"

"Camila--"

"No! I hate it!" She got out of her chair and started stomping around the room. "I can't believe that I have to break the law for this to work! The most we had to worry about was whether or not you would survive treatment. At first, when you got better, I thought that was the last of our problems, but then the universe said, 'NOPE! Here's a little girl who needs a home and can't be legally adoopted into yours! HAVE FUN DEALING WITH THAT!'"

"Camila!" Manny grabbed Camila by the shoulders, this time making sure his grip is tight so she can't push him away this time. "Take. A. Breath."

"I can't!" Camila shrieked, which was quickly followed up with a sob. "I can't...It's all too much...Too much to do with no clear idea of how to do it right..."

"I know." Manny pulled her in for a hug, letting Camila cry into his shoulder. "I know..."

"Why...?" Camila sobbed. "Why does it feel like our family is cursed...?"

"It's not cursed."

"You got sick and almost died, we're unable to give a poor girl a home, and there's a witch sleeping on our couch! An actual witch! Seems pretty cursed to me!"

"That isn't a curse. It's...character," Manny tried to explain. "It's what makes us more of a unique family than we already are. And when it's all finally over, which it will be, we'll all look back at this and laugh."

"How can you be so sure?" Camila asked, pulling away just enough to look at his face.

"Because you're freaking out," Manny confessed. "And I'm just trying to help you feel better. Even if it means painting a pleasant picture to get your mind off the insanity. Just for a bit."

"...When you think we'll start laughing at it?"

"I'm guessing...at a barbecue."

"A barbecue?"

"Yeah, I'm teaching Vee how to work the grill, and she's being super grateful for this nice, bonding moment. I tell her, 'That's good. Your mother and I worked very hard to get you something like this.' She'll asked how bad was it, I'll tell her there was a freak out or two, and we'll all just chuckle over how we blew a small issue out of proportion."

"It's not really a small issue."

"Well, right now, it isn't. But in the future, when this is all solved, it'll definitely seem like it. As do most things that feel huge in the moment."

Camila hummed in thought. "By any chance, do you think that witch will be there?"

"Probably," Manny said with a shrug. "Most likely so she can steal a burger or two."

"Over my dead body."

Manny chuckled. "You see? We're laughing already?"

"I...guess we are." Camila breathed out a sigh. "Thank you..."

"Don't mention it. Now, how about you call in work for work today. Even if it means asking someone to cover for you. You clearly need more time to rest."

"Yeah...I do. I'm so tired, it's making me loopy to the point where I swear I'm smelling eggs for...whatever reason."

"Huh..." Manny sniffed the air. "That's weird. So do...I..."

Both his and Camila's eyes widen at a horrible thought. Someone's cooking in their home, and it's neither of them.

In a flash, they both rush out of the room to investigate.

[gloomybadger4life]

Azula inadvertently begins a working class revolution because she challenges all suitors to an agni kai and raises the stakes.

Zuko is running out of nobles and disgruntled common folk take that as an opportunity to rise up and take over some provinces.

Half the cabinet wants to send in the army but they also know how bad it's gonna look, you know, internationally.

Azula catches on and thinks it's hilarious. She issues challenges to any and all firebending nobles.

Even if she loses Zuzu is fucked and she has the last laugh.

Zuko changes the law so that Katara can fight her and stop her. He does not realize the implication.

Katara and Azula have a masterful and impressive duel that goes on for hours. They both end up exhausted but refuse to call it a draw.

So they fight the next day, and every day after because neither is giving ground.

By the 12th match Zuko is like: just bloodbend her.

Katara: i tried but she can shoot lightning from her mouth and I can't get a grip.

Azula, now with growing respect towards Katara: In all fairness if the duel was at night, she might win.

So they agree and they fight at midnight.

Katara wins, barely and not without half her body being stunned by electricity.

Azula just asks her when she should propose.

Katara has the realization that Zuko neglected to mention that fact. She goes off on Zuko.

Azula laughs the hardest she has in years. She asks Katara to talk.

Azula: So I wanna apologize to you, for the whole trying to kill you to force Zuzu into a corner. And the whole war thing. I should have practiced this.

Katara: wait what?

Azula: Is it one big apology or does it need to be itemized?

Katara: ...

Azula: I'm also sorry for killing the avatar.

Katara: So you're actually sorry. Like for real regret it.

Azula: Yes.

Katara: why?

Azula: Because the war made no sense. I believed in it when i was younger. I was taught to. It was rewarded. Iroh lost a son. Zuzu got banished. One way or another something pushed them away from the nation's influence. I didn't have anything like that.

Katara, shooketh: What are you trying to say?

Azula: that I am what Zuzu was supposed to be. What any of us would have become if we were raised that way. I didn't begin to question it until i was defeated.

Katara: So, what now?

Azula: Don't worry about the marriage thing, I'll handle it. Not in any bad way... Do I always sound like I'm threatening someone?

Katara: Uh yeah, all the time. Last night you grabbed a tray of mochis and told them you were going to consume them.

Azula: You give sea prunes the same look.

Katara: Okay fair, but back to you not being all evil anymore...

Azula: I'll help Zuzu tidy up, make sure he gets the glory. He's gonna need the public's approval, half the nobles have disgraced heirs, the other half are scared.

Katara: and all of this because you didn't want to marry some guy you could have easily killed after.

Azula: I didn't wanna marry a guy, first of all. And secondly, assasination like that is such a hassle. Plus poisons were my mother's thing...

Katara: wait what?

Azula: Zuzu didn't tell you, she poisoned Azulon because Ozai tried to skip over Iroh when he lost my cousin. Azulon ordered Zuko's death.

Katara: Is your whole family this fucked up?

Azula: Yes. I thought that was established.

So they actually start to bond while Zuko goes on a tour to garner public goodwill.

Aang comes in. Azula apologizes awkwardly.

Toph finds the whole thing hilarious and asks Katara if she likes Azula.

Katara is like, I mean she's really weird but it makes sense and she's making a lot of progress not being evil. Cue an hour of gushing.

Azula meanwhile realizes that if she gives up her title the whole marriage thing goes away. She abdicates the title and tells Katara.

Toph: So you didn't wanna marry Katara?

Azula: Not like this.

Azula realizes what she just blurted that out and runs off. She runs face first into Katara and apologizes. Katara is all weirded out bc this isn't regular Azula behavior.

They do have a conversation about her abdicating. Katara is surprised and opens up more. Azula asks her how she doesn't have vengeful feelings about the fire nation.

They have a heart to heart and end up talking all day.

Eventually Katara and Toph head home and Azula asks if she can send Katara letters...

What if Zuko tried putting Azula in an arranged marriage? What would be his motivation and her reaction?

I can easily see his motive being getting her out of the line of succession if he doesn't trust her at all. Now as far as Azula's reaction goes, she'd more than likely be pissed off and would try to find a way out of it.

[lucdoodle]

FINISHED MAKING THE MOON WALTZ ANIMATIC !!!

(song: Waltz in E-Major, Op. 15 "Moon Waltz" by Cojum Dip)

[inbabylontheywept]

The Motherfucking Lizard King

No one at work trusts my boss. 

He's smart. He works hard. He's not trustworthy. He hasn't actually fucked anyone at work over, but he's ruined his last two marriages with affairs, and got dumped by his third fiance when he wouldn't sign a prenup. The fact that we all know this is just a hazard of working in a small town. 

Anyway: The thought process of the people in the lab is that if he screwed over his first wife, and his second wife, and was probably planning on screwing over his third wife, it would be insane for him not to screw us over. After all, what kind of idiot treats their employees better than their spouse? 

I dunno. His kind, I guess? He's had a few chances to fuck us over, and he hasn't taken them. Opposite really. When our parent company was doing furloughs, he stayed in the office almost a hundred hours, talking and talking and talking his way up the corporate ladder. And in the end, no one at our site got furloughed. 

He's pulled strings like that before. And it baffles me, right? Because it really does make zero sense. He'll move the heavens and the earth for us, but his wife and kids are afterthoughts. It feels like any moment, he's going to look into the mirror and realize how stupid that is. It feels like I'm betting on him making the same stupid mistake again, and again, and again - like it would be less cynical to believe he was, eventually, going to stab me in the back. But he hasn't yet, and as far as I can tell he's been making that mistake for close to fifteen years, and it's already cost him everything it can. If he was going to learn, he would have by now. 

So my position on him is that if he wanted to date someone I cared about, I'd warn them off. I don't trust him there. But I tentatively trust him to be my boss. Maybe one day he'll stick the knife in and twist, and everyone will say Ah, Babs, we warned you, but for now, I accept that he's doing a very predictable, very irrational thing, and I've made my peace with it. 

---

My job has glue traps. 

No one likes the glue traps, but we don't have a lot of options. Poison's banned by state law, spring traps are banned by company safety, and several non-lethal options tried in the past failed to work. The mouse problem can get pretty bad if it's ignored, and there's some real health hazards in that. Our site has never had a positive hantavirus test, thank God, but the big base about a half hour away has. That guy's gonna be on oxygen the rest of his life. 

If a mouse gets caught, we just euthanize it. But more than mice get stuck. Lizards can wander into those traps too, and the people working there have different feelings about the lizards. They don't pose nearly the same kind of risk mice do. They're chill little guys, and they keep the moths away, and they're just 

You know. They're friendly. There's something to be said about walking into a room, and hitting the light switch, and seeing two little guys on the wall start to do pushups as soon as they see you. 

People used to just euthanize the lizards too, but I had pet leopard geckos as a kid and I couldn't take that so I wound up googling how to free animals from glue traps. Now, when a lizard gets stuck in a trap - which happens once or twice a week - I get some vegetable oil from the breakroom, and a little plastic fork, and I'll spend fifteen to twenty minutes just kind of gently prying the little guys out. 

I have a team of technicians that help me operate one of the larger machines. They're real blue collar guys, ex-airforce, and they make me look like a little kid. Being an engineer means they'll look to me as a leader sometimes, which is a wild experience. And I started helping the lizards for my own conscience, but one of the crazier consequences of it has been that it seriously boosted my leadership cred. Because those guys see me, and they go: Hey. If he's willing to fight for a lizard, he's gotta be willing to fight for me. 

I cannot overstate how nice that is. Most engineers that want to make a change to a maintenance practice, or try an upgrade, they have to work their asses off to get the techs to buy in. But I can just ask. They already trust me to do good. They know I'm new, and they know I'm not the smartest engineer in the building, but they also know I'm the one who gets lizards out of the glue traps. 

And just because of that, they're willing to follow me. 

---

My boss has a meeting every month or two. It's typically basic house cleaning stuff - reminders about routines we've gotten lazy on, and updates on future projects. Maybe some warnings about problems coming from higher up in the company.

People are, in my opinion, a bit too cynical about the meetings. It stems from people not trusting our boss, which again, I understand, because it would make so much more sense if he wasn't trustworthy. It's a testament to the man's incredibly unhealthy priorities that he is. But as we made it to the end of the meeting, one of bullet points was: 

Do NOT mess with animals in the building. 

So I looked at my techs, and they looked at me, and when he got to the point, he was so scathing I actually just wanted to crawl under a rock and die. He said basically that he'd heard some reports about someone in the building handling animals that found their way in and got stuck, and that he just wanted to emphasize how insanely inappropriate that was, not to mention dangerous, and that if he needed to speak to anyone about it again, there would be severe consequences. 

I was willing to just take the shame and move on. I was. But one of my techs is old. Old enough he could've retired two years ago. And his actual literal goal is to one day get angry, yell at someone, and storm out. That's how he wants to retire. So instead of biting his tongue like everyone else, he stood up and said: I hate the glue traps. You hate the glue traps. We all hate glue traps. But we've all sat here for years, ignoring the little things that get stuck in them, watching them die, and then Bab's comes in, and he is the first person in decades to give enough of a shit to start pulling the lizards out. And I don't want him to stop. 

Get humane traps or shut up but we are not going back to the old way of just letting things starve. 

And my boss actually froze up. He got all wide eyed and stared at Marc, and then the other techs jumped in, and there was a very small but intense rebellion in the meeting and my boss kept trying to interrupt while getting absolutely bowled over by this gang of angry middle aged air force vets, and eventually he just went 

I will speak with Babylon about this afterwards! After! And then he will speak with everyone else, but I have more points to cover. 

So they went silent, and my boss rushed through the last five minutes, and we all adjounred. The techs really didn't like that I was going in alone - they thought our boss was going to try and shout me into compliance. Marc in particular was like, Look, if he tries bullying you, stand your ground, and if he threatens anything, just come get us, and we'll give him hell. 

So armed with that, I went to my boss's office. I sat in the chair across from him, and he kept his composure for maybe five seconds before just flopping back into his chair. 

I had no idea you were saving lizards, he said, but I'm glad you are. I always hated seeing them die in the glue.  

I wasn't expecting that. I was about to ask him what the comment from the meeting was about then, but he answered that before I even got the chance.

A snake got into the building last week, and - someone picked it up and chased a coworker around. Turns out that coworker was severely afraid of snakes, and now it's a shitshow. We're a small site, and now I can't ask those two to work together anymore, to say nothing about how the snake fared after all that. Being upset about that is a reasonable thing, right? 

And he gave me a look like he actually wanted an answer, so I said Yeah, totally, chasing a coworker around with a snake is a dick move. Especially if that coworker is already afraid of snakes. 

And he said Exactly! and then we sat there a few moments longer. He looked so incredibly tired that I did, actually, feel kind of bad for him. And then he somehow managed to sink even further into his chair, and said

Look, I know I'm not a good guy. But I'm not evil. I'm not some sort of crazy asshole that's going to demand that everyone watch lizards starve to death. When you go back downstairs, could you try to pass that on? That I'm not evil? 

I said Sure because it wasn't a hard request, and he looked relieved. I actually made it halfway out before I realized I had a question. 

Who grabbed the snake? I asked. 

Not supposed to talk about it, he said. But whoever comes to mind first is probably right. 

ThatGuy? I asked. And he looked me in the face, nodded his head yes, and said No. 

---

The techs seemed a little disappointed that they didn't get to storm the boss's office, but were otherwise in good spirits. They were actually a little bit embarrassed to hear about the snake story - apparently, it wasn't much of a secret. It'd just slipped their minds because it happened three weeks ago. 

We did maintenance after that, the same basic repairs we did every week. The meeting had been stressful and it was a relief to work with my hands. When the parts were reinstalled, everything cleaned and smooth and ready to go, Marc found me again. 

You know what the lesson of today is? he asked. And there were quite a few answers to that that I could have taken - from don't assume the worst of people to be careful with how you spend your trust - we all need it more than we think. 

But instead I said what? because I wanted to hear what his answer was going to be. 

That I got your back, he said. Then he clapped one very, very large hand on my shoulder, gave it a good squeeze, and walked back to dosimetry lab.

---

The next day, Marc gave me a package and told me to open it in my office. I was suspicious, but I followed the request.

Cardboard gave way to a small baggie, obviously full of fabric, which opened to reveal a t-shirt that read

"I Am the Motherfucking Lizard King."

I looked at it, I loved it, and then I got an idea. I went to my boss's office and knocked on the door. When he opened it, I asked him if he would be willing to allow something very unprofessional to happen for morale building purposes.

How unprofessional? he asked. I held the shirt up in answer. He gave the shirt a short look over and snorted.

You can wear it on weeks without customers, he said. Which just so happened to include that week.

I'll pass on that it came with your blessing, I replied, and he looked oddly relieved.

Thanks, he said. And then I went downstairs.

---

The techs were very, very happy to see the shirt. And while my boss's reputation remains in tatters, and probably will be until he moves (or dies), the next time there was a meeting, there was quite a bit less complaining about how mere presence. Which is, I guess, a start.

We'll see if he squanders it.

[criminalamnesia]

Simon x Reader whose already work with TF 141 for a pretty long time. And one day, there's a traitor around the base, leaking their information. All of the proof are leading to reader but reader always deny it! And they interrogated reader, and reader always deny it! And he's (with other 141 members, of course, but it mostly him) do their torture methods to get information out of reader. They keep doing it until someday, the real traitor finally captured!

And make the reader traumatized, pls. Like, she would have trust issues, trauma, and others. She wouldn't forgive them, tho.

ooooo the angst. had to sit on this one for a few days before I wrote something, but here goes nothing.

ALL PARTS CAN BE FOUND HERE

when you blink open your eyes, the room is dimly lit. it’s silent save for the sounds of your labored breathing.

you must’ve passed out. one second johnny— a man you’d known for years—was slicing into your skin with a knife. the next, you’re staring into an empty room.

your hands jerk up involuntarily. still bound. the rope holding them to the arms of the chair have rubbed them raw. the skin is bright red and bloody. it makes you grit your teeth.

you look down at your lap, taking inventory of the parts of your body you can see. large gashes break up the fabric of your tac pants. the blood surrounding the deep wounds is dry and crusty.

one of the cuts looks like it’s getting infected. you swear you can see bone.

you’d taken this kind of suffering before. been capture by enemies, held and tortured and pushed to the brink of death. this was different. this was being done by your team. men you’d bled with. cried with. laughed with.

one you’d even slept with. the same one you loved. the one you called yours.

the door to the room swung open, hitting the wall with a metal thud. your head slowly lifts, eyes squinting to see him. by his stature, you know it’s simon.

he doesn’t bother shutting the door behind him. instead, he walks towards you slowly. as he comes closer, can make out his eyes in the sea of dark paint he smears around them. the same paint you’d helped him apply a time or two.

“back for more?” you say, and it’s meant to sound sarcastic, but all it sounds like is pitiful. your voice cracks, and pain seeps into your tone.

the first rule they’d taught you about scenarios like this was to never let the enemy know it’s working. never let them know that they’re hurting you— that they’re slowly wearing down your defenses.

well, you’d just broken that rule, and you hadn’t even meant to.

you didn’t know how long you’d been tied up, subjected to torture by men you had once called your family. all because a fucking liar whispered your name into their ears. all because they fucking believed it.

apparently the years meant nothing to them. to him, least of all, considering he’d done more damage to you than the rest of them.

simon comes to a stop in front of you. his hands are empty by his sides, but that’s not reassuring. there’s a table full of weapons off to the side. he would have his pick of the litter.

“ready to talk yet?” he says, and his voice is gruff. his tone is hollow. he’s speaking to you the same way he’d spoken to countless enemies. it makes you sick.

“fuck you, simon,” you spit out.

the betrayal of john, gaz, and johnny had hurt. but simon’s betrayal? that was enough to almost put you in the ground.

you’d stopped pleading with them the second they tied you to the chair. now, you were angry. furious. rage filled your veins, and if you weren’t beaten to all hell, you’d find a way out of these fucking restraints and strangle the man in front of you to death.

the man you loved. you’d thought you meant something to him, but apparently not— because who tortures someone they love?

“if you talk,” he ignores your outburst. “it’ll be easier. quick.”

“fuck. you.” you enunciate the words, your jaw impossibly tight as you grit your teeth. “im not the fucking rat.”

“all the evidence,” he starts as he disappears from your vision. you know he’s going to pick his weapon of the hour. you force yourself not to shudder.

“points to you.”

“take that bullshit evidence and shove it up your ass, riley,” you seethe, ropes pulling taut as you lean forward in the chair.

he’s back in your line of sight now, brandishing a large knife.

“you’re only making it harder on yourself, love,” he tuts, and then he’s swinging the knife down, right onto one of your fingers.

you scream as the blade cuts right through skin and bone. your teeth dig into your lip, drawing blood as you refuse to give him more of a reaction. it fucking hurts, but you’ll be damned if you let yourself cry.

“feel like talking now?” he asks, watching as half of your left pinky finger falls to the floor.

“or should we take off another?”

you look up at him, hoping he can see the hatred in your eyes as you speak your next words. “you could take the fucking hand off and I’d still have nothing to tell you.”

“let’s see how true that is then, eh?” he replies, and raises the knife again. he’s about to swing, when someone comes running into the room.

“ghost!”

it’s johnny. he’s obviously winded as he stops beside simon, dropping his hands to his knees as he struggles for breath.

“what, mactavish? im busy.”

“they’re—” he gasps. “they’re not— the— rat.” he says between breaths.

the room goes impossibly still. so quiet you swear you could hear the men’s heartbeats (or maybe that pounding in your ears was your own).

“you sure?” simon’s voice is softer as he lowers the knife and turns to johnny. the younger man nods, his eyes trained on you. you can see the regret in them, the sorrow.

“it’s fucking shepard.”

it’s not funny, but at the news, you burst into laughter. the men stare at you in confusion, but you can’t stop.

you’re laughing so hard you’re crying, and they’re just standing there.

“are you alrigh’?” johnny’s asking as he moves towards you. he’s fully recovered his breath now, and he drops to a crouch to be eye level with you.

you don’t answer— you can’t. you keep laughing. distantly, you hear the knife simon was holding clatter to the ground. can just make out the sound of more footsteps out in the hallway, coming towards the room.

you pass out.

when you wake up again, you’re in the infirmary. your eyes open slowly, adjusting to the bright fluorescent lights.

“easy, love,” a voice to your right drawls.

your eyes are fully open now. you look down at yourself, noticing the lack of bindings. noticing the iv taped to your arm, the stitched cuts, the black and blue bruises, the missing fingernails and missing finger.

the person sitting next to you clears his throat. that’s when you look up and meet the eyes of your captain.

your captain. the man who was supposed to lead you, to keep you safe. what a fucking joke. he’d started the damn witch hunt.

“how d’you feel?” he asks, his words soft, like he’s trying not to scare off a timid animal.

you stare at him for a beat. then two. then you’re moving, pulling the iv from your arm and shakily pushing yourself up in the bed. price is telling you to stop, reaching out to push you back down, but you slap at his hands.

“get the fuck off me!” you shout, and that takes him aback. he stops, frozen, as he watches you shift in the bed. you throw your legs over the side of it and prepare yourself to stand.

“you really shouldn’t—” he begins after he’s regained his senses, but you pay him no mind. you place your feet on the ground and start to stand. your legs wobble, almost give out, but you’re able to stand. barely.

“shut up,” you growl, stumbling forward and towards the exit. he’s moving to cut you off, and you slide him a gaze that’s sharper than a knife. “and leave me the fuck alone.”

he halts again. he seems almost scared of you— but that can’t be right. even on your best days, he would still beat you in hand-to-hand combat.

he’s not scared of your threats or your frail body. he’s scared of what he’s done to you.

just then, johnny and gaz come through the infirmary doors.

“cap, y’alright? we heard yellin’—” johnny begins, but his mouth snaps shut at the sight of you out of bed.

you’re heaving from your spot next to the bed. your legs are shaking violently, threatening to give out any second. you feel nauseous and numb.

“let’s get you back into bed,” gaz says, and he starts towards you, but you stop him as your gaze snaps to his.

“don’t come any fucking closer. any of you.”

“bonnie,” johnny murmurs. he sounds miserable, but you don’t care. don’t give a fuck about how any of them feel.

“don’t. im leaving,” you grunt out, moving a foot forward slowly. you’d be damned if you fell in front of them.

“you can’t, love. you’re in no shape to be walking.” john says, and you snarl.

“and whose fault is that?”

the men stay silent as they watch you slowly shuffle towards the foot of the bed. you’re bracing yourself to walk on your own when simon walks in.

“get back in bed,” his tone is blunt. you ignore him.

you remove your hand from the bed, move to take a step forward without support, and you begin to crumple to the floor.

simon moves forward, quick as a cat, and catches you. he lifts you into his arms bridal style, and you’re screaming hysterically. your limbs are flailing the best they can in such a battered state. you’re in fight-or-flight mode, your body betraying your desire to put up a steely front.

your palms slap against simon’s upper body and his masked face. he gives no reaction. he doesn’t say anything. the others are watching the exchange silently. the room is buzzing with tension.

“get off me!” you screech, landing a slap to simon’s cheek. “let me— let me go! let me go!” you’re gasping for breath, tears streaming down your cheeks. you’re panicking. your heart feels like it’s going to beat out of your chest.

“put me down! get— get— off me! stop—” you sob.

the doctor rushes into the room then, yelling at the men for allowing you out of bed. you can’t make out what she’s saying over the rush of blood in your ears. you feel light-headed. you can’t breathe.

“put them down, now!” the doctor yells at simon. “they’re having a panic attack— I thought I told you four to stay away from them? they’re too vulnerable right now—” the doctor is chastising them as simon places you back in the bed.

spots are dancing in your vision. you don’t even feel it when the doctor sticks another needle into your arm. the words being exchanged above your head are muffled. it’s like you’re underwater.

john’s face comes into view, then johnny’s, then gaz’s. as your eyes start to close, you notice the only face you don’t see again is simon’s.

when you wake up again, it’s been two weeks.

the doctor had put you into a medically induced coma to allow your more serious wounds time to heal, without risking another episode. unbeknownst to you, the members of your team had stayed by your bedside almost the entire time— minus simon. he hadn’t come within ten feet of the infirmary since the day of your panic attack.

there’s fresh flowers on the bedside table. a steady beeping of the heart monitor. a fuzzy feeling in your head.

it feels like a dream, all of it does. none of it feels real as you settle into your body again. but then the hurt starts, and you remember the truth.

your family betrayed you. your lover betrayed you. they locked you up and tortured you. they didn’t believe you.

when the doctor came to your side to check your iv, she smiled.

“how’re you feeling?”

you look up at her, and it takes a moment for you to speak.

“don’t,” you begin. your mouth feels like it’s full of cotton. “don’t let them…in here. don’t…wanna see them.”

the doctor nods in understanding, and she doesn’t say anything else to you. she turns and walks out of the room.

the door clicks shut behind her. she lets out a sigh before turning around to face the three men.

“they don’t want to see you.” she tells them, and their expressions drop. they don’t protest, and like wounded puppies, they walk off.

no one else comes to check on you for a few hours.

you’re in and out of consciousness— can’t tell what’s real and what’s a dream. flashes of your torture come back to you. flashes of a smile. of a scarred face. of hands on your hips and—

you crack your eyes open, and the room is dark. the only light is the blinking of some of the machines. it illuminates the room enough to allow you to see a large, dark figure slip from the room. the door clicks shut so quietly it’s almost imperceptible.

that’s when you notice fresh flowers on the bedside table.

your eyes start to droop once more, and you chalk up whatever you just saw to a dream, while simon exhales heavily on the other side of the infirmary door.

————————————————

authors note:

I hope this alright! it’s one in the morning (and I’m half asleep writing this) so I apologize for the errors that are most likely present, and the sense this most likely lacks. I feel like I could write a whole book about this idea, but im cutting myself off to sleep lol.

thank you for the ask, I hope I did your idea justice. 🫶

[webism]

ᯓ Kento Nanami doesn't even know he has a breeding kink until he cums inside of you for the first time. It's like a flip switches in his brain, and the second that sweet release floods your womb he is plagued with the instinctual need to fill you over and over and over until something takes.

And breeding you doesn't have to mean a baby, but rather the primal possession that comes with having you spend the rest of the day with a part of him inside of you. No other man has the privilege, the right, or the reason to claim you as he has, and it does something nasty to the way he fucks.

He's still the gentleman he's always been: still makes sure you cum at least once on his fingers or tongue before he graces you with the hard-to-manage length of his cock. But rather than in the spirit of purely giving you pleasure, he's trying to ensure you're so wet that he can force himself just that little bit deeper inside of you.

A guilt of his, perhaps, but Kento read that if he were to edge himself between moments of intimacy with you, that his loads would be bigger, more forceful—and the idea of giving you even more of himself than he already had been is enough to get him hard. So, he starts touching himself whenever the thought clouds his mind, which is more-often-than-not nowadays. He fucks his fist to the thought of breeding you out until he's cumming dry and you're so full of his cum that it has nowhere to go other than down your legs. Stopping before he cums is a pain like none other, but his new adopted thought process claims a load spent anywhere other than balls-deep inside of you is a load wasted.

And he doesn't say a word of it to you. You only pick up on it when you realise he won't cum anywhere else. When you're sat between his legs after a long day of work, serving him with your mouth and coaxing those lovely groans from his chest. How his hands try and guide you off of him before he gets close enough to lose control, sys he doesn't want to cum down your throat. Once upon a time he would get hard all over at just the sight of you swallowing his lust.

"I just... want to be inside of you, honey, is that okay?" He says, and you oblige because the way Ken gets once he's finally seated inside of you is nothing other than animalistic, euphoric. But you have to wonder if there's a reason he avoids spilling his seed over your tongue or tits like he used to.

"You know I like the taste, right?" you glance over at him when he bends you over the arm of the couch and slips his aching cock into you. You doubt you'll ever get used to his size—he always has to take a moment to let you settle once he's in.

"I know, love," he claims. "I just... prefer it this way."

"Don't you like fucking my throat anymore?"

"God," he groans, presses his body into your back so that his breath fans over your ear. "No. I love your throat. I love all of you."

A thrust to test the waters— at your moan, another. Kento rocks his hips, drags his cock out of you and then drives forward until you and him are as connected as you can be... almost.

"You wanna breed me, is that it?"

Kento's hips stall. You're not stupid, and he doesn't even realise he's got an arm wrapped around you so he can splay his fingers over your stomach. His wedding band presses against your skin, sets it alight with burning need. Hearing you say it, though, makes him nearly cum on the spot—he wouldn't be so selfish.

"How'd you—"

"You say it, Ken," you drawl your words out, tease him with your tone. "When you cum, you say you're gonna fuck a baby into me, that you're gonna 'breed me like the pretty whore I am'. Don't worry, I like it. I want it."

He can hardly believe it, such words feel foreign to his mind. But they taste familiar on his tongue, like a part of his subconscious speaks on his behalf when he's all blissed out like that. He wonders just how deep the instinct to breed you runs, because his cock twitches and all of a sudden he's thrusting into you at a speed that seems only supernatural.

The snapping of his hips, the sound of skin against skin and the curses that slip from his lips like wine. It doesn't take long for you both to cum alongside each other, Kento, of course, deep inside of you.

And it takes a very strong part of him to pay attention to himself this time, and you aren't a liar: the song of need and primal lust that spill from his mouth are made for porn. Not that he can find it in himself to be embarassed, you seem to like it, what with the way your whole body shakes in orgasm as he fills you up.

Yeah, you'll be throwing out every condom you've got stashed away in the house.

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